Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1144047.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Azazel/Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester
  Character:
      Azazel_(Supernatural), Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Underage_Prostitution, Non-Consensual, Rape, Hypnotism,
      Bottom_Dean, Hurt_Dean_Winchester, Parent/Child_Incest, Oral_Sex, Anal
      Sex
  Collections:
      2013_Supernatural_Reversebang_Challenge
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-20 Words: 11147
****** Mesmerize ******
by tifaching
Summary
     Dean and Azazel met long before the cabin.
Notes
     Written for spn_reversebang on LJ for the artwork of the amazing
     weeping_ice. Artwork is not safe for work.
  This work was inspired by
      Mesmerize by weeping_ice, Mesmerize by weeping_ice, Mesmerize by
      weeping_ice
                                    
 
 
Azazel’s tired of playing possum but he didn’t claw his way to the top of the
demon pecking order by rushing into things. It’s been hard, pretending to have
to sleep off the rest of the drugs supposedly permeating John’s system, but
waiting for the right moment to make his appearance will make this triumph so
much sweeter. When Dean comes into the room during one of his endless patrols
of the cabin Azazel stays still, sprawled across the bed, the steady rise and
fall of his chest the only indication that he’s even alive.
“Dad,” Dean says, shaking his shoulder, but Azazel doesn’t react. Calloused
fingers cup his chin before sliding down to rest against the pulse that he’s
keeping slow and thready. “C’mon, Dad. I need you to wake up.”
John stirs inside, rains blows against the walls confining him, but Azazel’s
got him locked up tight. Not yet, John. Not ever, actually. The troubles the
Winchesters have caused him over the years are going to be returned tonight
with interest and John’s going to be a helpless bystander at best, an unwilling
participant at worst. The bed’s cold and his plans for the near future include
having one of John’s boys warm and wet between him and the lumpy mattress.
It’ll be Dean, of course, for a multitude of reasons, the least of which is
that his relationship with the younger Winchester can’t go that way if he wants
his favorite to someday lead the armies of hell.
Dean stays for a moment, anxiety, fear and desperation bleeding off of him in
an intoxicatingly heady mixture. Azazel breathes it in like sulphur and
brimstone as Dean heads off to check on Sam, who’s similarly, well, in a not
fake at all sort of way, passed out in a bedroom across the cabin. Adrenaline
got him up and running in Jefferson City but disappeared as soon as he’d hit
the Impala’s passenger seat and he’s been unconsciousness ever since. Azazel
reaches out for Sam; uses the connection he’s been developing for twenty two
years and reassures himself again that his boy will make a full recovery. He’ll
be out for a good long while though and that plays right into Azazel’s plans.
So, John, the demon thinks with a lewd internal grin, looks like Sammy’s not
going to be joining us for a while. Should we go keep Dean company? What do you
think? John remains stubbornly uncommunicative and the demon goads him further.
Why so quiet? There’s still no response but John’s pushing hard against
Azazel’s control. The demon hums contentedly as he runs a hand down his
meatsuit’s body until it rubs in circles against its crotch. Well, what do you
know? Something’s got our dick paying attention. You think it might be Dean? A
growl of rage finally emerges from the recesses of John’s mind. Azazel grins
and lazily rolls his hips. I think it might be Dean. As a matter of fact, I’m
sure of it. Puts you in mind of Mary, doesn’t he? Come on, John- don’t try to
tell me you haven’t noticed. John scrambles for traction against the solid
barrier caging him but Azazel’s not worried. The walls of that particular
prison are thick and solid. No one’s ever broken through and John Winchester’s
certainly not going to be the first. Azazel sits John up and stretches out
muscles tight from lack of use. It’s a John thing to do, a human thing, and
he’s got to be careful with that. This won’t be nearly as much fun if the boys
catch on too soon.
 
“Dean.”
The voice from behind him is obviously a surprise and Dean whirls. “Dad. I…”
Didn’t hear us coming? Sloppy. “Sit down and take a load off.”
Dean shakes his head and continues to prowl the room.
“Did that sound like a request?”
“I have to keep watch, Dad.”
Daddy’s little soldier. Such a good boy, John.
“Dean, I’m here now. You are officially off duty.”
“Dad,” Dean stops suddenly, swaying where he stands. “You sure you’re up to it?
You should go back to bed.”
Look at him, John. You can see it, can’t you? Exhausted. Scared. With a tiny
bit of hope inside just waiting to be crushed. He’s going to be delicious.
"You’re the one who should be in bed, kiddo. All I been doing is sleeping. I’m
gonna bust right out of my skin if I don’t get some action soon.”
“Dad…”
“Dean. Sit.” It’s said with such authority that Dean seems surprised his feet
have moved when he drops into one of the chairs bracketing the room’s rickety
table.
All in the tone of voice isn’t it, John? Works wonders for certain things.
Others…I might have to be a little more creative. He’s dumb, but I don’t think
he’s that dumb.
Dean grins tiredly. “Not going to order me to bed?”
Azazel’s lips twist up in response. “When the time comes, I think just
suggesting it will be enough.”
The Colt’s somewhere in the cabin, Azazel can feel it. He wants to pin Dean
down, peel him layer by layer until he finds it, and he will before the night
is over. The demon grabs a knife from the weapons bag and hefts it, smiling
slightly as it catches the light. The leather wrapped hilt rests comfortably in
his hand, handling it second nature for both Azazel and John. It feels right
and there’ll be nothing un-John like to give him away here. As he settles
across the table from Dean, he grunts a little for realism as he sinks into the
chair. He digs in the bag for a whetstone, pulls it out, and drags the knife
along it, angling it so light flashes with every pass.
“Dean,” whisk,flash, ”relax.” Whisk, flash.
Dean follows the back and forth of the knife, pupils contracting with each
reflection off the polished metal blade. The wooden chair creaks as he settles
into it, tiny bits of tension visibly dropping away as he leans against the
backrest.
Azazel gradually slows the slide of metal against stone until it’s synched with
Dean’s breathing. Whisk, flash, inhale. Whisk, flash, exhale. He keeps
sharpening, knife after knife, until Dean’s sleepy eyes lose focus and his
breaths are deep and even.
“How you feeling, Dean?” Azazel asks. “And I want the truth.”
“ ’M fine,” Dean murmurs, rapt gaze on the motion of the knife.
Whisk, flash. “Hostes totaliter mesmerize.”Whisk, flash.
Dean lets out a shuddering breath at the words and tenses, eyes wide and blank.
His body stills until even his breathing slows, so shallow that it seems to not
be happening at all.
“Perfect,” Azazel whispers. “But then, for this, you always were.” John’s
quieter now, seething with anger and doubt and the demon laughs. Oh, I
apologize, John. I’m being a very rude guest, here. Can’t have you be the only
one in the dark about what’s going on. Demonic abilities are powerful, but you
can’t do everything with them, more’s the pity. Get up inside the right people
though and you can learn the darnedest things. I can build a ship inside a
bottle. Do you have any idea how hard that is? I can pilot the space shuttle.
And I did one memorable day back in eighty-three. I could throw Dean against a
wall, strip him bare and have him any way I wanted, but where’s the finesse in
that? There are real pros out there at mind control and I’ve possessed some of
the greatest of all time. I just used what I learned from them to whammy your
boy into a trip down our own personal memory lane.
Azazel snaps his fingers and Dean’s back, seemingly on the verge of darting
from the chair and running out of the cabin. His eyes are still wide and hazy
in a face that’s now less guarded; the protective mask a shadow of what it will
become. Fear and defiance war on features that belong on a much younger Dean.
“You know where we are, Dean?” Azazel’s voice rumbles and Dean shivers but
doesn’t move, glazed eyes still staring at the flashing blade of the knife.
“Wherever you say we are,” he whispers.
“Very good,” Azazel says and Dean relaxes a little. Always such a praise slut,
John. Something lacking in his relationship with you, I figure. “We’re outside
the no-tell mo-tel we ended up at your first night working the streets.
Remember?”
“Yes.” The word is almost silent but Azazel and his prisoner hear it clearly.
John’s frenzied struggle ceases for one shocked moment and the demon takes
advantage.
You remember leaving your kids in Sarasota in ninety-three, John? Giving Dean
the old ‘I’ll be back in a week, ten days at the most’ speech and taking off
for almost three months? How do you think he made ends meet until you got back?
‘Take care of Sammy, but don’t worry about yourself,’ right? Couldn’t believe
my luck when I saw him on that corner. All those predators circling, but I
nabbed him. I was his first, you know, John. And I’m going to be his last.
John’s battering at the walls again, loud with rage and denial, but Azazel cuts
right through it This is real to him. Everything he sees here, everything he
does. It all happened before, John. It’s going to happen again. Enjoy the show.
“C’mon.” Azazel inclines his head toward the bedroom door and hides a smile as
Dean swallows convulsively. “That’s my room over there.”
Dean stands but doesn’t move, his face impossibly young.
“Look, I’m not doing this in an alleyway, kid. It’s my room or no deal.”
Dean looks at Azazel for the first time. “Doing what?”
“That’s up to you. What are you offering?” It had been dark that night but
Azazel could see in Dean’s eyes that the answer he wanted to give was along the
lines of “a hard kick in the nuts.” He hadn’t said it then and he doesn’t say
it now.
“Twenty-five to jerk you off or…or, fifty to blow you.”
Azazel had pretended to consider. He knew creatures, human and otherwise who
would pay a hundred times that to be the recipient of that mouth’s maiden
voyage. “Hand job ain’t worth more than twenty, kid, but if a pretty boy puts
on a good show sucking the come off his fingers, some guys might throw in five
extra. Fifty’s low for an experienced cock sucker, but I figure it might be
about right for you, so come on in. We’ll see if you’re worth the money.”
Dean looks at the door and back at the demon. Azazel can see him thinking,
knows he and Sam are about to be put out of the craphole apartment John left
them in and that there have been no groceries since Dean almost got caught
ripping off the corner market. Can’t risk Sammy going to protective services
can he, John? No matter what he has to do to keep it from happening. Finally,
Dean takes a deep breath, nods. Azazel leads the way to the door before opening
it and going inside. Dean hesitates in the opening, expression halfway between
determined and skittish.
“Chickening out, kid? Hey, no skin off my dick. You can leave right now, no
hard feelings.” He smiles and turns away, leaving Dean unimpeded in the open
doorway. “I’m sure whatever you need the money for isn’t that important.”
Dean stares straight back into the long ago, not seeing his father or the
spartan cabin bedroom, but a stranger with a fat wallet and a comfortably
furnished motel room. Indecision is plain on his face, but Azazel’s not
worried. It’s already happened once, after all.
“Make up your mind, boy,” he says, putting a fifty dollar bill on the bed table
before dropping down to sit on the bed. “You don’t want my money, I’m sure
there’s some other kid out there who does.”
Dean takes one step forward, then another. He stops halfway into the room, a
good foot beyond the demon’s reach.
Azazel grins as he unsnaps John’s jeans. “Boy, I’m hung, but I ain’t that hung.
You’re gonna have to come a bit closer for us to do our business.” John’s awake
and watching everything, Azazel won’t let him do otherwise, but he also opens
his own memories up to his captive, overlaying a vision of fourteen year old
Dean on his adult counterpart.
Azazel shakes his head as Dean shuffles a few inches closer, how much he
doesn’t want to do this written all over his face. “You wanna make any money
whorin’, you need to show a little more enthusiasm than that. I can tell you’re
new at this so I’m gonna sweeten the pot a little.”
Dean’s expression tightens at Azazel’s words and he takes a step back, wary.
“Take it easy there, slugger. Here’s the deal. There’s an extra hundred bucks
headed your way if you show some skin.” He pulls out another bill and lays it
beside the first.
Dean looks at it and chews his lip. “How much skin?”
Azazel smiles. “All of it.”
Dean snorts, shaking his head. “No way.”
“C’mon, kid, it’s easy money. “ Azazel shrugs. “A lot easier than the first
fifty’s gonna be, anyway.”
Dean stares at the cash and Azazel sees the wheels spinning. A hundred and
fifty dollars is a quarter of the way to getting the apartment manager who’s
clamoring for the rent off his back. It’s fewer perverts he has to attract and
less time away from his brother. Less risk, if he can believe what he’s being
told, and more reward. Dean doesn’t believe it though; Azazel can see it on his
face. Your kid’s desperate, John, but he’s not desperate enough. Yet. Dean’s
eyes linger on the money for a moment then lock on Azazel’s. “We do this with
my clothes on or we don’t do it.”
Azazel shrugs like it’s no big deal because it really isn’t. Unlike the first
time around, he already knows what’s going to happen. “Your loss, kid.” He puts
the bill back in his wallet, not missing the way Dean’s jaw clenches as his
eyes track it.
Dean’s hands bunch into fists and he tries to stare the demon down. Adult Dean
makes a pretty good job of it, but the demon shuts that out and only lets John
see the glare his teenager is shooting their way. “You touch me and I’m going
to hurt you. Bad.”
It’s said in seriousness and Azazel knows Dean believes it. Believes he could
get the best of an adult built like his father (Azazel had been very particular
in his choice of hosts for this), not even thinking there could be anything
else could be going on. I could have torn him to pieces right there, John. More
fun this way though... letting him rip himself to shreds. Having him still
here, now, to do this.
Azazel holds his hands up in the air wiggling his fingers. “Gonna keep these to
myself, I promise.” This time. He pops the snap, takes down the zipper and
lifts his ass enough to slide John’s worn jeans past his hips. John’s cock is
hot and heavy in his hand and Azazel strokes it, aware of Dean’s eyes widening
at the sight. The man he’d possessed in Florida hadn’t been this well endowed,
but he’d still been more than Dean could take. Of course Dean had been smaller
and less experienced then. By the time tonight’s over he’ll be deep throating
his father like a pro.
“I’m hoping you’ve at least had a blow job, kid. Don’t want to have to talk you
through everything, here.”
“I know what to do,” Dean mutters, dropping to his knees.
He really didn’t, John, not this time. He sure does now, though. Didn’t take
him long to learn, either. Your boy’s a natural. The demon leans back, forcing
his hands tightly against the mattress to keep them from gripping Dean’s hair
and pulling him down. Patience, unlikely as it seems, is one of his best
qualities and it’s really paid off here. The long game he’s been playing with
each Winchester is about to come to a most satisfactory conclusion.
Dean’s panting hard and fast, puffs of warm air ghosting over sensitive flesh.
Azazel groans as the pink tip of Dean’s tongue slides across those sinful lips
and it’s all he can do to keep his hands in place. John’s gone quiet but Azazel
can feel the cold, hard rage emanating from him. Just wait, it gets better.
“Look, breathing on it feels pretty damned good but it ain’t what I’m paying
you for. Get that tongue movin’, why don’t you?” Dean looks up, startled and
lets out another breath that has Azazel shuddering. The demon raises a hand
long enough to make a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Lick it. Like a Popsicle, like
a candy cane, like whatever the hell you like licking. Then think ‘lollypop’
and suck. Jesus, kid, I thought you knew what to do.” Azazel suppresses a grin
at the look Dean shoots him, outrage mixing with shame in those glorious eyes.
Dean hesitantly leans forward, smothering small grunt of disgust as he takes a
first, tentative lick. His second swipe’s bolder and with the third his hands
come up to hold the bobbing flesh still.
“Oh, that’s good,” Azazel murmurs. Isn’t that good, John? Told you he was a
fast learner. “One hand under my balls,” the demon instructs. “And keep the
other one moving. I know you know how to do that.”
Dean looks up rebelliously. “Not getting paid for a hand job too.”
“Kid, what you’re doing ain’t worth five bucks, never mind fifty. And I’m
betting that when you do finally get to the main event you’re not even going to
be able to take me very deep. You need to throw in a hand job to make this
worth what I’m paying you.”
Dean’s eyes harden but drop and Azazel leans back on his palms, a small groan
slipping from his throat as Dean gets back to work. There’s a wordless growl
from deep inside as Dean’s tongue works its way up and up until it’s glossing
over the crown of Azazel’s stolen cock. Dean sputters as he gets a taste of
pre-come and the sensation sends a tremor through both Azazel and John. There
we go. Fury and disgust war with unwanted pleasure and Azazel sighs in
contentment. Knew if you gave him a try you’d get the appeal. Darkness that’s
purely human swirls inside Azazel, but finds no chink in his armor. Settle
down, John. We’re far from finished.
“All right, kid, enough foreplay.” Dean looks apprehensively up through his
lashes and the demon needs all his self control not to paint Dean’s face with
come at the sight. Fuck, John, how did you not hit that? He’d make a mint on
video. Dean swallows hard and the motion of his throat further strains Azazel’s
control. “Open wide, we’re moving on to the main event.”
Dean tenses, hands tightening more than is comfortable and Azazel grunts his
displeasure. “Lighten up with the kung fu grip, kid.” Dean relaxes slightly and
the demon lets out a breath. Here we go, John. Ready? “Nothing to it,” he says
to the back of Dean’s bowed head. “Open up, start at the top, take as much as
you can and suck. Tongue action is always good and watch the teeth. Dean looks
up and defiantly curls his lips over his teeth as Azazel snickers. “So far, so
good.”
They’re the last coherent words the demon manages for a while as Dean’s warm
mouth settles over the glistening head of John’s dick. “Yeah,” he manages, as
Dean’s nimble tongue flicks against the underside of the shaft. “Right there,”
he groans once or twice, and “take it deeper, kid.” His internal monologue is
more pointed. Oh, stop, John. How can I appreciate the wonderful blow job your
son is giving me if you’re going to carry on like this? There’s nothing you can
do about it, so you might as well sit back and enjoy it because it’s going to
take a while. Demons have stamina to burn,
Dean gags every time Azazel gives a tiny thrust of his hips and the demon feeds
the sensation directly into John’s mind. Small grunts amid the slurps are all
the sound Dean makes and Azazel wants it to go on forever. Got a lot more to
get to tonight, though, John. Here we go. He pushes forward, forcing Dean’s
jaws even wider. “Ready, kid? ‘Cause here it comes.”
Dean’s eyes widen as his mouth is filled to overflowing with semen and he
desperately swallows to keep from choking. Azazel stares at the white streams
running down Dean’s chin and dripping onto his chest and he shoots another
load. Dean pulls off, coughing and Azazel leans back with a satisfied sigh.
That’s round one.
“Not too bad for your first time,” Azazel says with a smirk, holding out the
fifty. “Now take your fully clothed ass out of here and see how many times you
have to get on your knees in a filthy alley to make back that hundred bucks you
passed up.”
Dean reaches for the money, but Azazel doesn’t let him take it just yet. Snap.
Dean’s eyes go blank again. “We’re going to skip forward a little to the next
time you came here.” Snap. “Learned a few things in between didn’t you?”
Dean nods slowly and Azazel’s memory paints a portrait for John in purples and
blacks. Dean’s face is bruised and he’s hunched over slightly, nursing what
Azazel knows are cracked ribs. I might have stacked the deck with your boy’s
other clients, John. But my boys need to have their fun too.
The fifty goes back on the table and Dean’s haunted eyes follow it before
flicking to Azazel and then to the floor. He’s waiting for something, but
Azazel can wait too. He’s been spectacularly patient for thirteen years, after
all.
Dean wets his lips and Azazel hungrily watches his throat contract as he
swallows. Dean’s eyes stay locked on the floor as he speaks. “So,” he says,
raspy voice stirring Azazel’s libido. “Same deal as before?”
“Fifty for you to suck my dick,” the demon answers, relishing the way Dean’s
jaw tightens. Not going to make it easy on him, John. He’s got to ask.
“No, I mean…” Dean shifts under Azazel’s questioning look. “I’ll strip for the
extra hundred.”
Azazel pretends to consider as he’d pretended all those years ago. “Thought
showing skin was against your religion or something. But if you’ve seen the
light, I’m still game.“
“I don’t have a religion,” Dean replies. “Not one that you’d get anyway.” In a
few economical motions, he’s peeling his t-shirt over his head. He kicks off
his sneakers and pulls off his socks, but his fingers twist for a moment on the
button of his jeans as he eyes the man on the bed. “Same rules as before. Touch
me and you’ll be sorry.”
“Hundred bucks is a lot to just look, but a deal’s a deal. Want to seal it with
a kiss?” Dean’s face scrunches up and the demon shrugs. “Another time, maybe.”
As Dean slowly unzips and pushes down his jeans, Azazel’s eyes sweep over him,
appreciating the differences between the teenager he’d had his way with so long
ago and the man whose favors he’s about to enjoy. That Dean had been strong but
wiry where this Dean is solidly built; smooth where adult Dean is patterned
with scars. The same pink blush stains his skin though; the boy in Dean’s mind
embarrassed by his nudity. Azazel wants his hands on that body so badly he can
taste it, but…we can wait, can’t we John? First things first.
He beckons Dean closer and Dean comes, one small step at a time, dragging his
jeans along with one bare foot. Back in the day there’d been a knife hidden in
them. Now, Azazel knows the Colt is wrapped up in the ragged denim. Well, he’ll
have his hands on that when it’s time too. When Dean’s standing just outside
the spread of Azazel’s thighs, he hesitates, about to kneel when the demon
holds up a hand.
“Stay right there for a minute. I want to enjoy the view.” He knows Dean’s
following the way his eyes trail slowly down his chest; the blush deepens until
all Dean’s beautiful freckles are swallowed up in it. Scars crisscross Dean’s
abdomen and Azazel visually traces each one, relishing the pain that must have
gone along with them, before halting his gaze between Dean’s slightly spread
thighs. All grown up, Johnny. Mmm,mmm,mmm.
Dean shifts uncomfortably as the scrutiny goes on, but Azazel doesn’t rush.
After he’s looked his fill he leans back with a sigh. “Boy, you sure are
pretty. It’s a real waste to have you out on those streets when you could be
earning good money in here every day.”
“Can’t do this every day,” Dean replies, hissing as he sets one knee down, then
the other. Azazel hadn’t lingered below Dean’s crotch for long, but the
abrasions on his knees had been hard to miss.
“Why not?” the demon asks, though he knows perfectly well. Couldn’t whore
himself while baby brother was home, could he John? Had to hit the streets on
days when Sam had soccer practice. Then there were those sublime days when
Sammy went home for dinner with little Billy Slocum; his mother was one of
mine, you know, and Dean could spend some extra time working his magic on my
cock. Sammy had one afterschool activity and Dean had another. Your boys in a
nutshell, right there.
“None of your business,” Dean mutters, taking Azazel into his mouth to
forestall any more conversation. As a diversionary tactic it works wonders.
“Mmmmmm,” the demon groans. “You learned a few things since last time, boy.“ He
runs a thumb alongside Dean’s bruised cheek, almost, but not quite touching.
“Your teachers give you these?” he asks, though he already knows this answer
too. His instructions to his subordinates had been clear on the subject of how
much damage could be done to Dean’s fine packaging. A few bruises and some
pointed pointers on sucking cock. No more. And, to be fair, they kept anyone
with more nefarious designs on young Dean, here, away. No one was getting into
that tight virgin ass before I did.
Dean shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the motion pulls on tender muscles
bracketing cracked bone and an involuntary groan rumbles up his throat. Tongue
swirling, he bobs up and down, unable to suppress the tiny exhalations of pain
each movement costs him.
“Oh, yeah,” Azazel says with a whistle, staring down the long line of Dean’s
back. “That’s it. Hum, baby. Kind of glad you spent a few nights out there
getting schooled.” Dean falters for a moment, then keeps up the steady
vibration and Azazel’s breath catches. “Good boy,” he says, voice deep, and
smiles as Dean shivers. Oh, John. You couldn’t have primed him better if you
tried.
When Azazel comes this time, Dean swallows it all, looking up with something
like a challenge on his face.
“That was all right,” the demon concedes. “But you’re going to be a whole lot
better before we’re done.”
Snap.
“Okay, my boy. The next act will be the first time you didn’t suck my cock.”
Snap.
Dean stays in position, kneeling on the floor, but memory Dean pauses inside
the hotel room door, giving Azazel a resigned look. “A hundred and fifty for a
naked blowjob still the deal?”
The demon’s laugh is almost fond. “Oh, I’m not paying extra for something I’ve
already gotten. Maybe we can negotiate extra money for something new. Now strip
down, sweetheart, and decide if you want to make a hundred bucks tonight.”
“A hundred bucks for what?” Dean asks suspiciously.
“For the use of your mouth.”
“What…?” Dean’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You get that every time.”
“Not looking to get my dick sucked tonight, kid. Something new, remember?”
“Like what?”
“Want to kiss you. With a little hands on action.”
Dean’s lip curls as he snorts in derision. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, good night, then.” Azazel gestures to the door.
“You really don’t want me to blow you.” Dean’s skeptical and Azazel grins.
“I really don’t want you to blow me.” It’d be overkill here, John, don’t you
think? That mouth’s worked hard tonight already and I can’t wait to lick our
taste out of it. Back then, though. I gotta say, playing with Dean was so much
fun. Getting him to agree to this was almost better than getting my cock
sucked.
“And you want me to go.” Rain’s drumming against the sidewalk, windows
shivering in the roaring wind. Nobody will be trolling the alleys tonight and
Azazel’s men taught Dean better than to ever get in a car with a john again.
“No,” Azazel corrects with a smirk, patting the bed beside him. “I want you to
get naked, sit down here and make out with me. But you don’t seem to want to do
that, so…”
That Dean doesn’t want to do it couldn’t be clearer, but he kicks off his boots
with a scowl, the rest of his clothes following in short order. John’s emotions
are shifting wildly and Azazel laughs. Oh, don’t be too hard on him, Daddy. I
got one of my guys in the apartment manager, and he’s pressuring Dean for the
rent. Plus an extra couple of grand to keep from tattling about two kids living
alone for so long. Boy’s really doing the best that he can.
Snap.
Azazel pats the bed again and present and past become one as Dean reluctantly
settles beside him. The demon hooks one leg up on the mattress so he’s facing
Dean and motions for him to do the same. “Want to make sure I get a good look
at everything I’m paying for,” he says with a leer, licking his lips as Dean
does as he’s told.
Those beautiful eyes are locked on the wall past Azazel’s shoulder and that
won’t do. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders, running a thumb along Dean’s
lips. Dean flicks his eyes to Azazel’s, then away again. Azazel shakes his head
and grips Dean’s chin, pulling their gazes into line. “Eyes on me,” he repeats,
giving Dean’s head a firm shake.
Dean jerks his chin out of the other man’s grasp and locks his eyes on
Azazel’s. There’s defiance swirling in their depths but despair and fear
overshadow it. Azazel lets John drink it all in for a long moment before
wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s head and pulling him close. He
doesn’t ease Dean into the kiss, instead pressing hard against his mouth. Dean
lets out a muffled protest when Azazel’s tongue flicks out hungrily to swipe at
his lips. Azazel lets out a small sigh in answer, disappointed by the
difference between now and then. Shame we couldn’t all get together like this
back when he was fourteen John. He’s not nearly as sweet and tender as he used
to be. Still, we’ll make do with what we have, won’t we?
“Relax, kid,” he says, pulling back a fraction. “We’re kissing here, with the
emphasis on we.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head in mock despair. “You
don’t need lessons in that too, do you?”
“No,” Dean mutters. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Azazel prompts. “Just that you never thought you’d be kissing a
man? Bet you never thought you’d be sucking dick for money either, but you’re
sure becoming a pro at that. C’mon, slugger.” His grin could cut diamonds. “Put
some heart into it.”
Dean’s tongue peeks out, slides across already slick lips and Azazel groans as
he roughly drags him in again. This time Dean’s lips soften and part slightly,
allowing Azazel’s questing tongue inside. Fingers twine in Dean’s hair, holding
him in place as Azazel’s other hand traces down Dean’s face to his throat,
lingering against his racing pulse before meandering its way lower.
Dean twitches away again when Azazel drags rough fingers over his nipple,
reaching up to push the other man’s hand off his body. “No,” he says, shaking
his head wildly. “I didn’t say you could…”
Azazel stares at Dean’s hand on his arm and raises his eyebrows. “You know
where the door is kid. Anytime you want to walk out it I’m not going to stop
you.” Can’t say I didn’t give him a choice, John. You’re the one that left him
with no choices.
The battle that plays out in Dean’s eyes is short and bloody and when it’s over
Azazel mentally pops a bottle of champagne at the despair emanating from both
Winchesters. He plucks Dean’s hand from his arm and moves it down, wrapping it
around his raging hard on. “Kid,” he says, guiding Dean’s hand up and down, “if
you’re going to have your hands on me, they’re going to be doing something
useful.” Azazel grins as Dean’s jaw tightens but when he goes back to kneading
that perky nipple Dean’s hand keeps right on moving. “That’s it,” he adds,
approvingly. “Now get your mouth back to work and we’ll be in business.”
A deep breath escapes Dean’s lungs as he leans into Azazel’s kiss, turning to a
soft sound of protest as Azazel’s hand slips lower. There’s a flinch when
Azazel cradles Dean’s testicles in his hand, but Dean doesn’t try to move away.
“Spread your legs a little further, baby,” Azazel whispers before capturing
Dean’s mouth again. Dean’s cock, soft and small in his palm, begins to stiffen
under Azazel’s steady strokes and the noises Dean’s making against Azazel’s
lips begin to change. “Yeah. Feels good, doesn’t it.”
Dean shakes his head but slides his thighs further apart as his hips start to
thrust in rhythm with Azazel’s hand. The demon moves faster and faster, Dean
bucking up into him as his own fingers match speed. Azazel times it carefully,
spilling over Dean’s fist just before Dean shudders out his own orgasm. He
releases Dean’s mouth after swallowing his already muted cry and runs come
coated fingers over Dean’s lips.
“Open up and clean me off, kid,” he orders, dick beginning to stiffen again
when Dean obeys. It comes all the way to attention when he makes Dean
shamefacedly lick his own fingers clean and Azazel can’t wait any longer. It’s
time to get to the main event.
Snap
I wish I could make you live every second I ever spent with him, John, but we
just don’t have that kind of time. You’ll get an idea of all the things you
missed from the grand finale anyway. Hope you’re ready for the ride of your
life.
The memory room is different this time. Bigger, tawdrier, a mirror on the
ceiling over the king sized bed. A clock on the dresser ticks off seconds in
not quite right intervals and a lamp on the bed table flickers, light
reflecting sharply in the mirror above the bed. Incense burns in a bowl on the
dresser, delicate scent filling the warm room. My own special blend, John. I
probably won’t need it, but every little bit helps. The one familiar thing is
Dean, stripping just inside the door, eyes nervously darting everywhere, nose
already crinkling at the smell.
“We good?” Azazel asks, holding up a thick wad of bills. “I’m leaving town on
Monday and you know you only get this if you spend the whole weekend.”
Dean nods but Azazel already knows. Sammy’s spending the weekend with that nice
Mrs. Slocum and her son Billy. Electricity’s getting cut off, rent and
extortion money are due and Sam’s got a field trip he’s just dying to go on.
One last chance for a big score for Dean, one last chance for a bigger score
for me.
Snap
Azazel tilts Dean’s head up and kisses him. Dean’s muscles are tight under his
hands, almost shaking with tension. So cute, John. Everything he’s already done
and the prospect of getting fucked has him all aquiver.
“Something wrong, kid? Not having second thoughts, are you?”
“What’s the perfume for?” Dean deflects. That he’s having second, third and
fourth thoughts is clear to both of them.
“Oh, just something to help get you in the mood.” And a few other things. By
the time it’s done with him, he won’t know which way is up. He runs his hands
down Dean’s taut back to cup his clenched ass. “You know; relaxed.” Slapping a
hand against Dean’s butt cheek he adds, “Finally going to fuck you and I if you
don’t loosen this up a little it won’t be very pleasant for either of us.”
“Not expecting it to be pleasant,” Dean mutters.
“Oh, you’re going to enjoy it,” Azazel promises, fingers gliding over Dean’s
nipples until he’s squirming. “Eventually.”
Dean shakes his head, mouth tightening. “Not gonna happen.”
“Well, for fifteen hundred bucks you better do a damned fine job of
pretending,” Azazel says, gesturing toward the bed. “Now how about you sit on
down and make yourself all pretty for me.”
Dean flushes, but settles at the head of the bed, legs bent and spread wide.
Azazel watches in the mirror as Dean takes himself in hand and begins to stroke
his soft flesh to fullness.
“Lie down and watch yourself,” Azazel orders. “In the mirror.”
Dean reddens more but stretches out on the bed and directs his eyes up. At the
first flash of light he squints, turning his head to the side.
“I said watch yourself, boy.”
“You need to move that light, dude. It’s shining right in my eyes.”
Azazel snorts softly. “I don’t need to do anything, kid. You, however, need to
deal with it and do the fuck what I tell you to.”
Dean’s mouth opens, closes again and he resignedly turns his stormy eyes back
to his reflection. The lamp flickers at unexpected moments and he can’t avoid
the bright light spearing his retinas.
Azazel alternates his gaze between Dean’s face and his quickly stiffening cock.
Look at his eyes, John. Windows to the soul. You’d almost think this wasn’t
shredding him to bits if it wasn’t for those glorious, truthful eyes.
Slowly, exulting in John’s hoarsely screamed threats, Azazel strips, dropping
his clothes in a messy pile next to Dean’s before joining him on the bed.
Dean’s mouth opens beneath his, soft if not exactly willing and Azazel swallows
his small moan of protest when he moves Dean’s hand off his cock and lays it
flat on the bed.
“Hands down,” he whispers, “and keep them there. Let daddy take care of that
gorgeous dick.” Dean’s eyes flash rebellion and John howls but neither stops
him as he mouths his way down Dean’s body. A small hiss escapes when Azazel
wraps his tongue around one pebbled nipple then the other, but Dean doesn’t
move and his hands stay flat on the bed. A louder moan escapes when Azazel’s
tongue begins to lave Dean’s balls and he lifts his head to glare. “Quiet,” he
says harshly and Dean’s mouth snaps shut, muffling his groans to whimpers.
“Don’t want to disturb the neighbors, slugger.”
Azazel’s tongue continues its journey, swiping over Dean’s shaft, gently
probing into his slit and he flicks his eyes to catch Dean’s fists clenching
against the mattress. Oh, he’d give me a good shot to the nose if he didn’t
need this money, John. He closes his mouth over the head of Dean’s cock. Mmmmm.
More of a mouthful than he was before, that’s for sure. ”Eyes on me, kid. In
the mirror, come on now.”
Big hands press Dean to the bed as more of his cock disappears into Azazel’s
mouth, hold him down when he begins to squirm. Azazel’s tongue swirls and dips
against Dean’s hot flesh as he sucks him down, letting John taste the salty
slick of his son’s skin. Told you he’d be delicious, didn’t I? He focuses John
on Dean’s face, the reluctant, guilty build of pleasure all Azazel will let him
see.
“Unngh,” Dean mutters softly as he twists beneath Azazel’s grip. His bottom lip
is gripped between his teeth to hold back his cries and Azazel growls at the
sight. “Stop,” Dean moans. “I’m gonna…”
Azazel pulls off and grins as his hand slithers, warm and wet, up Dean’s shaft.
“That’s kind of the idea, kid.”
One more twisting pass, thumb shivering over the head of Dean’s cock and he’s
arching up, plumes of white spattering over his sweat drenched belly and up to
his heaving chest. His head’s barely cleared the mattress, going for a look at
the mess Azazel’s made of him when a sharp slap to his thigh gets his
attention.
“You want to see something, you look at it in the mirror. And even if you don’t
want to see it, you look anyway. You’re going to watch everything I do to you
tonight, kid.” Azazel’s hand slips around Dean’s cock. “If I have to tell you
again, this is going to get a spanking, understand?” Dean’s eyes are hard, but
he thumps his head back down, gaze sweeping his reflection. “Good boy.”
Ignoring John’s growl, Azazel gets on with business. “Oh, baby, you look so
pretty like that.” He gives Dean’s soft cock one last suckle before rising to
his knees between Dean’s spread thighs. ”Uh, uh, sweetheart, don’t move,” he
says before jerking his cock until there’s another load of spunk added to the
pool already decorating Dean’s skin. Had plenty of lube way back in the day,
John. Azazel settles next to Dean, running his fingers through the semen
coating Dean’s belly. Tonight, this is going to have to do. After a while
though, I’m not going to really need it; know what I mean?
Dean shakes his head, eyes wide from the effects of the light, only starting to
dull slightly from the incense and the heat. He’s breathing in time with the
ticking of the clock and Azazel grins. Moving along nicely, John. We’re going
to have to fast forward through some things to get to the end of the show
before Sammy wakes up, but for this bit we’re going frame by frame.
He makes John feel Dean’s body, solid, then slight beneath his hands. Lets him
see his son’s face, then and now, terrified beneath the stoic front Dean’s
unsuccessfully trying to keep up. Then Dean watches him in the mirror as he
slicks up with their come and now Dean shudders as he relives it. John’s
quieter but no less vehement in his pleas for Azazel to stop as the demon parts
Dean’s thighs further and settles down between them.
Thought about spending some time opening him up for me; making him come from
just my fingers up his ass, but, nah. I decided to just get my cock in him and
go from there. “Relax and bend your legs, sweetheart,” Azazel says, sliding his
palms beneath Dean’s tightly locked knees. “Come on, now. That payday’s gonna
get smaller if you don’t keep doing what you’re told.”
Dean lets out a shivered breath and bends his knees. His hands have the ratty
satin comforter in a death grip that only tightens as Azazel lifts his legs and
positions him so he’s bent nearly in half. “Please,” he whispers, halting when
Azazel holds up a hand.
“Unless you’re about to say ‘please fuck me hard’ I really don’t want to hear
it.” Dean shakes his head, wincing as the light hits him again and Azazel nods
approvingly. “Good. Now I’m going to be watching you and you better keep your
eyes right here.” Come lubed fingers slide into Dean’s crack and circle his
hole. “Here, you understand?” Dean nods and points his eyes where Azazel
directs. “Good. Now relax. And remember, be quiet.” That’s for your boy now,
John. Can’t be waking Sammy before we’re done. Your boy back then? Oh, he made
the most beautiful noises. Come on, I’ll show you.
Dean tries at first, punched out breaths his only reaction to Azazel
jackhammering into his body. As the demon pushes further, opens him wider, his
lip bloodies from chewing on it to stifle his cries.
With a final thrust, Azazel shoves all the way home, balls settling against
Dean’s ass. He stills for a moment, including John in the blissful memory of
his first incursion into Dean’s tight, young body. Mmmm, damn. He takes a few
shallow strokes and chuckles. Good thing we’ve got the memory, John. Your boy’s
ass isn’t squeezing us nearly as tight now. Guess he got some use out of what I
taught him.
Dean gasps as Azazel moves in him and that spurs the demon on. Muscular arms
bend Dean further as Azazel pounds him into the mattress. Now Dean takes it in
jaw clenched silence, but memory Dean can’t control his cries under the brutal
assault. Azazel pumps harder, Dean’s body jerking and twisting beneath his as
the demon draws it out. Demonic stamina’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it, John? I
could go all weekend without stopping. But I won’t. What fun would one time be?
Hips stutter, then he stills, spilling deep inside Dean. Mmm, feel that? Gonna
make it a lot easier next time. And the time after that and the time after
that.
“Aw, what’s the matter, baby?” Azazel palms Dean’s soft cock while his own
hardens again. “Didn’t you get off?”
Dean stares into the mirror and doesn’t answer, trembling uncontrollably. He
tries to push his lower body down, but Azazel, still buried deep inside, pushes
him roughly back into position.
“Well, we’ll take care of that this time, don’t you worry.” His hips begin to
move and Dean groans. “We’ve got a long way to go, sweetheart, so lay back and
enjoy it.”
Azazel angles himself to punch into Dean’s prostate with each pistoning thrust,
grinning at the horror in Dean’s eyes as come spills over his belly just from
being fucked. “See,” Azazel whispers, working his way to his own orgasm. “Told
you you’d like this.”
Azazel makes Dean ride him, whispers filth and praise as he fucks him on his
back and on his stomach, working him to orgasm every time. He straddles Dean’s
chest to make him deep throat, swallowing around his father’s cock until his
stomach’s swollen with come. Good, isn’t he? Not everybody can swallow a cock
as big as yours all the way down. That takes some practice.
Finally, when Dean’s movements are sluggish, his eyes dull from heat and noise,
light and haze and unrelenting, brutal sex, Azazel calls a halt. All right,
here’s the really good part. Are you ready, John?
Dean’s limp on the mattress, body crusted with come, eyes wide and hazy, not
reacting when the light flashes into them. Azazel snaps his fingers in front of
Dean’s face but he doesn’t blink.
“Dean, can you hear me?” It’s the first time Azazel’s used his name, but Dean
doesn’t react.
“Yes.”
“Good. Are you relaxed?”
“Yes.” It’s more breathed than spoken and Azazel smiles in satisfaction.
“Good. It’s quiet where you are. Dark. No one there but you and me. Okay?”
“Just you and me. In the dark.”
“I’m going to say three words to you, Dean. In the future, whenever you hear
them you’ll come back to our place and wait for me. This place. Yours and mine,
you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do when you hear the words?”
“I’ll come back here and wait for you.”
“Good boy. Now listen carefully. Hostes totaliter mesmerize.” Come on, John.
It’s perfect. And it’s something that will never come up in conversation, even
in your line of work. “Hostes totaliter mesmerize. You got that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. When you hear that phrase you come here and wait for me. After that I’ll
tell you where you need to be and when I snap my fingers you’ll be there.
Anywhere I say. Understand?”
“Anywhere you say.” Dean’s voice is a dull whisper, but it’s done.
A snap of the fingers and Dean blinks awake. Azazel turns off the light, stills
the clock and chucks the incense out the window. Mission accomplished, he
doesn’t need them anymore.
“C’mon, kid,” he says, grabbing memory Dean by the arm and hauling him off the
bed. “You need a shower.” Shame we don’t have a shower here, John. You’d get to
experience first hand the pleasure of Dean all slippery wet and on his knees.
Guess we’re going to have to fuck Dean, here, again while you live vicariously
through my memory of soaping up your boy.
It’s still pitch black outside the window when Azazel hears stirring from the
other room. Sam’s not likely to wake quickly and jump right out of bed, but the
activity means that his night with Dean is almost at an end. Pay attention,
John. Gonna have to finish up now and you’re not going to get another chance to
fuck this fine ass. Dean’s face down, sprawled limply beneath John’s bulk. Big
hands grip his thighs, forming bruises on top of bruises as Azazel grinds their
bodies together, feeding the overwhelming pleasure of his cock pounding Dean
directly into John’s mind. When the climaxes come, three voices sound in
unison, one caged within muscle and bone and one muffling both its cry and
Dean’s whimper with one last kiss. There you go, big guy. Azazel drinks in
John’s reaction like fine whiskey. Knew you’d get with the program eventually.
Azazel pulls out slowly, relishing the final, come slicked glide of his flesh
within Dean’s. John’s shuddering inside him even more than Dean is beneath him,
shame and disgust warring with anger at what’s he’s been forced to do. Azazel
slaps Dean’s ass before rolling off him. Good lay, huh, John? Mouth like a
suction pump and an ass so tight you just want to fuck it forever.
Taking just a moment to again regret the lack of a shower, Azazel spills part
of a bottle of water over an old tee shirt and begins to haphazardly wipe
layers of semen off of Dean. He mostly concentrates on that pretty, pretty
face; not too hard a job since he’d been careful to avoid spattering Dean’s
hair. The rest just gets a cursory rubdown. Most of Dean will be covered by
clothes and in a little while some dried on spunk will be the least of Dean’s
problems.
“Stand up,” he says, and Dean obediently rises to his feet, wobbling on shaky
legs while Azazel washes his front. He tilts Dean’s head up when he’s finished,
wiping a thumb through warm moisture that’s not from the cloth. “You were so
good for me,” he whispers, smiling at Dean’s embarrassed flush. “Worth every
penny.”
Azazel bends to fish the Colt from beneath Dean’s faded jeans, giving Dean’s
cock one last, lingering caress on his way back up. Dean’s shaking and in spite
of Azazel’s hasty ministrations there’s pink tinged come trickling down his
thighs. Kind of messy, but I can’t do anything about that now. Oh, John. You’ve
got no idea of the toybox I put together for him…just in case. Azazel flashes a
few of the plugs and dildos he’d had set aside for Dean into John’s mind. But,
sadly, it’s not to be. Sammy’s my front runner and I don’t think he’d go for
big brother as my sex slave for all eternity. And yeah, I know, I just left him
like that. Azazel gifts John with one final memory of Dean, naked and
unconscious on the motel room bed. Don’t know how he got himself home. Don’t
really care. I got everything I wanted out of that weekend. He runs a hand down
John’s chest to loosely grip his cock. Maybe even a little more.
Snap
“Get dressed,” Azazel orders and Dean slowly pulls on his clothes. “I’m going
to keep this,” he adds, holding the Colt up. “But you’re going to think you
still have it until I decide it’s time that you don’t. Understand?”
“Yes,” Dean whispers.
“Good boy. Now I want you to forget about everything we just did. Until you
figure out that I’m the one operating this ride. Then you’re going to remember
every last bit of come daddy spilled into you, onto you and sucked out of you.
Understand?” Dean nods and Azazel smiles. “Okay. You’re back in the cabin now,
so go on out there and sit at the table. Sammy’ll be up soon and we don’t want
him wondering what you’ve been up to, now do we?”
“No.” The answer is almost inaudible and Dean’s lips tremble as it comes out.
Snap
Shame we have to let him go, isn’t it? Azazel watches Dean limp out of the room
and smiles. That body knows it’s been abused but its mind has completely
blocked it out. There’s nothing I’d rather do than handcuff him to the bed,
bring him around, and spend the next few days fucking him bloodier. But, I’ve
still got Sam to deal with and work’s gotta take precedence over pleasure, am I
right?
John’s been quiet, stunned by shock and guilt and the overload of sensations
infusing his consciousness, but Azazel feels him stirring again at the threat
to Sam. Ha. Knew that would get your attention.
The Winchester in question is up and about now, his voice quiet but audible
through the open door. Sam’s asking about John and Azazel grins at Dean’s reply
that he just needs some rest. Too bad we didn’t get any, huh? Then Azazel hears
‘Colt’, he hears ‘Meg’ and Dean’s going on about ‘the guy he shot’. Rage
bubbles up as he tucks the Colt in the back of his jeans. It’s time to end
this.
Azazel’s wiping his hands on a towel as he joins the boys in the main room.
It’s the last of Dean’s blood he’s cleaning off but he’s not worried they’ll
notice. Sam and Dean will think it’s his own. He sees them before they see him;
Sam staring at Dean, who’s confessing things Sam’s got no idea about.
“You know, for you or Dad…the things I’m willing to do …well, it scares me
sometimes.”
“It shouldn’t.” Azazel makes his presence known. “You did good.” I wonder how
long it’ll take him to figure out I’m not you. Think that might have been a
dead giveaway?
“You’re not mad?”
“For what?”
Dean huffs a breath. “Using a bullet.”
Oh, that. Yeah, I’m pretty Goddamned pissed about that. “I’m proud of you.”
Let’s see how thick we can lay it on here. See that look on his face when I
said I was proud? “You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. You think?
“But you…you watch out for this family. You always have.”
Dean shifts in his chair and Azazel doesn’t blame him, but it’s more likely to
be unease at the unfamiliar praise than discomfort from the night’s activities.
“Thanks.”
Moving right along. Azazel sends out a tiny tendril of power and the lights
flicker. Dean’s on his feet in an instant, Sam at his back. Neither seems
afraid and both look to John as Azazel heads to the window.
“It found us. It’s here.”
Sam’s face hardens. “The demon?”
Dean’s still giving Azazel a look that’s not entirely fooled by his act, but
Azazel’s not quite ready to end this. “Sam, lines of salt in front of every
window and every door.”
“First thing I did,” Dean says, eyes narrowing.
“Well, Sam, check it, okay?”
Sam nods and goes, leaving Azazel with Dean. “Dean, you got the gun?”
“Yeah.”
Azazel holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Dean shakes his head. “Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation and it
vanished…”
“This is me. I won’t miss.”
Dean reaches around his back for the gun, growling when he finds it gone.
“Looking for this?” Azazel brings the Colt out and points it at Dean. He can
see memory fighting to emerge in Dean’s eyes; it’ll just be moments before it
shatters him.
“You’re not my dad,” Dean whispers.
“Ding, ding, ding, give the boy a prize.” Azazel ‘s eyes fade to yellow as he
lets Dean see exactly what he’s up against. “I’m doing the driving, Daddy’s
just along for the ride.”
“You…uhhh…Dad…” Dean’s face goes blank as the events of the night come flooding
back. “What did you do to me?” The color drains from his skin and he staggers
back a few steps. “Dad.”
Seems like he didn’t have as much fun tonight as we did, John. “Come on, Dean,
it’s not like you didn’t get off on it. It was just a trip to a shared past
that I look back on fondly.”
“That was you?” Dean’s voice shakes as he furiously wipes at his lips.
“Dean! Dad?” Sam’s back, eyes wide at the sight of his father holding a gun on
his brother. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not Dad,” Azazel replies, raising a hand to fling the two men against the
far wall. “I’ve just been living in him for a while.” Sam’s struggling against
the demon’s hold, but Dean hangs limply as Azazel moves toward them. “What a
pain in the ass, this thing’s been,” he says, laying the Colt on the table. He
doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes track it.
“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Sam says, mouth twisting in
anger.
Look at him, Johnny. Still fighting. He’s my boy. “Well, you found me.” John’s
rattling the bars of his cage again, has been since Dean remembered. That one’s
yours. He gestures to Dean, whose eyes are glazed; staring at something outside
this room. Weak. Good for nothing. He pauses with a grin. Well, maybe not
nothing.
“This is fun,” Azazel says, with a satisfied smile as he comes closer. “I could
have killed you a hundred times today, but finally getting you where I want
you, Sam...” He leans toward Dean, running his thumb over cracked, swollen
lips. “And you, the time we spent together earlier…I wouldn’t have missed it
for the world.” Dean flinches away, and his eyes come up, awareness returning.
“Your Dad. He’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit.” Azazel leans
in to stage whisper in Dean’s ear. “He says he’s never had a better lay.”
“Let him go,” Dean says, voice tight with pain and anger. “Take me instead.”
“Already had you,” the demon replies. “Twice. Daddy’s going to rip you to
pieces. He’s going to taste the iron in your blood.” That’s going to be another
fun time with your boy, John. Wonder which you’ll like the taste of better?
Dean’s blood or his come? “See, as far as I’m concerned, whatever we do to you
is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The
one in the alley? That was my boy.” Azazel leans in so close he’s breathing
into Dean’s mouth. “You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed
your family?” Dean’s shaking. If Azazel’s powers weren’t holding him up, he’d
have collapsed by now, the demon’s sure of it. Still, something shifts behind
those shattered eyes. Still got some fight in him? Your boys are full of
surprises John. The feeling the demon gets from inside is that John isn’t
surprised at all, but he disregards it. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I did.
Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dean whispers, and Azazel’s ready to end him right there,
but Sam intervenes.
“I want to know why. Why’d you do it?”
Azazel’s mouth curves up as he turns his attention to the younger Winchester.
“Because your brother’s a hot piece of ass, why else?” Sam’s eyes narrow as he
shoots a look at Dean, who avoids his gaze. “Or,” Azazel continues, “did you
mean Mommy and sweet little Jess? You want to know why? Because they were in
the way of my plans for you. For you and all the children like you.” Azazel
watches Sam process that, knowing that his remark about Dean is swirling
through Sam’s mind too.
“Listen, you mind just getting this over with?” Dean’s voice shakes with
weariness, but Azazel’s not surprised that he’s trying to divert attention back
to himself. Doing his job to the end, John. Good dog. “Because I really can’t
stand all the monologuing.”
“Funny.” Azazel wheels on Dean. “But that’s your m.o. isn’t it? Masks all that
nasty pain. Masks the truth.”
Dean’ s silent then, staring at Azazel with hate, but Sam’s not going to let it
go. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
Azazel crowds Dean against the wall, directing his words to him. “You fight and
you whore for this family, but the truth is, they don’t need you. Not like you
need them.” He cuts a glance at Sam. “You know how your brother put food on the
table when you were younger and Daddy left you high and dry? Spreading his legs
and on his knees. Taking cock any way a paying customer wanted to give it to
him.” Sam’s shocked into silence, and Dean’s jaw tightens. If looks could kill
Azazel would be a smudge on the floor. Now to drive in the final nail. “Sam was
always John’s favorite, you know. Even when they fought it was more concern
than he ever showed you. Now that he knows you’re a whore on top of everything
else? Even if you were going to live, he’d never look at you again.”
Dean stares into Azazel’s eyes and his swollen lips curve up. “Yeah, I bet
you’re real proud of your kids too. Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted them.”
Everything stills for a moment as Dean’s suicidal words penetrate and Azazel
takes a step back. Say goodbye, John, he whispers and a dangerous silence is
his only answer. He raises a hand and Dean jolts back against the wall with a
strangled cry, blood pouring through the front of his shirt.
“Dean,” Sam yells, struggling to reach the gun, but Azazel’s got him pinned
tight.
Dean’s muscles are shredding beneath his torn skin, even his organs can’t
escaping the lacerating slash of the demon’s power. Azazel watches Dean’s life
flow out of him and he’s almost ready to let him drop to the floor when Dean
raises his head.
“Dad,” he cries out. “Dad, don’t you let it kill me.”
Like you can do anything, Azazel mocks before unleashing another bloody pulse.
Dean screams as he writhes against unbreakable bonds and Azazel shivers at
John’s rage. It’ll be over soon.
“Dad, please,” Dean whispers, blood running down his chin and Azazel’s rocked
by an internal explosion as John’s essence explodes out of its cage with a fury
unmatched by anything the demon’s ever felt. He focuses his attention inward,
losing control of the boys, but that can’t be helped as John rampages through
Azazel’s defenses until he’s torn down every last one.
“Stop,” John, whispers, staring at Dean with agony in his eyes. “Stop it.”
Dean, freed from Azazel’s power, slumps to the floor, while Sam immediately
grabs the gun. Azazel marshals his strength, rebuilding bigger, stronger walls
before shoving John back into his box then slamming the door. He’s shaken, no
one’s ever gotten free before, but takes care not to let it to show. Nice try.
But it’s not going to change anything.
“Kill me,” he says as Sam aims the Colt, “kill Daddy.” Let’s see what he’ll do,
John. Think he’s angry enough to kill us both?
“I know,” Sam says steadily, dropping the barrel and pulling the trigger.
Guess he is, is all the demon has time to think before pain like he’s never
felt is dragging him down. John’s free in seconds, and the struggle for control
begins. We should both be dead, and you’re still fighting me. Why can’t you
Winchesters ever just give up?
Sam’s back and the eyes that open to meet his are brown and clear. Azazel’s not
fighting for control anymore, he’s fighting to escape but this time John’s got
him pinned.
“Sammy,” John cries out. “It’s still alive, I can feel it. You shoot me. You
shoot me in the heart, son.”
Let me out, John. Azazel’s desperate. All his plans can’t come to an end here.
You want Sam to have to live with killing his father? How’s Dean going to deal
with that? Pain and deep grief are the demon’s only answer. They both know what
Dean’s chances are. Sam cocks the gun, but hesitates as his brother’s voice
reaches his ears.
“Sam, don’t you do it,” Dean begs in a weak voice. “Don’t you do it.”
Azazel can see Sam wavering between John’s commands and Dean’s broken pleas.
Azazel thinks Sam should listen to his brother, but one of his favorite things
about the youngest Winchester is how he always goes his own way. John’s
wavering too, shock and pain stripping him of his power to contain the demon.
The decision is taken out of their hands when Azazel knocks aside John’s
crumbling will and makes his escape in a spiral of black smoke, John’s groan of
despair strengthening him as he goes.
There’s no need to hurry away; Sam’s got too much on his plate tonight for any
demon hunting to make its way onto his agenda. Azazel hovers outside, invisible
in the night and watches as Sam loads Dean, still dripping blood, into the car.
He spots the Colt, tucked into Sam’s waistband when John’s youngest bends over
to settle his father into the front seat. Tonight hadn’t gone the way he
planned, he thinks, but he’s not dead so it could have ended up much worse. The
Colt’s down another bullet and one less Winchester in the world is never a bad
thing. Of course he’d rather it was John than Dean, but things usually work out
for the best-he’s not done with any of them by a long shot. As the Impala
speeds off into the night, Azazel follows suit. He’s got work to do.
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