A/N: Okay, so first of all, I need to say something.
MY READERS ARE AMAZING!
Okay, now that I got that out of the way, shall we move on with what everyone is dying to read? Without further ado...
(As Always)
EverReader
Disclaimer: I still want a tiger. And it's still not my sandbox
All The Pretty Monsters- Chapter 14
"The Monster In The Mirror"
Dean watched her, wordless.
She raised her eyes to him. "Eventually, it wasn't enough for Sam to just take on our torture, our pain. It wasn't enough for him to bleed for us. Azazel had a plan, and he wanted more. So one day Azazel told Sam that the only way for Sam to get Lily off the rack was for Sam to choose someone from another cage, another prisoner, to get on in her place. Not one of us, not one of the special kids, just another soul. A random, faceless victim. Azazel told your brother that Lily had one chance to get off that rack. If Sam left her there, she was staying on until there was nothing left. So many of us had died by then, the thought of losing another was more than any of us could bear. And Azazel made Sam choose. Another piece of his humanity, or the life of one of us."
"Did he do it?" Dean asked tightly.
"In a heartbeat." She replied, unsmiling. "He went into the cell himself, and dragged out a victim for Azazel's games. He took my sister off that rack, and the next time Azazel made him choose, he picked someone else, and he took me off the rack. He took Jake off, and Andy. Everyone of us that survived, survived because Sam chose us over someone else. And we followed suit. We chose each other. Time after time after time. Azazel wanted an army, but Sam made us a family."
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Andy wiped off his hands before picking up his cell phone, dropping the bloody rag carelessly on the ground.
He'd gained some interesting information on some of the seals he hadn't been aware of. Azazel's library had been vast, but they'd had to research carefully to avoid suspicion. They'd spent years convincing Azazel that they were his obedient army while they'd plotted and planned and gathered information like miners panning for gold.
Most importantly, though, he'd confirmed the information Meg had revealed about the first seal, and the purpose of the righteous man.
In order to break the first of the sixty-six seals, a righteous man had to spill innocent blood in hell.
It was perfect and horrible and clever, all at once, Andy mused to himself.
Righteous men had one-way tickets straight to heaven. Additionally, it was next to impossible for an innocent soul to end up in Hell.
If the angels hadn't become anxious to jump start the apocalypse, if they'd actually been doing their jobs, even Azazel wouldn't have been able to pull it off. Without angelic assistance (or, at least the lack of angelic interference) there was no way a righteous man and an innocent soul would have both ended up in Hell, much less at the same, crucial moment.
Andy was struck by just how much planning on both sides had obviously gone into this. He and his siblings were waging a war on heaven and hell, and the battlefield was vast.
He dialed, brain still on autopilot, running various tidbits of information through his busy mind, looking for patterns or any thing else that could give his siblings an edge in the upcoming battle.
"Andy." Sam said quietly, the one word serving as greeting and question.
He came to attention at the sound of Sam's voice, however, because with only one word, he knew immediately that something was wrong.
"What's happened?" Andy said, wishing he could see Sam's face. Maybe Sam had had another vision?
"It's Ava." Sam answered tersely.
"Is she okay?" Andy asked immediately, already calculating how close he was to her last known location.
"I'm undecided on that count." Sam said heavily. "She learned something upsetting from the Witness, and she's not handling it too well."
"Azazel's started again, hasn't he?" Andy guessed, lips pulling back in disgust at the thought of more children being put through what they had been.
He and Sam had discussed it, years ago, before they'd even escaped Hell.
They'd both searched for any signs or information hinting that Azazel was creating more living Arch Demons, but Azazel had seemed content with the handful he'd had under his control at the time.
Now that they had escaped, it wasn't a surprise that he was making more, though the new children were just as likely to be bait for the seven as they were to be draft picks for Azazel's war games.
It was an unspoken pain among the seven of them, the horrible thought that Azazel might start all over with fresh victims.
Ava being the one to discover it was especially unfortunate, however. Her playful attitude aside, Ava had been a little bit of a favorite of Azazel's, and not in a good way.
She had been his favorite to torture. Sam's torture had been constant and thorough, but in the end, it had been business.
Azazel had genuinely liked hurting Ava.
"Is she still in New Orleans?" Andy questioned.
"Just outside." Sam confirmed.
"Is New Orleans still there?" Andy asked, only slightly jesting.
"Last I heard." Sam answered dryly.
"I can be there in a few hours." Andy offered, wanting to take the burden off of Sam of worrying about their youngest sister. He wanted to see her for himself anyway.
"Did you confirm the information Meg brought us?" Sam asked tiredly.
"Yeah. She got it right. As far as evil plans go, the big man did a pretty good job with locking the box. If even half the angels were worth their halos, this whole plan would never have gotten off the ground." Andy said, as he dumped gasoline on the floor of the study.
Picking up the handful of books he intended to bring back for Sam, he headed towards the door, phone cradled against his shoulders.
"Father pedophile here knew quite a bit. I got us some new light reading. I'll head down to the Big Easy and make sure our darling sister doesn't destroy the state of Louisiana while she tracks down Daddy." Andy said, pausing to flick open a silver zippo and toss it over his shoulder.
The room went up in flames behind him as he strolled out of the church casually. He stood at the top of the stone stairs outside the church, shadow dancing and elongating in front of him, thrown far by the growing inferno behind him.
"She never gave the safe-word, so assume she still has company." Sam directed.
"She hooked him well and proper, didn't she?" Andy mused.
"Let's hope so. She was rattled when we spoke. Get down there quickly. I gave her carte blanche to do what needed to be done, but I don't want her only back up to be an angel who could turn prodigal son at any moment." Sam commanded.
"You want me to kill him?" Andy asked as he climbed into the car he was using.
"No." Sam said firmly. "Just watch out for him."
"You got it." Andy said, and they hung up. Andy pulled into traffic, heading in the direction of the airport.
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Dean got into the Impala, slamming the door heavily behind him.
He'd made Charlie as safe as he could in his hotel room, covering every reflective surface he could think of, the mirrors, the windows, dimming the lights and closing the curtains.
It was only a band-aid solution, though, unless Dean managed to take out Bloody Mary once and for all.
He started to car and headed towards the address he had located on the internet right before Charlie had called him, hysterical and crying, spilling her story about what her friend had done at school.
The antique store was a little more than a hour away, which gave Dean some time to think, if only he could get his damn mind off his brother.
No matter why Dean had come to Seattle, there was a seventeen year old girl back in his motel room who was going to die unless Dean destroyed Mary.
The trouble was, Dean was unsure of how to pin down a ghost that could travel from any mirror to another. Even if Dean destroyed her mirror, what was to stop her from using another?
Did she need to be in the mirror as Dean was destroying it?
That was a dark thought, but not half so dark as the though that followed.
'Are you afraid she won't come, or afraid that she will?' The voice whispered in his mind, and the voice sounded a lot like he had back at seventeen or eighteen.
And wasn't that the story of Dean's life these days. Afraid that Mary would show up. Afraid that she won't. Afraid that Sam will show up.
Afraid he won't.
"Fuck it." Dean muttered, pressing harder on the gas pedal.
He'd come to Seattle because he was tired of searching, tired of playing hide and seek.
Maybe Sam's secrets weren't the only ones that needed to come to light.
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Meg leaned cautiously against the door, listening carefully.
The voices inside were low, but she'd recognize the sounds of Rainier and Azazel plotting anywhere.
She closed her eyes, listening now with more than just her ears.
It was risky, tiptoing psychically into a room with two of the most dangerous demons in existence, but every instinct was screaming at her that something important was happening, and she needed to know about it.
"Will the angels even allow the righteous man to be possessed?" Rainier's voice was emotionless, free of doubt and disbelief, merely hinting at the mildest of curiosity.
"In this case, I think so. John suits our purposes more anyway, so if you can't possess Dean, kill him. He's either a tool or an obstacle, and it's time to clear the course." Azazel's voice was merry and charming and malicious, and Meg scowled silently.
Wasn't this just peachy.
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Dean walked along the crowded walkways of the cluttered antique store, careful to keep his flashlight aimed at the ground.
He was dusty and pissed off and jumpy as hell. He'd pulled dingy sheets off half a dozen mirrors already, and he was starting to worry that the shop owner had already resold Mary's mirror.
Seeing a door towards the back he hadn't checked yet, he opened it cautiously.
Jackpot.
It appeared to be full of all inbound freight and new acquisitions.
There, in the far corner next to two other mirrors, was a large, antique mirror whose frame exactly matched the one from the crime scene photographs.
Dean steeled himself, taking a deep breath.
"Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary."
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Ava thrust her fist into the chest cavity of the screaming demon, ripping out it's heart like a child might rip the wings off a fly. She shoved her angel blade into it's eye socket just as smoke started to boil from it's lips, and the corpse flared with dark light as another Demon's existence ended.
"Getting tired yet?" Gabe said sarcastically from behind her.
"Not even close." She replied, licking her fingers just to see the look on his face.
"I told you that you'd be bored." She said, eyes flashing as she strode over to the devil's trap and yanked out another demon.
"Same questions. New answers!" She snarled, twisting it's arm up behind it's back until she heard it's wrist snapping.
"Where's...my...father?" She said through gritted teeth, shaking the screaming man for good measure.
"And they say angels are the ones with daddy issues." Gabe muttered to himself. He winced in sympathy as she broke the demon's other wrist.
He had to give her points for stamina, though.
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At first, nothing happened.
Or, at least nothing seemed to happen. Dean stared warily at his reflection, searching every inch of the glass for some sign of Mary. Gradually, however, he noticed frost building up from the corners of the frame.
"You left him. You left him to die." That was when Dean realized what Mary actually did to her victims. Mary didn't appear in the mirror, didn't replace Dean's image with her own, as he had supposed.
His reflection was the only one in the glass.
Dean was the one speaking the words.
"You always resented him, hated having to be responsible for him all the time. Hated that he was Dad's favorite, that he always got everything, and you got nothing." The words were twisted and vicious, made even worse by the fact that they were said in Dean's own voice, with his accent, his inflections, his look of righteous anger reflected back at him.
A shooting, stabbing pain had started up behind Dean's eyes, and he clutched his head instinctively, all thoughts of battling Mary's spirit fled at the first accusation.
"No. No, that's not true. I loved Sam, I loved being his brother. I would never leave him." Dean argued, shaking his head. He could feel something warm and sticky running down his cheeks.
"You left him at the library that night. You were supposed to help him, but you wanted the time to yourself. You always resented how much of your time he took up."
The words were like knives, driving into his brain and Dean dropped to his knees.
"I would never have left him there, if I'd known." He said, swaying and breathing heavily. "And I never hated him." He growled the words defiantly, despite the fact that he was fairly certain he was stroking out.
Sorry Charlie...
"Down!" The command shot across the room like a bullet and Dean gave in to it gratefully. A figure stood over him suddenly, impossibly tall and impossibly fast, swinging a crowbar into the mirror like he was knocking a baseball out of the park, and Dean remembered teaching Sam had to do that, years ago, when Sam had been a kid and Dean had been a kid and oh, shit-
"Sam." He stuttered, pushing himself to his feet, reaching out.
"Sam-"
"She's not gone," Sam said lowly, not looking at Dean, instead, looking around the room warily and gracefully, all smooth lines and jagged angles, a predator in a pawn shop.
"What do you mean?" Dean said, trying to make his legs work, trying to step closer, but his legs were still wobbly and why the hell were they talking about a damn ghost when they hadn't seen each other in seven years?
"I mean..." Sam spoke slowly, a half smile curling across his lips as he studied the other mirrors around them, "That she...is...still...here."
Sam turned then, finally facing Dean head on. "You should go." He said the word commandingly, like someone used to being obeyed, and damned if Dean couldn't hear a trace of John Winchester in his tone.
Dean found himself wondering if Sam's eyes had always looked like this, made up of a thousand colors and none at all at the same time, and the words tumbled out without pause, without thought, but that was okay, because they were the same thing he would have said if he'd had the entire rest of his life to think about it.
"I'm not leaving you."
The two faced each other, Dean's eyes somewhere between hopeful and heartbroken, and Sam's something else entirely.
Sam smiled then, just a little, a dark smile that was nothing like anything Dean had ever seen before, but Dean didn't really give a fuck, because it was Sam, and he was there.
And it was Sam.
Sam tossed Dean the crowbar, just as Mary appeared, pulling herself out of the frame of her broken mirror like some special little breed of nightmare, and Sam's smile widened.
Dean thought maybe, just maybe Sam was enjoying himself.
'Start swinging. Pin her down." Sam called, and flung his hand out at a mirror to their far right. It shattered instantly, and Dean refused to thing about that, instead swinging with all his might at the mirror to his left.
Soon there was nowhere left for her to retreat.
Dean had finally faltered, dropping to his knees again as waves of Mary's power rushed over him. He could feel liquid warmth on his cheeks, and if the graceful trail of blood trickling down Sam's cheek was any indication, Dean could assume it was blood also.
She screamed, lunging towards them, eyes bloody black holes.
Sam raised his hand again, and Dean felt the temperature in the room, already cool, plummet even farther.
Mary was caught, suspended only a few inches off the ground, like a horror movie that had been put on pause.
Sam snarled at her then, a feral sound that sent shivers down his brother's spine.
He clenched his fist, so hard to veins and tendons strained, and every light bulb, every window, every pane of glass in the store shattered at once.
With a scream and a flash of light, Mary was gone and the store was silent.
Dean stared at Sam open-mouthed.
Sam turned and walked over to him, crouching before him. Taking Dean's chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned Dean's face one way, then the other, studying the damage dispassionately. The lack of light appeared not to bother him at all.
"Now do you understand?" He murmured, letting go of Dean's face and standing, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"Are you alright?" Dean asked, completely ignoring Sam's words as he forced himself to his feet, finally overcoming his shock and latching onto Sam's arm.
Sam tensed and stilled, like an animal that Dean had approached unwisely.
Dean's instincts were screaming at him again, but he told them to go fuck themselves.
"Guilt trips don't really hold much sway over a demon." Sam said finally, in a bored sounding voice.
'Sam..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what the hell to say.
He searched everywhere, every moment, for years, yet now that his brother was in front of him, he couldn't think of a single damn thing to say.
No words were big enough, wide enough to capture the tumultuous riot in his mind, in his heart.
So he said it again, the only word that came even close.
"Sam."
Sam looked at him, face as still as stone.
"You were warned not to come, Dean. I tried telling you, all the others tried telling you. I know that you looked for me. I know you thought you wanted to find me. And now you have, and you can't avoid what I am now, Dean. Look at me. I'm not your brother anymore. I'm a demon. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away."
"Shut up." Dean replied instantly, voice shaking in sudden fury. "Don't you say that to me. I looked for you for seven years, and I fucking found you. And I'll look for another seven years, if that's what it takes to fix you."
Sam laughed then, the sound dark and mirthless. "Found me? Fix me? You didn't find me, Dean. I found you. And you can't fix me, because I'm not broken."
"You're a demon!" Dean cried.
Suddenly Sam had him pinned, feet off the ground, back against the wall.
"That's right, Dean. But I'm not just any demon. I'm the top of the fucking food chain, brother. I'm strong and I'm powerful and I've got big plans. So get over your little dreams of a happy homecoming and get the hell out of my way. I warned you, and I've done my best to protect you, but this ends now, Dean. The little boy you tucked into bed died. The hell hounds came and took him away and he died. I'm not that little boy anymore. Time to let go."
With that, Dean felt another surge of power, and suddenly he found himself on the ground, alone in the destroyed store. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but that was fine.
Dean had found him once.
He'd fucking do it again.
He was gonna get Sam back.