Demon Blood

Chapter One: Kidnapped

Note: There is now a prequel to this story called "Purpose". It doesn't have much to do with the events of this story, but it will have importance in the future. Enjoy!

Azazel was very patient. He had to be, in order to ensure his long game played out right. There was so much depending on him and whichever child proved to be the strongest, and he would see it through, whatever it took. However, watching from within John Winchester's body as Sam struggled with using the Colt to kill both John and Azazel, he found he couldn't help but feel a twinge of impatience. He had put out the order to have Sam's girlfriend killed so Sam could go back to hunting and strengthen up his skills, but what good was he if he couldn't kill whoever was necessary?

Enough was enough. No demon had ever jumped ship just to head straight into another host due to how exhausting it was just to leave the one you were in, but Azazel thought this was the night to change that. As he made to leave John's body, he whispered into his mind, "My name is Azazel, and I'm taking Sam away. Tonight."

He gathered his strength long enough to catch the beginning of John's horrified reaction to his pronouncement, and then he leapt.

Sam felt a sort of empty relief as the Yellow-Eyed Demon stopped possessing John, the Colt still clutched in his hand. He knew that the moment his dad was able, he was going to get a proper tongue-lashing for "being weak" and not taking the shot, but for now, it was more important to him that Dean and his dad were still alive to fight another day. He waited silently for the black smoke that was the Demon to zoom off, and felt a twinge of worry when it didn't.

"Dean," he whispered without thinking before meeting his father's eyes and seeing a horrified expression in their depths.

"Sam," John whispered hoarsely, "run. Sam, run now."

Sam looked back up at the Demon and backed away until his back hit the wall behind him. "Dean," he said again, hand tightening uselessly on the Colt's handle.

"Sam?" he heard his brother whisper, but it was too late.

The Demon swooped at him, and then Sam knew nothing but pain. He thought he might be screaming, but he wasn't sure of anything, anymore. And then it was over.

Dean hurt everywhere, his chest in particular, but the moment the Yellow-Eyed Demon shot into Sam, he found his pain didn't matter so much, anymore. "Sam!" he yelled, struggling to sit up despite his injuries. "NO!"

The Demon poured into Sam's mouth, and Sam was screaming, his right hand still holding the Colt with a white-knuckled grip. And then it was over, and Sam's body slumped to the ground, his back still against the wall.

"Dean," John gasped out from the middle of the floor, "don't move."

"Dad, it's Sam, I can't just sit here!" Dean argued, despite knowing how weak and useless he was at the moment.

And then Sam groaned. Dean stared at his brother, wondering if the Demon was already in control or not. He had never seen a demon jump from one body into another, and the fact that this one had done so scared him more than he'd like to admit. "Sam…"

"Wow," said Sam, "I've never done anything like that before." He slowly rolled his head back against the wall before opening his eyes. They were yellow.

"Azazel," John whispered weakly. "Please, leave him alone. Just go."

"Azazel?" Dean asked blankly before realizing his dad must have learned the Yellow-Eyed Demon's name.

"Everything has a name, Dean," said Azazel, shrugging Sam's shoulders before letting out another groan and closing Sam's eyes again. "Including me. Damn, that was exhausting."

Dean felt a surge of anger. "You fucking bastard," he growled, "get the hell out of Sam right now!"

Sam's face broke into a wicked-looking grin, though his eyes were still closed. "Of course," Azazel said, voice dripping with sarcasm, but then Sam's hazel eyes shot open and he screamed again, lurching forward onto his hands and knees.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, struggling to move to his brother as his body heaved and he retched. John was sitting up now, watching his youngest with the saddest look in his eyes, something Dean hadn't seen the since the night Mary had died.

"Dean," Sam gasped out, raising his head and meeting Dean's eyes with his own normal-colored ones. "Oh God, get him out…" He raised his left hand to his head, staring helplessly at Dean before his mouth opened.

"Normally," Azazel said, and Sam's eyes widened in shock, "I wouldn't have done it at all. None of my special children are to be touched like this by any demon, myself included. Sammy, here, however, is by far my favorite, but he's clearly not as strong being out on the road with you as I had thought he'd be. Can't even kill his own father to stop me once and for all." He shook Sam's head, the movement disconcerting against the abject horror in Sam's eyes.

"Dean, help me," Sam whispered, looking around in a panic as his body resettled against the wall. Dean had never seen a possession like this before, and it disturbed him more than anything he'd ever witnessed in his entire life.

"Special children?" John asked, struggling to sit up.

"The one's I visited when they were six months old," Azazel said as Sam closed his eyes briefly. "Funny thing is, not all of them had house fires involved, because not every mother interrupted me when I came to visit."

Dean's eyes widened. How many of these kids were there?

"Why is Sam your favorite?" came his dad's voice, and he looked up at Sam once more.

Azazel shifted into a slightly more comfortable-looking position and grinned again, still holding the Colt in Sam's right hand. "Well, it's actually all because of Dean," he said, and Dean felt his breath catch as Sam's wide eyes met his. What on earth had he done? "Can't say I've ever told anyone about this before, but some angels sent your eldest back in time to try and stop me or something." He shrugged. "Not that it did any good. In fact, all he accomplished was drawing my attention to this family. John, the mechanic who served in the Marines, and Mary, the daughter of a Hunter."

"What?" Dean said, mouth dry.

"Oh, this is one of my favorite stories," Azazel said, and Sam looked beyond horrified. "Dean here turns up out of nowhere, interrupting me in the middle of one of my deals. So, I jumped ship and chose to take Grandpa Samuel's meat suit, which led to Dean telling me that he was the son of John and Mary Winchester, that angel's had brought him back in time, and that he was trying to stop me from carrying out my plans. Upon realizing he wasn't one of mine, I thought that I must have come after a younger sibling of his, and judging by his intense reaction, I knew I must have found the best of my potential children." Azazel resettled Sam's body once more. "So, I broke John's neck and told Mary I could bring him back if she made a simple deal to allow me access to her home in ten years. She made the deal, and now I think I've found the one who'll carry out my plans."

Dean stared at Sam, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. "What did you do to Sam that night?" he asked quietly.

Azazel grinned and slowly heaved Sam's body to its feet. "Fed him demon blood," he said, and Dean felt his heart stop. Sam's eyes widened and his breathing picked up for a few moments. "It's better than mother's milk," Azazel continued, "makes a child strong, healthy, and everything that I'll need when the Seals are broken." He stretched Sam's arms over his head and actually yawned. "Anyway, I think that's enough talking from me." He lowered Sam's arms and stared at the Colt, every trace of Sam gone from his eyes once more. "I'll be keeping this," he told John, "and the body here, too. You two take care."

Dean could do nothing but watch as Azazel walked out, taking the Colt, and Sam's body, with him.

John closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands as he waited for Bobby Singer to show up in his tow truck. Neither he nor Dean were in any condition to drive, and Sam…

It was never supposed to go like this, he thought to himself, considering everything he had never told either of his sons. He had discovered a massacre that had taken place at a convent in Maryland back in 1972, and had arrived at the abandoned site, unsure as to what he'd find.

When he realized the plan, he had been beyond horrified. Discovering that the Colt was missing three weeks later only added to the growing pile of shit he had to stop. Now there was no Sam and no Colt, and Dean was looking as though he was barely holding it together.

"You still breathing okay?" John asked gruffly.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, pulling his leather jacket a little tighter around his frame.

Two hours later, Bobby pulled up in front of the Impala. The engine shut off and he climbed out, striding toward John and looking around. John felt a twinge of guilt for not telling Bobby that Sam was missing, but suppressed it as Bobby reached Dean's side.

"Hey there, Dean," Bobby said. "Let's get you in the truck, okay?"

Dean nodded silently and John watched as Bobby helped his eldest son into the tow truck. Finally, Bobby turned to face John. "Where's Sam?" he demanded. "I thought you said you were all here, but injured."

"We are," John said, "just…" He sighed and slowly heaved himself to his feet. "Sam was taken," he finally admitted, "by the Demon Azazel. And he took the Colt with him."

Bobby stared at John in complete silence for so long that John actually started to feel more worried than he already was.

"You let your son get taken by the demon you've been hunting the last 23 years," Bobby said flatly.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The Demon had me, first," he said, "and he tried to rip out Dean's heart, and I told Sam, just shoot me, use the damn gun, but he wouldn't, and then the Demon told me its name and jumped from me into Sam."

"Jesus!" Bobby swore, turning away to the Impala and ripping off his hat, revealing his balding head. "John, how the hell did all this happen?"

John rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Bobby, can we get Dean to a hospital and the Impala to your yard first? It's a really long story and we really need a chance to recover before figuring out our next move."

Bobby turned to John again. "I've told you before and I'll say it again, John. You are not the father these boys need."

John felt his expression harden, and he fought the instinct to shout and maybe even deck Bobby a new one.

Bobby glared at John. "Shoulda brought my damn buckshot," he muttered, turning away and heading to the Impala. John watched him before sighing and easing onto his feet to make the short trek into the tow truck and carefully seating himself beside Dean.

Dean was dozing slightly, but he opened his glazed-over eyes and stared into John's own. "We gonna save Sam?" he asked, voice slurring slightly.

John felt like screaming, swearing, crying, even giving up, but he was the one who had cultivated Dean's protective instinct in Sam, and he wasn't going to deny him the urge to save his little brother now, even if it meant that one of them might have to pull the trigger and end Sam's life in order to save him.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

"Yeah," John finally said, gently clasping Dean's shoulder. "We're gonna save Sam, I promise you."

"Good," said Dean, his glassy eyes sliding closed.

TBC...