Author's Note: Hallo! It's been a long time - but I guess that's what happens when you go to Africa for a year. I'm posting this just for fun... and to see if I can figure out the new formatting on the site. As always, please do drop your reviews: good, bad or ugly.
Story Notes: This is based on the premise that other hunters could have learned about Sam's demon blood long before John - I mean, hey, he was just starting out with the hunting thing. Vague Season 2 spoilers - don't worry, I haven't even see the new season, so can't spoil it. The boys are 16 and 12 here. Told in medias res. Outside POV.
Rating for language and gore.
There's a follow up from John's perspective if anyone's interested.
Summary: The little demon's crying. It's fair enough. I'd be crying too if I was in his shoes. Twelve years old is a crappy age to have to die. Outside POV. Pre-series.
The little boy's crying. It's fair enough. I'd be crying too if I was in his shoes. Twelve years old is a shitty age to have to die.
But, then, destroying the world and inviting Hell on earth because of the demon blood inside you, would be pretty shitty too. Probably better to die young before you can become the abomination – the devil – you're destined to be. Probably.
The ritual's not too complicated. I think Cal only called me in 'cause he's hoping to get laid when this is all over and cleaned up. Not likely. I'd rather have a go with the demon child's dad… or his brother.
The brother… fuck. The hardest part of this whole thing was trying to deal with him. The son of a bitch knows how to fight. Took down six of our guys – six trained men; not just street punks hired for the day. Kind of scary, actually.
Cal's keeping him here – that old adage about keeping your enemies close. I think he's asking for trouble.
The brother – Dean, the demon calls him Dean – is out cold. He's likely concussed; Marcus decided he rather enjoyed kicking the kid in the skull after Dean was tied down and couldn't fight back anymore. Ass. Cowardly ass.
Cal's moving about the room, setting up equipment for the ritual. Marcus and Jacob are drawing the runes and circles on the floor that should have been done long before we made a move on the demon. This is just time we're wasting that allows something to go wrong.
I turn at the voice behind me, raising a brow as Tyler approaches. Cal's got him babysitting the brother – likely 'cause he's a useless fucker and guarding an unconscious kid is all he's really capable of. If that.
"The kid's coming to." Tyler states, drawing all eyes to him. Marcus looks irritated; Cal non-plussed. But the demon... shit, his eyes just went so wide.
Tyler shifts about, "Can you dose him?"
I sigh and roll my eyes. Lucky me being an EMT when not killing demons. I get to be the one to drug this poor kid. Better me than fucking Tyler though.
"Whatever." I brush past him moving down the hall to the back room. He doesn't follow and I'm glad, 'cause that means I won't have to deal with his idiocy; but I'm also nervous since I've seen what this Dean kid is capable of.
I push open the door and stop short. Dammit.
The kid's lying on the concrete floor, ankles lashed together with cord. His arms are wrenched behind him, tied around a cement support pillar in the center of the room.
His eyes follow me as I step in, but I don't feel threatened anymore. Someone's worked him over since he's been here – he took a couple good hits in the fight, sure, but not this.
I can see dark bruising where his T-shirt is rucked up and his face is a mess – blood from where Marcus kicked him, more under his nose and more spilling over his chin from a split lip. What kind of freak gets their jollies beating on a kid after he's tied down?
An innocent kid. A human kid.
I force a long exhale as I move into the room. Dean flinches slightly as I crouch before him and I hold up my hands to show I'm not going to hit him.
"Where's my brother?"
I'm surprised how strong his voice still is. Probably said something that scared Tyler and sent him running out to get me.
"What have done to him?"
This is not going to be fun. "We're doing what needs to be done."
He closes his eyes and shivers – and, yeah, it's fucking cold in here.
"Please don't hurt him."
I'm taken completely aback – I'd expected threats and curses and 'If you touch my brother, I'll kill you.'
"Dean," I wait for him to open his eyes. "It's Dean, right?"
"Yeah." He sounds so young just then.
"Dean, I'm an EMT – a medic. Okay? Let me look at you."
"It doesn't matter," he shakes his head tightly and I know he's hurting bad. "My brother…"
"Your brother is dangerous. He's a threat. More than you can know."
"He's a kid." Dean's voice is aching now instead of strong. "He's just a little kid."
"He isn't. It isn't."
"Please," Dean breathes.
I ignore him, moving to inspect the bruising on his chest. He doesn't resist, but his breath hitches when I probe the contusion.
"Please," he hisses again. "Sammy's a kid. A child. He's only twelve years old!"
"I know." I didn't mean to reply. "You have a couple cracked ribs."
"It doesn't matter." He swallows audibly. "My brother..."
"You don't know what your brother is capable of."
"He's a kid. He hasn't even kissed a girl yet. Hasn't drunk a beer."
I shift to get a look at his head, really hoping his skull's not fractured. "I think you're concussed." It would explain why he's pleading instead of threatening.
"Please don't hurt him."
I touch my fingers to his forehead and he jerks sharply. "What?"
"Think…" he gasps. "Gonna puke."
"Fuck." Yeah, very probably a concussion. Fucking Marcus. Poor kid doesn't deserve to be concussed and vomiting all over himself in this hell hole. I look around. "There's nothing for you to puke into."
He wheezes, closing his eyes. "Let me sit up?"
I bite my lip hard – the way he's tied, the only way I'll be able to do that for him, would start with me untying his hands. I ain't that stupid.
"Breathe deep, okay? Get a handle on the nausea. You can win this."
He lets out this sound that's close to a whimper. I'm fuming – just absolutely fucking furious. Stopping a demon I can understand, but doing this to a human! A kid!
I look over my shoulder at the call, Cal hovering in the doorway.
"You okay? What's taking so long?"
"Which one of your goons worked him over?"
Cal shrugs. "Dose him. We got work to do."
I huff angrily. "He needs help, Cal! You don't do this to a person. You don't do it to a human!"
"His brother's a devil."
"Yeah? Well, that's not this kid's fault!" I stand. "He's concussed! Cracked ribs. And he's fucking freezing. You can't leave him in here like this."
"Dose him and he won't be in pain anymore."
"The drug's dangerous if he has a concussion."
Cal shrugs again, "Risk it."
I seethe. "This isn't what I signed up for." The hurt kid behind me whimpers softly and my heart goes out to him. I gotta help him.
Cal tips his head. "Don't be so fucking, naïve, Eve. The punk's playing you. Trying to get you on his side."
I hesitate. Shit. But, come on. No way. This kid was so strong – no way he'd let himself look so weak if he wasn't in a really bad way.
Or really playing me.
Cal's expression softens. "We'll take him to a hospital when this is over, okay? Then if he's really hurt, he'll be taken care of and if he's not, at least we'll be done here."
"We should at least get him off the floor."
Cal shakes his head. "We'd have to untie his hands. Concussed or not, I ain't riskin' that." He sighs. "You know I'm right."
I let out a breath, "All right. Let's be quick though. The sooner he gets help, the better."
I spin around at the angry hiss. Dean's eyes aren't wide and pleading at all – they're full of fire and hell and fury. Woah. Holy shit.
"If you hurt my brother, I'll rip your fucking throat out! You hear me, cocksucker?"
Holy hell. He played me good. I was going to cut him free.
"I will fucking kill every last one of you!"
Cal raises a brow and I know my jaw's gaping open. "See, Eve?"
"Fuck you both!" Dean starts thrashing against the bonds – I wish he'd stop 'cause it must hurt like an absolute bitch with the cracked ribs.
"I'm going to kill every last one of you mother fuckers!"
Cal sighs, "Will you dose him?"
"Yes. He's going to really hurt himself."
"I'll rip your fucking heart out!"
"Sure, kid," Cal crouches before Dean. "Whatever."
"There won't be anywhere you can go that I won't find you! Nowhere where you can hide! You get me?"
Cal's eyes narrow, "I'm doing you a favour, you stupid shit! Your brother is a monster!"
I have the syringe ready – I'd hoped not to need these when Cal asked me to bring them.
"I'm gonna kill you first," Dean hisses. And it's scary 'cause he fucking means it.
I crouch down beside Cal, wincing when Dean struggles harder.
"Can you hold his arm?"
"Don't fucking touch me!"
Cal just snarls, grabbing the kid's arm viciously. He braces Dean with both hands, looking at me.
"Sorry, kid." I prick the needle through his skin, pressing in the drug in one quick move in case he manages to jerk away.
"Fuck!" Dean bucks. "Fuck, I'll kill you!"
Cal keeps a hold on him and I watch as the drug takes effect. The strain in his muscles eases off first, then his eyes start to droop. He drops bonelessly, a last whisper escaping lax lips. "Sammy…"
Cal leans back, "Pain in the ass, this fucking kid."
"Your guys shouldn't have pounded him," I stand, moving back.
"He pounded them," Cal dismisses.
"When they could defend themselves. It's different, Cal! You know that. This kid isn't a demon."
He gestures the door. "We have work to do. You wanna get this one to a hospital so bad, let's go get it done."
I scowl, but still follow him down the hallway. Tyler's waiting there and Cal sends him back in to babysit. At least the idiot won't be part of the ritual.
Jacob and Marcus have finished getting things ready. The demon's hog tied in the center of a large pentagram. I swear he looks even younger than he did before.
The little boy – it's the guise of a devil, I know – is bawling his guts out now. Deep, wrenching sobs that are shuddering out in gasps and hiccups.
What the hell kind of name is 'Sammy' for something that's supposed to destroy us all?
I accept the bowl Jacob hands me and take a breath. Here we go.
Walking into the circle and across the pentagram, I crouch over the boy – the demon. Come on, Eve.
He heaves a hiccupping sob, "Is Dean dead?"
I'm so thrown I almost drop the bowl. "What?"
"No," I can't help but offer this small comfort. The little boy's eyes are just so huge, so… desperate. "He'll be okay."
Some of the wrenching weeping abates. The little boy's still crying, but he's breathing again.
I dab my finger into the dark liquid in the bowl, quickly painting a rune onto the demon's forehead. Nothing really happens – I'd kind of expected it to sizzle and steam. The demon – demon? – just snuffles and weeps fresh tears.
I move back, leaving the pentagram and ensure I'm out of the circle as well.
Cal starts reading something out of an old text. There's a loud snap and the lights go out. I jump – why the fuck are the lights out?
I look to Cal, who's looking to Jacob. Marcus is holding the long knife he needs for the ritual and with only a few flickering candles lighting the room, he looks scary as hell.
What's really scary, though, is that the little boy's stopped crying.
A demon couldn't do anything from inside that pentagram! We've used it before!
Shaking it off, Cal starts reading again. My thoughts are racing and I'm going to miss my queue, but, fuck why did the lights go out? That boy, demon, whatever, didn't do it! And if he didn't…
The shot is so loud I swear it exploded the whole fucking room. Marcus is blown away – goes flying back in a spray of blood.
The second shot is so close after the first that it could have been the same fucking one, except that Cal's head erupts into a greasy smear of gore – and for some reason all I can focus on is the tomb falling from dead hands.
I finally get it together enough to scream, dropping to the ground and covering my head.
Tyler comes running out from the back. And he's just in time to have his guts explode into a pulpy mess. Something slurps as he drops and I do not want to know what it was.
Jacob's shouting; firing crazed with a pistol. He has no idea what he's shooting at, just fucking shooting. I can't believe he hasn't hit me. Hasn't hit the little boy… though maybe that demon kid is what he should have aimed for.
I shout; cowering as another blast rips Jacob's throat apart. Blood goes fucking everywhere – just like the fucking movies! No way this shit is real!
I think maybe I'm crying now. Just hunkering on the floor, arms over my head as if that's going to make any difference what-so-fucking-ever.
There's glass crunching. Sounds like footsteps.
Oh shit! Oh fuck! Fuck!
"Sammy?" A deep voice, gruff. Pissed and terrified at the same time.
Sammy is the little demon. Sammy is Dean's brother.
Sammy is the son of the man who just killed everyone. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck!
The boy lets out this sort of relieved, aching, desperate sob. He must be getting cut free. And his young, little boy voice is absolutely condemning when he states, "There's one more, Dad."
I cower. And I am sobbing now. More glass crunches as those footsteps come straight at me.
I scream as a brutal hand grabs me, hauling me off the floor and flinging me against the wall. "No! Please!" I sob, holding my hands out as a sawed off levels at my face. I don't want to be an ink blot on the wall.
"Where's my son?" The man demands.
I can barely see him past the double barrel at my eyes. "I'll… I'll take you!" I'm definitely sobbing now. I'm so scared I can't think. What the fuck am I doing here? I just want to be an EMT! I just want to go home!
"There anyone else here?"
"No!" I whimper. "No."
"I find out you lied and I kill you."
I nod shakily, believing him absolutely,
"Take me to my son." The man orders, and the gun doesn't waver an inch. "Try anything and I end you."
"Okay!" I gasp. "Okay! Please. Please!"
I scramble toward the hall, then suddenly freeze up in case it looks like I'm trying to get away. I am so not cut out for this line of work.
The man's determined steps are right behind me… and I can hear little boy footfalls behind him, Sammy following.
I pause at the door at the end of the hall, scared shitless to open it, just as scared not to. This guy is not going to be happy.
I snap to it, fumbling the knob open, Tyler having left the door unlocked in his haste.
I'm prodded through the doorway first, but the only thing waiting in there is an unconscious kid, hurt and probably shivering.
There's an emergency light burning in one corner of the ceiling. Its glow is garish and everything just looks horrible.
"Dean." The man's voice is horrifying. He whirls on me and I just shake. "Get against the wall. Don't move."
I don't even think not to do it. I go where he wants me to, then just stand there, crying and petrified.
Somehow it's even scarier when the man puts the huge fucking shotgun into the little boy's hands. "Shoot her if she moves."
And the little boy holds that gigantic gun like a fucking pro… And I have no doubt at all he'd pull the trigger. I whimper.
The man moves quickly to Dean, slicing through the cable ties, with a wicked blade. He rolls the kid with so much care and concern that it's hard to believe he's the same guy who just blew away four people.
"Dean?" he brushes the kid's face, cataloguing the blood almost professionally.
"He's…" I have to say something. Fuck, I'm a medic. "He's okay…"
The man turns a glare on me so dark I want to combust. "What did you give him?"
"A sedative," I admit. "Intravenous. Nervoplex. It's new. Two cc's." The man gives me this furious look and I stammer on frantically. "It's safe! He's okay! We use it sometimes with our patients at work. He's okay! It'll wear off!"
The man turns back to his son and he seems to know what he's doing, but… "I'm an EMT." He glances toward me but little Sammy sure doesn't lower the gun. "Let me help you. He has cracked ribs on the right side. Possible concussion. I didn't have time to check for a skull fracture, but I should."
"You aren't going to touch my son again."
I'm trembling. This guy is going to kill me. Shit, I can't even really blame him…
"Please!" I am so not above begging.
"Sammy come over here."
The little boy backs toward his father, keeping the gun on me the whole time. The man stands and takes the shotgun from arms way too little to be holding it so expertly.
Released from that responsibility, the boy immediately drops beside his brother, easing Dean's head into his lap. His father draws a pistol, handing it to the tiny child. "Stay here a minute."
The man looks at me, gesturing with the sawed off. "Move."
I let myself be herded back to the front room. I know he can see that I'm shaking but I so don't care about pride right now. "Your son, Dean… Cal's guys gave him a beating after they'd got him tied down. I tried to get him to a hospital."
"Before or after you drugged him?" Zero mercy; zero pity in that tone.
"I drugged him so he wouldn't hurt himself! He was struggling so hard and with the cracked ribs…" I'm crying again. Bits of Tyler are smeared in the doorway, mixing with bits of Marcus.
"What were you doing in here? What ritual?"
"It's… it's to bind a demon."
"Bind a demon?"
"Into its corporeal form. To… to kill it."
"You thought my boy was possessed?"
"No." I don't know where I get the courage from, but I actually turn to face him. "Your boy is a demon."
The man's eyes narrow. "You're fucking insane."
"I'm not. He's evil and he's a threat. And I'm so very sorry that it's true."
"You'll come after him again," the man seems to be telling himself, stating it as fact, not asking.
He smiles, but it's predatory. And I just know. He can't let it happen – can't risk that I'll come after little Sammy. And I'll never convince him that I'm not a threat.
Because I am.
I don't hear the blast. I don't feel the shot. But I know that bits are me are smeared in and mixing with those bits of the others; that I'm that ink blot on the wall.