Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. They belong to Kirpke and CW.
Warning: This fic isn't nearly as fluffy as my others have been. If you're looking for heartwarming, brotherly feels, you won't find it here. In fact, it's pretty critical of the Winchesters; just a warning! I got this idea from Matthew 7:21-23.
Dean sucked on the paper cut on his thumb. Well, technically it was from a knife, not a piece of paper, but it was thin as a paper cut, and just as annoying. The room they were in was dark, full of dust. Sam had already hocked up a large ball of mucus from breathing the colloid in, and that was saying something. The Winchesters were used to dust by now, and they had been hunting together for decades. After all they had been through a little dust should have been nothing. All the things they'd seen, the creatures they'd defeated, the spirits they'd overcome, it was nothing. With all their "ins" to the supernatural, and their outs of escaping death, they were practically invincible.
And now they were crouching, like lions to their prey, watching as the bodies before them squirmed. Dean allowed himself a grin…he was allowed that, right? After all the things he put up with, he was at least allowed a smile. Beside him Sam moved with the grace that only years of hunting could engender, his nostrils flared wide as if scenting. Dean wondered if it had anything to do with the blood, and was surprised that his younger sibling hadn't sneezed. He sighed out, the air swirling at his breath.
"All right, you worms. Listen up," Dean began, his voice carrying throughout the abandoned house. It had once been a miner's cabin, so small that two people could barely live in it, much less the five that had lived there years ago. There wasn't enough space to cause an echo, but the wood caught the sound, the vibrations of his throat enough to make the beams tremble. Sam was a silent presence next to him, surveying their catch, studying them for any exploitable weaknesses. The vessels were two men and a woman, and they were all stuck in the middle of the giant devil's trap that the brothers had painted and then hidden under the rug. It took up the entirety of the "living room," stretching from one rotted wall to the other. The creatures in the middle merely sneered. "If you give us information on Crowley, we'll let you go. If not, I can be very persuasive. I won't let you die until I say so. Capice?"
The demons sneered. "Bring it on," the larger male goaded. "We're used to torture now. Some of us…get off on it. Your pansy work is nothing compared to eternity. We aren't afraid of being terminated." The rest of the group jeered and Sam spoke up.
"Then we can send you back to Hades where you belong," he said, his voice somehow all the more chilling with how softly he'd spoken.
The demons paused, as if listening, and then the one in the woman grinned. "You can try," it replied.
Sam started the exorcism, trying to gain a reaction out of the spirits, but they didn't so much as flinch. Dean checked them for locks, but couldn't find a single one. It was then he felt a tingle go up his spine, a warning he'd gotten before while hunting physical monsters. He should have listened to it. The younger Winchester finished the chant and looked at Dean. Dean shook his head, and shrugged. There was no reason it shouldn't be working. They even tried saying Christ's name in Latin. That worked about as well as the exorcism had.
"Why didn't you flinch at Jesus' Name? Don't you know who we are? We're the freaking Winchesters, for Pete's sake!"
"Jesus I know, and Peter I know as well, but you? I don't recognize you at all."*
The brothers proceeded with everything they knew, trying to get the information they wanted, but nothing happened. It was somewhat unsettling to realize the creatures they'd captured were merely grinning at them, not even reacting to their techniques. Sam still kept his cool, but Dean was infuriated. "Sammy, get me the knife."
"But Dean, we-"
"Just get me the stinkin' blade, confound it all!"
Sam quickly obliged his brother, tossing it to him hilt-first. Dean caught it mid-air, and plunged it into the heart of the big man, like he had done thousands of times before. However, unlike then, nothing happened. The demon tilted its head, contemplating the worthless piece of metal, before turning its eyes upon Dean.
"What, were you expecting a light-show?" it asked.
Sam quickly grabbed a hold of his brother's arm. "Dean…"
"It must be shocking," it continued, "to realize that something you have so trusted in is no longer real."
"Dean…" the older brother just shook his head, signaling the other to stay back. He reached forward, yanking the blade out of sallow flesh. There was a sickening sucking sound as he did so, and blood and a clear fluid ran out of the body. The vessel had already been dead for a bit. Red-stained teeth flashed out at them, and the hunter realized that they were in trouble. Angrily, confused, Dean plunged the blade forward again, slitting across the supernatural monster's neck. Nothing happened, except that stagnant blood began oozing downward, and the stretched-lips grew farther outward, mimicking the smile the impotent knife had created.
"Dean, I think we're in trouble," Sam said. There was barely-masked fear in his voice, and his hunting partner quickly agreed. They began to back up, but were bodily slammed into the floor by the demon inside the slight female. Somehow it had come loose from the multiple para-cords and from the devil's trap that filled the room. It hissed as it pinned them, and the lengths of cord wound quickly around their limbs.
"Idiots," it said. "Even chains cannot hold us! Do you think a silly little drawing can keep us in?" The female vessel gently caressed the spot where Dean had put his anti-possession tattoo. "…Or out?"
"…Dean…"
The elder sibling cleared his throat, "What's going on? Why aren't you locked in?"
"Creatures," it said, condescendingly. "There is no power in speech or mark that can control us. The only power is in Who you call on. If you were to call on God, you may have stood a chance. As it is, you are dead."
The demon with the Columbian necktie walked over and examined the brothers as if studying something particularly interesting. A smirk graced its lips. "Hmm. So the game really is over, huh?"
There came a grunt from the younger hunter as he tried to work the cords, but to no avail. "What game?" he gritted out. "What are you talking about?"
The other male vessel walked over as well, mock surprise showing on its borrowed face. "What, you thought you were really capturing us and locking us up, killing us and manipulating us all these years?" Its expression changed to a sickly-sweet smile. "Oh, you poor disillusioned FOOLS!" it shouted, raising its arms up, cracked grin impossibly large. The pulled skin at the middle of the lips began to bleed, causing a red trail to run down past the vessel's chin and drip onto the floor. "This is a game. We won. There is no power in ceremony, or circumstance. There is only power in what or who you believe in. Perhaps it would have been real if you had actually prayed, if you were actually speaking to God Himself." It bent down and swiftly grabbed Dean by the shoulders, speaking to him directly. Rancid breath washed over Dean, and he choked. "But we've won. You never called on Him. You never believed in Him. You just put your trust in your words and actions. Those were your gods. But they lack true potency, and now they are powerless to save you." A well-placed shove saw Dean on the ground next to his brother again. The three demons stood in a circle around the Winchesters, sneers on their faces.
"So what?" Sam croaked out. "We've been dead before. We've been to Hell before. How is this any worse?"
"You think that was Hell?" the demon in the female voiced. "How cute. No, soon you'll be off the board entirely. You'll see what Hell really is. Let me tell you, you will get everything you deserve." It ran a hand through Sam's hair and he tried to pull away. "Of course, you probably won't see us," the creature said. "You will be entirely alone, after all. No hunter to rescue you. Not even demons to speak to. No brother to depend on. Dying eternally and instantaneously at once, left with yourself to drown in the pain of your sins. It is punishment of the soul, not physical. And always present, always there, the reminder that you rejected God for this. And you can never get it back."
"Get away from him, you whore!" Dean gritted out, struggling against his bonds. The demon rolled its eyes, getting off the younger brother.
"You're in no position to make demands," a male vessel replied. "There is only one way you could possibly be saved from your fates, but there is not a chance in…Hell…that you will take that way. We're supposed to give you an opportunity, but the way I see it, you've had plenty."
Dean and Sam were quiet for a second, but defiance shone clearly in their eyes. "God doesn't care for us," the older brother answered for the both of them. "So you can just take your offer and shove it up your – kkk!"
The demons in the male vessels placed their feet on the brothers' necks. "We were hoping you'd say that," the spirit in the woman said. Two hundred pounds of pressure were placed on the brothers' throats. The female's eyes watched, detached, as their tracheas were crushed and the Winchesters left the game board for good.
Then the real torment began.
A.N.: Eep! Ok, that was…horrible. Yeah, sorry: got a little intense there. I realize that the Winchesters live in a fictional world that is in no way, shape, or form real. It is the imagination of writers like Kirpke for the entertainment of viewers. However, just because the demons in the show aren't real demons does not mean that I don't believe demons are real. I wanted to play with this, because I normally give a pass to the fictional realm as far as its definitions for the characters inside it go. I also realize, though, that some people take it far too seriously, to the point that circumstances and theological ideas are real to them. I wrote this story as a "What If?" What if the "demons" in Supernatural were more like demons as described in the Bible? What if they were just pretending to be former human spirits that had been tortured into that state? I might explore the idea of them being pawns in a larger "game" at some point as well. This is not to say that I don't enjoy the show or characters such as Meg and Crowley. However, to me they do not act like demons anymore, and there are far too few fics where the spirits actually do. I will probably also write more fanfics where they act more like in the show; not all of them will be in this AU. Anyway, any comments, critiques, questions, can be posted in the reviews, or you can PM me. Thanks for slogging through this fic with me! Your patience is much appreciated.
*Paraphrase of Acts 19:15