First Fanfic Attempt
TITLE: Rumplestiltskin
RATING: PG (Gen)
CHARACTERS: Mostly Demon
SPOILERS: Pilot
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no money...the usual
SUMMARY: Demons make deals with humans all the time...some deals are more lucrative than others.
By the end of the twentieth century it had become nearly impossible for a demon to make an honest living in the soul market. It wasn’t that humans were becoming more moral - they weren’t - it was just that, in general, they didn’t go out looking for deals the way they used to. Basically, people might sing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” but no one really believed in it. A demon who spent his time hanging out at crossroads waiting for a human to come to him was in for a long, boring, and unproductive evening.
One demon, however, knew better. He knew that in order to make a profit, he had to be able to adapt…to change with the times. If he really wanted to make a killing, pardon the pun, he needed to be able to go where the action is. The best bargains are made with desperate people, so all he had to do was find a place where desperate humans congregate…and had he ever found one: The Cleveland Clinic Heart Center.
He spent most of his time in the hospital chapel, figuring that someone trying to make a deal with God might also be receptive to an offer from a different business partner. He enjoyed the chapel; quietly reveled in the insolence of profaning a sacred place. Not that there was much sacred about the place…silly humans were so worried about making sure that their nondenominational place of worship didn’t offend anyone, there wasn’t enough holiness left to keep him out.
That day was a fairly quiet one in the chapel; there were only two prospective targets. The first, a middle aged man, was sobbing openly in the front row. His wife of twenty years had suffered a massive heart attack. The demon ignored him. It was obvious that the crying was all for show. Relief practically oozed out of him with each tear. That one wouldn’t trade a nickel for his wife, never mind his soul.
The other occupant of the room, a young woman sitting stony-faced in the back row, had definite potential. She had the exhausted, dejected look of someone who had put every drop of energy into begging God for help and was only just realizing that no one was going to answer. Perfect.
He sat down next to her and assumed his most sympathetic expression. It turned out that she was happy to talk about her situation…she was tired of friends and family who looked at her with pity but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Her young son was suffering from a heart defect, and the doctors had offered little hope. Her husband was encouraging her to prepare for the worst. She was fed up with all of them, and sick at heart that she was the only one who hadn’t given up on the boy.
In the end, it was easy. He only had to nod occasionally, or smile encouragingly, and she was hooked. Like most mothers he’d met, she seemed convinced that her little brat was special. It couldn’t be his time to die…he was meant to do so much more. He hadn’t even taken his first step yet, and she had promised to take him to Disney Land as soon as he could walk! She kept insisting that her son had a destiny so much greater than anyone could imagine. He simply agreed and offered to help…for a price.
* * *
Several years later, the woman was considerably less accommodating. “No!” she growled at him, keeping her voice low so as not to scare the infant sleeping in his crib, “You can not have my son!”
Amused at her ferocity, the demon feigned surprise. These humans were so predictable. “Can’t I? If I remember correctly, you promised him to me. I believe the agreement was that you would give me your life and your second born child and in return I would cure your older son. I’m sure I kept up my end of the bargain…how is the little tyke these days?” She said nothing, just stared mutinously at him. “We don’t make these promises lightly,” he chided before pinning her to the nursery wall and easing her up toward the ceiling.
Once the woman had reached her final resting place above the baby’s crib, he paused, overcome with curiosity. “You sacrificed so much to save your older son. Not just your life, which is fairly typical, but you actually gave me your other child. How do you justify that? Do you really think it was worth it?”
The woman smiled - actually smiled - at him, the kind of smile he usually wore after sealing a particularly lucrative bargain. “Oh yes,” she said, “It was worth it. I know you dismissed everything I said as the ramblings of an overwrought mother, but you were wrong. Dean really is destined for great things. Someday you’ll see.”
Then he slit her stomach and she didn’t speak anymore.
NOTES: This story was written for the "From Ashes" Supernatural Fic-A-Thon. My inspiration song was #45 Fields of Gold by Sting. I know, I know...the plot here is nothing like the story in that song. But I can explain! Really! The lyrics that caught my attention were "I don't make promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken." I started thinking about the importance of promises, kept and un, in the lives of the Winchesters, and this is what resulted.