A.N.: Hello again! Here is the latest installment of 'Devil Within', I hope you guys like it.. To be honest this one scene in this chapter is what spurred me on to write the fic. I'm sure you will be able to pick it out. Working on Chapter 8 now. I don't know why Demon!Dean is so much easier to write than regular Sam. Does that say something about me or about Sam? LOL!
Disclaimer: Nothing, but this idea, is mine.
He fights the urge to burst into insane laughter, the impulse twitching through his limbs like the current from an electric chair.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers a sharp stinging pain as he feel rivulets of blood trail down his mug, but his vision is consumed with Ellen's Harvelle's face.
The woman, still reeking of the slop she has been ridding herself of for the better part of the day, stands panting in front him, her features chiseled into a guise of hatred and hardiness. The truth is that she loves the man that he occupies, that she feels a maternal bond so strong towards him that the only thing that had overridden it had been her actual offspring in the clutches of danger.
He can't reel in one chuckle as it rolls off of his tongue. She's surprised him and, if he remembers correctly, it's been decades since that has happened.
She turns her head away from him for just a second, shifting her concern to her daughter who is lying motionless in the old man's arms.
"Bobby?" she asks.
"She's okay El, superficial wound. I think he just hit her with the hilt when you startled him."
Now he lets loose the stream of laughter into the open air, shaking his head with a chagrined smile.
"Oh jeez, I hit her? My bad, did not mean to do that."
Ellen's body moves swiftly back to aiming the gun around the region of his head. "I don't know what the hell you think is funny there chuckles, but I really don't care." she clicks on the gun to show him that she means business.
"This whole thing is hilarious Ellen!" he beams. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I have felt genuine actual surprise? Since long before bell bottoms sugar."
Ellen takes a step towards him. "Story time is over asshole, time for you to be on your way." She nods over her shoulder at Sam as he starts the first line in the exorcism.
He throws a smirk over his shoulder, watching as defeat falls heavy over the younger man's eyes.
"Great inflection Sammy boy. Really. You sound like a pro," he tsks. "But I took some precautions to make sure you wouldn't be able to evict me so fast."
Ellen shoots a glance to Sam.
"Binding link?" Sam inquires, walking towards the bar with his gun drawn. "We've seen those before."
"Oh, I know. With Meg."
Sam's eyebrows crisscross on his forehead at the casual mention of the other demon.
"That was her mistake. Specially putting it somewhere one of you yahoos could get easy access to." He pulls out Dean's gun and maneuvers it in the crook of his elbow aimed behind him. Ellen halts her movement. "I'm a little more prepared than that. After all, I don't get to come topside very often, wanted to make sure the trip was worth the airfare." He smiles, slow and sinister at Sam. "So far, it's been a hoot."
"Doesn't matter. I'll figure it out. I'll find a way to send you back where you belong."
He nods. "Of course you will. That much is obvious. The scorecard with demons vs. the Winchesters is fairly one sided." He chortles.
"The question is when? How long will you it take you to add it all up? How many bodies will I pile up by the end of this whole thing?"
"What do you want?" He roars, slamming a fist into the bar. "Huh? What the hell do you want from us?"
He shakes his head. "It's not what I want from you Sam." He sees Ellen shuffle around the bar, shotgun lowered, to get to her daughter.
He smiles at her as she gathers the unconscious blonde into her arms, passing her shotgun over to Bobby.
"It's what I want for me."
"What does that mean?"
"Sam, you wouldn't want me to give away the ending. It's no fun that way."
"Dammit!" He yells, clicking back the safety on his own gun. "Fuck you!" He levels the gun at his brother's arm, his face turning red with his anger.
"Sam," he starts, stretching out his fingers on the hilt of the gun. "Let me tell you something about your brother."
"You don't know a goddamn thing about him," the young hunter spits.
"Really? I don't?" He smirks. "Think about it Sam. I have gold member access to his brain, his body, his thoughts, his emotions...in fact; I might know your brother even better than you."
Sam throat bobs up and down with emotion.
"Let's see." He places the gun on the railing behind him, closing his eyes as the memories flood in.
"Oh, that's a good one." he muses, opening his eyes to be met with Sam's guarded gaze.
Sam backs up a step as his brother's body lurches a step forward.
"Did you know that Dean is terrified of broken fingers? I mean here is a guy who has been shot, stabbed, thrown, hit, bludgeoned, etc, etc, and his twisted digits freaked him the fuck out." he chuckles. "He's a piece of work."
"Shut up." Sam grits out, changing the directory of his gun towards his gut.
"He was eleven when he got his fingers caught in that bear trap. You were hunting a leprechaun." he guffaws. "Explains why he hates them so much."
He shakes his head. "Anyway, this one was a dark leprechaun. His pranks were killing all sorts of campers and you and John and Dean went into the Virginia woods to take this thing out. Remember?"
At Sam's baffled look he smiles. "Oh yeah, you were six. Probably too precious to be taken on a hunt yet. But Dean, he got his hand caught, trying to catch that crafty bastard, his hand was mangled, and the doctor told your Dad he might never use it again. He cried into his pillow for the first three nights."
"I said," Sam starts, clicking back the hammer. "Shut the fuck up."
He ignores him, pressing on. "He hates his fingers broken because you can see them. Spindly, weak appendages that don't take much pressure to break." He leans into Sam, lowering his voice to a whisper. "He hates them cause he can't hide that weakness Sam, can't blow off his injuries when they are right in front of him.
Sam shoves away from him. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about," he seethes.
"Sadly, I do. He spent a month after that loading and reloading his gun until he could do it in his sleep, until it became an extension of his arm but damn he just hated that it was his fingers. Bothered him more than he ever told anyone. Even you."
He can see the younger Winchester fight back tears. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to understand, really deep down get how much it got under your brother's skin."
"Why?"
The demon grips the man's ring finger and jerks it back, satisfaction filling his being as Sam yelps "No!"
"Yup, that's why."
Sam gulps. "Stop it!" Bobby has joined his side now.
"Let me walk out of here."
Sam swallows hard, the young and scared look on his face morphing into cold and collected. "No way in hell."
"Good one Sam, but I mean it, call off your old bulldog and let me leave."
Sam points his gun directly at the demons heart. "You're out of your mind. I said no."
"Okay," he pauses and takes the middle finger in between his thumb and index finger, twisting it back before the young hunter can do anything to stop him. The crack it makes as the flesh molds into a distorted U is music to his ears.
"God, stop!" he yells.
"I told you what you have to do."
"Sam, I think maybe..." Bobby breaks off as if unsure what they should do at this point.
"Need me to up the stakes, that's fine." He shoots a wink to the women on the ground as Jo starts to come to. He curls his digits around his vessel's gun, placing the barrel in the soft fleshy curve of the underside of the man's chin.
Sam's eyes balloon in his head. "You wouldn't..."
He wiggles the ring finger with a smug grin, calling out in soft tones, "This little piggy went to market," before switching to twitch the broken middle finger. "This little piggy had none."
He pauses, jamming the barrel tighter up against his throat until he can feel the metal bite into his Adam's apple. "This little piggy blew your brother's head off," He flicks off the safety.
"Okay! Jesus," Sam pants, lowering his gun towards the ground in defeat. "You can go, just, God, don't hurt him anymore, please."
He hears the soft anguished tone of Dean whisper. 'Sammy.'
"I knew you would see it my way. Your brother was right about you, you're the smart one."
His eyes shoot up, tears pooling in them. "Dean, I'm sorry." he mumbles.
"You'll have your shot to get him back. It's not over. I run, you chase. That's how this game is played."
Sam gulps down his tears. "I will find you." he promises, both to his brother and the demon. "This isn't over."
The demon nods, taking a few steps backwards, towards the back door. "Far from it."
"See you soon." Sam declares, watching him until his form disappears out the back door.
He can hear the older man speaking to Sam is gentle tones, as if afraid anything more will set him the young hunter into a frenzy.
He guns the engine of the car and as he flies by the bar he sees Sam crash down to his knees, his agonized screams ringing in his ears like a sweet symphony as he peels out onto the road.
