Fic: A Game of Chess
Title: A Game of Chess
Characters: Sam, Devil, Others
Rating: PG-13. Nothing you wouldn't see on the show.
Disclaimer: Sam belongs to Reaper. This story, however, belongs to me. Illustration by super awesome onyourmark from TWoP.
Summary: Sam has a job to do in Hell. He only wished he knew what it was. Sequel to The Plan In Action.
Part I
Part II
Consciousness came far too quickly. Something was hitting him. At first, his still sleep-addled brain thought he was being attacked by tennis balls. That is, until he finally opened his eyes and saw the truth.
It was a dog head-butting him. Or what Sam assumed was a dog, since it was the smallest one he'd had ever seen. He hadn't been aware they could come that size. It couldn't weigh more than two or three pounds. Spike, the pint-sized dog the Devil had sent to help him go after The Butcher, was at least three or four times larger than this dog.
The animal staring at him now was also the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. Obviously some type of Chihuahua, the small thing sat only a foot away from him, twitching and growling.
Then it head-butted him again.
“Ow! Knock it off! What the hell are you doing?” The dog barked, except it wasn't so much of a bark as an annoying yap. Then it grabbed his shirt and started to tug.
“Get off!” Sam tried to shoo it away, which considering its size was a lot harder than it should have been. The thing was tenacious. Finally letting go, the dog ran over to the master bathroom and started to yap again.
Sam rolled on his back, covered his head with an arm, and groaned. He was happy he wasn't hung over while listening to the Chihuahua’s bark. It was annoying enough sober. Finally getting the picture, Sam looked at the dog. “Alright, alright. I’m guessing you’re my wake up call. You want me to shower? Is that it? Fine.”
Sam got up off the floor and went to get something to wear. He’d been thrilled last night to see all his own clothes hanging next to the highly fashionable outfits that otherwise filled the closet. At least that was one thing he wouldn’t be forced to accept while he was down here. He quickly showered and got dressed.
It wasn’t long before he heard the Chihuahua start up again, and Sam stepped out of the bathroom to see the dog waiting. It even seemed to be impatient with him. It scratched itself and then turned to go into the main room. Sam followed it into the kitchen.
"Of course. Most important meal of the day, right?" Sam said sarcastically. "I mean, got to have enough energy to spend another fun-filled day in Hell, don't we?"
Sam found some cereal in one of the fully stocked cabinets, and some milk in the refrigerator. He got a bowl out and sat down at the table. He poured some breakfast out and began to eat.
As he was eating, he studied the dog sitting on the floor watching him. The thing kept acting like it was perpetually suffering from static electric shocks. "Twitchy little thing, aren't you? Too bad you can't tell me your name." Then Sam realized that maybe things were different in Hell. He eyed the dog suspiciously and said, "You can't, can you?" The dog said nothing, so Sam just shrugged. "Worth a shot."
As soon as Sam was finished, the dog jumped up and ran in a circle, like it was chasing its tail. Sam put the bowl on the floor for the dog. "Do you want the milk?"
The dog stopped abruptly, tilted its head, and lifted an ear in surprise. Sam got the impression that putting the milk down wasn't what the dog had wanted or expected him to do. But it tentatively walked over and took a couple of laps anyways. When Sam was sure the dog was done, he put the dishes in the sink and then followed the dog to the elevator. However, when the doors opened and the dog ran in, Sam didn't follow.
“I can’t go. I’m supposed to wait for someone to come get me.”
The dog just stared at him.
“I’m sorry, but the Devil specifically said he'd send someone for me. I'm not supposed to wander around on my own.” He held his bracelets up. "See? I'm a slave. I can get into a lot of trouble."
If Sam didn’t know better, he’d swear the expression on the Chihuahua's face was disbelief. It sat down and gave him a look that seemed to say it thought Sam was an idiot. Feeling stupid, Sam said, “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Resigned to the day ahead, he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.
They opened up again almost immediately, but not into the antechamber from yesterday. This place looked like a warehouse. It was clearly a large office. There were several rows of desks, with a soul chained to each one doing what looked like paperwork. They all looked miserable at the tediousness of their jobs. Unlike the majesty of the other rooms Sam had been in, this place was dreary. There was a gloomy pall, and the lights were fairly low.
The Chihuahua bolted out of the elevator. Sam stepped out also, to be immediately met by one of the demons overseeing the souls.
Looking at the dog, the demon grinned. "Morning, Kiwi. See you're herding only one this time. Can't remember the last time that happened, or the last time you came in through this entrance for that matter. Did he give you any problems?"
Kiwi barked, and the demon looked disappointed. "Pity." The demon eyed Sam's bracelets. His tone was filled with disgust when he asked, "Oliver, Sam?"
Sam nodded. The demon turned around and started walking down an aisle between two rows of desks.
"Follow me."
The demon walked very fast. As Sam struggled to keep up, he noticed the souls glancing up to watch him inquiringly. The other demons quickly squashed that, however, and the souls were forced to return to work.
To Sam's surprise, they didn't stop at any of the empty desks. Instead the demon he was following turned left at the end of the extremely long aisle, then walked past dozens of more rows of desks, straight to an out-of-the-way door in the corner. The door had a handwritten sign that said "Sam Oliver" taped to it.
"Your office."
Sam started. He couldn't have heard that right. "I have an office?"
The demon gave a smile that looked like he was in on some joke against Sam. It made Sam extremely uneasy. The demon adopted a tone so falsely sweet it could have been used for sugar. "Sure." He gave Sam a laugh and sneered. "Have fun." Then he opened the door and pushed Sam in.
Only the low light from the warehouse lit the room. Sam looked around, confused. The room looked empty. He fumbled on the wall for a switch, then turned the lights on.
As soon as the lights came on, Sam desperately wished they hadn't. Now he knew what the demon had found so funny. While the room was devoid of furniture, it was anything but empty. Lined up against the walls were stacks and stacks of files. Each stack was taller than he was, and Sam quickly estimated that he must be dealing with tens of thousands of files, if not more. It didn't take much of a leap to conclude that each file must be that of an escaped soul.
Sam didn't know whether to scream or to cry. He settled for losing it. Attacking the only blank wall, he fumed to the empty room at large. "I know you're listening, you big coward! Too chicken to tell me yourself? 'Just a little while, Sam.' 'You can go back home when your job is done, Sam.' And when will that be, huh? When I'm as old as you?"
He swung around to see Kiwi sitting at the doorway entrance. Sam glared. The little dog just stared back. Then it walked over to a stack of files, lifted its leg, and peed.
Sam glared up at the ceiling. "I hate you. So much." He then turned back to the dog and griped, "I said I was sorry when I messed up about not realizing you were my escort this morning."
Energy expended, and with nothing else to do, Sam walked over and picked up a bunch of files. Hanging his head and sighing, he sat down on the floor and began to read.
**********************************************************
Hours later, two demons gathered. They were looking at Sam's office and could see him through the open door. Sam was still sitting on the floor, only now he was surrounded by small piles of the cases, and was writing something on a notepad. It looked like he was organizing the files into some sort of system.
"Should we tell him?"
The other demon kicked his friend. "Are you kidding me? And miss all the fun?"
"But they're waiting."
"So?"
"They're waiting," the first demon stressed.
"Yeah, I know. Great, isn't it?"
"Do you think he even knows?"
"Does it matter? I doubt they'll care."
"Have you even seen him come out?"
"Only twice. The first time, Kiwi shooed him back. I think he was looking for some supplies. I saw the dog bring a box of pencils to him. The second time he searched for some food. Kiwi helped him again."
The first demon looked worried. "I think we should tell him. I don't want to be the one who gets into trouble for this."
At that, another demon wearing a DMV uniform marched right past them, heading straight for Sam's office. She had a no-nonsense attitude, and the two demons scattered to get out of her way.
"Sam!" she yelled.
Sam must have been absorbed in his work, because he didn't even look up. He had a pencil dangling from his mouth. "Mmm?"
"Get up! You're late!"
At this, Sam looked up. "To what?"
Gladys looked flabbergasted. "Your meeting, you moron. The High Lords are all waiting for you."
Suddenly, Sam remembered what the Devil had said yesterday in the chamber hall. A look of panic crossed his face. "Crap!" He scrambled up. "That's now? Gladys, I don't know where to go."
Gladys rolled her eyes in exasperation, then grabbed an arm and started dragging him to a nearby elevator.
"Wait!" Sam swiveled out of her grasp, then ran back to his office. He grabbed some of the piles while Gladys watched in disbelief. He then ran back to her.
"What if I can't do this?"
"Too bad," Gladys told him firmly. Then she pushed him into the elevator.
The doors shut, and she turned around to see the first two demons staring at her. She sighed and leaned heavily against the wall. Looking at them both she shook her head. "No. I don't know how he's managed to survive for so long."
*******************************************************************
As soon as the elevators doors opened, Sam very much wanted to find a place to hide.
Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. The doors had opened directly in front of the High Lords. All were sitting on one side of a half circular table. Sam estimated there must be around twenty of them. On the other side of the table was a lone chair, which was more of a throne. Sam quickly realized the room he was in must be a regular meeting room for the Devil and his highest administrators.
The room looked and felt like a dungeon. It was stone and barely lit. The only light came from torches on the far back wall, by the other end of the table. The shadows that played against the wall made Sam want to shake in fear. Like the one demon who had delivered his contract that one night at the Work Bench, the shadows cast by these demons were anything but human-like.
Sam recognized several of the demons from the chamber hall. The closest one was Leviathan, the demon he'd inadvertently insulted. Leviathan was looking at him with such hatred Sam could practically see the waves of hate emanating off the demon.
What was worse was that unlike the table back in the chamber hall, this table was huge. It was obviously made for the larger demons. Even the demons who looked regular height seemed to fit at it comfortably, although Sam didn't know how that was possible.
This place was built to intimidate, and in Sam's opinion, it was working.
"You're late."
Sam recognized the speaker as Beelzebub, the demon who sat to the right of the Devil back in the chamber hall. Beelzebub was sitting all the way at the far end, looking very much like he was in a position of power over all the other Lords at the table. Sam thought maybe he was the Devil's second-in-command. Wonderful.
Sam tried not to tremble under the harsh gaze. "I'm sorry."
"You have kept the High Lords of Hell waiting. That does not happen, unless you are the Boss himself, which you are not. This is your meeting. Did you not remember the time you set it at?" Beelzebub's menacing tone clearly implied he already knew Sam's answer would be no.
Sam answered anyways, since technically, this wasn't his fault. He couldn't forget something he never knew in the first place. "I didn't set the time, the Devil did. And I'm sorry, I forgot to ask him last night. We were, uh, discussing other things." Sam shifted anxiously before adding, "Not that I really think he would have told me anyways."
Beelzebub scoffed. "I doubt that. Why would the Boss not tell you the time of a meeting he wished you to lead with the High Lords?"
Sam could not stop the small snort as he awkwardly stood in front of them. "You mean, why wouldn't he actually be helpful? Where would the fun be in that? No, 'the Boss' pretty much just throws me in with the sharks and expects me to swim."
To Sam's surprise, the lone female demon actually chuckled. "That does sound like the Boss."
"Regardless, Lillith, this behavior is unacceptable, particularly coming from a slave." Beelzebub turned back to Sam. "Should we decide to let you live, see to it that it does not happen again."
Now this Sam understood. As much as he hated to admit it, the Devil did look out for him. Sam had even once called the Devil out on his own bogus death threats. Sam suspected this may even be the reason the Devil didn't tell him the meeting time in the first place, just to put him in this position so that he would stand up for himself.
Sam mentally added this to the ever growing list of crap he was going to give the Devil when he saw him again. He could almost fill a book the size of his contract at this point.
Realizing the Lords were waiting to see his response to the warning, Sam respectfully shook his head in his endeavor to apologize. "No. No, sir. I won't keep you waiting again."
Beelzebub gave a subtle look of arrogance. It was clear he thought he'd managed to intimidate Sam.
Sam looked again around at the room, and suddenly it all made sense. Maybe they thought that if they intimidated him enough, he'd be too scared to try and tell them what to do. This was, after all, his meeting and not theirs. The Devil had been clear on that. Sam could imagine how degrading it might feel for any High Lord of Hell to be ordered to have to listen to a mere slave.
However, failure wasn't an option for Sam, no matter how scared he was.
He took a deep breath and steadily held Beelzebub's gaze. Then Sam tried to choose his next words carefully. "I'm really very sorry I was late, and I'm really sorry the Devil has forced you into something you don't want to do. He does that a lot to me too. He's a real douche that way." Sam slightly grimaced, wondering if criticizing the Devil in front of his highest staff was really such a good idea. Oh well, too late.
Pushing on despite the faux pas, he continued. "But I know you're not going to hurt me. The fact that you're here despite that I'm some lowly slave, tells me you answer to him. And I know he won't like it if you damage one of his toys before he does."
Everyone looked taken aback, and Sam heard several hisses of surprised gasps. Apparently, the Devil's comment back in the chamber hall that Sam could look after himself wasn't as implausible as the rest of the room had believed at the time.
Beelzebub recovered first, leaning back in his chair and appraising Sam thoughtfully. At length he said, "Sit." Sam suspected he'd just passed some sort of test.
Not knowing what else to do, Sam gave an awkward half-bow. "Thanks." He hesitated before going over to the table, however. The only seat was that of the throne, and no way would he sit there. Luckily though, there was a footstool at the end of it. Sam walked over and picked it up. He sat it next to the table and kneeled on it in order to reach the top of the table easier. Then he set the folders down.
He looked up to see all the demons watching him carefully. Although they said nothing, Sam got the feeling that by rejecting to sit in the throne, he'd just passed yet another unseen test.
The large demon sitting directly across from him leaned forward into view. "How did you retrieve Neesam when so many others failed?"
Sam was puzzled. "Others went after Neesam?"
"Asmodeus," Beelzebub cautioned.
Asmodeus acknowledged the admonishment, but didn't deter. "Still, I desire to know."
The secrecy made Sam curious, but he knew better than to ask. He answered the question instead. "You, uh, know Ted Bundy?" Sam quickly wanted to smack himself for his idiocy. "Yeah, stupid question. Don't answer that. Anyways, Bundy always chose as victims girls who looked like the one who had once rejected him."
"How did you learn that?"
The truth was, Sam had learned it from Josie. She had regaled them all with stories of all the serial killers when they had finally started covering them in her law classes. She'd been working for her recent promotion to trying murder cases since the day she'd graduated from law school. Sam pushed the memory of his last meeting with her out of his mind. Even though they'd argued, he still missed her. She was still his friend, and she was still a reminder of home. Sam hoped someday he'd be able to apologize to her.
Sam also figured it wasn't wise to tell the other demons about his personal life, let alone his friends. They were in danger enough with just the Devil knowing about them.
"Must have been in a book I read," he covered quickly. "At any rate, I think Neesam had serious Mom issues and was doing something like the same thing as Bundy. His file had a picture of him and his mom. She had short red hair. So did the three victims the Devil showed me, as well as most of the prostitutes he picked to kill when he was alive. There aren't many prostitutes around with hair like that. So I found one close to the address where he was originally arrested for soliciting prostitution and kept an eye on her until he showed up. Which he did a couple of hours later."
Sam was gratified to see a few impressed faces, even if he suspected it was a grudging admission. He decided now might be a good time to get down to business.
"Look, I know the Devil likes to bust on me about only getting 600 on my SATs, but he likes to conveniently ignore the fact that the only reason I got that score is because I didn't want to take the test in the first place, so I filled in all the As." He made a face. "I really hate those scantron tests."
Sam made sure he had everyone's attention at this point. "But the one thing standardized testing did teach me is that you go for the easy questions first. They make up most of the test and take the least amount of time. You can get them done fast. Then you go back and get the harder ones, especially the ones who are going to need more in-depth research. Something more than what you'll find in the files."
No one said anything, but Sam knew he had their full attention. With the silence, though, he did start to lose his courage a little. He indicated the cases piled in front of him and pushed on anyways.
"I think these files are going to be easy catches, so we can get them out of the way first. I put notes on each one to help out. I'll keep slogging through the files so that maybe we can bring the number up from 94 faster than if we just went after them one at a time without any type of system." He then pushed the small stack of folders towards the center of the table and waited for the reaction.
Several of the High Lords gave each other glances. Sam got the impression they were digesting what he'd said and whether it was worth listening to. The longer the files sat untouched in the middle of the table, the more nervous he got.
He tried to anticipate what he thought the problem was. "I'm sorry there aren't many of them right now. I'm sure the Devil will ride my ass for that. I'll try and get more done for tomorrow."
That earned him yet another careful appraisal from the table at large. They seemed surprised he had apologized before they had even mentioned it. Finally, several of them gave slight nods to Beelzebub, and Asmodeus leaned forward to take the files.
"These will do for now." Asmodeus assured him.
"I, uh, really don't have anything more to add. Like I said, I'll try and get more done for tomorrow. I'll also try and work on a better plan to get the harder cases." Sam looked at Beelzebub. "May I go now?"
Most of the demons turned to Beelzebub as well. Sam was rather getting used to the looks of curiosity he kept gathering. Despite the earlier power struggle, Sam knew who was really in charge of the room.
Beelzebub nodded. "Of course."
"Thank you."
Sam got up and put the footstool back. Then he hurried into the elevator as fast as he could, while trying to maintain as cool a composure as possible. After he left, the room remained silent.
Finally, Lillith spoke. "I cannot remember the last time a human could measure up. You didn't affect him at all, Beelzebub. And yet, he handled himself well with us. I believe I'm beginning to understand what the Boss sees in him. He may very well be the one to bridge the gap."
To the surprise of no one, the rest of the gathered assembly gradually nodded in agreement. Only Leviathan maintained his resentment.