Mesmerize 2/2

[tifaching]

                                      

Art Title: Mesmerize
Prompt Number: 1062
Artist: weeping_ice

Fic Title: Mesmerize
Author: tifaching
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Slash
Pairing(s): Azazel in John/Dean
Rating: NC/17
Word Count: 11,147
Warnings: underage, prostitution, non-con, dub-con, power play, mind fuck,unwilling incest, episode dialogue.
Summary: Dean and Azazel met long before the cabin.

Many thanks to my beta alexisjane for being awesome. Any and all mistakes remaining are mine.

Art Link: Here

weeping_ice was so fantastic to work with and did such amazing art! I loved the prompt as soon as I saw it, and the banner and dividers and icons that were made for this were just so good!


I wish I could make you live every second I ever spent with him John, but we just don’t have that kind of time. You’ll get an idea of all the things you missed from the grand finale anyway. Hope you’re ready for the ride of your life.

The memory room is different this time. Bigger, tawdrier, a mirror on the ceiling over the king sized bed. A clock on the dresser ticks off seconds in not quite right intervals and a lamp on the bed table flickers, light reflecting sharply in the mirror above the bed. Incense burns in a bowl on the dresser, delicate scent filling the warm room. My own special blend, John. I probably won’t need it, but every little bit helps. The one familiar thing is Dean, stripping just inside the door, eyes nervously darting everywhere, nose already crinkling at the smell.

“We good?” Azazel asks, holding up a thick wad of bills. “I’m leaving town on Monday and you know you only get this if you spend the whole weekend.”

Dean nods but Azazel already knows. Sammy’s spending the weekend with that nice Mrs. Slocum and her son Billy. Electricity’s getting cut off, rent and extortion money are due and Sam’s got a field trip he’s just dying to go on. One last chance for a big score for Dean, one last chance for a bigger score for me.

Snap

Azazel tilts Dean’s head up and kisses him. Dean’s muscles are tight under his hands, almost shaking with tension. So cute, John. Everything he’s already done and the prospect of getting fucked has him all aquiver.

“Something wrong, kid? Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“What’s the perfume for?” Dean deflects. That he’s having second, third and fourth thoughts is clear to both of them.

“Oh, just something to help get you in the mood.” And a few other things. By the time it’s done with him, he won’t know which way is up. He runs his hands down Dean’s taut back to cup his clenched ass. “You know; relaxed.” Slapping a hand against Dean’s butt cheek he adds, “Finally going to fuck you and I if you don’t loosen this up a little it won’t be very pleasant for either of us.”

“Not expecting it to be pleasant,” Dean mutters.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy it,” Azazel promises, fingers gliding over Dean’s nipples until he’s squirming. “Eventually.”

Dean shakes his head, mouth tightening. “Not gonna happen.”

“Well, for fifteen hundred bucks you better do a damned fine job of pretending,” Azazel says, gesturing toward the bed. “Now how about you sit on down and make yourself all pretty for me.”

Dean flushes, but settles at the head of the bed, legs bent and spread wide. Azazel watches in the mirror as Dean takes himself in hand and begins to stroke his soft flesh to fullness.

“Lie down and watch yourself,” Azazel orders. “In the mirror.”

Dean reddens more but stretches out on the bed and directs his eyes up. At the first flash of light he squints, turning his head to the side.

“I said watch yourself, boy.”

“You need to move that light, dude. It’s shining right in my eyes.”

Azazel snorts softly. “I don’t need to do anything, kid. You, however, need to deal with it and do the fuck what I tell you to.”

Dean’s mouth opens, closes again and he resignedly turns his stormy eyes back to his reflection. The lamp flickers at unexpected moments and he can’t avoid the bright light spearing his retinas.

Azazel alternates his gaze between Dean’s face and his quickly stiffening cock. Look at his eyes, John. Windows to the soul. You’d almost think this wasn’t shredding him to bits if it wasn’t for those glorious, truthful eyes.

Slowly, exulting in John’s hoarsely screamed threats, Azazel strips, dropping his clothes in a messy pile next to Dean’s before joining him on the bed. Dean’s mouth opens beneath his, soft if not exactly willing and Azazel swallows his small moan of protest when he moves Dean’s hand off his cock and lays it flat on the bed.

“Hands down,” he whispers, “and keep them there. Let daddy take care of that gorgeous dick.” Dean’s eyes flash rebellion and John howls but neither stops him as he mouths his way down Dean’s body. A small hiss escapes when Azazel wraps his tongue around one pebbled nipple then the other, but Dean doesn’t move and his hands stay flat on the bed. A louder moan escapes when Azazel’s tongue begins to lave Dean’s balls and he lifts his head to glare. “Quiet,” he says harshly and Dean’s mouth snaps shut, muffling his groans to whimpers. “Don’t want to disturb the neighbors, slugger.”

Azazel’s tongue continues its journey, swiping over Dean’s shaft, gently probing into his slit and he flicks his eyes to catch Dean’s fists clenching against the mattress. Oh, he’d give me a good shot to the nose if he didn’t need this money, John. He closes his mouth over the head of Dean’s cock. Mmmmm. More of a mouthful than he was before, that’s for sure. ”Eyes on me, kid. In the mirror, come on now.”

Big hands press Dean to the bed as more of his cock disappears into Azazel’s mouth, hold him down when he begins to squirm. Azazel’s tongue swirls and dips against Dean’s hot flesh as he sucks him down, letting John taste the salty slick of his son’s skin. Told you he’d be delicious, didn’t I? He focuses John on Dean’s face, the reluctant, guilty build of pleasure all Azazel will let him see.

“Unngh,” Dean mutters softly as he twists beneath Azazel’s grip. His bottom lip is gripped between his teeth to hold back his cries and Azazel growls at the sight. “Stop,” Dean moans. “I’m gonna…”

Azazel pulls off and grins as his hand slithers, warm and wet, up Dean’s shaft. “That’s kind of the idea, kid.”

One more twisting pass, thumb shivering over the head of Dean’s cock and he’s arching up, plumes of white spattering over his sweat drenched belly and up to his heaving chest. His head’s barely cleared the mattress, going for a look at the mess Azazel’s made of him when a sharp slap to his thigh gets his attention.

“You want to see something, you look at it in the mirror. And even if you don’t want to see it, you look anyway. You’re going to watch everything I do to you tonight, kid.” Azazel’s hand slips around Dean’s cock. “If I have to tell you again, this is going to get a spanking, understand?” Dean’s eyes are hard, but he thumps his head back down, gaze sweeping his reflection. “Good boy.”

Ignoring John’s growl, Azazel gets on with business. “Oh, baby, you look so pretty like that.” He gives Dean’s soft cock one last suckle before rising to his knees between Dean’s spread thighs. ”Uh, uh, sweetheart, don’t move,” he says before jerking his cock until there’s another load of spunk added to the pool already decorating Dean’s skin. Had plenty of lube way back in the day, John. Azazel settles next to Dean, running his fingers through the semen coating Dean’s belly. Tonight, this is going to have to do. After a while though, I’m not going to really need it; know what I mean?

Dean shakes his head, eyes wide from the effects of the light, only starting to dull slightly from the incense and the heat. He’s breathing in time with the ticking of the clock and Azazel grins. Moving along nicely, John. We’re going to have to fast forward through some things to get to the end of the show before Sammy wakes up, but for this bit we’re going frame by frame.

He makes John feel Dean’s body, solid, then slight beneath his hands. Lets him see his son’s face, then and now, terrified beneath the stoic front Dean’s unsuccessfully trying to keep up. Then Dean watches him in the mirror as he slicks up with their come and now Dean shudders as he relives it. John’s quieter but no less vehement in his pleas for Azazel to stop as the demon parts Dean’s thighs further and settles down between them.

Thought about spending some time opening him up for me; making him come from just my fingers up his ass, but, nah. I decided to just get my cock in him and go from there. “Relax and bend your legs, sweetheart,” Azazel says, sliding his palms beneath Dean’s tightly locked knees. “Come on, now. That payday’s gonna get smaller if you don’t keep doing what you’re told.”

Dean lets out a shivered breath and bends his knees. His hands have the ratty satin comforter in a death grip that only tightens as Azazel lifts his legs and positions him so he’s bent nearly in half. “Please,” he whispers, halting when Azazel holds up a hand.

“Unless you’re about to say ‘please fuck me hard’ I really don’t want to hear it.” Dean shakes his head, wincing as the light hits him again and Azazel nods approvingly. “Good. Now I’m going to be watching you and you better keep your eyes right here.” Come lubed fingers slide into Dean’s crack and circle his hole. “Here, you understand?” Dean nods and points his eyes where Azazel directs. “Good. Now relax. And remember, be quiet.” That’s for your boy now, John. Can’t be waking Sammy before we’re done. Your boy back then? Oh, he made the most beautiful noises. Come on, I’ll show you.

Dean tries at first, punched out breaths his only reaction to Azazel jackhammering into his body. As the demon pushes further, opens him wider, his lip bloodies from chewing on it to stifle his cries.

With a final thrust, Azazel shoves all the way home, balls settling against Dean’s ass. He stills for a moment, including John in the blissful memory of his first incursion into Dean’s tight, young body. Mmmm, damn. He takes a few shallow strokes and chuckles. Good thing we’ve got the memory, John. Your boy’s ass isn’t squeezing us nearly as tight now. Guess he got some use out of what I taught him.

Dean gasps as Azazel moves in him and that spurs the demon on. Muscular arms bend Dean further as Azazel pounds him into the mattress. Now Dean takes it in jaw clenched silence, but memory Dean can’t control his cries under the brutal assault. Azazel pumps harder, Dean’s body jerking and twisting beneath his as the demon draws it out. Demonic stamina’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it, John? I could go all weekend without stopping. But I won’t. What fun would one time be? Hips stutter, then he stills, spilling deep inside Dean. Mmm, feel that? Gonna make it a lot easier next time. And the time after that and the time after that.

“Aw, what’s the matter, baby?” Azazel palms Dean’s soft cock while his own hardens again. “Didn’t you get off?”

Dean stares into the mirror and doesn’t answer, trembling uncontrollably. He tries to push his lower body down, but Azazel, still buried deep inside, pushes him roughly back into position.

“Well, we’ll take care of that this time, don’t you worry.” His hips begin to move and Dean groans. “We’ve got a long way to go, sweetheart, so lay back and enjoy it.”

Azazel angles himself to punch into Dean’s prostate with each pistoning thrust, grinning at the horror in Dean’s eyes as come spills over his belly just from being fucked. “See,” Azazel whispers, working his way to his own orgasm. “Told you you’d like this.”

Azazel makes Dean ride him, whispers filth and praise as he fucks him on his back and on his stomach, working him to orgasm every time. He straddles Dean’s chest to make him deep throat, swallowing around his father’s cock until his stomach’s swollen with come. Good, isn’t he? Not everybody can swallow a cock as big as yours all the way down. That takes some practice.

Finally, when Dean’s movements are sluggish, his eyes dull from heat and noise, light and haze and unrelenting, brutal sex, Azazel calls a halt. All right, here’s the really good part. Are you ready, John?

Dean’s limp on the mattress, body crusted with come, eyes wide and hazy, not reacting when the light flashes into them. Azazel snaps his fingers in front of Dean’s face but he doesn’t blink.

“Dean, can you hear me?” It’s the first time Azazel’s used his name, but Dean doesn’t react.

“Yes.”

“Good. Are you relaxed?”

“Yes.” It’s more breathed than spoken and Azazel smiles in satisfaction.

“Good. It’s quiet where you are. Dark. No one there but you and me. Okay?”

“Just you and me. In the dark.”

“I’m going to say three words to you, Dean. In the future, whenever you hear them you’ll come back to our place and wait for me. This place. Yours and mine, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do when you hear the words?”

“I’ll come back here and wait for you.”

“Good boy. Now listen carefully. Hostes totaliter mesmerize.” Come on, John. It’s perfect. And it’s something that will never come up in conversation, even in your line of work. “Hostes totaliter mesmerize. You got that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. When you hear that phrase you come here and wait for me. After that I’ll tell you where you need to be and when I snap my fingers you’ll be there. Anywhere I say. Understand?”

“Anywhere you say.” Dean’s voice is a dull whisper, but it’s done.

A snap of the fingers and Dean blinks awake. Azazel turns off the light, stills the clock and chucks the incense out the window. Mission accomplished, he doesn’t need them anymore.

“C’mon, kid,” he says, grabbing memory Dean by the arm and hauling him off the bed. “You need a shower.” Shame we don’t have a shower here, John. You’d get to experience first hand the pleasure of Dean all slippery wet and on his knees. Guess we’re going to have to fuck Dean, here, again while you live vicariously through my memory of soaping up your boy.




It’s still pitch black outside the window when Azazel hears stirring from the other room. Sam’s not likely to wake quickly and jump right out of bed, but the activity means that his night with Dean is almost at an end. Pay attention, John. Gonna have to finish up now and you’re not going to get another chance to fuck this fine ass. Dean’s face down, sprawled limply beneath John’s bulk. Big hands grip his thighs, forming bruises on top of bruises as Azazel grinds their bodies together, feeding the overwhelming pleasure of his cock pounding Dean directly into John’s mind. When the climaxes come, three voices sound in unison, one caged within muscle and bone and one muffling both its cry and Dean’s whimper with one last kiss. There you go, big guy. Azazel drinks in John’s reaction like fine whiskey. Knew you’d get with the program eventually.

Azazel pulls out slowly, relishing the final, come slicked glide of his flesh within Dean’s. John’s shuddering inside him even more than Dean is beneath him, shame and disgust warring with anger at what’s he’s been forced to do. Azazel slaps Dean’s ass before rolling off him. Good lay, huh, John? Mouth like a suction pump and an ass so tight you just want to fuck it forever.

Taking just a moment to again regret the lack of a shower, Azazel spills part of a bottle of water over an old tee shirt and begins to haphazardly wipe layers of semen off of Dean. He mostly concentrates on that pretty, pretty face; not too hard a job since he’d been careful to avoid spattering Dean’s hair. The rest just gets a cursory rubdown. Most of Dean will be covered by clothes and in a little while some dried on spunk will be the least of Dean’s problems.

“Stand up,” he says, and Dean obediently rises to his feet, wobbling on shaky legs while Azazel washes his front. He tilts Dean’s head up when he’s finished, wiping a thumb through warm moisture that’s not from the cloth. “You were so good for me,” he whispers, smiling at Dean’s embarrassed flush. “Worth every penny.”

Azazel bends to fish the Colt from beneath Dean’s faded jeans, giving Dean’s cock one last, lingering caress on his way back up. Dean’s shaking and in spite of Azazel’s hasty ministrations there’s pink tinged come trickling down his thighs. Kind of messy, but I can’t do anything about that now. Oh, John. You’ve got no idea of the toybox I put together for him…just in case. Azazel flashes a few of the plugs and dildos he’d had set aside for Dean into John’s mind. But, sadly, it’s not to be. Sammy’s my front runner and I don’t think he’d go for big brother as my sex slave for all eternity. And yeah, I know, I just left him like that. Azazel gifts John with one final memory of Dean, naked and unconscious on the motel room bed. Don’t know how he got himself home. Don’t really care. I got everything I wanted out of that weekend. He runs a hand down John’s chest to loosely grip his cock. Maybe even a little more.

Snap

“Get dressed,” Azazel orders and Dean slowly pulls on his clothes. “I’m going to keep this,” he adds, holding the Colt up. “But you’re going to think you still have it until I decide it’s time that you don’t. Understand?”

“Yes,” Dean whispers.

“Good boy. Now I want you to forget about everything we just did. Until you figure out that I’m the one operating this ride. Then you’re going to remember every last bit of come daddy spilled into you, onto you and sucked out of you. Understand?” Dean nods and Azazel smiles. “Okay. You’re back in the cabin now, so go on out there and sit at the table. Sammy’ll be up soon and we don’t want him wondering what you’ve been up to, now do we?”

“No.” The answer is almost inaudible and Dean’s lips tremble as it comes out.

Snap

Shame we have to let him go, isn’t it? Azazel watches Dean limp out of the room and smiles. That body knows it’s been abused but its mind has completely blocked it out. There’s nothing I’d rather do than handcuff him to the bed, bring him around, and spend the next few days fucking him bloodier. But, I’ve still got Sam to deal with and work’s gotta take precedence over pleasure, am I right?

John’s been quiet, stunned by shock and guilt and the overload of sensations infusing his consciousness, but Azazel feels him stirring again at the threat to Sam. Ha. Knew that would get your attention.

The Winchester in question is up and about now, his voice quiet but audible through the open door. Sam’s asking about John and Azazel grins at Dean’s reply that he just needs some rest. Too bad we didn’t get any, huh? Then Azazel hears ‘Colt’, he hears ‘Meg’ and Dean’s going on about ‘the guy he shot’. Rage bubbles up as he tucks the Colt in the back of his jeans. It’s time to end this.

Azazel’s wiping his hands on a towel as he joins the boys in the main room. It’s the last of Dean’s blood he’s cleaning off but he’s not worried they’ll notice. Sam and Dean will think it’s his own. He sees them before they see him; Sam staring at Dean, who’s confessing things Sam’s got no idea about.

“You know, for you or Dad…the things I’m willing to do …well, it scares me sometimes.”

“It shouldn’t.” Azazel makes his presence known. “You did good.” I wonder how long it’ll take him to figure out I’m not you. Think that might have been a dead giveaway?

“You’re not mad?”

“For what?”

Dean huffs a breath. “Using a bullet.”

Oh, that. Yeah, I’m pretty Goddamned pissed about that. “I’m proud of you.” Let’s see how thick we can lay it on here. See that look on his face when I said I was proud? “You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. You think? “But you…you watch out for this family. You always have.”

Dean shifts in his chair and Azazel doesn’t blame him, but it’s more likely to be unease at the unfamiliar praise than discomfort from the night’s activities. “Thanks.”

Moving right along. Azazel sends out a tiny tendril of power and the lights flicker. Dean’s on his feet in an instant, Sam at his back. Neither seems afraid and both look to John as Azazel heads to the window.

“It found us. It’s here.”

Sam’s face hardens. “The demon?”

Dean’s still giving Azazel a look that’s not entirely fooled by his act, but Azazel’s not quite ready to end this. “Sam, lines of salt in front of every window and every door.”

“First thing I did,” Dean says, eyes narrowing.

“Well, Sam, check it, okay?”

Sam nods and goes, leaving Azazel with Dean. “Dean, you got the gun?”

“Yeah.”

Azazel holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Dean shakes his head. “Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation and it vanished…”

“This is me. I won’t miss.”

Dean reaches around his back for the gun, growling when he finds it gone.

“Looking for this?” Azazel brings the Colt out and points it at Dean. He can see memory fighting to emerge in Dean’s eyes; it’ll just be moments before it shatters him.

“You’re not my dad,” Dean whispers.

“Ding, ding, ding, give the boy a prize.” Azazel ‘s eyes fade to yellow as he lets Dean see exactly what he’s up against. “I’m doing the driving, Daddy’s just along for the ride.”

“You…uhhh…Dad…” Dean’s face goes blank as the events of the night come flooding back. “What did you do to me?” The color drains from his skin and he staggers back a few steps. “Dad.”

Seems like he didn’t have as much fun tonight as we did, John. “Come on, Dean, it’s not like you didn’t get off on it. It was just a trip to a shared past that I look back on fondly.”

“That was you?” Dean’s voice shakes as he furiously wipes at his lips.

“Dean! Dad?” Sam’s back, eyes wide at the sight of his father holding a gun on his brother. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not Dad,” Azazel replies, raising a hand to fling the two men against the far wall. “I’ve just been living in him for a while.” Sam’s struggling against the demon’s hold, but Dean hangs limply as Azazel moves toward them. “What a pain in the ass, this thing’s been,” he says, laying the Colt on the table. He doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes track it.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Sam says, mouth twisting in anger.

Look at him, Johnny. Still fighting. He’s my boy. “Well, you found me.” John’s rattling the bars of his cage again, has been since Dean remembered. That one’s yours. He gestures to Dean, whose eyes are glazed; staring at something outside this room. Weak. Good for nothing. He pauses with a grin. Well, maybe not nothing.

“This is fun,” Azazel says, with a satisfied smile as he comes closer. “I could have killed you a hundred times today, but finally getting you where I want you, Sam...” He leans toward Dean, running his thumb over cracked, swollen lips. “And you, the time we spent together earlier…I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Dean flinches away, and his eyes come up, awareness returning. “Your Dad. He’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit.” Azazel leans in to stage whisper in Dean’s ear. “He says he’s never had a better lay.”

“Let him go,” Dean says, voice tight with pain and anger. “Take me instead.”

“Already had you,” the demon replies. “Twice. Daddy’s going to rip you to pieces. He’s going to taste the iron in your blood.” That’s going to be another fun time with your boy, John. Wonder which you’ll like the taste of better? Dean’s blood or his come? “See, as far as I’m concerned, whatever we do to you is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy.” Azazel leans in so close he’s breathing into Dean’s mouth. “You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” Dean’s shaking. If Azazel’s powers weren’t holding him up, he’d have collapsed by now, the demon’s sure of it. Still, something shifts behind those shattered eyes. Still got some fight in him? Your boys are full of surprises John. The feeling the demon gets from inside is that John isn’t surprised at all, but he disregards it. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean whispers, and Azazel’s ready to end him right there, but Sam intervenes.

“I want to know why. Why’d you do it?”

Azazel’s mouth curves up as he turns his attention to the younger Winchester. “Because your brother’s a hot piece of ass, why else?” Sam’s eyes narrow as he shoots a look at Dean, who avoids his gaze. “Or,” Azazel continues, “did you mean Mommy and sweet little Jess? You want to know why? Because they were in the way of my plans for you. For you and all the children like you.” Azazel watches Sam process that, knowing that his remark about Dean is swirling through Sam’s mind too.

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with?” Dean’s voice shakes with weariness, but Azazel’s not surprised that he’s trying to divert attention back to himself. Doing his job to the end, John. Good dog. “Because I really can’t stand all the monologuing.”

“Funny.” Azazel wheels on Dean. “But that’s your m.o. isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain. Masks the truth.”

Dean’ s silent then, staring at Azazel with hate, but Sam’s not going to let it go. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

Azazel crowds Dean against the wall, directing his words to him. “You fight and you whore for this family, but the truth is, they don’t need you. Not like you need them.” He cuts a glance at Sam. “You know how your brother put food on the table when you were younger and Daddy left you high and dry? Spreading his legs and on his knees. Taking cock any way a paying customer wanted to give it to him.” Sam’s shocked into silence, and Dean’s jaw tightens. If looks could kill Azazel would be a smudge on the floor. Now to drive in the final nail. “Sam was always John’s favorite, you know. Even when they fought it was more concern than he ever showed you. Now that he knows you’re a whore on top of everything else? Even if you were going to live, he’d never look at you again.”

Dean stares into Azazel’s eyes and his swollen lips curve up. “Yeah, I bet you’re real proud of your kids too. Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted them.”

Everything stills for a moment as Dean’s suicidal words penetrate and Azazel takes a step back. Say goodbye, John, he whispers and a dangerous silence is his only answer. He raises a hand and Dean jolts back against the wall with a strangled cry, blood pouring through the front of his shirt.

“Dean,” Sam yells, struggling to reach the gun, but Azazel’s got him pinned tight.

Dean’s muscles are shredding beneath his torn skin, even his organs can’t escaping the lacerating slash of the demon’s power. Azazel watches Dean’s life flow out of him and he’s almost ready to let him drop to the floor when Dean raises his head.

“Dad,” he cries out. “Dad, don’t you let it kill me.”

Like you can do anything, Azazel mocks before unleashing another bloody pulse. Dean screams as he writhes against unbreakable bonds and Azazel shivers at John’s rage. It’ll be over soon.

“Dad, please,” Dean whispers, blood running down his chin and Azazel’s rocked by an internal explosion as John’s essence explodes out of its cage with a fury unmatched by anything the demon’s ever felt. He focuses his attention inward, losing control of the boys, but that can’t be helped as John rampages through Azazel’s defenses until he’s torn down every last one.

“Stop,” John, whispers, staring at Dean with agony in his eyes. “Stop it.”

Dean, freed from Azazel’s power, slumps to the floor, while Sam immediately grabs the gun. Azazel marshals his strength, rebuilding bigger, stronger walls before shoving John back into his box then slamming the door. He’s shaken, no one’s ever gotten free before, but takes care not to let it to show. Nice try. But it’s not going to change anything.

“Kill me,” he says as Sam aims the Colt, “kill Daddy.” Let’s see what he’ll do, John. Think he’s angry enough to kill us both?

“I know,” Sam says steadily, dropping the barrel and pulling the trigger.

Guess he is, is all the demon has time to think before pain like he’s never felt is dragging him down. John’s free in seconds, and the struggle for control begins. We should both be dead, and you’re still fighting me. Why can’t you Winchesters ever just give up?

Sam’s back and the eyes that open to meet his are brown and clear. Azazel’s not fighting for control anymore, he’s fighting to escape but this time John’s got him pinned.

“Sammy,” John cries out. “It’s still alive, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me in the heart, son.”

Let me out, John. Azazel’s desperate. All his plans can’t come to an end here. You want Sam to have to live with killing his father? How’s Dean going to deal with that? Pain and deep grief are the demon’s only answer. They both know what Dean’s chances are. Sam cocks the gun, but hesitates as his brother’s voice reaches his ears.

“Sam, don’t you do it,” Dean begs in a weak voice. “Don’t you do it.”

Azazel can see Sam wavering between John’s commands and Dean’s broken pleas. Azazel thinks Sam should listen to his brother, but one of his favorite things about the youngest Winchester is how he always goes his own way. John’s wavering too, shock and pain stripping him of his power to contain the demon. The decision is taken out of their hands when Azazel knocks aside John’s crumbling will and makes his escape in a spiral of black smoke, John’s groan of despair strengthening him as he goes.

There’s no need to hurry away; Sam’s got too much on his plate tonight for any demon hunting to make its way onto his agenda. Azazel hovers outside, invisible in the night and watches as Sam loads Dean, still dripping blood, into the car. He spots the Colt, tucked into Sam’s waistband when John’s youngest bends over to settle his father into the front seat. Tonight hadn’t gone the way he planned, he thinks, but he’s not dead so it could have ended up much worse. The Colt’s down another bullet and one less Winchester in the world is never a bad thing. Of course he’d rather it was John than Dean, but things usually work out for the best-he’s not done with any of them by a long shot. As the Impala speeds off into the night, Azazel follows suit. He’s got work to do.