The Angel and The Devil, Heavy On Your Shoulders [18/22] Sam/Dean, R
Title: The Angel and The Devil, Heavy on Your Shoulders (Part V. Three.)
Word Count: 1242 [35000 total]
MASTER POST for warnings, author's notes, and link to art
Part V: We’ve Made Some Bad Decisions.
--Chapter 3--
Soon after Dean left, a storm had rolled in, and Sam wondered in a daze if he would be around to see the sun again.
He’s working a ritual, and in his current state, it’s jumbled work-would be even by Dean’s loose, interpretive standards. At this point, Sam doesn’t really expect it to work, but it gives his feeble hands something to do.
And yet, when the last words of the incantation leave his lips, he’s facing an honest-to-God demon, trapped in a summoning circle that looks like it might as well have been drawn in crayon. It all connects, Sam tells himself, that’s the important thing. He smiles to himself and wonders if this is the end of an awful fucking long streak of bad luck.
The demon’s meat suit is smirking, mouth opening to, no doubt, issue some smart ass remark, but it suddenly snaps shut. The smirk fades and color leaves the stolen face. Instead, it mutters a dark and miserable, “Oh, shit.”
Sam’s smile found itself becoming a full-blown grin. It was kinda cool to be recognized.
“Hey, hey, thanks for coming,” Sam said congenially. “I’m Sam.”
“I know,” the demon croaked. “Seth.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“’Fraid I can’t say the same. What are you gonna do to me, hunh?”
If Sam was a crueler sort of man, he might have laughed. Seth’s body was at least as big as his, and was outfitted for intimidation. He was decked out entirely in black, he sported sunglasses, and Sam could just bet that he wore them at night. And now this impressively built body, with slick black hair and badass boots, inhabited by a minion of hell-kin of Lilith, was shitting himself at the sight of Sam.
Wonders never did cease.
“Do you really want to know what I’m going to do?” Sam asked. He took measured and careful steps toward the circle, taking his sweet time about it. “I mean, you knowing what’s coming isn’t going to stop it from happening. Might as well be a surprise, right?”
“Aw, geez,” Seth said, wiping a hand over his sweat-slick face.
“But first I thought you could help me.”
“Are you offering me a deal?” Seth asked. He perked up considerably. Sam almost hated to shoot him down.
“No, this isn’t really a deal sort of arrangement.”
“Then why should I help you?”
Sam sighed thoughtfully. “Well, okay, now you’ve forced me to ruin the surprise. I’m going to drink your blood.” Sam continued over Seth’s pathetic moans. “But if you’re real nice, I’ll use a knife to open your jugular.” Sam smiled a particularly toothy smile at a horrified Seth.
“Okay, okay, you win, I’ll bite,” Seth replied, wincing on the last word. “What do you want?”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with a friend of mine, and she seems to have gone M.I.A.-“
“You want Ruby,” Seth said darkly.
For a moment, the slithery grin on Seth’s face unnerved Sam, but he regained composure and never let his friendly smile waver. “So you know her?”
“Know her,” Seth laughed. “There isn’t a slob in the Pit that doesn’t know about her, or who hasn’t been trying to track her traitor ass down. They did find her.” Sam’s stomach twisted as Seth’s smile slid a little wider. The demon quirked an eyebrow. “Sort of.”
“Sort of.”
“They found the bitch’s ashes…not too far from this very spot, wouldn’t ya know it.” Seth tsked, looking not even slightly remorseful. “You walk out on hell and get burned. It’s got a nice poetic justice to it.”
Seth laughed, but Sam barely heard him. Not far from this very spot. The words echoed in Sam’s mind, twisted and came back as a whisper: Dean. He realized Seth was still laughing, and the demon’s attitude was starting to grate Sam’s nerves. He put a fist in the air and squeezed, and the laughter cut off into a wheezing gasp.
“I wouldn’t go feeling too smug, if I were you,” Sam advised calmly. He concentrated his gaze on Seth, like a magnifying glass over an ant. Seth’s body was yanked up until the tips of his boots just grazed the floor, and he’s dragged slowly through the air, like a slab of meat on a hook. The sweat and panic is back, and Sam lets himself enjoy the moment. Seth’s eyes flicker with confusion over Sam’s ash-colored arms. His mouth works soundlessly, desperately and Sam sighs and lets him have his voice. Seth gasps hugely, coughs and sputters. “I know,” he chokes. “I know what’s happening to you. I know why you’re skins like that.”
An ember of hope flares in Sam, but the darkness of reality is too heavy for it to matter. “What’re you, a dermatologist?”
Seth looks frantic and eager, like a death row inmate on his last appeal. “I was a warlock, centuries ago-I didn’t practice the dark arts,” Seth says, his face growing serious. “I was the dark arts.”
Sam laughs. “But you still bit it somehow.”
Seth looks sheepish for a moment, before admitting, “I choked on a chicken bone, but still, before that, people trembled at my name, I was fear incarnate-“
“You’re getting to a point, soon, right?” Sam had to admit Seth was entertaining, at least. Dinner and a show, he thought to himself with a silent chuckle.
“You’ve been poisoned, Sam,” Seth replied.
“Actually, I knew that,” he said, in a bored voice.
“But I bet you don’t know with what. Otherwise you wouldn’t be half as cocky as you are.”
While Sam didn’t appreciate the lip, Seth had certainly gotten his attention. “So enlighten me, Merlin,” he said. He’s thinking of Dean as he uses meanness to smother out the sinking feeling in his gut. Seth, however, looks all too happy to be able to share old, tarnished bits knowledge from a once well-guarded and vast store.
“Anenexus, or, for traditionalists, Mors Animi. It means-“
“Soul death,” Sam says, and he’s got no smart-ass remark at the moment to hide that he grasps what this really means.
“Yeah,” Seth says, moodily. “They always said you were good at Latin.” Seth’s grimace shifted quickly into an almost coy expression. “You can feel it. You know what’s happening. And you know I can help you.”
Sam was distracted from his deep thought and looked at Seth, curious and bemused. “Oh?”
“There’s an antidote, Sam. I can help. Just let me go, I promise, I can fix you like that,” Seth said, snapping long fingers. “Fact, I won’t stop there. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Just let me go, for Christ’s sake!”
“Aww, well. That is awful nice of you, Seth, but you see, help’s already on the way. I just gotta make sure I last that long.”
“Please,” Seth said, but he already sounded hopeless.
“Don’t worry, man. This?” Sam held up his knife, dully glinting in the dirty moonlight. “It’s for a good cause.”
There’s screams, the smell of sulfur and the taste of hot iron and salt. And soon, Sam feels almost as good as new. True, most of his body is still the color of cold ash, and his limbs still don’t quite feel connected to the rest of him. But for a man with a dying soul-thanks to Seth’s generous contribution-Sam feels much better than he has any right to.
-part VI.one-
Word Count: 1242 [35000 total]
MASTER POST for warnings, author's notes, and link to art
Part V: We’ve Made Some Bad Decisions.
--Chapter 3--
Soon after Dean left, a storm had rolled in, and Sam wondered in a daze if he would be around to see the sun again.
He’s working a ritual, and in his current state, it’s jumbled work-would be even by Dean’s loose, interpretive standards. At this point, Sam doesn’t really expect it to work, but it gives his feeble hands something to do.
And yet, when the last words of the incantation leave his lips, he’s facing an honest-to-God demon, trapped in a summoning circle that looks like it might as well have been drawn in crayon. It all connects, Sam tells himself, that’s the important thing. He smiles to himself and wonders if this is the end of an awful fucking long streak of bad luck.
The demon’s meat suit is smirking, mouth opening to, no doubt, issue some smart ass remark, but it suddenly snaps shut. The smirk fades and color leaves the stolen face. Instead, it mutters a dark and miserable, “Oh, shit.”
Sam’s smile found itself becoming a full-blown grin. It was kinda cool to be recognized.
“Hey, hey, thanks for coming,” Sam said congenially. “I’m Sam.”
“I know,” the demon croaked. “Seth.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“’Fraid I can’t say the same. What are you gonna do to me, hunh?”
If Sam was a crueler sort of man, he might have laughed. Seth’s body was at least as big as his, and was outfitted for intimidation. He was decked out entirely in black, he sported sunglasses, and Sam could just bet that he wore them at night. And now this impressively built body, with slick black hair and badass boots, inhabited by a minion of hell-kin of Lilith, was shitting himself at the sight of Sam.
Wonders never did cease.
“Do you really want to know what I’m going to do?” Sam asked. He took measured and careful steps toward the circle, taking his sweet time about it. “I mean, you knowing what’s coming isn’t going to stop it from happening. Might as well be a surprise, right?”
“Aw, geez,” Seth said, wiping a hand over his sweat-slick face.
“But first I thought you could help me.”
“Are you offering me a deal?” Seth asked. He perked up considerably. Sam almost hated to shoot him down.
“No, this isn’t really a deal sort of arrangement.”
“Then why should I help you?”
Sam sighed thoughtfully. “Well, okay, now you’ve forced me to ruin the surprise. I’m going to drink your blood.” Sam continued over Seth’s pathetic moans. “But if you’re real nice, I’ll use a knife to open your jugular.” Sam smiled a particularly toothy smile at a horrified Seth.
“Okay, okay, you win, I’ll bite,” Seth replied, wincing on the last word. “What do you want?”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with a friend of mine, and she seems to have gone M.I.A.-“
“You want Ruby,” Seth said darkly.
For a moment, the slithery grin on Seth’s face unnerved Sam, but he regained composure and never let his friendly smile waver. “So you know her?”
“Know her,” Seth laughed. “There isn’t a slob in the Pit that doesn’t know about her, or who hasn’t been trying to track her traitor ass down. They did find her.” Sam’s stomach twisted as Seth’s smile slid a little wider. The demon quirked an eyebrow. “Sort of.”
“Sort of.”
“They found the bitch’s ashes…not too far from this very spot, wouldn’t ya know it.” Seth tsked, looking not even slightly remorseful. “You walk out on hell and get burned. It’s got a nice poetic justice to it.”
Seth laughed, but Sam barely heard him. Not far from this very spot. The words echoed in Sam’s mind, twisted and came back as a whisper: Dean. He realized Seth was still laughing, and the demon’s attitude was starting to grate Sam’s nerves. He put a fist in the air and squeezed, and the laughter cut off into a wheezing gasp.
“I wouldn’t go feeling too smug, if I were you,” Sam advised calmly. He concentrated his gaze on Seth, like a magnifying glass over an ant. Seth’s body was yanked up until the tips of his boots just grazed the floor, and he’s dragged slowly through the air, like a slab of meat on a hook. The sweat and panic is back, and Sam lets himself enjoy the moment. Seth’s eyes flicker with confusion over Sam’s ash-colored arms. His mouth works soundlessly, desperately and Sam sighs and lets him have his voice. Seth gasps hugely, coughs and sputters. “I know,” he chokes. “I know what’s happening to you. I know why you’re skins like that.”
An ember of hope flares in Sam, but the darkness of reality is too heavy for it to matter. “What’re you, a dermatologist?”
Seth looks frantic and eager, like a death row inmate on his last appeal. “I was a warlock, centuries ago-I didn’t practice the dark arts,” Seth says, his face growing serious. “I was the dark arts.”
Sam laughs. “But you still bit it somehow.”
Seth looks sheepish for a moment, before admitting, “I choked on a chicken bone, but still, before that, people trembled at my name, I was fear incarnate-“
“You’re getting to a point, soon, right?” Sam had to admit Seth was entertaining, at least. Dinner and a show, he thought to himself with a silent chuckle.
“You’ve been poisoned, Sam,” Seth replied.
“Actually, I knew that,” he said, in a bored voice.
“But I bet you don’t know with what. Otherwise you wouldn’t be half as cocky as you are.”
While Sam didn’t appreciate the lip, Seth had certainly gotten his attention. “So enlighten me, Merlin,” he said. He’s thinking of Dean as he uses meanness to smother out the sinking feeling in his gut. Seth, however, looks all too happy to be able to share old, tarnished bits knowledge from a once well-guarded and vast store.
“Anenexus, or, for traditionalists, Mors Animi. It means-“
“Soul death,” Sam says, and he’s got no smart-ass remark at the moment to hide that he grasps what this really means.
“Yeah,” Seth says, moodily. “They always said you were good at Latin.” Seth’s grimace shifted quickly into an almost coy expression. “You can feel it. You know what’s happening. And you know I can help you.”
Sam was distracted from his deep thought and looked at Seth, curious and bemused. “Oh?”
“There’s an antidote, Sam. I can help. Just let me go, I promise, I can fix you like that,” Seth said, snapping long fingers. “Fact, I won’t stop there. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Just let me go, for Christ’s sake!”
“Aww, well. That is awful nice of you, Seth, but you see, help’s already on the way. I just gotta make sure I last that long.”
“Please,” Seth said, but he already sounded hopeless.
“Don’t worry, man. This?” Sam held up his knife, dully glinting in the dirty moonlight. “It’s for a good cause.”
There’s screams, the smell of sulfur and the taste of hot iron and salt. And soon, Sam feels almost as good as new. True, most of his body is still the color of cold ash, and his limbs still don’t quite feel connected to the rest of him. But for a man with a dying soul-thanks to Seth’s generous contribution-Sam feels much better than he has any right to.
-part VI.one-