Screaming. Slashing. The sound of a soul being stretched thin and repaired all over again. It was sickening to John's ears. And yet, he was trapped here. Trapped looking down at his work as the demon below him repaired himself as fast as he could muster. Azazel could feel his power draining fast, especially since his flames were being more active and erratic than usual. That wasn't something he could help though, even if it would make this process easier. Turns out, being tortured takes a big toll on your body, even if you're a being as old as time itself. It was a good refresher though. John taking the role that Azazel should be in saved him from the rack and any curious demon that tried to pop in would get burnt by flames. John was lost in a blind rage, but that just meant every slash was from his muscle memory. Everything he was doing was to get two decades of hunting this demon out of his system. And it was working.
"Johnny, I need to heal," Azazel muttered, yellow eyes following the hunter as he stalked around the small room. All he got was a glance over the shoulder before John started cleaning up the glowing embers and piles of ashes scattered about. It had been three days of this now. The walls were scorched, the ceiling left untouched for once. Strange. Azazel would have to fix that later. Meanwhile, John was having an internal debate. On one hand, this was the revenge he had spent twenty years waiting for, and all he had to do to get it was die. On the other hand, it didn't feel like revenge, more like he was just being used to complete a larger goal. The hunter watched as Azazel healed himself, a sigh of relief leaving his lips once the demon started to wiggle his way out of the table's restraints. A clever trick. Would've been even better if he was actually trying to escape instead of trying to anger John again. The demon knew he could get out of them at any time. Hell, he was able to move things around the room and his flames were still active despite the sigils and wards on the belts. He'd have to get someone to check those. While he waited for John to gather himself, Azazel loosened the restraints on his wrists. They were starting to rub the skin too-
"Nice try, demon." The hunter spat, tightening the belts so the prince could barely move his wrists.
"Ouch, cutting me to the core with that one Johnny! Never been called that before." Well, that's not entirely true. He had been called a demon with that same amount of disgust, but not by John. He didn't know why, but something pooled in his stomach when the hunter said that to him. Was it unease? Nervousness? Who knows, but the demon would have to bring it up later when John was done rubbing salt into his wounds. This hunter had changed him, made him softer. The exact opposite could be said for John. Each day- No, each hour he spent with Azazel meant a new wave of rage was going to keep him kicking instead of succumbing to the hellfire. He wouldn't say that he should thank the prince, but maybe he would stop the torture for a bit. Give the subject time to adjust. Or well, give the subject time to heal. He had done quite the number on the demon today and, as much as he'd hate to admit it, seeing Azazel in his current state was unnerving. Knowing it was John himself that had caused this was slowly breaking the hunter. He couldn't stop though, not unless he wanted his guard to drop. John sighed, walking over to the contained demon before leaning over him. When Azazel turned his face away, the hunter brought a hand up to turn it back, locking eyes with the demon.
"Not a single flicker of anger in your eyes today Azzy, you're getting better at hiding it."
"I'm trying so hard not to put you on the ceiling right now," Azazel chuckled, a smile growing as John shook his head. He could only use that threat so many times before it stopped being a threat and more of an inside joke. It helped lighten the mood, in the demon's opinion. Even if it only helped John get further and further away from ever being on this table, it was worth it to the prince. Speaking of the hunter, he was still leaning over Azazel, just staring into his eyes as if that was something the two had done countless times before. It made him pause. Not because his brown eyes had small black splatters throughout them, but because Azazel could see right through him, right into his soul. Oh no. Oh no no no- That's what he was trying to avoid. All this torture, all this effort, just to end at the same conclusion. John must have seen the panic in the other's eyes because the demon felt the belts holding him onto the table loosen as a pair of arms helped him sit up. Why did Azazel ever think avoidance would work? It never helped him in the past, so why would it now? He was lost in thought while the hunter sat on the table next to him.
The hunter didn't know what was happening. Was Azazel mad at him? Afraid of him? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was neither and the demons were just tricking him. They had tendencies to do that. John could, however, see the faint outline of an orange flicker around the demon. That was new, but not something to mention right now. Maybe he wouldn't even mention it at all to save himself from Azazel's taunting. John scooted over to the other, concern gracing his face before he saw the demon's smile.
"Didn't take you for the soft type."
"Didn't think you'd be afraid of me." The laugh that came from Azazel was worth the comment. John knew he would be taunted later for acting all high and mighty, but he had this neat thing to restrain the demon with when he took things too far. There was also a… less than savory alternative that the two would turn to in moments of intense rage. It's what left all the marks on the demon's neck and shoulders and scratches scattered across the hunter's body. Of course he'd refuse to heal those. To John, Azazel always seemed to be the one starting the cycle. It seemed to be more frequent considering the twinkling of the embers on the floor. Azazel noticed the hunter's stares and flicked his wrist, sending them spiraling into the corner of the room, making tiny swirls as they glided through the air. A proud smile graced his face as he swung his legs, waiting for the other to notice.
"Show off," John smirked, watching as the demon stretched. He arched his back towards the hunter with a wink before hopping down from the table, almost tripping over his own feet when he landed. Three days off the ground and he forgets how to stand. That was a new development. John must be the reason for this, when was he not, after all? He just had to be Azazel's type and then get thrown down to live with the demon for eternity. It felt strange to admit, but John may be the first human the demon felt guilty for killing, even if he did plan to bring him back shortly after. In all his centuries of living, the prince never thought he'd- A small bowl began to rattle on the shelf behind John, interrupting the demon as many things tend to be doing recently. He must be losing his spot as ruler of Hell. That was for another time, right now he was getting a call from a certain daughter of his. Azazel waved the bowl over to himself and smiled, just listening to a voice he thought he had lost. Three days for him meant three months for her, and even though she had been trained by the best demons he could find, Azazel still worried about her. It was just an update on the Winchesters, well, more of an update on Sam. He didn't seem to know about the deal his older brother had made. Another thing to add to the demon's memory to bring up later. Meg finished with all the major changes that had gone on while the prince was confined to Hell. She had found a new meatsuit! Clever girl, that demon. Knows you can't do much when "your" body is threatening to collapse at any moment. Being a demon is a tough life once you get up on earth. Nothing those suits upstairs would understand, of course. That wasn't important right now though. What was important was the sounds he could hear from the other end of this bowl call. The sounds of wood splintering as a door slammed against a nearby wall. Familiar voices shouting as they looked for Meg. Her voice got quieter as their footsteps got louder. Then the sound of a cut-off scream echoed as the bubbles slowly came to a stop.
"Meg?" Azazel's voice shook just as much as the bowl in his hands. That had to be from a different demon. It had to. Meg wouldn't let herself get cornered like that, she'd find a way out of whatever building she got trapped in. That being said, she also wouldn't work with others if it could be avoided. So maybe it was hunters looking for a hostage she had taken. Yes, that was it. Now, why were his hands still shaking? And where was the bowl? The demon couldn't remember dropping it, but then again he also didn't remember who the pair of arms that were currently lifting him up belonged to until he looked up. The demon wrapped his arms around the hunter, burying his face into the crook of his hunter's neck as he shook. John just stood there, not wanting to move in case he dropped the other. The two stayed there for a bit as Azazel's anxieties washed out of his mind and his avoidance set in. He so badly wanted to make a joke about the situation, but now wasn't the time. This was a genuine moment between the two and he had ruined far too many of those. Maybe this would be enough to keep him human for a little bit longer. It was a stretch, but it was still possible.
"I have to check on her." The demon didn't bother to lift his head, instead choosing to close his eyes and try to succumb to a sleep he knew wouldn't come. John just nodded, tightening his grip on the other before setting him down and moving away.
"How long will you be gone?" The hunter's voice sounded tired as if he had just woken up. It was hard to sleep when you were busy torturing a Prince of Hell for three days straight.
"Could be three hours, could be three years, but I'll be back before you know I'm gone, Johnny." That was just a straight-up lie. There was no way of telling how long Azazel would be gone, but the worried look in John's eyes was enough to make him reconsider. Meg was a tough girl, if she wasn't she would have been dead before she even got to earth. Azazel didn't want to leave John here alone. It was too risky to just leave him without someone around to guard the room, but everyone the prince had trusted was either dead, on the surface, or locked up beyond his reach. He shook his head before reluctantly smiling at the other, hoping he would get the message. The demon sprang forward, wrapping the hunter in a tight hug before leaning to whisper in his ear.
"Wait for me, Johnny."
The next moment, the arms that were wrapped around John had nothing but air in their grasp. Cool grass threatened to send shivers through the demon. He was already cold enough and now he had to deal with earth's chill too? The demon wrapped his jacket- No, John's jacket tightly around himself and looked around for shelter, spotting a run-down house in the distance. The creature sank to his knees, eyes staring right at the building, a bright blue sky right behind it. His dream. It was a warning. Maybe he could have prevented what happened to Meg if he had just told her. Azazel was never one to trust his dreams, they usually felt more real if they were visions and were thus taken more seriously. Still, he was partially to blame for whatever happened to her. The demon took a slow, deep breath and got up from his place in the grass, trudging towards the house in front of him. It must have been a good hiding place because beyond the door was a plethora of supplies and weapons. It didn't look very large on the outside, but the inside of the house seemed to be cleared of most of the furniture. In its place were mattresses and thin blankets, as well as a variety of papers scattered on the floor. Azazel would have to be careful then. It was still a debate whether there were already people in the house and if there were and they were hunters, there could be a devil's trap around any corner. He would be stuck until whoever was living here got back and that just wouldn't be fun for anyone. The demon took light steps, trying to avoid the papers in favor of staying along the wall, peeking at the ceilings when he could to make sure he was still safe. As he crossed through the main room of the house, he started to take in the surroundings he hadn't seen in his dream. There were thick trees lining the backyard, a row of dead bushes circled the back porch, and some old lawn chairs were set up by a fire pit. A loud creak caught his attention, causing Azazel to sprint to an old closet, climbing in and shutting it before he could think. Perfect. Now he just had to rely on whoever just walked in to not have anything to put away. If they did, the prince was sure he could just teleport out and be safe. Now if he could just slip into the darkness of this comfy closet without making noise. Then he wouldn't have to pretend to be human and could listen to the people who had walked in! It was a genius plan. The demon moved into the back corner of the closet, curling up into a ball and covering himself with a thick jacket. Not the best disguise, but it would have to work for the moment. The sound of heavy footsteps drew closer to the closet before stopping. Then, the sound of someone leaning on the doors caught the prince's attention. Maybe whoever was staying here had known he was in the closet and was just trying to make him panic. Maybe they watched him get in it. No, they would've just ripped him out of his hiding place when they walked over. It sounded like there were two people in the room, but Azazel couldn't be sure. However, he was sure that these two knew something about Meg judging by their conversation.
"What'd you think she knew?" One of them asked. The voice seemed closer to the closet so it was probably the one leaning against it. The other seemed unbothered by the question. Either that or they didn't seem to care since it went unanswered. A sigh echoed through the room as one of the closet doors swung open and a jacket was added onto Azazel before the door was slammed shut again. The demon was lucky he wasn't as tall as John or he'd have been caught for sure. Still, he thought back to the question. Meg knew something? Something important enough for these people, no doubt hunters, to track her down and capture her. That was no good. This small trip to the surface was starting to look like an extended stay. That was worse. If Azazel was gone any longer there's no doubt John was getting lonely, or worse, tortured. Then there wouldn't be anything the prince could do to stop him from becoming a demon. All his work would be for nothing. Right now though, he had other priorities. Meg had been captured by hunters, and while he knew she'd eventually get out of it on her own, he thought a little help might make the process faster. A phone ringing followed by two pairs of footsteps quickly moving out of the building caused Azazel to peek out of one of the closet doors, surveying the area to make sure it was safe to come out. He remembered seeing a staircase as he passed through. IF he was lucky, he'd be able to make it up to the second floor and could watch the two from afar. When he didn't hear any more sounds, he left the closet, leaving light steps in his wake as he walked. The two were still around, outside by the sounds of the call going on, so he had to be fast. The demon turned the corner, dashing up the steps as the front door began to open. He had barely made it to the top before the pair had reentered the house, dragging something else in along with them. Azazel peaked out from behind the railing to get a better view of the situation. If there were any windows that weren't boarded off upstairs, he could easily get out that way. He just needed to see if they had captured Meg and which room they'd be in. The figure the pair had seemed to be a demon from what the prince could see. They were hunters then. Or they were a pair of poor souls who were about to regret every life decision they had made up to this point. This demon didn't look like Meg, though. Even if the meatsuits were vastly different, his daughter's tortured soul was a bright red that twisted and wrapped around itself. This soul was blue and moved like static as it was pushed and shoved into the room. This wasn't Meg. Which meant she may be okay. Good, he could make his escape before the hunters would be able to capture him next. He made his way around the second floor, staying in the middle of the hallway until he reached a window. The demon tried to open it, but it struggled against the old frame, causing quite a bit of noise from his attempts. A pair of curious footsteps could be heard from down below as Azazel propped open the window. He didn't have time for this! In a swift motion, the prince twirled around to face the hunter that had climbed the steps before turning to smoke. He slipped out of the window and planted himself on the ground, smiling at his flawless escape before turning to run to the front of the house.
As he ran, Azazel passed a car that he didn't remember hearing pull up to the building. That means they either knew he would be coming here or they weren't very far from the house when he had entered. He would have called it a coincidence if he didn't recognize the Kansas license plate. Even up on the surface, he couldn't escape the Winchester's. Azazel was right about one thing, though. John had raised them to be good hunters. If the brothers were still alive that meant he could still have a tie to Sam, which also means he probably saw this house too. Smart boy. He didn't have time to dwell on the car though, seeming as the taller Winchester was currently making his way down the stairs and out the front door after him. No, Azazel had to get as far away from here as possible. So he ran. The fallen prince of Hell running away from something he had created. Something that had taken two important people from him. Yet, he wouldn't be able to face John again if he had to hurt one of the boys just to get a little sense of revenge. It would destroy the hunter and the demon didn't even know why he cared so much about the other. A small town came into view as Azazel slowed down, ducking into an alley to avoid any of the humans walking around. Once he was sure he was safe, the demon propped himself against a wall and wrapped John's jacket around him as a sense of comfort washed over him. John would be okay for the short time he was gone. For now, Azazel had to find his daughter and avoid the other two Winchesters.
"I'll tell the boys you said hi, Johnny." A smirk graced his lips as the demon felt around in the jacket pockets. He pulled out a thick wallet, fumbling through the photos and notes in it and watching the flickers of embers appear around him. This hunter really was going to be the death of Azazel for making him so soft, even if he wasn't around to grace the demon with his splintering soul.