Fic: Surveillance
Author: tahirire
Wordcount: 401
Rating: PG
Beta: Comment!fic means not having a beta.
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Season 1/2
Warnings: My generic major character death fic list.
Summary: For samidha at the spn_demons comment fic meme. Prompt was "Sam is still Azazel's favorite. Explore."
Surveillance
He's tough. Sharp. Well trained. Maybe a little too heavy on the whole compassion thing, but Azazel has time to work on that. After all, there's nobody on the whole giant dustball that brings out Sam's anger like he does.
He chuckles, thinking of the look on Sammy's face as he aimed the Colt across little Rosie's nursery bed. All the kids are born the same, it's the pattern of things. Sammy had had a mobile over his crib, too. Never looked at clowns the same way.
It's almost too easy following them around in that raven-shaped car of theirs, but then he never picked them for their subtlety.
Dean cracks open a beer right there in the parking lot where he plans to spend the night, not giving two shits about the customers leaving the Home Depot, but casting a wary gaze across the crowds just the same.
Instict. Guts. Street cred. Dean has the finer things that Sam will learn in time. It's Sam's weakness that makes him the better choice; his compassion and need to trust people that opens him up to manipulation. Of course, Dean is the person Sam trusts, and that's going to need fixing too. He sighs. There is an easy way to take Dean out of the equation, but he just can't quite bring himself to kill the older boy.
Azazel eyes Dean with a small spark of wistfulness in his eyes. Dean is everything he'd pictured Sam to be, but nothing like what he needs.
Azazel is going to make history, and history rarely calls for a warrior.
Dean looks straight at him, and he suppresses a smile and a wave with some difficulty. Better not to rile the natives. It's not time, not yet.
Sam returns from the store with the rest of the exiting crowd, two bottles of water and a sack of road salt filling his arms. When Sam nears, Dean looks away, moving with his brother in an unrehearsed rhythm to the back of the car and reaching to pop the truck.
Sam stretches, reaching his arms up to the sky. He's gotten bigger in the shoulders.
Azazel turns away, satisfied that at least for tonight his boys will get some rest. He doesn't want them burning out too early. Sammy has an appointment to keep and come Hell or high water, Dean will be right behind him.
He whistles happily to himself as he fades away.
Wordcount: 401
Rating: PG
Beta: Comment!fic means not having a beta.
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Season 1/2
Warnings: My generic major character death fic list.
Summary: For samidha at the spn_demons comment fic meme. Prompt was "Sam is still Azazel's favorite. Explore."
Surveillance
He's tough. Sharp. Well trained. Maybe a little too heavy on the whole compassion thing, but Azazel has time to work on that. After all, there's nobody on the whole giant dustball that brings out Sam's anger like he does.
He chuckles, thinking of the look on Sammy's face as he aimed the Colt across little Rosie's nursery bed. All the kids are born the same, it's the pattern of things. Sammy had had a mobile over his crib, too. Never looked at clowns the same way.
It's almost too easy following them around in that raven-shaped car of theirs, but then he never picked them for their subtlety.
Dean cracks open a beer right there in the parking lot where he plans to spend the night, not giving two shits about the customers leaving the Home Depot, but casting a wary gaze across the crowds just the same.
Instict. Guts. Street cred. Dean has the finer things that Sam will learn in time. It's Sam's weakness that makes him the better choice; his compassion and need to trust people that opens him up to manipulation. Of course, Dean is the person Sam trusts, and that's going to need fixing too. He sighs. There is an easy way to take Dean out of the equation, but he just can't quite bring himself to kill the older boy.
Azazel eyes Dean with a small spark of wistfulness in his eyes. Dean is everything he'd pictured Sam to be, but nothing like what he needs.
Azazel is going to make history, and history rarely calls for a warrior.
Dean looks straight at him, and he suppresses a smile and a wave with some difficulty. Better not to rile the natives. It's not time, not yet.
Sam returns from the store with the rest of the exiting crowd, two bottles of water and a sack of road salt filling his arms. When Sam nears, Dean looks away, moving with his brother in an unrehearsed rhythm to the back of the car and reaching to pop the truck.
Sam stretches, reaching his arms up to the sky. He's gotten bigger in the shoulders.
Azazel turns away, satisfied that at least for tonight his boys will get some rest. He doesn't want them burning out too early. Sammy has an appointment to keep and come Hell or high water, Dean will be right behind him.
He whistles happily to himself as he fades away.