All Other Thy Servants (Sam, Tsuzuki)
Summary: Every culture had its own death gods and demons, and Sam has always been methodical. SPN/YnM. 250 words. For lady_ganesh.
All Other Thy Servants
By this point Sam was not fazed by the messy tie and black trench coat or the way the demon stared questioningly down at the lines of the devil's trap. Some were calm and some raged and it never made any difference in the end.
The demon looked up and smiled. In the moonlight, its eyes glowed unnaturally vivid.
"Hello." It stuck its hands in the pockets of its coat, swinging them a little. "I'm not sure how I got here."
"I summoned you."
"Oh. You wanted to see me?" The demon sounded taken aback, shifting a little, awkwardly. "You could have just asked." It looked thoughtful for a second. "I think there's a form," though this was said vaguely.
"I want to make a deal. And if you give me what I want, I'll let you live."
The demon just blinked. "What do you want?"
"To save my brother."
"He's dead?" The false sympathy was cloying and Sam felt another prick of cold, focused rage.
His hand tightened on the knife.
"I'll trade places with him." Sam should be getting better at this, carefully drawing out the game. But there never was a bargain, no purpose to this except to summon and kill: only the depthless world of things that needed killing.
"I'm sorry." The demon lifted a piece of white paper between two fingers. "But you can't save the dead. I've tried." With a flash of power, the lines of the devil's trap unwound and the demon vanished.
All Other Thy Servants
By this point Sam was not fazed by the messy tie and black trench coat or the way the demon stared questioningly down at the lines of the devil's trap. Some were calm and some raged and it never made any difference in the end.
The demon looked up and smiled. In the moonlight, its eyes glowed unnaturally vivid.
"Hello." It stuck its hands in the pockets of its coat, swinging them a little. "I'm not sure how I got here."
"I summoned you."
"Oh. You wanted to see me?" The demon sounded taken aback, shifting a little, awkwardly. "You could have just asked." It looked thoughtful for a second. "I think there's a form," though this was said vaguely.
"I want to make a deal. And if you give me what I want, I'll let you live."
The demon just blinked. "What do you want?"
"To save my brother."
"He's dead?" The false sympathy was cloying and Sam felt another prick of cold, focused rage.
His hand tightened on the knife.
"I'll trade places with him." Sam should be getting better at this, carefully drawing out the game. But there never was a bargain, no purpose to this except to summon and kill: only the depthless world of things that needed killing.
"I'm sorry." The demon lifted a piece of white paper between two fingers. "But you can't save the dead. I've tried." With a flash of power, the lines of the devil's trap unwound and the demon vanished.