Title: Good versus Evil
Summary: A case has brought Sam and Dean to Las Vegas but inner demons force them to rethink which side they are really on. Most of it is told from the OCs point of view. Set in Season 7.
Warning: Drugs and abuse.
AN: The idea and OCs came from the video for "Drinking from the Bottle" by Calvin Harris and Tinie Tempah. I'm not expecting many people to read this but if you do, feel free to review.
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I was sixteen when I left home. Brother to an exotic dancer and son to alcoholic parents. Growing up in Los Angeles, my childhood was lonely. I was a lonely freak. Everyone feared me and girls avoided me. My first kiss was when I was shoved into a dark room at twelve years old although the girl didn't know who I was. Nothing I could do could change me. No one could help me. So one Monday night, after getting my face punched in again by my parents, I packed a plastic bag and left through the front door.
And where better to go than a city littered with freaks. Twenty four years living in Las Vegas and no one bothered to look for me. I was in heaven. Life was good. Life was exciting. I had found my niche. During the day, I'd paint up and blend in the background while at night I would drink with friends or get high to black and white cartoons. Some nights, while the music blazed loudly, I'd wake up to girls dancing around me. Apparently freaky was sexy. Who knew?
Of course, that was until that pesky kid came along. I shouldn't blame him, really. I should have left him alone. His life wasn't my problem. I should have lived up to the name the other kids gave me back home and did nothing. Now, as I lay in a pool of my own blood, I realised it wasn't me who was evil.
*SN*SN*
She studied the photograph again. It showed a dad with his young son sitting on his shoulders. Standing beside them, was another man painted red. His face scrunched up in anger as the child playfully held onto one of his prosthetic horns. "Like I said, apart from seeing the kid and his dad on television, I've never seen them before," she shrugged and apologised again.
"Really," Agent Hannibal slipped the photo back into his pocket. "Because sources tell us that the gentlemen in red has been in here a couple of times."
Jane Redding pulled the cloth from her belt and swept it over the counter again. "I don't know what to tell you but your sources are wrong."
Agent Murdock dropped his head in annoyance. "How 'bout we bring you down to the station and you tell us the truth?" he threatened.
Jane straightened her head up. She wasn't about to be bullied. Not again. Even if they were with the F.B.I. "How 'bout you go ahead and try." She was glad that they didn't, although they did promise to return. She never trusted cops. For years, she had been calling for their help but they never showed. Then one night after midnight, the fear that she suffered with for so many years was finally over.
His name was Marvin Murrin. At first sight, he looked like any other freak that lined the busy streets but to Jane, he was her knight in shining armour. Every night, he would order a plate of fries and every night, he would witness the same fight between her and her boyfriend. She hated that her life was on show for strangers to see but there were only so many long tops she could wear to cover the bruises. "I can make it that he never touches you again," Marvin made the comment one night. Jane's eyes watered. "Don't worry," he smiled gently, "I won't kill him."
If Jane didn't witness it herself, she wouldn't have believed it. Her boyfriend's anger was replaced with fear as he watched the hair son his arms burn in the flames. Doctors called it third degree burns after spontaneous human combustion. He lived with the most excruciating pain until he died five days later. After that, Marvin could order anything he wanted.
*SN*SN*
Simon silently pushed himself back and forth on his cousin's swing. His aunt had kindly offered her home after his father went missing unexpectedly. Everyone was looking for him; the cops, the neighbours, family. People started spilling out of the house into the back yard. All were quietly conversing as to what to do next. His aunt sat beside his mother and held her hand tightly. "We're going to find him," she kept repeating. "You'll see. He'll walk straight through those doors and wonder what all the fuss is about." His mother kept her eyes firmly on the door waiting for someone who was never coming home.
The small boy turned around in the swing and faced the ivy covered fence that separated the neighbours. He wondered if his mother knew the truth about her husband. He wondered if she knew how her husband really felt about their son. He thought back to the last time he saw his father alive. They were on the streets of Las Vegas enjoying being tourists. But an incident with a local enraged his father and the boy was left alone at the side of the street.
A hand rested on the boys' shoulder and he jumped with fear. "I'm sorry for making you angry," the boy apologised with tears flowing down his cheeks. He was sure the red man was going to hurt him. That's what happened with his father. So why should now be any different. "Don't worry about it, kid. No harm done," the man ruffled the boy's hair playfully. They silently watched the white rented car turn onto the highway. "I can make it that he never touches you again," the man commented. The boy looked up at the stranger. The red paint was now washed away. The guy looked practically normal... except for the two horns protruding from the top of his head. "My name's Marvin," he introduced himself. "Don't worry," he smiled gently, "I won't kill him... if you don't want me to."
As the boy swung higher in the swing, a smile appeared on his lips. He may have only been eleven years old but the day he met Marvin, was the happiest day of his life. The constant worry had been lifted from his mind. He even worried about not being able to keep his deadly secret but after his interview with two unsuspecting F.B.I. agents, he now felt confident that it was a secret he could keep forever.
*SN*SN*
Dean moved away from the window. The bright lights of the city were calling to him but he was working so play time would have to wait. "Any look on how to kill this thing?" he pulled the curtains over. Sam hadn't changed out of his suit. After interviewing the last victim's family, he went straight into researching. They were hunting a Paulo Diabolus demon, also known as Little Devil and nicknamed son of the Devil. Although born human, as soon as the child hit ten years old they'd grow horns on their head or a pointed tail. Bobby had hunted a Paulo demon in the past and nearly lost an arm after the thorny tail whipped through him. Sam leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "I've been looking into this Marvin guy," he began. "He's been living under the radar for nearly thirty years. Why would he risk it all?"
"I don't know, Sammy," Dean shrugged flopping onto his bed. "Why do most demons kill people? Why do ghosts say boo? Why do werewolves howl? It's in their nature, I guess. Now, how do you kill it?"
"I don't think we should," the younger brother mumbled opening his laptop again.
Dean dropped his greasy burger. "Excuse me?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"I don't think we should kill him," Sam repeated with a little more confidence. "I was looking at all the victims," he shuffled some pages around on the table. "His father was an abusive drunk and Miss Redding's boyfriend was known to the cops for anger issues. The latest guy was dropped from his job for being abusive to his colleagues. Maybe he was abusive to his family too."
"It doesn't matter," Dean was stern in his conviction. "You can't go around burning people alive just because their mean. He's a demon, Sammy. All demons have to die no matter what they do."
Sam pulled his tie open and decided now was a good time to change out of his suit. He made it to the bathroom then rested his arm on the door frame and turned around. "Not all demons deserve to die. Amy didn't deserve to die..." "Jesus," his brother mumbled under his breath. "I'm serious, Dean. We've let a lot of vampires go free before and they've done a hell of a lot of damage in their time. What makes Amy and Marvin any different?"
Dean swung his legs out of the bed. "Because it's in their blood. What's wrong with you, man? You know this. Once a demon, always a demon."
"You mean like me?"
Dean stepped up to his brother and pointed his index finger into the taller man's chest. "Don't you dare twist my words round. That is not what I'm saying and you know it. Let's just get this hunt over with," he threw his hands in the air. "There's a black jack table across the street with my name on it."
*SN*SN*
Searching for Marvin wasn't difficult. He didn't have a place of residence and after looking in two homeless shelters, they found him under a bridge in a shanty town. Hunting a Paulo demon was always going to be difficult. It had to be a two man hunt and it had to be quick. One man had to wrestle the demon from behind while the other had to quickly hack off the horns or tail. As they walked away, Dean laughed. "The good guys win again."
"I'm not evil," they heard the dying demon croak.
Dean walked back and stood over the demon twirling the axe in his hand. "Excuse me?"
"I know what they say about me... I know their nick name for me," the demon coughed up the blood that was chocking him. "The girl... the kid... I was just trying to save them..."
"From the life you had," Sam knelt down in front of him. The demon nodded. Blood was pouring from his head and he was barely able to raise his head. "Well, I'm sorry," Dean growled. "You burned three people alive, maybe more that we don't know about. In my book, that makes you evil."
"And you killing me with an axe...?" his voice went weak as he tried to make his point with his last breath. "What does that make you?"
Sam got to his feet as the demon's head fell to the side and he looked back to his brother. "Don't look at me like that," Dean mumbled. "You know we did the right thing."
"I know," Sam nodded. "But he's right. There's a fine line between good and evil and sometimes we thread the needle very carefully."
*SN*SN*