Becoming Human – No Light, No Light
Uh hi there everyone! Sorry that this is such a short update! This part of the story is giving me a bit of trouble, and it's been kind of hellish to get the motivation to just sit down and write. I've finally got something and I want to put it up so we can keep moving, and I promise the next update won't be so far away!
~InK
…
The man was wearing an impeccable suit. He was the kind of guy that Sam had always known to steer clear of – rich enough to make a good mark, but savvy enough that you'd probably get caught trying to play him. Every inch of the man's appearance screamed wealthy CEO, or politician. Sam knew enough to recognize that this man was somebody important with somewhere to be.
Sam wouldn't have thought twice about passing a guy like that on the street, obviously on his way to work, but when he walked by, the man's hand reached out and grabbed Sam around the shoulder.
"I'm terribly sorry, but I was wondering if you had a moment?" suit guy asked. Tourist then, Sam assumed, checking his watch to make sure he had enough time to get to the station. It was only a few blocks away, and he had an hour before his train came in, so he looked back up at suit guy.
"Yeah sure, what do you need?" Sam asked.
"You wouldn't happen to be Sam Winchester by any chance would you?"
Sam wrenched himself free form the man's grip at once, automatically suspicious.
"Who the hell are you?"
Suit guy wrung his hands, obviously flustered by Sam's immediately hostile attitude.
"Oh dear he said you would be quite suspicious," the man said. "I'm sorry Samuel, I've been terribly impolite. I am Botis, and I mean you no harm. I just want to talk."
Sam tensed. One hand was clenched tightly around the knife in his belt.
"You have roughly an hour before you are needed anywhere else," Botis interjected, holding his arms out and away from his body in an entirely nonthreatening gesture. "All I ask is five minutes."
"Five minutes," Sam echoed suspiciously. "Right. You know who I am, which means you probably know what I am too. You could be anything, just waiting to grab me and kill me or eat me or something equally horrible. The only reason you're not dead right now is because we're in a public street."
Botis tilted his head to the side, as if considering the hunter.
"Very well Samuel," he said. "I shall be up front with you."
He blinked, and his eyes went black.
A demon.
Sam's hand was on the canister at his side in an instant, ready to douse the thing in holy water, but the demon grabbed his hand, stopping him.
"Wait!" the demon hissed. "I told you already I mean you no harm. I only wish to speak with you on behalf of my master."
Sam sneered, trying to jerk his arm free, but his arm didn't budge in the unyielding grip of the demon in front of him.
"Yeah, right," Sam said. "And who do you work for, huh? Azazel? You can tell the son of a bitch that I'm coming for him, and whatever he wants to believe, I'm going to be the one that kills him."
Botis frowned.
"I was warned that you were volatile and rude, not that you were quite this uncivilized," he said. "But if you insist that we speak in the language of violence, then I shall oblige you for the moment."
Two more demons stepped out of the shadows behind Sam, and though he tried to swing around to land a blow on either of them, Botis' grip on his arm made it very difficult for him to maneuver. Within short order the two demons had stripped Sam of his flasks of holy water, and had (quite carefully) confiscated each of his iron knives. One of them cut its finger on the iron when Sam tried to struggle away from it, and it gave a hiss of pain as its skin burned.
Botis' frown deepened once Sam had been disarmed.
"These are two of my… assistants," the demon said calmly. "They are not here to threaten you, nor am I. They are here for my protection, and not to hurt you, though they will if you attack any of us."
Sam glared back, saying nothing.
"As I said, I only wish to speak with you. I would like it greatly if you would accompany me to the café across the street, where I can buy you a cup of coffee and we can speak. You still have-" Botis checked his expensive looking watch with a flourish – "fifty five minutes before your train arrives."
Sam considered his situation, his arm still in the demon's bruising grip, trapped between three demons in broad daylight.
He didn't really have many choices.
"Fine," he ground out. "Five minutes."
Botis beamed.
"Excellent."
The demon released Sam's arm, but the other two remained close enough that Sam knew they could grab him before he attempted to do any damage. Botis led the way into the café, sliding into a booth and gesturing for Sam to join him. Trapped between the wall and Botis' lackey, Sam was feeling rather trapped. The second demon Botis had brought with him went up to the counter presumably to order some kind of food to keep up the premise that this was a normal sort of normal gathering.
Huh. These demons were rather better at blending in on earth than most Sam had heard about.
"Okay, so what do you want?" Sam demanded, glaring at the demon across the table from him.
"I come on behalf of my master, Lord Eblis," Botis stated calmly. "You have spoken with him yourself on many occasions."
Yellow-eyes then, it had to be. Sam wasn't exactly cozy with a huge number of demons.
"And what exactly does this Eblis want?" Sam demanded.
"I am sure that you are aware that Hell is splintering into many factions," Botis stated. "Or at least that you have some idea of the tension between the rulers downstairs. One in particular is causing a great deal of trouble for us, and we want him and his partners dealt with."
"Azazel," Sam interjected, jaw tightening in anger.
"Yes," Botis replied with a thin smile. "He has been pulling human psychics into his games, and we want to stop him. My master is not nearly as powerful as Azazel, but he believes that the psychics are the key to the coming war."
"A war that he wants me to fight in," Sam supplied, remembering his early bargain with the demon. Lessons to help him control the powers that he might one day begin to manifest outside his own head, in exchange for playing on Yellow-eye's team.
"A goal you would share even without your bargain," Botis reminded Sam as his second lackey reappeared holding two cups of coffee. He placed one in front of Botis, and one in front of Sam. Sam didn't touch it.
"So why are you here if I already know all of this?" Sam asked.
"The first of Azazel's psychics have begun to demonstrate their powers," Botis explained. "Lord Eblis wishes to gather you all and educate you in person, outside of your own heads. He wishes me to relay to you that there is nothing more that can be gained by educating you inside your dreams, and any further progress must be made in person, on the waking plane."
Sam clenched one hand into a fist at his side. He didn't like this. He didn't like any of it. Letting Eblis teach him in his head was one thing, but consciously and willingly walking into a nest of demons?
Sam would become everything that he promised that he would not. He'd turn into the very monster John Winchester had known he would.
For the first time in more than two years, Sam wished he hadn't run. He wished he'd stayed where he was, and let the Winchesters kill him, once and for all.
"What if I'm not interested?" Sam asked.
"Then I am obligated to ensure that you follow through on youragreement."
Sam grit his teeth together.
"So basically what you're saying is that I leave with you willingly or you drag me off anyway."
Botis inclined his head.
"Your words, not mine, but essentially, yes."
Sam exhaled heavily.
"You know, I am so tired of you jackasses pushing me around all the time," he muttered.
"It was your agreement, Samuel."
Sam closed his eyes. He thought about all the reasons he had to learn how to use these psychic powers – to keep himself safe from hunters and demons alike, to ensure that he would be strong enough to never end up as someone else's tool. Besides, he couldn't control whether or not these powers developed, but if they did and he had no control over how to use them, he could hurt someone – either himself or people around him.
He thought about the fury and rage in Dean and John Winchester's faces when they carved him into pieces and called him a monster. He thought of the hurt and loss and rage and betrayal and fear that followed him everywhere he went, and about the hope that he could take control of his own destiny.
"Yes, it was my agreement," Sam finally agreed. He hated himself for the words coming out of his mouth, and he knew he should fight, knew that he should never give in to the darkness inside of him like this, shouldn't lay himself bare for these demons to get the best of him (shouldn't become the monster the Winchester's thought he was) but Eblis was hunting Azazel, and was the best lead that Sam was ever going to find.
If anyone knew how to kill demons, another demon would.
"And I will hold to it," Sam said.
Botis beamed.
"Well then, shall we be on our way?"
"Now?" Sam asked.
"No time like the present," Botis said.
"Right, then I need to make a call," Sam said, not knowing if he was stalling for time or trying to call for help, as sure as he might be that he needed to learn about these powers…
"Take your time."
Sam pulled out his phone and dialed when it became clear that Botis wasn't going to let him leave his sight to make the call. Bobby picked up on the second ring.
"Sam, what's up? Are you at the station?"
"Uh, there's been a change of plans," Sam said, picking his words carefully. He didn't want Bobby to think he was in trouble and come after him. "I'm going to head south for a bit, get some sun, see the sights."
"Sam, you get three hundred and sixty four days of sun a year."
"And there's no way in hell I'm staying in San Francisco."
"Which is why you should stay with me you idjit," Bobby countered.
"And I'm saying I'm fine-"
Sam heard Bobby exhale loudly and exasperatedly.
"You're about as far from fine as Rumsfeld is from figuring out theoretical astrophysics."
"I've made my decision Bobby," Sam said. "Listen, I'll contact you in a bit, okay? I may be going off grid for a while so-"
Sam heard of a string of curses from the other end of the line and smiled. Bobby was exasperated, but not enough to come looking. Not yet, anyway.
"Bye Bobby," he said, and snapped the phone shut. Botis held out his hand expectantly, and Sam frowned, before realizing what the demon meant. He hesitated, holding onto the device tightly before he handed it over. It started to ring in the demon's hand, but the demon simply crushed it into a pile of useless parts before handing it to his lackey.
"Be a dear and make sure the SD and GPS chips are fully destroyed," he ordered. The demon nodded and left the café. Botis stood, gesturing at the remaining lackey and Sam to follow.
"I hope you understand that such measures are necessary to ensure that we are not followed," Botis said as they left the café.
"Yeah," Sam answered, swallowing against his nervousness.
A sleek black car pulled up at the curb. Botis slid into the car first, with Sam being pushed in next, and the lackey placing Sam squarely between, two demons.
"Ah, there is one more thing," Botis said, producing a syringe out of nowhere.
"Hey, wait I thought I said you didn't need to kidnap me," Sam said, suddenly alarmed.
"It's not that simple Samuel. You cannot be allowed to know where our master is located," Botis replied sympathetically. "Blindfolding you would be useless. I happen to know that you have a nearly exact kinesthetic memory, and I was cautioned that you would need to be unconscious for this journey."
"This wasn't part of the deal," Sam said, trying to stay calm, but Botis just kept smiling.
"It is necessary, and not really up for negotiation."
The demon moved faster than Sam could have anticipated, and the syringe hit home in Sam's neck in an instant. Sam tried to struggle against the effects of the sedative, but he was becoming more and more incoherent as the car pulled away from the curve.
"I apologize Samuel," Botis said. "As I told you, this is necessary. I hope you enjoy your nap."
Within moments, Sam was unconscious.
…
Sam woke with a start sometime later. He was blindfolded, and he could hear the rumble of an engine around him.
"Uh, hello?" he asked groggily.
"Don't be alarmed Samuel," Botis' voice came from somewhere to his right. "You are on a private aircraft. Remain calm. You will be asleep again momentarily."
Sam felt a prick of something at the back of his hand, and slid out of awareness again.
…
When he woke up again, he was leaning against the window of a classic car. He could smell the sharp scent of new leather and a dark paneled interior. And for a second, one terrible, awful second, Sam was sure he was waking up in the Impala, that the last two years had been nothing more than some really crazy dream – and then terror swamped down around him as he thought about why he might be in the Impala now, after everything…
And then his recent memories caught up with his groggy, post sleep state of mind and Sam groaned, wiping sleep away from his tired eyes.
Damn, it had been a while since he'd woken up like that.
Sam glanced around what appeared to be the same car that he'd left San Francisco in, though he couldn't be sure, given he thought he had some vague memory of being on a plane at some point,
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Ah ah Samuel, that would be telling."
Oh right. The demon bastard was being cagey just in case Sam got it in his head to try and escape, apparently. Sam rubbed his eyes and set to observing his surroundings. The car was driving along a road surrounded by a thick grove of pine trees.
"We are almost at our destination," Botis said from Sam's left, and Sam looked over. Only the two of them remained in the backseat. Sam guessed the lackey hadn't been needed to keep him under control once he was drugged.
"Did you enjoy your rest?"
"I don't usually enjoy being drugged, no," Sam replied, only just managing to remind himself that this was his choice – that he needed to learn how to control these powers, and it wasn't like he hadn't been perfectly happy to make the same deal months before.
For the time being, these demons were his allies.
And didn't that just suck?
"Now, there are several other psychics that Lord Eblis has managed to locate," Botis said, getting down to business. "You are under no obligation to speak to or befriend them if you do not wish to, but you may interact with them on occasion. During the duration of your training, you will be allowed anywhere you wish on the grounds except in the private rooms of others, of course. You will not be allowed to cross the property lines – that's for your protection, as the entire area is warded, and we cannot be assured of your safety. We have already passed the fence that marks the property bounds, so you won't get a look at them for now, but you will catch a glimpse of them at some point soon. The wards that hide this area from outside influence unfortunately also make all contact by phone or internet impossible, but we have an extensive library."
Sam pursed his lips at the explanation that there would be no contact with the outside world available, but didn't say anything.
"Lord Eblis will discuss your schedule of training with you," Botis continued. "You will adhere to that schedule strictly, and complete any work he assigns you outside of the times of your training. Other than that, your time is your own to do whatever you wish with. Lord Eblis may have other directives for you once we arrive and you are properly introduced, but in the meantime, do you have any questions?"
Sam shook his head.
"Excellent," Botis leaned back in his seat. "Do mind your manners Samuel. They are quite atrocious and I do not wish for you to be an embarrassment you yourself."
Sam sneered at the demon again.
"Yeah I'm sure that when you feast on the blood of babies you use the correct utensils," he sneered.
"Oh don't be so discriminatory," Botis rolled his eyes, much to Sam's internal amusement. At least he could exasperate demons as well as he could annoy older bro-
Well, anyway.
He was about to ask Botis how much further they had to travel when the line of trees ended, revealing about two miles of open ground, which formed a long, landscaped drive up to what Sam could only call some kind of manor.
The house was bigger than several city blocks.
Seriously.
There were tall columns forming the entrance way and lines of ivy climbing up the old style brickwork.
In another lifetime, another Sam that had taken an art history course at Stanford might have called it a prime example of a tasteful intersection between neoclassicism and baroque architecture.
Of course, that Sam would have a Dean to turn to him and point out that as 'tasteful' as the building was, it was still pretty douchey and stunk of both an obscene amount of wealth and far too much sulfur.
This Sam was kind of stuck on the fact that he was staring at what was easily the most lavish building he'd ever encountered, and he hadn't even seen the inside yet.
The car pulled up to the door of the mansion, and Sam was very quick to escape the confines of the vehicle, which was suddenly far too small for his comfort. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but his entire body felt cramped and in desperate need of movement. Once he'd gotten the feeling back inside his limbs, Sam grabbed his duffel from the floor of the car – not that it was really useful. He had two pairs of shirts and one extra pair of boots to his name, and the rest of the bag was full of weapons. Sam would check, but he doubted that the demons would have left him anything that might be used to strike back at a demon with any kind of effectiveness.
Still, it made him feel more comfortable, more safe, to have that familiar weight resting over one shoulder.
"Right, so let's meet the big bad boss man," Sam said, meeting the black eyes of the demon on the other side of the car.
"I think he would prefer being addressed by his title, Samuel."
"I'm sure he would," Sam replied, turning away and starting up the impressive set of stairs towards the massive pair of doors that led into the building.
The entrance hall was easily ten or twelve times the size of the apartment Sam had shared with three other people for the last two years. It was massive; white marble stretched out across the floor, and huge pieces of classic artwork hanging on each of the ornate walls. Sam felt like he'd stepped into a textbook illustration of the palace at Versailles. It made him distinctly uncomfortable; at no point in his life had he ever been exposed to this kind of opulence, this kind of sheer, ridiculous wealth.
He whistled in appreciation, and the sound echoed around the huge room, though it was mostly for show. He wasn't all that impressed with money – he was here so that he could figure out the best way to put Azazel six feet under for good, not because he liked this demon's taste.
"Impressive," he allowed.
"I'm glad you think so."
The voice came from Sam's left, where an archway led into a carpeted hallway. Sam recognized the speaker, even if he had only ever met the demon inside of his own head.
At the demon's left was a young woman – if Sam had to guess, he'd have said she was his own age, slightly built, with mouse brown hair and light blue eyes. Both were dressed in perfectly tailored suits.
"Well Sammy boy, it's quite the pleasure to finally meet you in person," the demon said, extending his hand. "This is Ava Wilson, one of your compatriots."
Hunters aren't very complicated, by nature. It's pretty much just find the thing that needs killing, figure out how to kill it, and then don't die while you try and land something sharp and pointy in their flesh.
That game isn't one that involves a lot of subtlety. Sure, there's the frequent lying to witnesses, but most people are morons, and will believe whatever you tell them without double checking, and no hunter cover has ever had to last more than a week before they spit.
But Sam knew that that wasn't his play here.
Much as he hated everything about this situation – and seriously, for the record, he already did hate everything about this situation – he was going to play ball because this was going to be his best shot at bringing down Azazel. It wasn't like he had many other options.
So he smiled and extended his hand first to the demon that had invited him here at gunpoint, and the psychic beside him.
"Nice to meet you," he lied blatantly.
"I'm sure that you have many questions for me Sammy, but I'd like to give you a chance to settle in before we chat," Eblis cut in smoothly. "Ava, Botis, why don't you accompany Sam here, and I can meet with you in my office before dinner?"
Even though every instinct in his body was screaming for him to stab the bastard with cold iron and start off an exorcism, Sam nodded agreeably.
"Sounds fine," he said. "Why don't you two lead the way?"
…
The room Sam had been given was just as opulent as the rest of the house that he'd seen thus far. "So what abilities have you begun to exhibit?"
Sam leaned against the bookshelf in the room, one eye perusing the titles. Okay, so he was a little impressed by the books – obscene amounts of wealth were apparently useful for some things aside from pretty paintings.
"Nothing in real time, yet," Sam replied. "I think I might be a late bloomer."
"Hey, don't worry about it," Ava said. "The learning curve is pretty steep, and Eblis has got this total training program thing going on – hell, six months ago I was a secretary from Peoria, and now I can do shit with my head I can't even imagine! And I wasn't doing anything special before either, so I guess he's trying to track us down before we start showing signs or whatever."
Sam tore his eyes away from the books.
"So what kinds of powers have you been playing with?" he asked her.
"Mostly moving things around with my mind," Ava said. "I'm not so good with the small stuff, but Eblis has been teaching me how to tear demons out of their hosts and-"
"What?"
The word spilled out of Sam's mouth before he could stop himself. Ava grinned, obviously pleased by the incredulous expression on Sam's face.
"Yeah, like I said the learning curve is insane. It's crazy what you can learn once you start flipping all these switches in your mind. I mean, I can't believe I started out just having dreams -"
But Sam wasn't listening. His mind was racing.
"Besides, it still doesn't work if the demons have locked themselves inside the hosts, like most of the demons here have, so it's not like I can show you right now, but Eblis sometimes gets demons over here to practice on-"
"So you can tear demons out of their meatsuits."
Ava smiled cheerfully back.
Sam swallowed.
"Okay, color me impressed," he said.
"I'll bet you'll be just as good in a few weeks," Ava replied, but she was obviously pleased at the compliment. "Hey, we should get you to Eblis' office so you can talk things through before we eat."
Sam nodded, and allowed Ava to lead him through the maze of passages, trying to keep the path straight in his mind.
Eblis ran his operation out of a simple but expensive looking office that was filled with books. The researcher in Sam was itching to get a closer look at some of them, because what kind of books would a demon keep around in their private offices?
Interesting books, that's what kind.
The demon in question was perusing some kind of file on his desk when Ava knocked and stuck her head in through the door.
"My lord, I brought Sam up," she said.
"Thank you Ava," Eblis said, putting the file down. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Yes sir."
Sam was left standing in the middle of the office, reminding himself for the ten billionth time in the last hour why he was doing this.
"Sammy, it's good to finally meet you in person," the demon said, gesturing to the chair in front of him, indicating that the hunter should take a seat. "You've been through a great deal, even in recent days."
Sam flinched.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about Janelle, or the Winchesters," Sam said coldly.
"Touched a nerve there, did I?" Eblis asked. "I apologize. I just meant to say that I am very sorry for your losses, and observe that you must have remarkable resilience to have made it thus far."
"Yeah well," Sam said. "It helps to have a hunt to keep me busy. So what's the plan here? How are you taking down Azazel?"
Eblis chuckled, holding up a hand.
"Right now, we're still in training mode," the demon said. "Things wont be set in motion this instant. I'm not quite ready to play my hand, not when you all still have a great deal to learn and perfect about your skills."
"So basically, you've got nothing," Sam said sharply. "I told you, I'm taking down Azazel, whatever it takes. Working with you is an unpleasant happenstance of being able to do that, but if you don't even have a plan-"
Sam was thrown backwards and out of his chair, slamming violently into the wall behind him. He groaned front the sudden pain, and tried to lurch out of the demon's grip.
"Sammy," Eblis said, tilting his head sideways and examining the hunter. "We do things on my schedule or not at all, do you understand?"
Sam grit his teeth but nodded. He fell to the carpeted floor on all fours and had to scrable back upright.
"Sit," Eblis said tersely, and Sam sat, resentment curling inside him, but keeping his protests locked behind clenched teeth.
"We'll be meeting every other day for personal training, to work on those budding powers of yours," Eblis explained. "For now we'll only work for an hour or so, but we'll build up your endurance with time and effort."
"How. Much. Time." Sam grit out.
"As long as it takes before you are ready," Eblis replied. "Run along and go eat. Meet the other psychics. Or ignore them. Either way, I'll see you after lunch tomorrow. Ava can show you where."
…
Sam managed to find his way back down to the main floor. It took him a few educated guesses and a handful of wrong turns before he found his way to the dining hall. Eventually, he found it because of the music – soft classical music was drifting through one of the open doors, and it hit the hunter even before the smell of food.
There had probably been a long, elegant table in the room at some point, but now there were a handful of circular tables that were spread through the room. There was food laid out on a table on the far side of the room, buffet style. Sam caught a whiff of steak and felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, reminding him that it had been a long time since he'd eaten.
There were a few other people in the room, sitting alone or in groups of two. Most of them seemed to be attempting to hide the fact that they were watching him curiously, though some had abandoned any form of propriety and were staring at him.
Sam was reminded unpleasantly of his days in high school.
He remembered hundreds of different first days in new schools. He remembered the nearly overpowering urge to fit in, to both stand out and slip under the radar – and underneath it all, the desperate yearning desire for something, anything else, and the burning resentment against his John Winchester, who was the reason Sam was always the 'new kid.'
Sam squared his shoulders and made for the food. He wasn't the same insecure kid, and he did not care at all what any of these kids had to say about him.
He got his food and grabbed a chair at one of the empty tables, considering the meal in front of him. His stomach rumbled again; he was pretty sure he hadn't had food of this quality since – well, probably never, in all honesty.
"So you found the food already," Ava said, sliding into the chair across from his when he had finally managed to sit down.
"Yeah," Sam said.
"Well, you seem to be doing a great job making friends so far," Ava observed with a smirk. "What, scared we'll bite?"
"Scared? No. Cautious? Maybe."
"You're kind of paranoid, do you know that?"
"Uhm, it's not paranoia if they're actually out to get you," Sam said absently. "Why don't you tell me about the rest of the psychics, because I'm starving and I don't actually know when the last time I ate was?"
Sam punctuated his request with a large, puppy dog smile.
"Okay, so over there, you've got Ansem and Andy. They're twins, and they've got some wicked mind control thing going on. Like, they say something, and you have to do it. But don't flip, I'm pretty sure it wont work on any of us."
"Wonder why that is?" Sam muttered absently.
"Who knows? Anyway, over in the middle, that's Jake Tally. He's like, super strong. Superman strong. Eblis is training him on moving things with his mind, but the guy can bench press like 900 pounds. He used to be some sort of soldier, but I guess he figured out that there were bigger and better opportunities out there."
"Like working for demons."
"Don't be crass Sam," Ava chided Sam with a small frown. "Eblis is making a move to control Hell. He's going to be the biggest, nastiest thing out there in the dark, and we're his favorite people in existence. We're going to be rewarded for helping him."
Sam filed that away for future thought.
"Okay, go on then, is this it? The six of us?"
Ava shook her head.
"Just two more. Max and Scott. They're both kind of creepy, but I think Max's parents were pretty awful, and with Scotts powers…"
"What can Scott do, Ava?"
"He touches anything living, and he can electrocute it. How freaking awesome is that?"
Okay, so that was just a little bit scary.
Sam was officially going to count himself in the 'slightly perturbed' file, and hope that he never manifested anything as sinister as the power to kill someone with a single touch. That was just way to freaky, even for him.
His stomach sank with the realization that he really might be every bit as evil as his – as John and Dean Winchester – had made him out to be.
No.
He wasn't going to let himself go down that road.
He was here for one reason; to plant Azazel way deeper than six feet under ground and make sure he stayed that way for the rest of eternity. He'd learn how to use his powers and get back on the trail of the Colt.
Sam just needed to make sure he didn't loose sight of his objective.
Because that night, sleeping in a bed that was more comfortable than clouds, staring up at the smooth white ceiling, the young hunter was officially beginning to reconsider whether or not he'd made the right decision.
…
Just a note: in Persian and Arabic lore, Eblis is actually the name taken on by Azazel after he Fell when he refused to bow down to humanity. Azazel can be translated as 'he who god strengthens' or 'scapegoat' from the Hebrew, depending on the context it's used in (which actually makes for some really interesting stories about interpretations of Jewish sacrificial practices from Bamidbar but none of you want a rant about theological mythology and biblical interpretation – I mean, do you? So I'll just shut up). Anyway, they're the same person. Kind of. In the Arabic and Persian lore, however, Azazel essentially takes on the role of Lucifer, from what I can tell, taking the name Eblis when he becomes the lord of hell. Obviously, that's not the case in cannon, and it wont be here. Lucifer is still around, and he'll make his appearance when he damn well pleases to.