A/N: So, so close to this week being over. I can almost taste it! Good news, I passed all my modules – even managed a distinction! – so I'm pretty happy about that :)

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Advent - December 15th

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Sam won't look at him.

All in all, Thorn's pretty pleased with himself. Despite the rather sudden and unexpected assault on his mouth, he thinks that everything went well.

Thorn has a new Hellchaser and all he has to do is walk into Hell and pull out a soul.

Easy.

…Fuck.

Okay, maybe he didn't think this through well enough. Maybe he was distracted by the all too alluring Sam Winchester when Ash dropped him into his lap.

Maybe he was caught up with the idea of owning a child of Azazel. Maybe he was distracted by the thought of all that power beneath his fingertips.

Or maybe his reasoning and deduction skills were stolen when Sam looked at him from beneath his eyelashes.

Nah.

Gotta be the first one. No way would he…

Fuck.

Okay, lying to himself has never been high on his list. He wants Sam Winchester. Wants him bad. He can admit that to himself.

Question is; in what way does he want him?

Is it just for the heady knowledge that he has a human with demon blood running through his veins? And wasn't that a fuck you to dear old dad.

Or was it more?

Was it for the knowledge of sweat-dampened skin reflecting candlelight? Was it for indescribable heat? Was it for his name being whispered, choked, shouted?

Hmm, probably a mix of all of them. And wasn't that something interesting to find out about himself?

Thorn isn't stupid. He's been around a long time. And it's not like he particularly cares for what humans are preaching right now. It'll all change again in a few centuries time anyway, when someone comes along and decides that they don't like what's been written.

It's not like it hasn't happened before. Translation errors and reprints and connotations lost between shifts.

The words gaining new bias to endorse political regimes.

No, Thorn is quite happy living life how he wants. And if granddad wanted to have words with him about that then he'd have to come in person and do so.

Sam is still not looking at him only he seems to have noticed Thorn's staring as he's now beginning to flush a delightful shade of red. Thorn is only slightly mesmerised as he watches it creep across Sam's cheekbones and down his neck to be hidden by his collar.

He licks his lips and shifts in his chair.

Sam was his now. Sam would be forever his until he dissolved the deal between them. And, to be honest, he didn't see himself doing anything stupid like that for a long time. If ever.

Thorn tilts his head and clears his throat. He manages to tamper down a grin when Sam jerks, obviously not expecting him to say anything.

"So…" Thorn drawls, inwardly filled with glee when Sam glances at him and flushes a shade darker.

Sam looks like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Or, at the very least, for Thorn to not talk and let him pretend that he's standing alone and hasn't done something mortifying, yet delicious, in the past half hour.

Thorn is not about to oblige.

He stands quietly, and pads over until he's standing behind Sam. Not so close that he can feel body warmth, but close enough that he doesn't have to fully extend his arm to touch his new toy.

Sam hasn't noticed.

In fact, Sam is currently muttering under his breath with his eyes closed.

It's adorable, really, but Thorn's not in it for adorable.

"So." He says again, and is rewarded by a twitch and a sharply indrawn breath.

"Um…" Sam trails off, looking down at him and swallowing nervously.

And yeah, it's a bit – read, a lot – annoying for Thorn to be the short one in this set-up. But really, he's too distracted by following Sam's tongue with his eyes as it darts out to lick his lips.

Sam looks like he doesn't want to be there. But he also looks like he wants to step closer.

Thorn is intrigued.

And he hasn't been able to say that in a while.

He chuckles, and watches as Sam shivers.

"How about I call Ash, hmm?" He asks, "Seeing as how our deal has been made."

Sam blinks a few times, and then seemingly comes back to himself. "O-oh, yeah. Right." He says, and then laughs nervously.

Thorn smiles and pulls out his phone. Then he hesitates. He can't resist getting the last comment in. "That is," he adds, only to see Sam twitch again, "if you don't have any other deals to make." He leans forward just a bit and bites down on the victorious grin when Sam unconsciously sways forward to meet him.

"I wouldn't mind making more deals with you, Sam." He murmurs, dropping his voice a few notches, and wow this is fun, "Not with the way you close them."

He's rewarded with Sam blushing a shade of red that he hasn't seen someone go in a very long time, and opening and closing his mouth almost helplessly.

Thorn chuckles and presses the speed dial for Ash. He doesn't really like the tall, smug bastard, but that doesn't mean he isn't friends with him.

Sort of friends.

Bitching-buddies?

Eh, it's not like they really needed labels for whatever they have. At least Ash is better than Savitar. Now, there's an ornery bastard if ever there was one.

Savitar's just angry that his secret past isn't so secret when it comes to him.

Thorn doesn't know what Savitar's so worried about though. He's kept it quiet for this long, hasn't he?

The phone barely finishes the first ring when Ash picks up.

"Thorn." His voice is sharp and clipped and it makes Thorn want to mess with him a little bit.

Unfortunately he's got a soul to rescue and a Winchester to claim, so all irritations will have to be put onto the back burner.

"Acheron."

There's silence and then ash huffs out an annoyed breath. "Well?"

Thorn slides a glance over to Sam again, who is doing all he can to look like he's not listening in on this conversation.

Thorn grins.

"Deal's been made."

There's another silence and Thorn can hear Ash's thoughts as he wonders what Sam's just given up to get Thorn to do what he wants. Thorn lets him stew for a few moments and then adds "It was a very pleasurable experience. For both of us."

Because he's a complete and utter bastard.

Sam, who has been working on getting his blush under control again for the last part of the phone call, flushes hotly again. And Thorn can taste Ash's rage as he jumps to conclusions.

"Oh?"

Thorn snorts. "Oh relax. I didn't do anything. Now, chop chop. Come collect Sam. I've got a soul to steal."

He doesn't even get to push the button to end the call before Ash is in his throne room, appearing between Thorn and Sam.

Wow, that's impressive. Thorn would've thought that Ash has been spying on them the whole time to be able to judge distances like that. But Thorn warded this place himself and he knows Ash can't.

Even with Ash's god powers.

Thorn lowers his phone and smiles. "Well?"

"Sam?" Ash says, as he turns to look at the man standing behind him.

Sam is still blushing.

"Sam," Ash says quietly. It's obviously meant to be the opening to a private conversation. Thorn eavesdrops shamelessly. Even going so far as to pad two steps closer so he doesn't miss anything.

"Did he make you…do…?" Ash says, clearly struggling for words.

"Um," Sam clears his throat, "Uh, no."

And now he just looks guilty.

This is like…the best thing that Thorn has ever seen play out in his throne room. He takes another step closer again.

"Are you sure?" Ash is murmuring now, "You can…"

This is obviously painful for Ash, and Thorn feels like a bit of a dick when he remembers what Ash has gone through.

Then he feels annoyed with himself for caring.

But it doesn't stop him from rolling his eyes and saying, loudly, "We didn't sleep together."

Ash tenses, but when Sam confirms it, the tension leaks out of him.

Thorn doesn't move when Ash turns to face him, standing next to Sam. "Thorn." He says stiffly, giving him a nod of acknowledgement.

"Right," Thorn claps his hands and rubs them together gleefully. He knows he was all against taking a stroll through Hell before, but now he's getting strangely excited for screwing with the demons. And no, this isn't leftover from his teenage rebellion years.

This is just him liking being a bastard.

"Right." He says again and then makes a shooing motion with his hands. "I've got a soul to get. Then I'll be back to collect, Winchester."

Ash tenses again but Sam reaches out and brushes his hand across his arm. He relaxes.

Thorn feels something hot and unpleasant settle in his stomach at the byplay. He narrows his eyes and re-evaluates the way Sam and Ash are standing together.

Possessiveness rushes through him, making his fingertips itch with the need to grab and touch and reclaim.

Sam is his.

It's this possessiveness that makes him smile, dark and vicious, when Ash sees the bruise on Sam's neck.

"What?" Thorn says, "I said I didn't sleep with him. I never said nothing happened."

And then he clicks his fingers, throwing Sam and Ash out of his realm with barely a passing thought.

He has a job to do.

###

Thorn is cursing himself not five minutes later as he slips into his black armour.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

This is all going to go downhill so fast that broken bones are going to be the least of his worries.

Now that he's apparently thinking again, there's all sorts of things he didn't check because Sam bloody Winchester seemingly bamboozled him with those brown eyes of his.

For example. What was the brother called?

That was a pretty simple question.

Also, why was he in Hell in the first place?

Not that Thorn really cared who did what or whether someone thought they've been misused. But he'd quite like to know why someone would go to such lengths.

And let's not forget the doozy! How long has Sam's brother been in Hell?

Because, if he's been there for quite a while, then there's a pretty big chance that he's already cracked. And if he's cracked then he would have started the process to becoming a demon.

And if he's a demon, then Thorn's not sure what he's going to do because on one hand he's got Sam. And he really wants Sam. And on the other there's the whole Hellchaser thing with its creed of hunting down demons from Hell.

He's not too sure about what his minions will think if their leader starts releasing them for no apparent reason.

Thorn curses again as he tightens the strap of his gauntlet and throws his red cloak over his shoulders, adjusting it so it hid the sword he strapped at his waist.

Let's just hope Sam's brother hasn't cracked, because if he's honest with himself, Thorn isn't sure what he'd choose either.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and calming himself.

When he opens his eyes again, they're yellow, looking back at him from the mirror. He smooth's his hair back into a ponytail and rolls his shoulders.

Showtime.

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Sneaking into Hell is almost pathetically easy.

To be fair though, Thorn knows all the shortcuts and has the unfair advantage of being the son of its ruler.

Also, Thorn has cloaked himself so not even he can sense himself.

It's no wonder he's able to walk past the poor bastards who call themselves guards.

Doesn't stop him tripping one of them.

He quietly sniggers as he moves away from the sounds of shouting and death doled out through fists and teeth.

Ah, how he's missed this.

Unfortunately he can't stop and see the sights as every minute in here is a minute that his father might sense him.

Not that he's scared.

Just that bad things will happen and he'd rather not start the apocalypse early thank you very much.

He's been keeping that shit on the down low for countless years and he's not going to blow it for a pair of big brown eyes.

Thorn rolls his own eyes as he skirts around the Roasting Pits and heads further into the Plane of Torment or whatever they're calling it nowadays.

It's probably still the Plane of Torment.

Demons just aren't that creative.

Screams of agony echo back to him and Thorn licks his lips. He can still taste Sam.

That's a good thing as he can also taste his soul.

Sam's brother's soul isn't going to be the same. Heck, no soul is related to another, but the way that Sam came ready and willing to sacrifice everything says a lot.

It tells Thorn that, even if it was just one-sided, the brother's souls have been intertwined.

Which means that there's a chance that Thorn can track the soul he needs this way.

He stops in a clear patch of ground and focuses on the taste of Sam again, waiting for an echo to reverberate back to him from the depths of Hell.

It takes a few seconds, but it's there. And it's strong. The brothers were closer than he's realised.

That's the good news.

The bad news is that the soul is in the middle of a torturing session.

Thorn only hopes he's not too late.

###

He's not late.

But whether or not that's a good thing is debateable.

The soul is bright and shining and so fucking righteous that Thorn doesn't know how it's even in Hell to begin with.

And then his stomach curls when he remembers the seals.

Oh fuck.

It doesn't look like Sam's brother has cracked just yet, which is a miracle in and of itself considering who his torturer is.

Thorn hasn't seen Azazel's daughter in a long time, but he knows that he's never seen her this angry before. She isn't even giving the soul the option to draw blood.

Which is good for him.

Thorn needs to get Sam's brother out of here fast before shit hits the fan and everything goes down the drain.

And really, where the hell were the angels? Thorn knows they have a warning system in place that will rescue any and all righteous souls from Hell before they even get to this stage.

He knows because he made sure that it was working.

Gabriel was a great help in setting that up before he buggered off to who knows where.

No, Thorn has to concentrate. First off, get Meg to leave. Second, steal soul. Third, run away.

Good a plan as any.

The execution of said plan isn't quite so cut and dry.

As in, he doesn't exactly get Meg to leave as he slams the hilt of his sword into her temple and knocks her unconscious.

Then he has to waste precious minutes fixing up the soul so that it can travel. Not that he isn't a fan of naked and bloody guys, of course. It's just that it's pretty hard to drag them through Hell without attracting attention.

Especially when the ability to cloak is limited to himself only.

In the end Thorn just squishes said soul back to its original form as a burning ball of soul-grace.

It's gloopy and sticks to his fingers and when he touches it he gets the thoughts, feelings and memories of one, now named, Dean Winchester, flowing through his head.

Dear G-…er…granddad, the man was a bit of a slut.

Leaving isn't that hard compared to everything else. At least until he gets to the sight of one of the gateways. Then, as luck always has it, the alarm starts to blare and Thorn has to dodge a crowd of demons, whilst being distracted by memories of something called a Purple Nurple, before he can slip through the gap and close it behind him.