University of Kansas
Dean looked up at the new University wing and whistled. He'd expected something on a large scale, but the place was just mammoth – definitely something that fit the bill of mast destruction should it burn. After years spent in Lawrence with a bookworm brother, Dean couldn't believe he'd never realized the scale of the campus before.
"Man, this is freakin' huge! If even a quarter of this place burns we could be talking way more casualties than in Point Pleasant…" He twisted the Chevy's ignition key to "off" and pulled on the parking brake after making sure the car was carefully hidden in a discreet corner of the lot.
"According to the official website this place has 1000 acres to it and a community of over 80,000 students and staff." Sam continued to examine the brothers' laptop screen for further information that might be of some help. "Dean, we have to stop this. I think it's just the beginning…"
"Did you check out the plans from Fire Tek?" Dean stuck another piece of gum in his mouth as he spoke. He needed something to chew on, and tonight picking on Sammy with a few well-timed jibes just wouldn't cut it. Seeing as they'd dropped "Clark" off at Missouri's, he wasn't available to chide either.
Sam nodded and slid the laptop closed, tugging the blueprints from the rear of the Impala with one of his huge hands. "As far as I can tell there are two or three places the demon might choose to start the fire." He pointed to the left top corner of the plans. "If a short occurred and the sprinklers don't kick in, these two stairwells would be deathtraps if anyone gets caught on them…"
"Ugh…great…" Dean rolled his eyes as he reached for the door release. "Why am I getting bad Towering Inferno flashbacks here, Sammy?"
Sam twirled the blueprints back into their tube with a smirk. "Aww, c'mon, dude, you know you so wanted to be Steve McQueen in that movie as a kid, fireman and all…"
Dean climbed from the car, face twisting in an unreadable expression as he looked up at the new section of Uni. "Yeah, well, let's just say after your room burned I grew outta the fireman fetish real quick..."
"Yeah, right but you still have the Steve McQueen delusions occasionally." Sam countered with a grin, popping the Chevy's trunk and passing over an axe along with Dean's favorite shotgun. "'Course, the Impala's not exactly a Mustang Cobra but…"
Dean huffed audibly but took the weapons he was offered. "Mustangs are for Wusses, dude. Don't you know a real muscle car when you see one?"
"All I see is a black bucket with red scribbles all over the trunk." Sam twitched his eyebrows mischievously. "Oh, and it so needs a wax…"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, well it's your turn Daniel-San. Then again, don't you have some weird aversion to wax?" He grinned. "C'mon, let's get this show on the road…" The elder hunter bobbed his head towards the Uni's illuminated entrance and began to jog towards it.
It was time, and no amount of jokes could hide what both brothers knew would come next. Somewhere in the building, the demon was waiting.
Maybe this was a trap just like at the cabin in Missouri. Maybe it had been all along, but whatever happened, it ended here, tonight.
South Stairwell
Sam looked at the countless steps in front of him and was glad there was no one else around. If the demon started his hellish plan now, at least the building wasn't at full capacity. Of course, should the yellow-eyed monster decide to mess with the buildings power as well as its electrical wiring, the stairs might suddenly be the only exit from the upper levels. That was when things could get messy.
"You think he's watching us? Now, I mean?" Sam couldn't help but turn in a circle, searching for some unseen clue that might prove their nemesis was here. He could feel the tension in his muscles, sense the tightness in his brother's voice. This is it. The war starts here…
Dean shrugged, eyeing the walls as they climbed the stairs until he found what he was looking for. The fire alarm point was inset in the wall quite neatly, recessed with a smart but practical breakable covering. "I sure hope someone is, dude, cos we still gotta clear this freakin' building…" He slid a hand under his jacket and brought out the small axe. With a quick tap, he shattered the special glass and hammered down on the alarm button.
Nothing.
Dean's face clouded and began to flush with color. He'd expected this, they both had, but even so, he still felt like the game had already been won. They might still be on the chess board, but they had no real pieces left to play with. "This thing is supposed to be wired to the Fire Department too, right, Sammy?"
Sam nodded, watching as his brother dropped his axe and quickly fumbled for his cell phone, dialing 911. After two rings, someone answered.
"I'd like to report a fire in the new wing of Kansas Uni…" Dean sounded breathless, even though he'd done little to exert himself. Inside, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest, his pulse pounding in his ears. "I know the place is wired to your systems…I already hit one of the alarms…"
Dean's cheeks began to redden and Sam half expected him to throw the phone up against the wall. Even though he couldn't hear the other half of the conversation, Sam was sure the dispatcher was arguing with his brother. Why wouldn't she? The newest, most up-to-date fire system was telling her nothing was wrong. And hell, there were bound to be lots of pranks on a Uni campus. Sam had pulled a few in his time.
Dean's voice grew louder until he was almost screaming. "Lady, if you don't send a friggin' fire truck down here right now, I'll light a damn bonfire in the lobby myself!" He tossed the phone down in temper and then sighed as he looked back up to Sam. "All I got was a threat to arrest my ass if I didn't stop wasting the emergency services time. Looks like we're not gonna get the Fire Department's help to evacuate until it's too late and this place is toast!"
Sam had expected as much. The demon hadn't just thought this up out of the blue, he'd had decades to choose his next target and formulate the perfect plan. And decades to this bastard are but a drop in the proverbial ocean…
"C'mon, let's get to the next junction box for the suppression system. Fire in the walls, remember?" Sam's right brow jerked up and he scooted up the steps two at a time until he reached the door to the next level. Without looking back, he tugged open the door and hurried through, hearing Dean's footfalls close behind.
"You know what you're looking for, Mr. Engineer?" Dean deftly hid the axe back under his jacket as a young blonde student with "all the right assets" drifted by. "Or do I have to start hacking at the walls with this thing like my man Jack?"
Sam glanced down the corridor, gaining his bearings. One wall suddenly looked like any other and he was momentarily disorientated. "Over here…I think," he offered, running a hand along the freshly painted surface of the passageway as if he might be able to sense the danger through tactile sense alone.
"What are you doing, feeling for the freakin' force?" Dean shook his head and retrieved the axe, talking two steps back to get a good swing at the wall. "Move aside, Luke…time for a little brute force Winchester style…"
The hunter stopped suddenly mid-lunge, his eyes abruptly settling on something to his left.
Sam's eyes darted from the tip of the axe to Dean's new focal point and he sucked down a breath.
Streaming through the nearest air-conditioning vent was a thin, black, and very familiar smog.
It's here…
Dean let the axe fall to his side and he moved forward, meeting the mist halfway in the corridor as it began to take form. He had nothing to fight the thing with, nothing to even control it, and yet he suddenly wasn't afraid.
Showing fear to this thing was what it fed on. He'd learned that the hard way back in the cabin.
Sam followed more slowly, his eyes watching every dark particle coalesce until he realized he recognized the shape, the body that was forming. Dad…
The demon knew their weakness. Knew the one thing that could tear into their armor and find every chink until it was through to the meaty flesh beneath – the flesh of their souls.
"Hello, boys, nice to see you again after Wisconsin…" The unmistakable yellow eyes flashed with amusement, but it was John's rumbling tones that taunted the brothers. John's sturdy form that confronted them, smiling, waiting.
"We won't let you burn down the campus…not at any price..." Dean almost choked on his own words. He could defy the demon, ignore the fact that it had chosen his father's form even, but he couldn't deny the agony he was already feeling inside. Just being in the creature's presence made him all-too aware of the damage it had inflicted on him before. The abrupt, agonizing sensation of thousands of tiny blades cutting into his insides, the torment as his flesh was torn into by invisible, razor sharp, demonic talons…
The demon smiled, lips curling beneath his well groomed beard as he realized the memories his mere arrival had conjured. He rubbed at the graying whiskers on his face. "Any Price?" he sneered. "That's something your family know so much about, isn't it? Oh, and what a price you boys have paid already. Dear Daddy giving his soul to me, and for nothing. Do you still feel the pain I inflicted in his form, Dean? I know you do. I know all about those nightmares you still have where my daughter almost got you to give in at the hospital…almost…"
The demon paused, looking at both brothers through their father's eyes. It inhaled, even though it had no need to breathe, no mortal need for oxygen.
"You know just how stupid Johnny Winchester was, don't you?" The creature continued its scathing sermon. "Giving up himself and losing the Colt, and for what? There will be laughter in hell for millennia over that little deal I can tell you…"
The glint in Dean's eyes dulled and his shoulders slouched, his grip on the axe loosening in defeat. "I was dying," he quietly murmured, his mind screaming in pain at the thought of where his father's soul might now reside. He's in hell, because of me. Tortured by this bastard and its sidekicks, because of me…
The demon in John's form moved closer until the elder Winchester could feel its sulpherous breath on his face. "Oh no, you were never dying, and you know it. Your brother took care of that." The thing stuffed its ethereal hands into its long overcoat pockets, mimicking John's habits.
"What does that mean?" Sam ignored his brother's almost servile behavior and confronted the thing that had ruined his life, nay tried to control it his every waking moment. "What's so important about me you'd go to all this trouble? Why?" He pleaded, anger tingeing his normally placid nature.
The demon laughed, John's cavernous voice taunting the brothers with its mirth. Their father had never laughed that way. Not since Mary's death. "Unlike your father, you still have no clue who you're even dealing with, do you, Sammy boy?" The thing nodded, noting with the Winchesters quick glances to one another that it was right. "I am Azazel…some of you mere mortals choose to call me Satan, but it's purely a title…"
"The Devil?" Sam's voice quivered. "Me, the other psychic kids, we're supposed to be pawns for you…"
Azazel smirked. "It's no use fighting it, Sammy. You're mine, always have been from the day of your birth. And now, now it's time for me to reap what I have sown. You see, you have so much more talent than just the visions. How would you be of use to me otherwise? You can wield that most important of all things, Samuel. You have the gift of life and death at your fingertips, if you only knew how to control it…"
"It's not true…I'm just a kid from Kansas…" Sam mumbled the words, but he knew it was a lie. Was this what Dean had known all along? Just how much had his brother held back from him?
Dean's current silence did little to alleviate the pressure. Had Dean already given all there was to give? Had he accepted finally that Sam belonged to darkness, and not light?
"You know I'm not lying, Sam." The demon gestured with its hand, the haunting appearance of John Winchester beckoning for his son to join him. "The test in River Grove proved just how powerful you will become. You cannot be touched by demonic plagues like a normal human. Your gift even cancelled out the virus in the blood samples in the room you were in. You have the power to give or take that thing which is most precious…"
Sam shook his head. "I could have saved all the townspeople…" He looked up. "But…I still don't see how I saved Dean…"
Azazel clasped his fingers behind his back, setting his gaze on the elder hunter as he spoke. He wanted the words to burn, to eat into Dean's psyche. "Oh, but Sammy, weren't you the one at your brother's bedside when he awakened? Weren't you fraught with fear at losing him? Just like the time when you used your telekinesis to prevent him being killed by Max. Pity then, you didn't realize the gift you carried when your father lay dying on a cold hospital floor…"
"You bastard…" Dean seethed through clenched teeth.
The demon ignored the remark and continued its torment. "Pure brotherly love triggered your gift to save Dean, Samuel. I wonder why that same love didn't kick in to save Dear Johnny? But then, after all those years of arguing perhaps deep down you didn't love him enough to save him? No subconscious trigger because there was no subconscious affection?"
"No!" Tears streamed down Sam's face and his cheeks flushed with anger. It didn't matter who he was, where he was from, he would never have let his father die if he'd had any clue of his gift. He clenched and unclenched his fists, suddenly feeling the same futile rage that Dean had earlier when he'd tried to choke Flauros. "I'm not a part of you. The things I can do…they're a freak of nature, a fluke, not some demonic endowment!"
Azazel's eyes sparked with renewed zest, his orange pupils swirling with amusement. When Sam grew angry, he became something the demon liked, yearned for even. "You belong to me…"
"No, you freaky sonofabitch he belongs to no one. He's a Winchester, not a friggin' dog on a leash!" Dean spat out the comeback as he suddenly launched at the demon. It didn't matter that the thing looked like John, if he got close enough, he'd still make a swing for it.
Azazel's gaze of concentration shifted to the floor, mirroring the motion he had made back in the cabin. The air crackled with a strange, unholy energy that made every human on the same level's ears buzz with a tingling resonance.
And then, as quickly as he'd made his lunge, Dean was torn from his feet and tossed into the air, back arching as spikes of sheer demonic power coursed through him.
The hunter stifled a cry as the air was knocked from his lungs leaving him breathless, but he refused to plead as he had in Missouri. John had still been inside that body. Now, all that stood before him was an imitation, a bad copy of a once great man – great father in his own way.
The demon looked up, sensing Dean's defiance. It had felt that bravado once before and quickly dispelled it. Azazel's fiery orbs glowed as he held Dean in mid-air, seemingly invisible hands gripping the hunter by his neck until he choked to try and take down any oxygen.
"Still want to put on that oh-so brave face of yours, Dean?" The demon nodded, circling his prey as scarlet blotches of blood began to seep through the elder Winchester's shirt. "You know how good I am at this…"
Dean jerked, his body spasming as needle-sharp, unseen fingers began probe and tear at his flesh. "I think I remember this game," he coughed out with a ragged grunt. "I think I got the penthouse view this time, though…"
Azazel smiled, watching as Sam squirmed unsure of what to do. "Your brother can be quite amusing in a kind of childishly archaic way, don't you think? I almost killed him once, maybe I can do it all over again and finish the job…"
As the creature glowered, Dean's body was thrown into the nearby wall with such force Sam was sure he heard the sickly sound of bones breaking.
The elder hunted groaned but didn't cry out. He'd be damned if he gave the demon that satisfaction. Blood dribbled from his lips, meeting the already red oozing mass on his shirt. Been here, done this before…
"You could save him, Samuel…but by doing so you would be admitting your destiny, admitting that you truly are my disciple…"
"Don't…you do it…Sammy…" Dean's voice was pleading, desperate as he finally slumped to the floor, his tortured body leaving a red bloody streak down the newly painted wall. "Don't you give…in to that bastard…"
Azazel didn't look back at his victim. Instead, his eyes bored into Sam like a diamond drill bit cutting deep into its goal. He held up a palm, a small sneer forming beneath John's beard, and behind him, Dean yelled out as imperceptible claws gouged new bloody troughs into his chest. "Do I have to tear every last breath from his body to gain your allegiance, Sammy? You know I will…"
tbc...
