SPN 2010 Big Bang
Fic title: Nightmares of Hell
Author name: dannipet
Artist name: culper355
Genre: General
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 20,094
Warnings/Spoilers: Hell, Death, Demons, Swearing, burning of a church. The usual Supernatural warnings. Kinda spoilery for the end of season three and the end of season 4, as well as using characters introduced in season 4. For those people who are still working to catch up with the show.
Summary: When Lucifer rises, so do his minions. A young demon merely 100 Hell years old climbs his way out of Hell to serve his Lord, but when he recognizes his prey curiosity wins out. Now he must try to keep from getting killed while answering the most important question of his life: How does he know Sam Winchester?
Art drawn by the lovely Culper355. Thank you SO much for being my artist~
Visit the SPN J2 Big Bang to see more fic.
And last but so far from least: Thank you to the absolutely amazing Starkiller for pointing out all of my horrible spelling mistakes and reminding me to push the post button before my nerves drove me off. I'm going to be baking you non-allergy cookies for the rest of eternity, hun! ♥
"No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold. Nothing satisfies me but your soul."
He remembers climbing. Hours, months, years of climbing. Climbing over thousands of desperate, naked bodies. Stepping on backs, heads, featureless faces. Grabbing arms, legs, anything he could reach to climb, climb, climb ever higher, driven by an urge he could no more explain than deny. He wasn't the only one. There were many others. Many others climbing with him, never speaking, never resting, often falling. He fell once and lost ground. He dug his fingers into the throat of another unfortunate climber and started climbing again. He had to get to the top, something important was up there. More important than his master, and his studies. More important than the pain, the screams, the fear. He needed it, he had to get to it. His very existence depended on it. So he continued to climb without pausing, without thinking, until he finally reached his goal at the very top.
He was aware of only one thing at first: a strange weightlessness. He had no body and he was aware of the lack of all his senses. Somehow, he could tell that he was moving, floating through the air like a cloud. It was the first thing resembling freedom he could remember in all his existence. He could feel--just barely--slight tugs, like bright lights drawing him closer except he couldn't really see them. It was wild, and inexplicable, and deep down he knew just what he was. Nothing else mattered to him besides the pull of the lights that were not lights. With a thought he was moving faster, traveling on the wind towards the brightest light.
Suddenly he was aware of so much more. Sight, sound, smell, taste, and oh! The pure rush of sensation. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt in Hell, so familiar, and with that thought he remembered why he was here. Lucifer had risen, demons were surging out to serve him in his campaign, and he was one of them. A demon. He'd climbed for so long, stepping on everyone else, to get where he was now. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists. The woman he was wearing had been in the middle of dinner he realized. The realization came with a clarity that slowly moved over him. She was human.
Across the table sat the man she'd been eating with, looking at him, studying him as he studied the other in return. His eyes were black. There was a moment of hesitation as they both recognized the other as an ally, and then they stood up from the table. Their lord had given them orders, and they were to follow them.
Find Sam Winchester.
----
"Dean," a small voice punctured his dreams, no, his nightmares, shocking him awake, and he blearily twisted around to face the backseat and his little brother. Sam looked awful. His big puppy eyes were red and exhausted, with dark circles around them. "Dean," Sam continued, his voice soft, pleading. "I can't sleep."
Dean didn't have to ask why. Sammy hadn't been awake when the Striga attacked him, but that didn't seem to stop the boy from having his own terrifying set of nightmares. Dean could sympathize.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Dean looked around. They were at a fill up station in the middle of nowhere, their dad inside paying for gas. It didn't really matter where he was though, Sam wouldn't have asked their father to fight his monsters.
After stretching, he took his pillow into the back, and settled into the seat with his back against the door. "Come on, Sammy," he offered, holding out his arms. His little brother crawled into his lap, settling against him, clinging as if Dean were the only safe thing in the entire world, and allowed him to tuck the blanket in around them both.
"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said after a while, petting Sam's hair soothingly the way mom used to before he went to bed so many years before. They were back on the road now, Dad concentrating so hard on getting them away from danger that he never noticed what was going on with the boys. That was fine, Dean was anxious to make up for his failure, momentarily content to work his way up from nightmares back to real monsters.
"It's okay," he repeated as he listened to Sam's breathing even out. "I'll never let you down again."
He couldn't get back to sleep himself yet, his nightmares just waiting for him to close his eyes again in order to make him fail again and again, so he sat there holding Sam. For the young boy, Dean's mere presence was enough to chase away the beasties, and right now Dean was content to listen to the road passing beneath their tires.
----
Finding Sam Winchester was easy. Locating him alone was nearly impossible, but following the reports of dead monsters was a piece of cake as demons continued to come across him, and within weeks he was able to use that information to determine where the hunter was heading. Along the way, he gathered other demons to his side, enticing them with his promise of power. Of course, if they caught Sam and brought him to Lucifer they would be rewarded handsomely, he told them and they were so eager to follow him.
By the time he had tracked down their target in Dalton, he had gathered a small army of new demons, eager to please their leader and through him their lord. They recognized the authority he carried as a disciple of Alastair, doing what he asked lest he take out his anger upon them. Or so he led them to believe, anyway. He was only focused on the man trying to hide in a dingy motel, behind curtains and a line of salt.
Leaving his pack sitting half a mile away, he made his way to the motel and walked around it, trying to determine the best way to corner their prey before returning and forming a plan.
In retrospect, he should have known the plan would fail miserably.
Within ten minutes of Sam leaving the temporary shelter, all but three of his demons were killed, and those left fled for their lives as soon as they realized they were no match for the hunter. He was left alone, warily facing Sam in a standoff, far enough away that he could leave his host if Sam attacked.
They paced around each other, tension escalating for several more minutes before Sam finally spoke. "When are you going to learn that I won't be taken!?" he demanded, holding that hateful knife out in front of his body.
There was only one answer to that. "Our lord demands you," he replied, "and one way or another you are going to be his, Sam Winchester." Sam tensed to charge, and he released his hold on the human he was possessing, becoming smoke and dispersing in the wind before he was killed.
----
Christmas had come and gone, and Sam was growing up. Neither of them said anything when their Dad returned, both knowing he had a job to do and doing their best to hide their disappointment in him. At the same time, Dean realized, their bond with each other was growing stronger every day. The weight of the amulet against his chest was unfamiliar but welcome.
They returned to Uncle Bobby's so Dad could go out on a longer hunt across country. Occasionally they would stay at the junkyard so the boys could have a solid couple of months of school without worrying about moving about every two days as their Dad chased a lead. Dean loved these times. Especially now that Sam was learning about all the dark things that really lived out in the world.
This meant that Dean could teach Sam almost everything he knew in the safety of the junkyard. First, however, he had to convince his brother that the junkyard was the safest place on Earth..
The piles of cars and parts became a limitless playground for the boys, scrambling over tires that became mountains and through forests of metal, chasing one monster after another. Dean told Sam countless stories of their Dad's heroics and Dean standing by his side to fight the forces of evil. He'd told Sam that Dad was a superhero, and now he proved it, hiding under a tent fort in their bedroom with flashlights, telling ghost stories in whispers so as to not disturb Bobby just a few doors down the hall.
Sammy soaked up every word, in awe of his family. There seemed to be nothing Dean or Dad could do wrong. He wanted to become a superhero too, fighting werewolves and witches and demons. Saving damsels in distress like some kind of handsome prince. He demanded to play every day after finishing their homework and when Dean was too tired to play, he would steal into Bobby's library and look at his books with an eagerness that Dean almost envied.
After a while, Dean realized that he was going to have to protect Sammy even more now that he knew. Because Sammy still didn't understand. It was still a childhood game to him, his imagination running high. Even knowing these things were real, there was nothing that could prepare him for the reality of encountering such a creature. Sam didn't remember his nightmares. Dean wished he could wrap his brother up in cotton and keep him away from the world, give him a normal life. He would have tried, too, if real life hadn't interrupted at the worst possible moment.
Dean almost died the day Uncle Bobby's junkyard became a trap instead of a haven for their imaginations. A werewolf had somehow found its way in, lured by the peals of young laughter as the boys' game lasted long after sundown.
They were waiting for Bobby to return from town, unaware of the hungry creature stalking them through their forests of rusting metal and chrome. It quietly climbed to the tops of their mountains, watching with red eyes.
Dean became aware of the frightening stillness in the air too late, the creatures that normally came out at this time either hid or ran away from the danger. Too late he noticed the prickling sensation of something watching them. Almost too late did he hear the inhuman growl trickling from a human throat atop the scrap pile next to his brother.
Instinct took over and he grabbed Sammy's arm, dragging him away before the monster could leap on him. "To the house!" Dean ordered, pushing the boy ahead of him. "Hurry!" Sam was clearly confused, but he took off like a shot, darting under a raised car and around piles of junk, Dean hot on his heels.
They knew this junkyard better than anyone, that knowledge now aiding them as they left the monster behind. Dean heard it snarl as it lost them in the mess of cars, and started chasing them in earnest. Sam must have heard it too, because he pushed himself faster, a small sound of fear slipping from his lips.
Dean knew, with a touch of horror, that they would have to break cover to get to the house, and he couldn't shout for Uncle Bobby to help. Ordering Sam to run faster, they burst from the confusion of the junkyard in a dead run, sprinting for the house. He knew he could hold the werewolf off if they could just reach it.
There was a bone-chilling howl behind them as the werewolf spotted them running across the yard. Dean made for the side of an old pick up where he knew a shotgun was kept in case of emergencies like this. He found it just as the monster escaped the maze, leaping over cars and targeting Sam, who hadn't yet made it to the porch, unaware of how close the danger was.
Dean shouted and ran for him, reaching out to shove him to the ground, claws missing the boy by inches. Dean, however, wasn't so lucky.
He heard Sam scream, and the sharp bark of a gun as pain enveloped him. Cold followed right behind the pain, washing over his skin, bringing darkness in its wake, echoing with the sound of tears.
He woke in the hospital, machines beeping steadily to the side, monitoring his vitals. He felt...sluggish. Tired. Maybe even a little fuzzy, trying to figure out where he was. There was a dull chill up his left side. 'Where that thing's claws caught me,' he thought after a moment, vaguely remembering.
There was also a warm lump against his right side that he didn't immediately recognize, but his relief at seeing Sam when he finally did, overcame everything else. His brother was asleep, curled on the bed with him. His head was pillowed on Dean's shoulder, one arm slung carefully across Dean's chest as if protecting him.
He was just beginning to drift off back to sleep when he heard hushed voices right outside the door.
"-nking leaving them alone, Bobby?" Dad was angry, Dean realized, flinching even though the anger wasn't directed at him this time.
"Don't you dare give me that shit, not when you leave those boys all the damn time." Uncle Bobby was just as angry. "I was hunting the damn thing."
"Cut it a little close there, didn't you? That creature could have killed my sons!"
"What do you want me to say? I did the best I could, which is no worse than you've ever done. If you were smart, you would cut this out and give them a normal life while they still have the chance."
"You know I can't do that-"
The voices were fading again, moving away from the door as if they realized they could be disturbing the patients.
"They've been doing that since Dad got here," Sam said in a solemn voice, surprising Dean. If he had thought about it, he would have known that Sammy wouldn't be able to sleep very well. Especially not now that his nightmares have become real in a way that was more than just simple stories. "Bobby got there just in time to shoot that person." He sounded shaken, as if still couldn't believe what had happened. "You were so still...there was so much blood..."
Dean shushed him before his voice could break anymore, before Sam could dissolve into tears. "I know, Sammy, I know. It's okay." He was drowsy, aching to fall back to sleep, but Sam needed him so he fought against the pull of oblivion. "I'll always protect you, don't worry."
Sam was quiet for a while, not answering for several minutes. "Who's going to protect you, Dean?"
He had no answer.
----
His newest vessel was male this time, a young man driving down the highway in the direction Sam Winchester was heading. His target switched cars three times since their first encounter in Dalton, but no matter what the human tried, he was always able to follow.
It started to bother him. He couldn't understand how Sam had remained hidden for so long if he was this easy to track down, but he also couldn't sense other demons doing the same thing. He was alone now, realizing the futility of collecting a pack who would only die the next time they encountered the elusive Winchester. He worked better alone anyway. The drive was long, tracking Sam across state lines, through Tennessee and Kentucky, dipping into Indiana before looping back into Illinois up towards Chicago. He was studying his prey, stalking outside the motels Sam stayed at, lingering a good half a mile behind him on the highways, trying to figure out how to get under his guard.
They were in Joliet when it occurred to him that something more was going on here. Sam eventually knew he was tailing him. He could see the human getting curious about who he was and why he wasn't attacking like all the others.
And boy, were there others. No demons seemed to understand Sam like he did, but that didn't mean they didn't stumble across him. The number of demons who randomly found him was staggering. He watched them attack Sam with a vengeance, dying one by one before the human's strength and desperation. It was almost amusing how fast they would die, eager to please their lord, only to face the sharp blade of that cursed knife.
By Joliet he could tell, however, that the swarms of enemies, the piles of bodies left in his wake, was wearing Sam down. He was concerned, though he couldn't say why. He certainly didn't care about this human. He didn't care about any human. He was a demon, and yet, there was something painfully familiar about Sam, something that reminded him of a time long past. Perhaps someone he once cried for when he was weak and helpless.
It was here that he noticed Sam's exhaustion catching up to him, in this small town just south of Chicago. The human checked into the motel and didn't leave it again for the entirety of the next day. It made it difficult to keep an eye on him. Tailing him was effortless, but this motel was near a mall, and was fairly public. Sitting outside it all day was suspicious to the eyes of the normal humans going about their business, and he couldn't afford drawing attention to himself at all, lest Sam realize he was nearby and decide to track him instead of the other way around.
He did not want to die. Not when he was so close.
He left his vessel, floating around as dust on the wind until he found a new light to sink into. It had taken him quite a while when he was first starting out to get the hand of possessing people. Those lights in his perception when he was in his smoke form were a big part of the whole system. He figured out that the brighter the 'light', the easier the vessel was to take over. The weaker humans drew him towards them like a bug to flame. He realized that he couldn't even "see" strong willed people until he was borrowing someone's eyes. Dimmer light were possible to possess, but a struggle from control nearly every second until the human's mind was finally broken from the strain, so logically those were only for the strongest or most desperate demons.
He wasn't an expert by any means. If he cared to think about it in depth, he'd probably find that there were many intricacies to the art of demonic possession. It was likely that there were ways to judge the levels of strength, or who a person was just by how they felt. Ways that he could neither understand nor really care about in the long run. For his purposes right now it was enough to know that he should follow the strongest pull of his very being.
After all, it wasn't really his way to care about the poor bastards whose lives he ruins by riding them. Especially not now that he had his target sitting in one spot longer than one night. He could take this chance to relax, study Sam, try to figure out these strange sensations he felt whenever he saw the Winchester, the sense of familiarity he didn't understand.
There was also, he noticed upon returning to his vigil outside the motel, the strangest surge of anger when he found a group of demons preparing to break in and catch Sam while he was sleeping. It took him less than a second to decide to stop them, although he couldn't say why this new emotion was so important. It wasn't like Sam couldn't defend himself just as well as he had the other times. The kid was never off guard.
The demons were, though. There were huddled in the corner of the parking lot, hidden in the shadows cast by a semi- trailer, quietly discussing their master plan. It was almost a wasted surprise. He jumped down on top of them from the trailer, his legs connecting on one guy's back with a loud crack in the night. The vessel's neck lolled on its shoulders, the demon left dazed while he stood up and attacked the next one. His hand closed around its throat, lifting it off the ground effortlessly before throwing it away. The third demon swore at him, finally recovering enough to fight back. It used its power, flinging one hand towards him, to throw him into the truck. Pain blossomed across his back, and he shrugged it off.
The other demon was clearly more experienced than he was, but if he was anything it was a fast study. Alastair had many praises for that particular talent down in the Pit. He reached into himself, finding his own power, feeling it rise within him. Instead of pushing his enemy away, however, he pulled it closer and raised one fist to punch him in the ribs as hard as he could. There was another sharp snap of bones braking, barely dulled by the sound of highway traffic just down the hill beyond the parking lot.
The demon snarled at him through its teeth, and he punched it in the face as well for good measure. Blood spurted over his knuckles, and the demon swore again, pushing away from him. Before he could finish it off, it spat at him, called him a traitor, and abandoned its vessel.
Looking down he saw the first demon had left its host as well, leaving the poor human lying dead in the grass. All that was left was the second, who he'd thrown into the parking lot. He went looking for it, keeping to the cover of the parked cars, trying to be inconspicuous. The sky was starting to grow lighter, and whoever hadn't woken up yet would be waking up soon. He had no doubt at all that the bodies would be discovered before too long.
He was the one who walked into an ambush this time, though. Creeping about the corner towards the front of the parking lot, he neglected to watch his back, not thinking it would be fast enough to get up behind him.
Without warning, a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. From the corner of his eye, he saw it bring a knife at him. Only an overbalance and an accidental stumble prevented him from wearing an ear to ear grin across his throat. Twisting, he grabbed the demon's arm and they grappled for several moments before he finally gained control of the knife.
A cruel smirk played across his lips. This was where he was at home. Deftly wielding the blade as if it were an extension of his own arm, he made several swift slashes across its throat, torso, and arms. The demon stared at him in numb shock, nerves neatly severed to cause pain and paralysis, only on its feet thanks to his grip on its body. Blood dripped steadily onto the sidewalk. Before the demon could regain enough sense to get out of Dodge, he reached in with his power and took hold of its essence, dragging it out of its vessel forcibly. He stared at it for a long moment. "See you back in Hell," he growled, flinging it down with such a force that it dispersed against the ground and disappeared entirely.
He took a breath before dragging the body back to join the others. He couldn't do anything about the blood, but at least the bodies weren't as noticeable until the truck moved. Satisfied, he wiped his hands on his pants, and turned around to find himself face to face with Sam Winchester.
Okay, perhaps not literally face to face. He wasn't that close, but to see him at all wasn't something he had been expecting. "Sam..." he murmured, feeling a smile touch his lips.
No. No, wrong. This was wrong. Why was he happy? Horror and confusion flooded through him in the wake of that small touch of joy, and before Sam could say anything he fled. He ditched another vessel, content for the moment to float and think. Unfortunately, however, he knew he couldn't stay away for very long. He knew Sam would pack and try to leave before the police came. He couldn't lose his trail now, not when he had to figure this out.
It happened as he was returning to the motel a few hours later, (either people were blind or just that groggy in the mornings, cause the bodies still lay crumpled where he had left them. Even the blood on the sidewalk was undisturbed.) he finally came to a conclusion that confused him more than anything else in his existence. "I know you," he said as Sam came out of his room. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, confident that Sam wouldn't attack him during the day with regular humans about. Not unless he attacked first, of course, but he wasn't too keen on doing that right now anyway. Still, just in case, he was several doors down. Enough distance between them so that the hunter couldn't stab him and leave before anyone else noticed. Not that he would, if he cared to think about it, since leaving another body would just make things worse when the police finally did arrive.
Sam didn't recognize him of course, so he stopped and tilted his head at him. "You must be mistaking me for someone else."
He shook his head. "No, you're Sam Winchester, and I know you from somewhere." That got his attention. Sam warily put his hand to his belt, presumably where the knife rested. "Don't be stupid, Rambo," he continued, "I'm not attacking you, and you don't exactly need the attention." He glanced pointedly down the hall where a housekeeper was pushing her squeaky cleaning cart to the next room on her list.
Sam didn't relax, but he didn't move towards him either. "Who-?"
"I don't know," he interrupted, frowning deeply. "I can't remember my name." One of the many things he lost when he escaped Hell. Not that it made much of a difference.
"Oh..." There passed an awkward minute where neither of them said anything, Sam shifting, looking around for a quick exit, and the demon staring at him, trying to remember where he could possibly have seen this man before. He was still riding off the initial surprise that Sam hadn't attacked him immediately. "Well," Sam finally continued, "...look, you probably don't want me to kill you, and I don't really want to murder another poor possessed bastard, so if you don't mind leaving me alone I'll be on my way." He turned to leave.
"No, I know you." He stepped closer, needing to figure this out. "I followed you from Georgia, I knew what you were going to do before you did it. I understand you when no one else can figure you out. Why is that? Why do I know you better than I know myself?" He took a deep breath, almost surprised that his curiosity was bothering him this badly.
Sam looked confused and wary and maybe a little freaked out. "You," he said, gritting his teeth. "You're the one who's been following me. The one who..." he cut himself off and glanced in the direction of the highway. An accusation was clear in the tone of his voice.
Shrugging slightly, he didn't deny the claim. "They meant nothing to me." Except as people he needed to get out of the way.
"Stay away from me," Sam hissed with a note of finality. "I should just kill you and get it over with if you know so much about me." The housekeeper was creeping ever closer, so Sam stepped forward to the next door. "Just...stay away from me." He wiped a hand over his face and walked past him down the hall, hurrying without seeming to.
"Wait," he followed, not quite on his heels, still didn't want to get stabbed. "Just wait, I need you to help me understand this!" There was no reply, and he had to catch up to him outside. He put the car between them, but didn't have a problem using his vessel as a meat shield to keep Sam from driving away. "Stop, please. I can...I can help you!"
The venomous look that earned him was a shock. "You want to help me?" Sam glared at him, his face screwed up with anger. "Well, you can go back to Hell. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..." The words were hissed in a low voice, traveling over the hood of the car too quietly for anyone to hear them unless they were standing close by.
He couldn't explain what those little words of Latin were doing to him. He could still hear Sam's voice in the background, pronouncing the exorcism so quickly he might as well have been a native speaker of the language, but he was so senseless by Sam's verbal assault that the words lost all meaning besides pain. They gripped his insides tightly, walling him up, resisting his efforts to push them away. His limbs were seizing, and it was only force of will that kept him from screaming as he felt Hell opening up for him again.
No, no, no, no, no, he won't go back, he can't go back there, it took him years to get out, no, no, no., "Please!" he begged, but he could feel that Sam was nearing the end of the chant. There was only one thing for him to do to survive. He couldn't go back down there. Once again, he abandoned his vessel and fled from Sam, though he chose not to stick around in town this time. He stormed high up into the air, catching the wind, and letting it carry him far from the range of those holy words. The pain lingered even after he was gone for so long he couldn't even keep track of how long he was floating above the world, not even trying to move, just drifting in the wind. Finally, he came back to himself, drifting lower towards the ground to get his bearings, and what he found confused him almost as much as his own situation.
The first thing he noticed was that from the air currents he could tell he was in a town. Nothing but buildings could block air flow so solidly, throw it that much off course. The second thing he noticed was that for a town it was remarkably empty. The few lights he could find were all very dim and clustered in one area, but when he tried to approach he had to stop, recoiling. It was like there was a bad...smell or something coming from the cluster. Or around it. Something about it seemed dangerous to him.
Foiled, he drifted around, lost, not knowing where he was. He wanted limbs again, but was unable to find anyone to possess. He didn't drift for very long before being tugged along, his perceptions picking up a light in the distance. It wasn't particularly bright, but this time he was desperate. He landed hard in the new vessel, nearly knocking it off its feet in mid-run. He was aware of several things at once: being out of breath, a hand grabbing his and pulling hard, urging him to keep moving, a male voice shouting from behind them - "Amelia! Keep running! They're gaining on us!" - the sounds of pursuit following close on their heels and the unmistakable feeling of blood soaking his sleeve.
He could hear, in his head, the woman he was possessing screaming at him to let her go, to leave her family alone, because they were all she had. She was pleading for their lives. The two other members of her family hadn't noticed him yet, too busy trying to run from their pursuers.
An arm wrapped around his shoulders, the man joining the girl pulling on his vessel's hand in ushering him forward. "It's okay, Amelia," he said, his voice quieter, soothing despite his fear. "Just a little further." They were all breathing heavily. "We'll make it, just hold on." The man seemed so sure of himself.
The woman he was possessing -- Amelia, -- was crying out for them. He learned a lot from her while he was pulled along, stumbling and tripping over rocks and holes, his limbs burning with the relentless exertion. He learned that her husband's name was Jimmy, the girl was her daughter Claire, and they'd been running from demons for three hours. They were tired, hurt, hungry. She wanted nothing more than her family's safety, and she made sure to loudly express her intentions to fight him tooth and nail if he ever so much as thought of harming them.
It was clear to him that she was extremely strong. The fear that he had used to gain an opening on her was all but gone now. If he lost control there would be no way to gain it back. Luckily for him there was so much tension with the current situation that they were both focused on the same thing. Getting away. He said nothing in return to her, just focused on the moment.
They broke out of the foliage and across open ground, coming across the road. He could hear the demons behind them gaining, and knew this family would never make it to safety, and that he would lose his vessel. Again. Coming to a decision, he abruptly stopped, his strength keeping the two other humans from yanking him off his feet in their hurry. Jimmy turned, horrified, and gripped his shoulders. The look on his face was so strange, full of an emotion he couldn't recognize, but made Amelia panic and call out to him again even though her husband couldn't hear her. "Amelia!? What are you doing? Come on, we have to run! Please, babe, don't give up on me..." Claire was urging them both on, her fear growing the longer they were still.
He shook his head. "I can stop them." He turned around before Jimmy could stop him, though he held onto his wife's uninjured arm. It was nothing to pull it out of his grasp, and step away towards the trees.
Then, all of a sudden, he once again found himself in a battle with other demons. His second fight in nearly as many days, though this time there were more demons, and he didn't have the advantage of surprise. He had a few yards where they had to reach him still that he could launch his attack, concentrating his power on the closest demon. It stopped short, gagging as he ripped it out of its vessel and let it go, not having enough time to throw it down like he had done before.
Okay, so he was wrong. They were surprised. Either they weren't expecting one of the people they were hunting to actually turn around and fight back, they weren't expecting to come across their prey to find another demon defending them, or the much more likely 'both' option. His money would definitely ride on option C. It still wasn't much of an advantage in the long run, but he took it and ran with it as if his life depended on it, not just the lives of these humans who shouldn't mean much to him at all.
They surrounded him, apparently a lot smarter than the morons he'd fought before, but there was something weaker about them, too. This was sport to them. They were arrogant. He was used to dealing with arrogance. Where it came from, he couldn't remember, but he wasn't complaining. "You bastards are lucky I don't have a knife..." he drawled, not paying attention to the stunned, frightened looks on the humans' faces from where they were cowering out of immediate battle range.
One of the demons laughed. "A pretty little thing like you?" It mocked him, gesturing to the woman. "There's no way you can take us wearing her."
He smirked. "Wanna bet?" He sneered, mimicking its mocking tone before he kicked it between the legs and drove his knee as hard as he could into its face as it doubled over. There was a satisfying crunch, but he couldn't do anything more as the rest of them took the cue to attack. From that point the rest of the fight was a blur, the four remaining demons keeping him too busy to even think as he defended himself, making an unconscious effort to keep the fight away from Amelia's family.
When they were all finally lying on the ground, demons long gone, vessels either dead or painfully unconscious, he nearly fell over. The arm that had been injured when he first took Amelia over was now hanging uselessly at his side, completely numb and blood matted his hair from a blow to the head that he had failed to avoid. He could feel bruises forming wherever the demons had hit him, but all things considered, it was a successful victory. He knew, however, that his personal fight wasn't over yet. Jimmy and Claire knew by now that Amelia was possessed, and they were staying far away, unwilling to either leave or move closer.
He held his hand up in a harmless gesture. "Let me explain," he rasped, the human's voice scratchy from nearly being strangled. The world tilted on his and he found himself on the grass, staring up at the sky, wondering when it started to get dark.
"Claire!" he heard, before hearing the girl's footsteps hitting the grass in a circle around him, accompanied by the sound of something sliding onto the ground. Dazed, he turned his head to see Claire holding an empty bag, staring down at him with angry tears in her eyes. "Claire," Jimmy said again, softer now that he had moved closer. "Claire, you shouldn't have-"
"Daddy, it's inside Mom. We have to help her."
"I know, sweetheart, we'll think of something..."
He groaned, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hand. He didn't have time for this. Amelia was saying something, pride for her daughter consuming her thoughts, but he didn't listen, focusing more on keeping control. He refused to lose another vessel until he knew there would be another one nearby. Traveling as smoke wasn't exactly the most entertaining mode of transportation.
"Listen to me!" he snapped, interrupting Jimmy and Claire in their secretive, hushed conversation about what to do with him. "I'm not planning on sticking around. I needed...I needed someone, and you guys happened to be the only humans for miles."
There was silence. "Pontiac has been overrun by creatures just like you." Jimmy admitted after a moment, sitting down on the grass. He didn't need to look at him to know that the break from running was doing him a world of good. "We were trying to get out. I guess it didn't work." Grief. He could recognize that emotion in Jimmy's voice.
"Well, from here it looks like you needed me," he shot back, sitting up so he could see them. He could also see what Claire had been doing when she circled around him. She was laying out some kind of white powder. Curious, he reached out to touch it, head tilting, but his arm shook when he got near, then stopped entirely no matter how hard he pushed. "A barrier...?" Seems there was still so much he had to learn. It was in a full circle around him, and he didn't have to test it to realize that no matter how thin the line, he probably wasn't getting out of there until someone broke it. The humans shared a look with each other, wary, worried. "I just," he continued, "I just needed a ride."
"My mom is not a ride!" Claire shouted, her voice taking on a hysterical note. "My mom is a living....living person and you need to get OUT of her!"
There was silence as they both looked at her, Jimmy with grief as if he'd already lost his wife, and the demon with surprise. Claire looked like she wanted to hit him, as if she could do a decent amount of damage to him if he weren't wearing her mother. The silence stretched out as she realized her outburst wasn't helping, and she slumped down onto the grass next to her father.
He stood up, stretching his vessel's body, checking the injuries he had sustained to make sure Amelia wasn't going to die if he left her. "She'll be fine," he said after a while, completely ignoring the looks they were shooting him with. "You know, if you let me ride one of you until I find a new vessel, I'll happily let her go. Safe, unharmed."
Another stretch of silence. He kept busy by nudging the toes of his shoes against the white line.Whatever it was, it didn't budge and not even Amelia was offering up an explanation.
"Okay." Jimmy pushed himself back to his feet while Claire stared up at him with a horrified expression.
"Daddy! You can't just trust it! It's a demon!"
"It's okay, Claire." He didn't look okay. "I don't trust it any more than you do, but I can do this for Amelia." In fact, he looked like he was about to cry.
"Daddy, please!"
Jimmy put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. "It'll be okay, sweetheart, I promise. I'm going to make sure you and your mother are safe." He kissed her forehead and then stepped into the circle.
Warily, he moved as far away as he could. He didn't really expect either of them to actually agree with his offer. "You're serious..." It wasn't a question.
"Deadly serious, demon. I'd do anything for my family." Jimmy's statement felt familiar to him, to a memory he couldn't quite remember. It was important, he knew. It felt similar to what he felt when he looked at Sam, just slightly different. "So you can ride me until you find a...vessel. But you have to make sure my family is safe first. Deal?"
That seemed easy. Except for the whole, 'safe' part. What was safe for humans where demons could not reach them? He tilted his head. Maybe if he could find that place with the bad 'smell'. He could do that. With a bit of effort. Nodding slowly, he stepped closer to the human. "Deal, but you'll have to break this barrier. I cannot keep your family 'safe' if I am trapped."
There was a few tense seconds where neither of them seemed to know if this was really going to happen, then Jimmy reached a foot back to disturb the circle. The demon could practically feel with the air around him was released. "Okay, what now?"
"Now we seal our deal." He knew about Deals, though he had never personally made one before. That was usually the job for a different sort of demon. Closing the distance between himself and the human, he reached up and pulled Jimmy close to kiss him. Jimmy went tense, too surprised to pull away, and the demon let go of his current vessel, passing himself through the mouths of the humans.
All at once he realized the difference between Jimmy and a weaker willed human. Jimmy was one of those people he couldn't even see when traveling in his smoke form. Too strong, too devout. If it wasn't for this man being a willing vessel, he never would have been able to possess him. Even now, if Jimmy didn't want him to have control, he wouldn't. It was a very...terrifying thought. It made him feel rather weak if he were to admit it to himself.
"I can hear you thinking..." The words were spoken aloud. The demon realized the real world had moved on a bit without him while he was judging his new body. Amelia and Claire were several feet away, teary eyed and hugging each other. Watching him. Them. Jimmy was the one who had spoken. Flexing his hands, he noticed they were a little stiff, coming to the conclusion that controlling this human was going to be difficult even with full cooperation. There was just too much strength. Though he did have to admit that he liked this body better than the woman's, despite its faults. "That woman is my wife, I'd appreciate it if you stopped thinking about her like that." Again, the words were spoken out loud.
He frowned heavily. "Stop reading my thoughts." Why did his voice sound slightly different to Jimmy's when he was talking?
One of his hands moved, slapping lightly over his face. "Now I sound like I'm talking to myself. Great."
Reeling back, he just let Jimmy control his own body for the moment, confused and insulted by Jimmy being more difficult than he had expected. 'Perhaps I will literally just be a passenger,' he amended quietly, knowing Jimmy could hear his thoughts. 'Before I forget, I believe there is a town nearby where your family will be safe. Several humans are protected there somehow. You would not be able to approach, but your family will. I could not enter. I presume neither will any other demon.'
Jimmy was silent for several long seconds. 'Thank you.'
He snorted softly, rejecting the thanks. He was just keeping up his end of the deal, after all. Settling back, a little weirded out by being the passenger in the body instead of the driver, he let himself relax, and dreamed while Jimmy guided his family to safety.
----
~Part 2~
Author name: dannipet
Artist name: culper355
Genre: General
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 20,094
Warnings/Spoilers: Hell, Death, Demons, Swearing, burning of a church. The usual Supernatural warnings. Kinda spoilery for the end of season three and the end of season 4, as well as using characters introduced in season 4. For those people who are still working to catch up with the show.
Summary: When Lucifer rises, so do his minions. A young demon merely 100 Hell years old climbs his way out of Hell to serve his Lord, but when he recognizes his prey curiosity wins out. Now he must try to keep from getting killed while answering the most important question of his life: How does he know Sam Winchester?
Art drawn by the lovely Culper355. Thank you SO much for being my artist~
Visit the SPN J2 Big Bang to see more fic.
And last but so far from least: Thank you to the absolutely amazing Starkiller for pointing out all of my horrible spelling mistakes and reminding me to push the post button before my nerves drove me off. I'm going to be baking you non-allergy cookies for the rest of eternity, hun! ♥
"No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold. Nothing satisfies me but your soul."
He remembers climbing. Hours, months, years of climbing. Climbing over thousands of desperate, naked bodies. Stepping on backs, heads, featureless faces. Grabbing arms, legs, anything he could reach to climb, climb, climb ever higher, driven by an urge he could no more explain than deny. He wasn't the only one. There were many others. Many others climbing with him, never speaking, never resting, often falling. He fell once and lost ground. He dug his fingers into the throat of another unfortunate climber and started climbing again. He had to get to the top, something important was up there. More important than his master, and his studies. More important than the pain, the screams, the fear. He needed it, he had to get to it. His very existence depended on it. So he continued to climb without pausing, without thinking, until he finally reached his goal at the very top.
He was aware of only one thing at first: a strange weightlessness. He had no body and he was aware of the lack of all his senses. Somehow, he could tell that he was moving, floating through the air like a cloud. It was the first thing resembling freedom he could remember in all his existence. He could feel--just barely--slight tugs, like bright lights drawing him closer except he couldn't really see them. It was wild, and inexplicable, and deep down he knew just what he was. Nothing else mattered to him besides the pull of the lights that were not lights. With a thought he was moving faster, traveling on the wind towards the brightest light.
Suddenly he was aware of so much more. Sight, sound, smell, taste, and oh! The pure rush of sensation. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt in Hell, so familiar, and with that thought he remembered why he was here. Lucifer had risen, demons were surging out to serve him in his campaign, and he was one of them. A demon. He'd climbed for so long, stepping on everyone else, to get where he was now. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists. The woman he was wearing had been in the middle of dinner he realized. The realization came with a clarity that slowly moved over him. She was human.
Across the table sat the man she'd been eating with, looking at him, studying him as he studied the other in return. His eyes were black. There was a moment of hesitation as they both recognized the other as an ally, and then they stood up from the table. Their lord had given them orders, and they were to follow them.
Find Sam Winchester.
----
"Dean," a small voice punctured his dreams, no, his nightmares, shocking him awake, and he blearily twisted around to face the backseat and his little brother. Sam looked awful. His big puppy eyes were red and exhausted, with dark circles around them. "Dean," Sam continued, his voice soft, pleading. "I can't sleep."
Dean didn't have to ask why. Sammy hadn't been awake when the Striga attacked him, but that didn't seem to stop the boy from having his own terrifying set of nightmares. Dean could sympathize.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Dean looked around. They were at a fill up station in the middle of nowhere, their dad inside paying for gas. It didn't really matter where he was though, Sam wouldn't have asked their father to fight his monsters.
After stretching, he took his pillow into the back, and settled into the seat with his back against the door. "Come on, Sammy," he offered, holding out his arms. His little brother crawled into his lap, settling against him, clinging as if Dean were the only safe thing in the entire world, and allowed him to tuck the blanket in around them both.
"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said after a while, petting Sam's hair soothingly the way mom used to before he went to bed so many years before. They were back on the road now, Dad concentrating so hard on getting them away from danger that he never noticed what was going on with the boys. That was fine, Dean was anxious to make up for his failure, momentarily content to work his way up from nightmares back to real monsters.
"It's okay," he repeated as he listened to Sam's breathing even out. "I'll never let you down again."
He couldn't get back to sleep himself yet, his nightmares just waiting for him to close his eyes again in order to make him fail again and again, so he sat there holding Sam. For the young boy, Dean's mere presence was enough to chase away the beasties, and right now Dean was content to listen to the road passing beneath their tires.
----
Finding Sam Winchester was easy. Locating him alone was nearly impossible, but following the reports of dead monsters was a piece of cake as demons continued to come across him, and within weeks he was able to use that information to determine where the hunter was heading. Along the way, he gathered other demons to his side, enticing them with his promise of power. Of course, if they caught Sam and brought him to Lucifer they would be rewarded handsomely, he told them and they were so eager to follow him.
By the time he had tracked down their target in Dalton, he had gathered a small army of new demons, eager to please their leader and through him their lord. They recognized the authority he carried as a disciple of Alastair, doing what he asked lest he take out his anger upon them. Or so he led them to believe, anyway. He was only focused on the man trying to hide in a dingy motel, behind curtains and a line of salt.
Leaving his pack sitting half a mile away, he made his way to the motel and walked around it, trying to determine the best way to corner their prey before returning and forming a plan.
In retrospect, he should have known the plan would fail miserably.
Within ten minutes of Sam leaving the temporary shelter, all but three of his demons were killed, and those left fled for their lives as soon as they realized they were no match for the hunter. He was left alone, warily facing Sam in a standoff, far enough away that he could leave his host if Sam attacked.
They paced around each other, tension escalating for several more minutes before Sam finally spoke. "When are you going to learn that I won't be taken!?" he demanded, holding that hateful knife out in front of his body.
There was only one answer to that. "Our lord demands you," he replied, "and one way or another you are going to be his, Sam Winchester." Sam tensed to charge, and he released his hold on the human he was possessing, becoming smoke and dispersing in the wind before he was killed.
----
Christmas had come and gone, and Sam was growing up. Neither of them said anything when their Dad returned, both knowing he had a job to do and doing their best to hide their disappointment in him. At the same time, Dean realized, their bond with each other was growing stronger every day. The weight of the amulet against his chest was unfamiliar but welcome.
They returned to Uncle Bobby's so Dad could go out on a longer hunt across country. Occasionally they would stay at the junkyard so the boys could have a solid couple of months of school without worrying about moving about every two days as their Dad chased a lead. Dean loved these times. Especially now that Sam was learning about all the dark things that really lived out in the world.
This meant that Dean could teach Sam almost everything he knew in the safety of the junkyard. First, however, he had to convince his brother that the junkyard was the safest place on Earth..
The piles of cars and parts became a limitless playground for the boys, scrambling over tires that became mountains and through forests of metal, chasing one monster after another. Dean told Sam countless stories of their Dad's heroics and Dean standing by his side to fight the forces of evil. He'd told Sam that Dad was a superhero, and now he proved it, hiding under a tent fort in their bedroom with flashlights, telling ghost stories in whispers so as to not disturb Bobby just a few doors down the hall.
Sammy soaked up every word, in awe of his family. There seemed to be nothing Dean or Dad could do wrong. He wanted to become a superhero too, fighting werewolves and witches and demons. Saving damsels in distress like some kind of handsome prince. He demanded to play every day after finishing their homework and when Dean was too tired to play, he would steal into Bobby's library and look at his books with an eagerness that Dean almost envied.
After a while, Dean realized that he was going to have to protect Sammy even more now that he knew. Because Sammy still didn't understand. It was still a childhood game to him, his imagination running high. Even knowing these things were real, there was nothing that could prepare him for the reality of encountering such a creature. Sam didn't remember his nightmares. Dean wished he could wrap his brother up in cotton and keep him away from the world, give him a normal life. He would have tried, too, if real life hadn't interrupted at the worst possible moment.
Dean almost died the day Uncle Bobby's junkyard became a trap instead of a haven for their imaginations. A werewolf had somehow found its way in, lured by the peals of young laughter as the boys' game lasted long after sundown.
They were waiting for Bobby to return from town, unaware of the hungry creature stalking them through their forests of rusting metal and chrome. It quietly climbed to the tops of their mountains, watching with red eyes.
Dean became aware of the frightening stillness in the air too late, the creatures that normally came out at this time either hid or ran away from the danger. Too late he noticed the prickling sensation of something watching them. Almost too late did he hear the inhuman growl trickling from a human throat atop the scrap pile next to his brother.
Instinct took over and he grabbed Sammy's arm, dragging him away before the monster could leap on him. "To the house!" Dean ordered, pushing the boy ahead of him. "Hurry!" Sam was clearly confused, but he took off like a shot, darting under a raised car and around piles of junk, Dean hot on his heels.
They knew this junkyard better than anyone, that knowledge now aiding them as they left the monster behind. Dean heard it snarl as it lost them in the mess of cars, and started chasing them in earnest. Sam must have heard it too, because he pushed himself faster, a small sound of fear slipping from his lips.
Dean knew, with a touch of horror, that they would have to break cover to get to the house, and he couldn't shout for Uncle Bobby to help. Ordering Sam to run faster, they burst from the confusion of the junkyard in a dead run, sprinting for the house. He knew he could hold the werewolf off if they could just reach it.
There was a bone-chilling howl behind them as the werewolf spotted them running across the yard. Dean made for the side of an old pick up where he knew a shotgun was kept in case of emergencies like this. He found it just as the monster escaped the maze, leaping over cars and targeting Sam, who hadn't yet made it to the porch, unaware of how close the danger was.
Dean shouted and ran for him, reaching out to shove him to the ground, claws missing the boy by inches. Dean, however, wasn't so lucky.
He heard Sam scream, and the sharp bark of a gun as pain enveloped him. Cold followed right behind the pain, washing over his skin, bringing darkness in its wake, echoing with the sound of tears.
He woke in the hospital, machines beeping steadily to the side, monitoring his vitals. He felt...sluggish. Tired. Maybe even a little fuzzy, trying to figure out where he was. There was a dull chill up his left side. 'Where that thing's claws caught me,' he thought after a moment, vaguely remembering.
There was also a warm lump against his right side that he didn't immediately recognize, but his relief at seeing Sam when he finally did, overcame everything else. His brother was asleep, curled on the bed with him. His head was pillowed on Dean's shoulder, one arm slung carefully across Dean's chest as if protecting him.
He was just beginning to drift off back to sleep when he heard hushed voices right outside the door.
"-nking leaving them alone, Bobby?" Dad was angry, Dean realized, flinching even though the anger wasn't directed at him this time.
"Don't you dare give me that shit, not when you leave those boys all the damn time." Uncle Bobby was just as angry. "I was hunting the damn thing."
"Cut it a little close there, didn't you? That creature could have killed my sons!"
"What do you want me to say? I did the best I could, which is no worse than you've ever done. If you were smart, you would cut this out and give them a normal life while they still have the chance."
"You know I can't do that-"
The voices were fading again, moving away from the door as if they realized they could be disturbing the patients.
"They've been doing that since Dad got here," Sam said in a solemn voice, surprising Dean. If he had thought about it, he would have known that Sammy wouldn't be able to sleep very well. Especially not now that his nightmares have become real in a way that was more than just simple stories. "Bobby got there just in time to shoot that person." He sounded shaken, as if still couldn't believe what had happened. "You were so still...there was so much blood..."
Dean shushed him before his voice could break anymore, before Sam could dissolve into tears. "I know, Sammy, I know. It's okay." He was drowsy, aching to fall back to sleep, but Sam needed him so he fought against the pull of oblivion. "I'll always protect you, don't worry."
Sam was quiet for a while, not answering for several minutes. "Who's going to protect you, Dean?"
He had no answer.
----
His newest vessel was male this time, a young man driving down the highway in the direction Sam Winchester was heading. His target switched cars three times since their first encounter in Dalton, but no matter what the human tried, he was always able to follow.
It started to bother him. He couldn't understand how Sam had remained hidden for so long if he was this easy to track down, but he also couldn't sense other demons doing the same thing. He was alone now, realizing the futility of collecting a pack who would only die the next time they encountered the elusive Winchester. He worked better alone anyway. The drive was long, tracking Sam across state lines, through Tennessee and Kentucky, dipping into Indiana before looping back into Illinois up towards Chicago. He was studying his prey, stalking outside the motels Sam stayed at, lingering a good half a mile behind him on the highways, trying to figure out how to get under his guard.
They were in Joliet when it occurred to him that something more was going on here. Sam eventually knew he was tailing him. He could see the human getting curious about who he was and why he wasn't attacking like all the others.
And boy, were there others. No demons seemed to understand Sam like he did, but that didn't mean they didn't stumble across him. The number of demons who randomly found him was staggering. He watched them attack Sam with a vengeance, dying one by one before the human's strength and desperation. It was almost amusing how fast they would die, eager to please their lord, only to face the sharp blade of that cursed knife.
By Joliet he could tell, however, that the swarms of enemies, the piles of bodies left in his wake, was wearing Sam down. He was concerned, though he couldn't say why. He certainly didn't care about this human. He didn't care about any human. He was a demon, and yet, there was something painfully familiar about Sam, something that reminded him of a time long past. Perhaps someone he once cried for when he was weak and helpless.
It was here that he noticed Sam's exhaustion catching up to him, in this small town just south of Chicago. The human checked into the motel and didn't leave it again for the entirety of the next day. It made it difficult to keep an eye on him. Tailing him was effortless, but this motel was near a mall, and was fairly public. Sitting outside it all day was suspicious to the eyes of the normal humans going about their business, and he couldn't afford drawing attention to himself at all, lest Sam realize he was nearby and decide to track him instead of the other way around.
He did not want to die. Not when he was so close.
He left his vessel, floating around as dust on the wind until he found a new light to sink into. It had taken him quite a while when he was first starting out to get the hand of possessing people. Those lights in his perception when he was in his smoke form were a big part of the whole system. He figured out that the brighter the 'light', the easier the vessel was to take over. The weaker humans drew him towards them like a bug to flame. He realized that he couldn't even "see" strong willed people until he was borrowing someone's eyes. Dimmer light were possible to possess, but a struggle from control nearly every second until the human's mind was finally broken from the strain, so logically those were only for the strongest or most desperate demons.
He wasn't an expert by any means. If he cared to think about it in depth, he'd probably find that there were many intricacies to the art of demonic possession. It was likely that there were ways to judge the levels of strength, or who a person was just by how they felt. Ways that he could neither understand nor really care about in the long run. For his purposes right now it was enough to know that he should follow the strongest pull of his very being.
After all, it wasn't really his way to care about the poor bastards whose lives he ruins by riding them. Especially not now that he had his target sitting in one spot longer than one night. He could take this chance to relax, study Sam, try to figure out these strange sensations he felt whenever he saw the Winchester, the sense of familiarity he didn't understand.
There was also, he noticed upon returning to his vigil outside the motel, the strangest surge of anger when he found a group of demons preparing to break in and catch Sam while he was sleeping. It took him less than a second to decide to stop them, although he couldn't say why this new emotion was so important. It wasn't like Sam couldn't defend himself just as well as he had the other times. The kid was never off guard.
The demons were, though. There were huddled in the corner of the parking lot, hidden in the shadows cast by a semi- trailer, quietly discussing their master plan. It was almost a wasted surprise. He jumped down on top of them from the trailer, his legs connecting on one guy's back with a loud crack in the night. The vessel's neck lolled on its shoulders, the demon left dazed while he stood up and attacked the next one. His hand closed around its throat, lifting it off the ground effortlessly before throwing it away. The third demon swore at him, finally recovering enough to fight back. It used its power, flinging one hand towards him, to throw him into the truck. Pain blossomed across his back, and he shrugged it off.
The other demon was clearly more experienced than he was, but if he was anything it was a fast study. Alastair had many praises for that particular talent down in the Pit. He reached into himself, finding his own power, feeling it rise within him. Instead of pushing his enemy away, however, he pulled it closer and raised one fist to punch him in the ribs as hard as he could. There was another sharp snap of bones braking, barely dulled by the sound of highway traffic just down the hill beyond the parking lot.
The demon snarled at him through its teeth, and he punched it in the face as well for good measure. Blood spurted over his knuckles, and the demon swore again, pushing away from him. Before he could finish it off, it spat at him, called him a traitor, and abandoned its vessel.
Looking down he saw the first demon had left its host as well, leaving the poor human lying dead in the grass. All that was left was the second, who he'd thrown into the parking lot. He went looking for it, keeping to the cover of the parked cars, trying to be inconspicuous. The sky was starting to grow lighter, and whoever hadn't woken up yet would be waking up soon. He had no doubt at all that the bodies would be discovered before too long.
He was the one who walked into an ambush this time, though. Creeping about the corner towards the front of the parking lot, he neglected to watch his back, not thinking it would be fast enough to get up behind him.
Without warning, a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. From the corner of his eye, he saw it bring a knife at him. Only an overbalance and an accidental stumble prevented him from wearing an ear to ear grin across his throat. Twisting, he grabbed the demon's arm and they grappled for several moments before he finally gained control of the knife.
A cruel smirk played across his lips. This was where he was at home. Deftly wielding the blade as if it were an extension of his own arm, he made several swift slashes across its throat, torso, and arms. The demon stared at him in numb shock, nerves neatly severed to cause pain and paralysis, only on its feet thanks to his grip on its body. Blood dripped steadily onto the sidewalk. Before the demon could regain enough sense to get out of Dodge, he reached in with his power and took hold of its essence, dragging it out of its vessel forcibly. He stared at it for a long moment. "See you back in Hell," he growled, flinging it down with such a force that it dispersed against the ground and disappeared entirely.
He took a breath before dragging the body back to join the others. He couldn't do anything about the blood, but at least the bodies weren't as noticeable until the truck moved. Satisfied, he wiped his hands on his pants, and turned around to find himself face to face with Sam Winchester.
Okay, perhaps not literally face to face. He wasn't that close, but to see him at all wasn't something he had been expecting. "Sam..." he murmured, feeling a smile touch his lips.
No. No, wrong. This was wrong. Why was he happy? Horror and confusion flooded through him in the wake of that small touch of joy, and before Sam could say anything he fled. He ditched another vessel, content for the moment to float and think. Unfortunately, however, he knew he couldn't stay away for very long. He knew Sam would pack and try to leave before the police came. He couldn't lose his trail now, not when he had to figure this out.
It happened as he was returning to the motel a few hours later, (either people were blind or just that groggy in the mornings, cause the bodies still lay crumpled where he had left them. Even the blood on the sidewalk was undisturbed.) he finally came to a conclusion that confused him more than anything else in his existence. "I know you," he said as Sam came out of his room. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, confident that Sam wouldn't attack him during the day with regular humans about. Not unless he attacked first, of course, but he wasn't too keen on doing that right now anyway. Still, just in case, he was several doors down. Enough distance between them so that the hunter couldn't stab him and leave before anyone else noticed. Not that he would, if he cared to think about it, since leaving another body would just make things worse when the police finally did arrive.
Sam didn't recognize him of course, so he stopped and tilted his head at him. "You must be mistaking me for someone else."
He shook his head. "No, you're Sam Winchester, and I know you from somewhere." That got his attention. Sam warily put his hand to his belt, presumably where the knife rested. "Don't be stupid, Rambo," he continued, "I'm not attacking you, and you don't exactly need the attention." He glanced pointedly down the hall where a housekeeper was pushing her squeaky cleaning cart to the next room on her list.
Sam didn't relax, but he didn't move towards him either. "Who-?"
"I don't know," he interrupted, frowning deeply. "I can't remember my name." One of the many things he lost when he escaped Hell. Not that it made much of a difference.
"Oh..." There passed an awkward minute where neither of them said anything, Sam shifting, looking around for a quick exit, and the demon staring at him, trying to remember where he could possibly have seen this man before. He was still riding off the initial surprise that Sam hadn't attacked him immediately. "Well," Sam finally continued, "...look, you probably don't want me to kill you, and I don't really want to murder another poor possessed bastard, so if you don't mind leaving me alone I'll be on my way." He turned to leave.
"No, I know you." He stepped closer, needing to figure this out. "I followed you from Georgia, I knew what you were going to do before you did it. I understand you when no one else can figure you out. Why is that? Why do I know you better than I know myself?" He took a deep breath, almost surprised that his curiosity was bothering him this badly.
Sam looked confused and wary and maybe a little freaked out. "You," he said, gritting his teeth. "You're the one who's been following me. The one who..." he cut himself off and glanced in the direction of the highway. An accusation was clear in the tone of his voice.
Shrugging slightly, he didn't deny the claim. "They meant nothing to me." Except as people he needed to get out of the way.
"Stay away from me," Sam hissed with a note of finality. "I should just kill you and get it over with if you know so much about me." The housekeeper was creeping ever closer, so Sam stepped forward to the next door. "Just...stay away from me." He wiped a hand over his face and walked past him down the hall, hurrying without seeming to.
"Wait," he followed, not quite on his heels, still didn't want to get stabbed. "Just wait, I need you to help me understand this!" There was no reply, and he had to catch up to him outside. He put the car between them, but didn't have a problem using his vessel as a meat shield to keep Sam from driving away. "Stop, please. I can...I can help you!"
The venomous look that earned him was a shock. "You want to help me?" Sam glared at him, his face screwed up with anger. "Well, you can go back to Hell. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..." The words were hissed in a low voice, traveling over the hood of the car too quietly for anyone to hear them unless they were standing close by.
He couldn't explain what those little words of Latin were doing to him. He could still hear Sam's voice in the background, pronouncing the exorcism so quickly he might as well have been a native speaker of the language, but he was so senseless by Sam's verbal assault that the words lost all meaning besides pain. They gripped his insides tightly, walling him up, resisting his efforts to push them away. His limbs were seizing, and it was only force of will that kept him from screaming as he felt Hell opening up for him again.
No, no, no, no, no, he won't go back, he can't go back there, it took him years to get out, no, no, no., "Please!" he begged, but he could feel that Sam was nearing the end of the chant. There was only one thing for him to do to survive. He couldn't go back down there. Once again, he abandoned his vessel and fled from Sam, though he chose not to stick around in town this time. He stormed high up into the air, catching the wind, and letting it carry him far from the range of those holy words. The pain lingered even after he was gone for so long he couldn't even keep track of how long he was floating above the world, not even trying to move, just drifting in the wind. Finally, he came back to himself, drifting lower towards the ground to get his bearings, and what he found confused him almost as much as his own situation.
The first thing he noticed was that from the air currents he could tell he was in a town. Nothing but buildings could block air flow so solidly, throw it that much off course. The second thing he noticed was that for a town it was remarkably empty. The few lights he could find were all very dim and clustered in one area, but when he tried to approach he had to stop, recoiling. It was like there was a bad...smell or something coming from the cluster. Or around it. Something about it seemed dangerous to him.
Foiled, he drifted around, lost, not knowing where he was. He wanted limbs again, but was unable to find anyone to possess. He didn't drift for very long before being tugged along, his perceptions picking up a light in the distance. It wasn't particularly bright, but this time he was desperate. He landed hard in the new vessel, nearly knocking it off its feet in mid-run. He was aware of several things at once: being out of breath, a hand grabbing his and pulling hard, urging him to keep moving, a male voice shouting from behind them - "Amelia! Keep running! They're gaining on us!" - the sounds of pursuit following close on their heels and the unmistakable feeling of blood soaking his sleeve.
He could hear, in his head, the woman he was possessing screaming at him to let her go, to leave her family alone, because they were all she had. She was pleading for their lives. The two other members of her family hadn't noticed him yet, too busy trying to run from their pursuers.
An arm wrapped around his shoulders, the man joining the girl pulling on his vessel's hand in ushering him forward. "It's okay, Amelia," he said, his voice quieter, soothing despite his fear. "Just a little further." They were all breathing heavily. "We'll make it, just hold on." The man seemed so sure of himself.
The woman he was possessing -- Amelia, -- was crying out for them. He learned a lot from her while he was pulled along, stumbling and tripping over rocks and holes, his limbs burning with the relentless exertion. He learned that her husband's name was Jimmy, the girl was her daughter Claire, and they'd been running from demons for three hours. They were tired, hurt, hungry. She wanted nothing more than her family's safety, and she made sure to loudly express her intentions to fight him tooth and nail if he ever so much as thought of harming them.
It was clear to him that she was extremely strong. The fear that he had used to gain an opening on her was all but gone now. If he lost control there would be no way to gain it back. Luckily for him there was so much tension with the current situation that they were both focused on the same thing. Getting away. He said nothing in return to her, just focused on the moment.
They broke out of the foliage and across open ground, coming across the road. He could hear the demons behind them gaining, and knew this family would never make it to safety, and that he would lose his vessel. Again. Coming to a decision, he abruptly stopped, his strength keeping the two other humans from yanking him off his feet in their hurry. Jimmy turned, horrified, and gripped his shoulders. The look on his face was so strange, full of an emotion he couldn't recognize, but made Amelia panic and call out to him again even though her husband couldn't hear her. "Amelia!? What are you doing? Come on, we have to run! Please, babe, don't give up on me..." Claire was urging them both on, her fear growing the longer they were still.
He shook his head. "I can stop them." He turned around before Jimmy could stop him, though he held onto his wife's uninjured arm. It was nothing to pull it out of his grasp, and step away towards the trees.
Then, all of a sudden, he once again found himself in a battle with other demons. His second fight in nearly as many days, though this time there were more demons, and he didn't have the advantage of surprise. He had a few yards where they had to reach him still that he could launch his attack, concentrating his power on the closest demon. It stopped short, gagging as he ripped it out of its vessel and let it go, not having enough time to throw it down like he had done before.
Okay, so he was wrong. They were surprised. Either they weren't expecting one of the people they were hunting to actually turn around and fight back, they weren't expecting to come across their prey to find another demon defending them, or the much more likely 'both' option. His money would definitely ride on option C. It still wasn't much of an advantage in the long run, but he took it and ran with it as if his life depended on it, not just the lives of these humans who shouldn't mean much to him at all.
They surrounded him, apparently a lot smarter than the morons he'd fought before, but there was something weaker about them, too. This was sport to them. They were arrogant. He was used to dealing with arrogance. Where it came from, he couldn't remember, but he wasn't complaining. "You bastards are lucky I don't have a knife..." he drawled, not paying attention to the stunned, frightened looks on the humans' faces from where they were cowering out of immediate battle range.
One of the demons laughed. "A pretty little thing like you?" It mocked him, gesturing to the woman. "There's no way you can take us wearing her."
He smirked. "Wanna bet?" He sneered, mimicking its mocking tone before he kicked it between the legs and drove his knee as hard as he could into its face as it doubled over. There was a satisfying crunch, but he couldn't do anything more as the rest of them took the cue to attack. From that point the rest of the fight was a blur, the four remaining demons keeping him too busy to even think as he defended himself, making an unconscious effort to keep the fight away from Amelia's family.
When they were all finally lying on the ground, demons long gone, vessels either dead or painfully unconscious, he nearly fell over. The arm that had been injured when he first took Amelia over was now hanging uselessly at his side, completely numb and blood matted his hair from a blow to the head that he had failed to avoid. He could feel bruises forming wherever the demons had hit him, but all things considered, it was a successful victory. He knew, however, that his personal fight wasn't over yet. Jimmy and Claire knew by now that Amelia was possessed, and they were staying far away, unwilling to either leave or move closer.
He held his hand up in a harmless gesture. "Let me explain," he rasped, the human's voice scratchy from nearly being strangled. The world tilted on his and he found himself on the grass, staring up at the sky, wondering when it started to get dark.
"Claire!" he heard, before hearing the girl's footsteps hitting the grass in a circle around him, accompanied by the sound of something sliding onto the ground. Dazed, he turned his head to see Claire holding an empty bag, staring down at him with angry tears in her eyes. "Claire," Jimmy said again, softer now that he had moved closer. "Claire, you shouldn't have-"
"Daddy, it's inside Mom. We have to help her."
"I know, sweetheart, we'll think of something..."
He groaned, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hand. He didn't have time for this. Amelia was saying something, pride for her daughter consuming her thoughts, but he didn't listen, focusing more on keeping control. He refused to lose another vessel until he knew there would be another one nearby. Traveling as smoke wasn't exactly the most entertaining mode of transportation.
"Listen to me!" he snapped, interrupting Jimmy and Claire in their secretive, hushed conversation about what to do with him. "I'm not planning on sticking around. I needed...I needed someone, and you guys happened to be the only humans for miles."
There was silence. "Pontiac has been overrun by creatures just like you." Jimmy admitted after a moment, sitting down on the grass. He didn't need to look at him to know that the break from running was doing him a world of good. "We were trying to get out. I guess it didn't work." Grief. He could recognize that emotion in Jimmy's voice.
"Well, from here it looks like you needed me," he shot back, sitting up so he could see them. He could also see what Claire had been doing when she circled around him. She was laying out some kind of white powder. Curious, he reached out to touch it, head tilting, but his arm shook when he got near, then stopped entirely no matter how hard he pushed. "A barrier...?" Seems there was still so much he had to learn. It was in a full circle around him, and he didn't have to test it to realize that no matter how thin the line, he probably wasn't getting out of there until someone broke it. The humans shared a look with each other, wary, worried. "I just," he continued, "I just needed a ride."
"My mom is not a ride!" Claire shouted, her voice taking on a hysterical note. "My mom is a living....living person and you need to get OUT of her!"
There was silence as they both looked at her, Jimmy with grief as if he'd already lost his wife, and the demon with surprise. Claire looked like she wanted to hit him, as if she could do a decent amount of damage to him if he weren't wearing her mother. The silence stretched out as she realized her outburst wasn't helping, and she slumped down onto the grass next to her father.
He stood up, stretching his vessel's body, checking the injuries he had sustained to make sure Amelia wasn't going to die if he left her. "She'll be fine," he said after a while, completely ignoring the looks they were shooting him with. "You know, if you let me ride one of you until I find a new vessel, I'll happily let her go. Safe, unharmed."
Another stretch of silence. He kept busy by nudging the toes of his shoes against the white line.Whatever it was, it didn't budge and not even Amelia was offering up an explanation.
"Okay." Jimmy pushed himself back to his feet while Claire stared up at him with a horrified expression.
"Daddy! You can't just trust it! It's a demon!"
"It's okay, Claire." He didn't look okay. "I don't trust it any more than you do, but I can do this for Amelia." In fact, he looked like he was about to cry.
"Daddy, please!"
Jimmy put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. "It'll be okay, sweetheart, I promise. I'm going to make sure you and your mother are safe." He kissed her forehead and then stepped into the circle.
Warily, he moved as far away as he could. He didn't really expect either of them to actually agree with his offer. "You're serious..." It wasn't a question.
"Deadly serious, demon. I'd do anything for my family." Jimmy's statement felt familiar to him, to a memory he couldn't quite remember. It was important, he knew. It felt similar to what he felt when he looked at Sam, just slightly different. "So you can ride me until you find a...vessel. But you have to make sure my family is safe first. Deal?"
That seemed easy. Except for the whole, 'safe' part. What was safe for humans where demons could not reach them? He tilted his head. Maybe if he could find that place with the bad 'smell'. He could do that. With a bit of effort. Nodding slowly, he stepped closer to the human. "Deal, but you'll have to break this barrier. I cannot keep your family 'safe' if I am trapped."
There was a few tense seconds where neither of them seemed to know if this was really going to happen, then Jimmy reached a foot back to disturb the circle. The demon could practically feel with the air around him was released. "Okay, what now?"
"Now we seal our deal." He knew about Deals, though he had never personally made one before. That was usually the job for a different sort of demon. Closing the distance between himself and the human, he reached up and pulled Jimmy close to kiss him. Jimmy went tense, too surprised to pull away, and the demon let go of his current vessel, passing himself through the mouths of the humans.
All at once he realized the difference between Jimmy and a weaker willed human. Jimmy was one of those people he couldn't even see when traveling in his smoke form. Too strong, too devout. If it wasn't for this man being a willing vessel, he never would have been able to possess him. Even now, if Jimmy didn't want him to have control, he wouldn't. It was a very...terrifying thought. It made him feel rather weak if he were to admit it to himself.
"I can hear you thinking..." The words were spoken aloud. The demon realized the real world had moved on a bit without him while he was judging his new body. Amelia and Claire were several feet away, teary eyed and hugging each other. Watching him. Them. Jimmy was the one who had spoken. Flexing his hands, he noticed they were a little stiff, coming to the conclusion that controlling this human was going to be difficult even with full cooperation. There was just too much strength. Though he did have to admit that he liked this body better than the woman's, despite its faults. "That woman is my wife, I'd appreciate it if you stopped thinking about her like that." Again, the words were spoken out loud.
He frowned heavily. "Stop reading my thoughts." Why did his voice sound slightly different to Jimmy's when he was talking?
One of his hands moved, slapping lightly over his face. "Now I sound like I'm talking to myself. Great."
Reeling back, he just let Jimmy control his own body for the moment, confused and insulted by Jimmy being more difficult than he had expected. 'Perhaps I will literally just be a passenger,' he amended quietly, knowing Jimmy could hear his thoughts. 'Before I forget, I believe there is a town nearby where your family will be safe. Several humans are protected there somehow. You would not be able to approach, but your family will. I could not enter. I presume neither will any other demon.'
Jimmy was silent for several long seconds. 'Thank you.'
He snorted softly, rejecting the thanks. He was just keeping up his end of the deal, after all. Settling back, a little weirded out by being the passenger in the body instead of the driver, he let himself relax, and dreamed while Jimmy guided his family to safety.
----
~Part 2~