Demon Blood

Chapter Two: Blood

Sam rose slowly to consciousness, slowly because of remembered pain and remembered words. He really didn't want to go back to that.

But eventually he found he had no choice as he settled into the feeling of aching limbs and a dry, sore throat. He let out an involuntary groan and slowly cracked his eyes open.

A moment after Sam opened his eyes, he shut them again with another groan. Shit.

"Oh, Sam," said Azazel from somewhere in front of him, "is that any way to greet your guidance counselor?"

"I don't —" Sam managed before starting to cough, his throat just too dry to support words. He heard Azazel sigh, and then something touched his lips. He flinched.

"Easy, son," said Azazel, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "it's just water."

Sam cracked open his eyes again and glared at the demon before him. He seemed to have taken the body of a skinny, white janitor now, and in his hand was a simple glass of what looked to be water. A part of him didn't want to drink it, fearing that it might be something else, maybe even drugged, but his throat was so dry that he finally parted his lips and allowed Azazel to help him take several small sips. After all, it wasn't like he could do it himself, given his arms and legs were strapped to a chair in a small room with only one door and no windows.

"Now then," Azazel said once Sam had drained the glass of water, "what were you about to say?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't want a guidance counselor," he said. "Let me go."

Azazel clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. "And that's why you can't move right now," he said, settling into a chair opposite Sam. "I'm afraid I can't trust you to stay put properly just yet, and I'd rather avoid things like pain and torture."

Sam couldn't help the hoarse chuckle that escaped him. "Too late for that," he said. "I fuckin' feel like hell and it wasn't me that caused it."

Azazel grinned. "Always the stubborn one," he said, "all that sarcasm and anger, Sam, it's actually very useful in the long run."

Sam frowned in confusion. "What's that supposed mean?" he asked, but Azazel started to chuckle.

"I've already given too much away," he said, "and I gave it to the one person who could figure it all out." Sam continued to frown, so Azazel added, "Your pops, son."

Sam knew his dad was very smart, but he wondered what on earth his dad could conclude from what little the demon had said. Seals? Demon blood? And then his brain caught up to the last thing Azazel had said the last time he'd been conscious.

"You fed me demon blood?" he asked, and Azazel's smile faded.

"Remembered that, did you?" he said, leaning back in his seat, and Sam nodded. "Yes, I did, the night you were exactly six months old. It's a shame your mother walked in when she did, but she remembered me and she would've tried to stop me." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I really couldn't have that, so she had to die. I imagine you don't like hearing that, but it is what it is."

The demon was right: Sam didn't like hearing it at all. It was because of Azazel that he was a freak, that his mother was dead, his father a hunter first and dad second, and his brother a hunter and all-over dad-worshiper. His life was fucked up because of the demon before him, but all he could do was glare silently.

Azazel pursed his lips. "You know something?"

Sam didn't answer, and Azazel smiled slightly before continuing. "When you give a child demon's blood, it actually cultivates the body for a future addiction, kinda like alcohol when a woman's pregnant."

"Addiction?" Sam said without thinking. "That's impossible, I've never wanted to try blood of any kind."

"That's because you forget it's there," Azazel said. "It's a dormant thing, but it's there as sure as I'm sitting here before you. All you need is one little taste, and then you're hooked." Azazel leaned forward and stared into Sam's eyes, his own yellow ones bright with something that looked scarily like excitement. "For life."

Sam felt the panic rise as Azazel pulled out a knife from his jacket and stood. "Normally," he told Sam, twirling the knife around in one hand, "I would have waited until after the gates were opened, but if I do this now, then I can be rest assured of your loyalty, however unwanted." He dragged the knife across the palm of one hand and watched the blood start to ooze from the wound.

"Don't do this," Sam pleaded, "I'm not what you think I am, please, just let me go and find someone else to be your chosen one!"

Azazel grinned as two burly men entered the room. "Hold him down," he told them, "he's going to be stubborn about this for now. Don't worry, though," he added, returning his yellow gaze to Sam, "soon you'll be much more accepting of your fate. I promise."

Dean came to and tried to sit up, only to find he was lacking the strength. His eyes darted around, taking in the crisp sheets and white walls surrounding him. Then he spotted his dad as he walked into what Dean knew now to be a hospital room. "Dad?" he croaked.

"Dean, you're awake," John said, sounding relieved as he pressed the call button for the nurse and snagged a nearby glass of water. "Thirsty?"

Dean nodded and allowed John to help him take a few sips to soothe his parched throat. "Thanks," he muttered, slumping back into his pillows. "How long?"

"Two days," John said, taking the nearest seat as a petite blonde nurse entered the room.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she said brightly, snagging the clipboard from the end of his bed and looking over at the equipment that was monitoring his heart and blood pressure. "Looking good, if a little weak," she muttered before asking Dean a series of questions regarding how he was feeling. He answered as best he could, mind drifting as he suddenly realized that Sam wasn't in the room. Where was he?

"Okay, I'll go get Dr. Jones," said the nurse, "he should be in here in just a few minutes."

"Great, thanks," John said with an exhausted smile as the nurse left the room.

There was a long moment of silence as Dean frantically searched his memories. Where was his little brother? Sam was always there, no matter what had happened yesterday, so why not now?

And then he remembered. The Yellow-Eyed Demon, Azazel, had possessed his brother and taken off with the Colt. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how the bastard had spoken through Sam's mouth while his little brother had stared at him in abject horror at the situation, at the things Azazel had said.

Demon blood. That fucking bastard had given Sam demon blood all those years ago, causing the visions of the last few months, maybe even all the nightmares and restless nights he had suffered his entire life since that fateful night.

"Dean?" John asked, and Dean opened his eyes to stare at his dad. John was a wreck, with bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair and clothes. "Do you remember?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Why are you here?" he asked. "I would've thought you would've gone after that demonic bastard by now."

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this without you, son," he said. "This entire situation is completely uncharacteristic of Azazel. I've found other kids like Sam, but none of them have had any influence by the demon at all. No possessing, no supernatural activity. It's like they're supposed to live normal lives until Azazel moves his plans forward."

"We've never had normal," Dean said, and John smiled slightly.

"That could be another reason why he likes Sammy so much," he said sadly. "I wish I could have protected him better."

"Hey," Dean said, despite feeling the same way, "none of us knew that any of this was gonna happen until it did. Only thing we can do now is figure out where he took Sammy and get him back before Azazel does any real damage."

A shadow crossed John's eyes as the door opened and a thin, balding man entered the door. "Hello, Dean," he said, "I'm Dr. Jones, and I've been overseeing your stay here. Now, how are you feeling?"

Dean had the sudden urge to start screaming his head off, rip out his IV and go looking for his little brother, but he settled for a simple, "tired."

"I'm not surprised," said Dr. Jones, "not after the serious strain your heart went through. Do you remember what happened?"

Dean caught his dad's eye long enough to catch an answer before saying, "No, it's uh… " He shook his head slowly. "It's still a big blur, sorry."

"That's fine," said Dr. Jones, "loss of memory isn't wholly uncommon in cases of extreme danger and injury. Now, I'd just like to run a couple tests while you're awake, see if we can possibly have you on your feet in the next three or four days."

"Sounds good to me," Dean said. After all, the sooner he got out of this place, the sooner he could find his brother. Nothing else mattered.

It took two whole days, plus a little extra, before Azazel began to notice the difference. Sam had been fed small amounts of demon blood at regular intervals without any other food or drink, and he had fought them every time, having to be held down and have his ability to breathe cut off until he gave in and swallowed. In fact, Azazel had taken to carrying around a stopwatch to see how long the young man would last before giving in. Now he was starting to see that the time was beginning to shorten before Sam gave in and swallowed, and that Sam's struggles were slowly lessening.

Azazel could only imagine how Sam felt; he knew what powers were supposed to come from drinking demon blood, but how it made Sam feel was beyond his capacity to know. No demon could exorcise another demon, or even kill with a thought, but Sam would be able to, once he drank enough blood, that is. Now, it was only a matter of alerting Sam to what he could be capable of and convincing him to make use of it without getting himself sent back to Hell or even killed in the process.

He watched silently through a one-way window as Sam was held down for his next dose of blood. The young man hadn't stopped his struggling yet, but it was clear he was losing strength, both physically and mentally. "Won't be long, now," Azazel murmured, and turned away.

His thoughts turned to Sam's brother and father. He was well aware of the fact that both men would do anything for the youngest Winchester, but which one could be tricked into opening the first Seal?

Azazel thought it more likely to be the brother than the father, but chances were John would damn his soul to Hell in an instant, and forbid Dean from doing the same for his brother. The biggest worry with that scenario, however, was that John had indeed put all the pieces of the puzzle together and knew what would happen should he break and start to torture other innocent souls to save himself from being ripped apart every day. Such knowledge could give him the strength to endure a hundred years in Hell or more, if it meant stopping Azazel's end game. So, what if he demanded the souls of both men and forced Sam to live alone?

The young man would fall apart without the intense guidance of another he thought he could trust. And, like it or not, Azazel doubted he could ever fit into the category of trustworthy without some serious work on Sam's psyche. So, he would just have to settle for John's soul and leave Dean to struggle with the addiction he had given his younger brother. Hopefully it would be enough to break the Seals, maybe even bring back those dumb angels who had been hiding away in their precious heavenly skies for over a thousand years. Then the real fun would begin, the race to break the final Seal and bring about the Apocalypse. He thought that maybe the angels would be of help rather than a hindrance, and would bring around the right pressures to push Sam down the chosen path.

Azazel laughed and felt at peace.

Sam dropped to the ground, gasping for air. He didn't know what was worse: the lack of sleep, the lack of food and water, the fact that he was being force-fed teaspoons of demon blood every three hours, or the realization that he was having a harder time fighting every time the demons came in for his next "dose". He was physically exhausted, and he knew his emotional state couldn't be much better.

The thing he decided was the absolute worst was how the demon blood made him feel. It was like a power rush, but not a physical one. It made him feel like he could take on anything supernatural and defeat it. It almost made him dizzy with desire, and what he hated the most about it was how much he liked that feeling, like he truly had the potential to be in control of his life, his destiny. No more needing to be looked after like the little brother he was, like the one who always needed to be protected. He wanted more, and that scared him more than anything, including the awful situation he currently found himself in.

Addictions, he decided, sucked royally. And that was putting it mildly.

Suddenly, the female demon who had given him his most recent dose of demon blood dropped to her haunches in front of him. "You know," she said, "all of this would be so much easier if you'd just give in."

Sam didn't have the energy to do more than glare, and the demon shook her head ruefully. "Your loss," she said, standing and turning to walk away.

Emotions spiraling out of control, Sam managed to spit out, "Go back to Hell", wishing she'd just exorcise herself right on the spot so badly it made his head spin that much more. He expected the bitch to just laugh and walk away.

What he didn't expect was for her to twitch and stumble as though she would do just as he wished.

"What the fuck was that?" asked one of the burly male demons. The female turned and stared down at Sam, excitement lighting up her blue eyes.

"He did it," she breathed. "He said the boy might start doing odd things without any encouragement, and I felt it!" She squatted down in front of Sam again, dark hair swinging forward to frame her pale face. "You tried to exorcise me," she whispered excitedly. "Not that you're strong enough to do any of that yet, but you did it."

"What?" Sam asked dumbly, trying to make sense of her words through the pounding of his head.

"Azazel!" the girl yelled, staring at the one-way window. "He's starting to show signs!"

There was a pause, and then Sam's cell door opened and Azazel entered. "You felt it?" he asked, and the girl nodded enthusiastically. "Good. Two more doses and then you can start him on some human food. We need to keep the human part strong enough to support the other."

The pounding in Sam's head was increasing, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to deal with the pain. He finally raised his hands to his temples and suddenly realized he was about to have a vision. "No!" he managed to gasp before everything around him fell away.

Two boys. They looked similar like the thought of twins, but they weren't identical. A girl, about the jump at the words of one, while the other tried to make her stop. Shouting. Was that Dean's voice? His own? The girl, teetering on the edge, and then one boy found a gun and shot the other dead.

Words. Control, do what they say. Dean does, Sam feels nothing. More children affected by Azazel.

"Sam!"

Sam was gasping for breath, hands glued to his temples, and he realized he was curled up over his legs, forehead pressed into the floor. Why did it hurt so badly? His visions caused him pain, but nothing like this.

"Sam, talk to me. What happened?"

Sam opened his eyes, but it was too bright. With a groan, he closed them again and tried to curl into himself more.

"Meg said something about visions?"

"I believe that's what his gift is, he was able to track me down to the home of a child I was feeding. I don't know how else he could have found me."

"What other abilities are there?" The female demon sounded genuinely curious.

"Telekinesis, voice control, strength, the ability to electrocute, to stop hearts… I've recorded a few others, but those have been the main ones. None of them have managed more than one gift so far, though."

There was a pause.

"Has he shown other gifts without the extra blood?"

"None that I'm aware of."

Sam wanted to start laughing, because he had managed telekinesis once before. Part of him wanted to say something, but all he managed was a strangled groan.

"His visions have never affected him this badly before, have they?"

"Never. It could be that he was seeing further into the future than normal, but I've never seen any see more than a few days before the event happened."

"The added blood could be changing the equation. After all, he's the only one to have more than the customary few drops."

Sam's headache was slowly fading, and he found his body relaxing slightly. He wondered how far away the mattress on the floor was and thought that if he could just get on to the damn thing, he might finally be able to give into the desire to sleep, or maybe head straight for unconsciousness. Anything was better than this.

Then he heard the mattress scraping along the floor, and his headache increased again. Silence fell around him.

"The mattress just moved."

The female demon sounded surprised, and Sam found he could manage a chuckle.

"No shit," he said hoarsely, keeping one hand on his pounding head and using the other to slowly prop himself back up into a sitting position. He cracked his eyes open and glared at the demons above him. The mattress was close enough to reach, now, and he slowly crawled over to it.

"You've done something like this before, Sammy?" asked Azazel, and Sam grit his teeth.

"It's Sam," he bit out, "and yes."

"What caused it?"

"Locked up," Sam answered wearily, managing to sit on the mattress. "It was another kid, telekinetic abilities, and he was gonna kill Dean." He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into his temples.

"The one who committed suicide," Azazel breathed. "Have you met any of the others?"

"No," Sam said, wishing the damn demon would just leave him alone so he could rest, maybe even get over this newest headache.

There was a pause. "Wait six hours before his next dose," Azazel said decisively. "A vision and a bout of telekinesis has clearly wiped him out for the time being."

Sam collapsed on the mattress and curled up on one side. He could hear the four demons making their way out of his cell, and the lights were turned off. Sam felt the desire to cry, but allowed the bone-weary exhaustion to overcome it.

His last thoughts were whether Dean and his dad were all right, and if they'd ever find him.

TBC...