A/N - Chapter title taken from Bruce Almighty. I added an extra part because some of you guys said you really wanted to see Frances suffer. Well, I do too. That's how we roll in this fandom.
Bob the vengeance demon explains it all. Well, sorta.
Damn, I had such plans for Deano and Sammy. After I got through with them hunters were gonna talk about the drama and the Winchester angst for years, but that's all over now. Should have known better than to work with an amateur on this thing, and that's what that damn Frances was.
Got a bad feeling as soon as that old hunter and that damn dog of his walked into the room. My tail started tingling, and I knew it was all over. I left as soon as Frances got caught up in that dreamcatcher. No need to drag things out, right? I don't regret anything. I took my shot. Nice thing is, I got away clean and clear.
Later on I checked in with the Home Office downstairs. Got the usual amount of ribbing from the others. You show me a vengeance demon with a spotless record, and I'll show you a sumbitch who's either lying or has somebody covering for him or her. I still made my monthly quota, but I'm gonna concentrate on humans from now on. Get more points for those.
I saw Frances when I was down in Hell. I stood around and watched for a while.
He got his old body back, and when I saw him this demon was overpacking him with broken skulls and sharp edged rocks. Frances moaned and groaned and pleaded for him to stop, said all those sharp edges was making his fabric ache. He got packed so full his zipper was just about ready to rip open, and the funny thing was, the demon doing the honors had a mask on that looked just like Dean Winchester.
Remind me never to piss off Alastair and his bunch, okay? They know just how to hit you where you live.
Another demon came up, and this one wore a Sam Winchester mask.
NotSam and NotDean proceeded to play a little game I call "Disgruntled Airport Baggage Handler" with Frances. He never stopped screaming, and when he hit the ground for the 50th time his seams split wide open.
A hellhound came slinking forward and peed all over him. That stuff's like sulfuric acid.
Frances caught fire and screamed even louder.
After that a couple of hellcats came up and marked their territory.
I know what you're thinking, and no, that didn't put the fire out. I felt like putting some marshmallows on a stick and singing songs by the old campfire. Reminded me of when I was human and all.
I got bored right after the third time, so I left. Sheesh.
People aren't the only ones who end up down in Hell. Just goes to show how limited you meat monkeys are in your thinking. Some things are born bad, or they go bad later on. Naturally, I wasn't gonna mention this, but if Frances had just let go of his hatred of Dean Winchester, he woulda ended up in the other place, with the wings and harps.
Poetic irony's a bitch, ain't it?
It was fun while it lasted, kids, but I think putting mucho distance between myself and these hunters is a mighty damn fine idea. That old hunter looks like the kind who holds a grudge until it screams for mercy, and I never did like dogs.
Hey, it was nothing personal. Just business.
You know anybody who needs a good all purpose vengeance demon? Just look in a mirror any time, day or night, and say my name three times.
I'm Bob. We can work something out.
Tomorrow: Dean's Desert Eagle.