Three years earlier
Azazel narrowed his bile yellow eyes, anger etched over his features as he materialised against his will in the abandoned warehouse. Candle flames flickered in response to his arrival but he barely noticed them as he glowered into the darkness, indignation searing through him as he searched for whoever, or whatever, had dared to summon and trap him there. Demons of his pedigree were capable of seeing past human meat suits to the soul within, and once he caught sight of the man waiting in the shadows, his annoyance turned to disbelief.
"It can't be." Azazel murmured, unable to fully stem his surprise as he recognised the soul stood beyond the Devils Trap. "My, my," he continued, recovering from his shock but not bothering to hide his curiosity as the man stepped into the light. "John Winchester. In the flesh… How you been Johnny? Keeping alive I see."
"Azazel." John growled, spitting the name out as though it were venom on his tongue.
A slow, menacing sneer snaked its way across the demons face. "So, you're the one who's been tracking me."
"You seem shocked I've caught you." John noted, having registered the demons initial surprise. "What? You thought I'd just let you get away with murdering my wife? Thought maybe I'd forget about it?"
"Your wife?... Mary?? Oh don't tell me that sweet little thing is dead?"
"You know damned well she is you son of a bitch. You killed her the same night you infected my little boy. The same way you've infected children all over the country. You think I don't know?"
"Your little boy. Right. Yours and Mary's. Well haven't you been busy, beavering away."
"Enough! I didn't drag you here to play games."
"Then what? You wanna kill me, Johnny, that it? The thought of revenge got you all fired up? Well, you got me. But it'll take more than a Latin nursery rhyme and some juju water to get rid of me boy." Azazel walked casually towards the edge of the Trap and pushed an exploratory hand against the invisible barrier. The air around his palm undulated like a mirage. "You know this works on your run of the mill half breed demons, but I come from better stock than that. This won't hold me forever." He cocked his head to one side as a grotesque smile spread like an oil slick across the sickly pallor of his face. "An' I'm just dying to give you a hug Johnny."
"I don't need it to hold you forever." John said through gritted teeth, ignoring the shiver of disgust that ran through him. "Just long enough to make a deal."
"A deal?" Again, the demon seemed genuinely surprised. "You? Wanna make a deal with me? Interesting. I'm listening."
"You let Sam live. I let you live."
"A life for a life." Azazel summarised. "That would be worth something if I cared about this… Sam is it? Or if you could kill me. But like I said, nursery rhymes and magic water ain't quite gonna cut it."
"No." John agreed, pulling out a gun from his jacket. "But a bullet from this might just cut you right down the middle you demonic son of a bitch."
He aimed the muzzle square at Azazel's forehead and the demons eyes narrowed once more. "Is that….? You found the Colt. Well my, my John. Aren't you just full of surprises?"
"So? What's your answer? You wanna live or not?"
"What exactly is it that you want? Hmm? Spell it out for me. Devil's in the detail, after all."
"I want you to leave my son alone. You make sure your demons don't touch him. He's not one of your special children, you hear me? Not anymore. I want you to guarantee his safety. He gets to live. He gets to grow old, naturally. Sam and his wife and kids."
Azazel raised his eyebrows. "Now that doesn't sound like a fair trade. I give a free pass to him and however many of them there are and all I get in return is a gun?"
"Not the gun. In return you get to live. In return I don't kill you where you stand."
Azazel laughed. "Oh I think we both know you're not gonna shoot me. If I die, who's gonna save that precious little boy of yours?"
"If you don't agree to my terms, I've got nothing to lose." John volleyed back.
Both stared at each other for a moment, before Azazel sneered.
"You'll agree to my terms. I get the gun… And I get that muddied little piece of humanity you've got swilling around in that meat suit of yours."
"What?"
"Your soul John. I want your soul. And I take it now. Not ten years from now. Not a month. I rip it out of you right now."
"In case you hadn't noticed, you're not in a position to be making any demands."
"Oh I will be. Just give it time."
"Or, like I said, I could just kill you right now." John countered, cocking the trigger. "Take my chances."
"Think your aims that good, do you Johnny boy? You better not miss. 'Course, you have me at a disadvantage here, for a while at least, with your little mouse trap. And let's just pretend you really are that good. You think it's gonna end with me? You think those special children are just my little pet project? No, you're not that naïve. You know it goes deeper. Get a lucky shot at me and someone else will just step right in to pick up where I leave off, and you'll be right back where you started. But you already knew that, didn't you? I can see it in you. You've done your research, like a good little hunter. You got that stink of righteousness just oozing off your soul. And I could use a soul like yours, Johnny, I really could. A righteous soul like yours in Hell. It opens up so many… possibilities. So what d'you say? We got a deal?"
"How do I know you'll keep your word if I set you free?"
"A deal's a deal." Azazel snapped. "We don't break deals. Cosmic rules and so on." He explained curtly, seeming annoyed. He waved his hand dismissively as though brushing aside a speck of dust before recovering his swagger. "What's there to think about? You called me here wanting a deal and you got one. Or are you having second thoughts? That son of yours and his brood not quite worth the price all of a sudden?"
"You add my other son's safety to the–"
"No! No more amendments. The gun and your soul for the lives of Sam and his family. I'd take it if I were you. It's a better deal than I ever make. An entire family for what? A hunk of metal and a used up soul." He sneered in disgust. "One time only offer. Take it or leave it."
John wavered. He'd known coming in to this that selling his soul would probably be inevitable, though he'd hoped on avoiding it. And it wasn't an issue. He was willing to sacrifice anything if it came to saving either one of his sons. But he hadn't anticipated on not having any time. He thought he'd have a chance to mend some bridges with Sam, or to tell Dean how truly proud of him he was. To tell them both he was sorry, for everything. Or in the very least, he thought he'd have a chance to just see both his boys one last time. But even that sacrifice, he was willing to concede to. It wasn't those compromises that were bothering him. It was Azazel's entire demeanour that set alarm bells ringing in John's head. He knew the demon had been initially surprised at seeing him. He'd thought at the time it was just Azazel's arrogance at being caught. But as their conversation had progressed, John couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. He didn't have time to indulge his suspicions however, as Azazel prompted him again.
"Tick-tock John, times a-wasting. What's it gonna be?"
John hesitated a moment more before lowering the Colt, accepting that he had no other choice.
"Fine," he agreed succinctly, inching towards the edge of the trap and scraping the paint away with the toe of his boot, before backing up.
Azazel's tongue flicked over his lips, a gesture that made him seem almost as reptilian as his eyes did. He took a long stride, stepping out from confines of his Trap and flexed, stretching and breathing as though freed of tightly bound chains. He then turned towards John and took a step towards him, before abruptly stopping. He glanced at the ground beneath his feet but saw no markings there. John watched him warily, the Colt lowered but by his side, ready in case he needed it. It took Azazel a minute before his eyes finally drifted upwards.
There was another Devil's Trap sprayed onto the ceiling, directly above where John stood. Azazel met the hunters gaze, amused.
"Clever boy." He conceded, slowly walking the perimeter of the second Trap before returning to face John once more. He tilted his head to the side and whispered something that John didn't catch.
Within an instant a demon appeared a short distance from Azazel. John reacted instinctively, immediately raising the Colt and taking a step back, bracing himself to shoot, but Azazel raised his hand in a placating gesture.
"I wouldn't bother wasting your bullets," he said. "He's only here to do the paperwork."
John assessed this new arrival, lowering the gun a fraction but keeping his guard up all the same. The demon was of middling stature, clean shaven with short dark hair. He was dressed in a long black business coat, with a suit and tie underneath. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and he seemed to rock back and forth on his toes slightly as he surveyed his surroundings with unmasked disdain. His black business shoes glinted in the dim light. When Azazel turned to him, the new demon straightened and took a quick step forward.
"You called for me?" he enquired in a British accent.
"I need you to draw us up a contract Crowley."
Crowley hesitated a second, as though unsure what was being asked of him. "All right," he said cautiously.
In a quick motion that took John by surprise, the demon produced a roll of parchment that seemingly appeared from nowhere. The scroll unfurled across the floor covering a few feet. Crowley already had what looked like a quill in his other hand.
"A standard ten-year deal–"
"No." Azazel cut him off. "This contract is unique."
Crowley stole a glance over Azazel's shoulder to the man stood beneath a Devil's Trap. To his eyes, the human looked unremarkable, until he spied what the hunter was holding in his hand. Crowley's eyes widened as he met Azazel's gaze again.
"Bloody hell! Is that–?"
"The Colt. Yes. Now, start writing."
John listened attentively as Azazel began reciting the particulars of the deal, interjecting once or twice. It was over quicker than John would have thought, but by the end, he was satisfied there was nothing more he could add.
"In summary then," Crowley said. "In exchange for the Colt and the soul of one John Eric Winchester, here present, we guarantee the safety and good health of his son, Samuel William Winchester, Samuel's wife Jessica Lee Winchester, née Moore, and of their offspring, current and future. The soul will be collected immediately upon final agreement of said contract. The other particulars are as both parties have already agreed to. Needless to say, if either party reneges on any elements of the aforementioned deal at any time, the entire contract along with all attached terms & agreements will be deemed null and void, et cetera et cetera. Yes?"
He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he looked between John and Azazel for confirmation. Azazel turned to John who gave a curt nod.
"Excellent." Crowley said happily, rolling up the parchment. He grinned at John. "I'd say congratulations but… well hardly seems appropriate does it?"
"Someday, my son will kill you," he spat through gritted teeth, aiming the threat at Azazel.
"Tell him to join the queue," Azazel responded calmly. "Now why don't you start the proceedings by sliding the gun over?"
John growled, wavering, wanting suddenly to use the gun despite everything, but he knew that would never free Sam. After a moment he complied, dropping the Colt and kicking it outward. As soon as the gun left the perimeter of the Trap overhead, at a flick from Azazel's wrist its trajectory changed and it flew through the air into the demons grasp. Azazel examined the piece, turning it over in his hands before returning his attention back to the hunter.
"Any time you're ready John, feel free to step out of the ring."
Despite having known of this inevitability, despite having prepared himself for it, John couldn't stop his heart from pounding. Couldn't stop his mouth from drying up. The fear in his gut at what was about to happen was turning to terror and he felt sick as the dread grew within him. He forced himself to focus on the image of his sons, forced himself to imagine the life Sam and his family would go on to enjoy. The happiness John and Mary had assumed they would have had, was guaranteed now for Sam and his wife. He thought of how much joy lay ahead for his son. And he thought of Dean, strong, loyal, brave and oh so much better than John ever had been, so much better than any man John had ever known, and his heart swelled with pride even as his eyes welled with tears. He wished he'd have told Dean that, just once. He knew Dean would struggle, even as he knew Dean would survive. Even as he knew Dean would figure it out, would pick up the mantle and somehow avenge Mary as John had failed to. And he knew his own imminent death might even bring his sons back together again, and the thought made him smile. He pictured them, sharing a drink, both grown men and each, in their own way, better than him, and the image sent a flood of warmth surging through his heart, quelling his fear.
He stepped out of the Trap.
In an instant, Azazel was before him, his sulphurous breath hot on John's face. Somewhere in the distance, John thought he could hear the scrapping of claws and the snarling of pack animals.
"I'll do you one last favour Johnny. Free of charge, coz I've grown to like you so much," Azazel said. He leaned in close and whispered in John's ear. "I won't let the dogs bite."
Before John could respond, Azazel brought his hand up to John's neck and ran a jagged fingernail deep across the hunter's throat. The last living memory John Winchester had was that of his blood spurting from his neck, of it being collected in a metal receptacle held in the demons hand. Of Azazel's true yellow eyed demon face sneering down at him as his soul was dragged into Hell.
Before long, John Winchester's body lay motionless on the warehouse floor, cooling in a pool of its own blood. The same blood that filled the ornately carved metal goblet held in Azazel's hand. By Azazel's side, Crowley rocked back gently on his heels.
"Waste not want not, as they say," Crowley said, indicating to the goblet and attempting a slight laugh. It didn't quite materialise as confidently as he'd aimed for and he shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. Azazel made him nervous. Religious zealots always did. He cleared his throat, eager to leave. "If there's nothing else…?"
"You keep track of all deals made, don't you Crowley?"
"Of course. I consider it an honour to–"
"So then remind me," Azazel said, cutting him off. "Did Mary accept a deal I offered her way back when to save John's life?"
Crowley hesitated, feeling as though he were being tested for something that might inadvertently result in his banishment. Or worse.
"Not that I recall," he replied cautiously.
Azazel turned to him, eyes flashing his irritation. "Not that you recall?"
"I mean no." Crowley clarified in a more definitive tone. "No, she didn't accept any deal from you."
"Hmm." Azazel growled. "And did she make a deal with any other demon?"
"No, she didn't. There's no deal involving Mary or John anywhere on our files."
"Then how is it that John Winchester was alive?" Azazel demanded. "How is it that he and Mary had offspring? After I clearly recall having killed him once before."
Crowley opened his mouth but with no response forthcoming, all he could do was shake his head. Azazel bore his teeth in displeasure, snarling momentarily before regaining composure. He gave Crowley a measured stare.
"Well, you must be pleased with this turn of events."
"Sir?" Crowley enquired, not sure what Azazel was referring to.
"A righteous soul in Hell. The key to freeing your Queen."
"Ah," Crowley said, understanding the reference to Lilith, Queen of the crossroads and as such the demon to whom he was second in command. He forced a smile onto his face, mustering what he hoped was a convincingly celebratory expression. Lilith's return would signal the beginning of the End of Days, but Crowley was far from convinced that was entirely a good thing. Certainly not as far as business was concerned. But he was also smart enough to keep his opinions very much to himself, especially around a religiously fanatical Prince of Hell.
"I must admit, I'd wondered how that was going to come about," Azazel continued, seeming to have forgotten about Crowley. "A righteous soul in Hell. Hardly an easy thing to come by. Yet here it is, fallen into our laps. Along with the Colt. Almost as though it were fate."
"Quite," Crowley agreed, gingerly side-stepping around the freshly spilled blood in an attempt to put some distance between himself and Azazel. "Joyous times indeed."
Azazel flicked him an irritated glance, as if the demon's presence had become irksome. "Keep an eye on Sam Winchester," he commanded. "Find out what there is to know."
"Consider it done."
The demons stared at each other for a moment, until Azazel narrowed his eyes.
"And yet here you still stand."
Crowley knew an exit when he was shown one and instantly disappeared.
Azazel turned his attention to the blood-filled goblet. John's act of summoning him, his entire existence in fact, had taken Azazel by surprise, and while he was still unclear as to how the man had been alive, what had begun so unpredictably just a few hours ago had turned out incredibly favourably for him and The Cause. His army of children had already steadily been growing stronger but now he finally had the two things that had eluded him for so long. He had the Colt and he had a righteous soul in Hell. Now all he needed was for that soul to be broken and he would be within striking distance of his goal. And in Hell, Azazel knew exactly which demon would be up to the task of dealing with John Winchester. He stared into the goblet.
"Audi me, frater, tortorem animarum"
At his incantation, the blood began to froth and churn. He waited for it to settle, and as it did, he sensed from the other end the recipient's irritation at having been called away from whatever demonic activity he'd been engaged in.
"Got a little job for you," Azazel stated. He could feel the demon he was addressing rile at the request, so he appeased him. "Don't worry Alistair," he smiled. "I think you're gonna enjoy it."
tbc.
AN: The Latin translates to: 'Hear me, brother, tormentor of souls'
Thanks Kathy & Shazza19 :-) And Shazza, now you say it, maybe my writing of Dean has been influenced by Alec! I hadn't thought about it, but I think you're right, there's a bit of Alec in there. On a side note, I can't wait for The Boys. It'll be good to see Jensen acting again. Are you/anyone else out there, looking forward to it?
