Business as Usual [John]

[Azazel]

---

What did a demon become when his entire side was lost before the war had even started? Broken. It was a truth the yellow eyed demon did not want to admit to but given the fact that his pet demon had been slaughtered by the angels before he’d been able to strike a single blow against them he had little choice in the matter. Azazel had dealt his own blows against both the child like angel and her taller, more foolish companion but by that point satisfaction had been lost and he’d barely cared that at least one of them had escaped back to heaven. In that brief burst of action Azazel had seen all of his plans swirling away down the drain and rather than be caught with egg on his face the yellow eyed demon had turned yellow bellied and had run. Most of his kind would have merely seen it as saving himself for the next fight, turning away to live another day but Azazel knew it had been out of sheer cowardice. He could have stood and tried to see off heaven’s forces but if he’d done that he would’ve been done for good. There was no deal to bring him back this time, there would just be death and an eternal feeling of having failed his father.

Huffing out a breath Azazel took a slow turn around Mystic Falls’ famous square. He was taking a chance showing his face in a place practically crawling with angels and hunters but finding himself at a loose end the demon had decided to stay on the battlefield so to speak. His host’s lined face was set in thought, blue eyes cast down upon the sidewalk as he strolled along with his hands clasped behind his back. If the angels chose this moment to descend upon him he would likely make an easy target, or at least would appear to. Bruised and knocked from his path he might’ve been but no one would ever truly break the yellow eyed demon. He was the only one of his kind, the one loyal follower his father had left and that meant that he would truly fight to the death, even if that end came at the hands of one of the knuckle dragging beasts who had aided in the death of his people.

Somehow even the angel’s little pet vampire had slipped from his grasp. In the midst of his team’s decimation he’d felt her slip from his grasp. Azazel had yet to traipse to back to the flea pit of Bon Temps to discover just how she’d been freed of the burden he’d placed upon her malleable little mind. The girl truly would not have been much help to his side but at the very least she had provided a distraction for the angel much as the Harvelle girl had done for that fool Dean Winchester. Perhaps he should have just torn the hunter’s tongue from his mouth while he had the choice, that way he wouldn’t have been able to talk his brother around and the angel would have lost one more on his side. That would be his next port of call, he thought, smiling for the first time since he’d escaped his tannery with all forces lost. He would go and see the hunter and his little woman and then perhaps he’d go and see if he could turn up that wicked little witch in this town. Bolstering his forces once more was the first step towards reigniting this war.

This time he wouldn’t make the mistake of drawing his own kind in. In the end they only attracted the sort of trouble that threatened to bring the whole house of cards tumbling down. Finally set on a plan Azazel lifted his head and considered the square around him once more. This town was the perfect place to find something other than angels and demons to join the party. He just had to charm them to his side. Strolling with his head up now, Azazel smiled at all those he filed past, inclining his head in greeting to any that would meet his eye. He drew to an almost gliding halt beside one who was peering into one of the windows that lined the regal old square. ”Such a pretty display,” Azazel mused thoughtfully as he glanced aside at his fellow ‘window shopper’. ”Always surprises me just what the right creative mind can do with a little colour and space. Gives you a little lift and makes you want to pluck your wallet right out of your pocket.” Of course if anything did catch his eye he wouldn’t even need to do that. One single thought, one expenditure of will and whatever he wanted would be sitting there right in the palm of his hand. No doubt the twenty seven bucks and change that had been in his host’s pockets for the last few years would still be there a millennium from now.

Tags: Open
Word Count: 836

[John Eric Winchester]

I Walk These Streets, A Loaded Six-String On My Back.
I Play For Keeps 'cause I Might Not Make It Back.
----------------------------------------------------------
John had only been back a few days. He made his way to Mystic Falls. He heard a lot was going on in that town and he wondered if he might be able to find Azazel there. However, that wasn't his goal. Not this time anyways. He managed to get his boys to believe him that he was in fact John Winchester and not some imposter. Perhaps it wasn't wise to walk around a town that was so deep in the claws of the supernatural that more then half of its citizens were probably more then just what they appeared to be. John Winchester, the infamous hunter, though his sons had probably gotten even more infamous over the time he was dead, was one of the top targets on many a monsters hit list. However, he felt quite confident that walking around in a crowded town square in broad daylight that everything would be all right.

He had heard of the war, thanks to his son's contacts. The angel and demon war. Somehow the angels fought off the demons and Azazel ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. That thought alone almost brought a smile to John's face. He wondered if he was getting to old for this? Hunting? It was a younger mans job now, but he couldn't stop, not with Azazel still out there. He had to stop him, once and for all. John stopped in front of a store and began looking at the dresses in the window. He thought that Mary would of liked some of them. That was something else he had to move on from. He had to get over Mary. It had been long enough, and he knew that she would want him to move on, not continue on this path of danger and being all alone. Maybe someday all of this would become a reality, but then again, you couldn't just stop being a hunter, no matter how much you may have wanted to from time to time.

He heard someones voice standing next to him, a familiar voice at that. At first he thought he was hearing things, that his weary mind was playing tricks on him, but this wasn't the case, he turned and looked at the person. He was shocked to see the vessel of Azazel standing next to him. Did Azazel happen to know he was talking to John Winchester, or was this just as big of a shock to him as it was to John? Part of John told him to run, and he cursed himself for not bringing the demon killing blade with him. He promised his sons he wouldn't go after Azazel alone, and he left them in charge of the blade, deciding to trust them rather then push them away again. The other part of him was curious. He wanted to know what Azazel's reaction to seeing John Winchester alive and well, once again. "Hello ol' yellow eyes. Did you miss me?" John's finally found his voice. What was Azazel gonna do? Kill him right there in the middle of a crowded street and telegraph to every angel where Azazel was? He grinned. "Bet your curious on how I am back." John added. If Azazel did want to kill him, then John wasn't about to go out without a fight, at least it would be a verbal one.

Tags: Ol' Yellow Eyes Azazel
Words: 567
Notes: My great and worthy opponent.
----------------------------------------------------------
I Been Everywhere, Still, I'm Standing Tall.
I've Seen A Million Faces, And I've Rocked Them All.

[Azazel]

---

A wise demon knew when he was licked and a demon who was wiser still knew when it was time to pay lip service to a defeat and stroll off to get back to the drawing board. This attempt hadn’t been Azazel’s first to raise his father and while he still drew breath, or rather his meat suit did, it wouldn’t be the last. That feathered little pest and the snivelling little Winchester boys could chalk this up as a win for their side, although none of them had really done anything but stand by while the others had met him head on. The little fight had been a stalemate in the end but the draw didn’t count for much at all. The angels had lost the girl and he’d lost both the demon he’d struck a bargain with and the sad excuse for a human he’d taken from the hospital at the start of all of this. He was fairly certain that one had taken a blade to the stomach before he’d stumbled away into the woods but in the heat of it all keeping track of everything had proven to be more trouble than it had been worth. Running to fight another day went against everything he’d really believed in but that was the beauty of demonhood, you didn’t have to worry about pesky emotions. One day you stood there and fought, the next you took the wiser option and ran. There were no real consequences to any of it, as long as you came out top in the end, nothing else mattered.

A wiser demon wouldn’t have bothered to go and try to round up the usual suspects for his new army in a town like Mystic Falls. The plan to build one made up of the best and brightest of the supernatural world hadn’t proven at all successful, so why was he attempting to do the same thing again? Because for the first time in a long time the yellow eyed demon was finding himself on the back foot. Plans had been forged and reforged a thousand times in the years that he was in his dark corner down below but in his overconfident mind they’d all resulted in success, not this abject failure he was now trying to find his way around. Scowling at the ground Azazel continued his stroll through Mystic Falls. One last attempt the demon told himself, then a new approach, a winning approach. Knowing the foolishness of aiming for his thumb again with that particular mallet after striking nothing but his own flesh that first time Azazel had approached those window shopping around the square. His all too human, all too false eyes swept the crowd until he’d singled out a likely candidate. The human approach had worked well for him of late, gathering those he’d thought worthy to his side before they’d all been stripped away. It seemed all too fitting to try it again now. Or at least it had until the figure had turned away from the store window and the near smug expression rapidly fell away.

John Winchester was supposed to be dead. The sad sack of crap had offered himself up for his little boy. He’d gone to hell in Dean’s place, had suffered on down there for a year of this brief human time before he’d escaped with the demons. Winchester had watched while he’d been shot, and from all accounts, had floated off for a pleasant eternity upstairs. Something of late was going very, very wrong for his side. Those who should’ve been here fighting were gone, vile, worthless creatures being returned in their place. Somehow Azazel resisted the urge to just pull John’s spine out through his mouth. It would’ve been no skin off of his nose to do it here and now but if he went straight ahead and did that what was to say the hunter wouldn’t pop right back up, growing again like an impossible to eradicate fungus. The smile that lit up the meat suit’s face was instant and didn’t contain a trace of the inner fury. Lifting an arm, Azazel clapped a hand in a friendly gesture against John’s upper arm. ”It’s good to see you John Boy,” Azazel crowed, the smile turning slightly feral. ”Missed is maybe the wrong word, not quite strong enough to express just how good it feels to see you again. Man, where’ve you been? I honestly thought we weren’t going to see you again.” He wasn’t about to admit he didn’t know the answer about the return. Of course he had no clue, the world was truly being turned on its head, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to find out. As soon as he did John Winchester was going right back where he belonged.


Tags: John Eric Winchester
Word Count: 805
Notes: Sorry for the awfulness of this. I'm completely out of practice with him.

[John Eric Winchester]

I Walk These Streets, A Loaded Six-String On My Back.
I Play For Keeps 'cause I Might Not Make It Back.
----------------------------------------------------------
It was clear that Azazel, even after being caught, was trying to keep up appearances for some reason or another. John wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth on this one and question why. Still it was a curious thing that Azazel didn't try to instantly rip John's head from his very shoulders. Feeling the demon touch him was odd, a hand place on his upper arm in a friendly gesture left the outside onlookers thinking that it was just two old friends reuniting after a long period of being apart. Still the touch sent shivers up John's spine. Azazel was close enough to end him once again if he so chose, but he didn't. It wasn't till Azazel got closer to him did the demon give any hint of being at least sightly upset at John being back from the dead. The friendly smile turned more feral and it kind of brought a smirk to John's face. The yellow eyed demon had been a pain in John Winchesters side for so long, it was nice knowing that John was able to cause at least a momentary frustration for the demon in return.

"I never thought I would be back. You know, hell isn't as bad as they say, perhaps you need to up the ante down there?" John mocked him a little bit, keeping his tone friendly however, trying to make it seem like a friendly suggestion. However, it was a bit of a fib, hell had in fact still been hell, even for John Winchester it was no picnic, but he was tougher then most. The truth was, John was trying to get a read on if Azazel knew why he was back or how for that matter or not. It was clear that either the demon didn't know anything about the situation, or he had been withholding any information he may have had. Which John kind of expected if he was gonna be honest. He doubt Azazel would have anything to do with John Winchester coming back from the dead. The demon must of liked knowing the hunter was 6 feet under anyways. So if it wasn't Azazel, then who was it? And for what purpose?

"So how are things? World domination any easier since my death?" John asked him curiously, though John knew the answer. The angels were probably a much larger thorn in Yellow Eyes side then John Winchester could ever wish to be. Part of John wished he had the knife on him right now. With Azazel being this close to him, he could plunge the blade deep into the things "heart" and finish him once and for all. Still, perhaps Azazel knew more then he was letting on about John's miraculous recovery. John honestly didn't care, Azazel was still alive, and he had to be stopped once and for all. John wasn't gonna let the demon ruin even more families lives for his own selfish crusade any longer. The other part of John was happy he didn't have the blade with him, just using it all willy nilly was not a very smart move, they had to use it at the right moment and come up with a real plan, otherwise they could fail and blow their best and only weapon they had to kill Azazel.

Tags: Ol' Yellow Eyes Azazel
Words: 556
Notes: My great and worthy opponent.
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I Been Everywhere, Still, I'm Standing Tall.
I've Seen A Million Faces, And I've Rocked Them All.

[Azazel]

---

At any other time appearing chummy with a hunter would have turned the demon’s stomach. There was a reason why he’d risen to sit on the throne of hell in his father’s absence and it wasn’t because of his love for humans. If anything, his detestation of hunters was even greater than his detestation of humans. At least the mindless creatures who were walking around the town didn’t have delusions of grandeur. They hadn’t attempted to stick their noses in a war that honestly didn’t concern them. The world had belonged to the angels, demons and beasts of purgatory long before God had foolishly populated it with humanity. If he had his way his father would have been clear of his cage by now and instead of standing here trying to find out how the hell John Winchester had escaped from the pleasurable little spot he’d escaped to after he’d ridden out of the gates of hell with the demons he himself had arranged to have set free, his father would have been laying waste to the world instead. He wouldn’t have been forced to grin at John then, he could’ve torn off the arm he was touching and used it to wipe that smirk off of the human face. It wasn’t any less than had been done to the hunter in hell, and if he had his way, good old John would experience worse yet again. He just needed to be sure of exactly how the hunter had gotten back before he could indulge and show the younger Winchesters yet again just what control he had over their miserable lives and the people in them.

So his return had been as much of a surprise to Johnny Boy as it had been to him and no doubt to the boys. And he was at least close enough back to his old self to start gloating. That tongue could quite easily go right along with the arm he’d been forced to touch once he was free to play. Dropping his hand away, slipping it back into his pocket, the yellow eyed demon gave a shrug. ”What can I say, things have slipped a little since the place changed hands. I’ll have to have a word with the help, see if they can’t do something to spruce the place up. Next time you pay a visit I’m sure it’ll be more to your liking.” Or to his. If he could take the angels down and kick Crowley out of the spot he’d once occupied things would be back to the way they’d once been. It really was no good leading through dodgy dealing and alliances with those they’d been made to despise. Fear, cruelty, mercilessness, those were what you needed to make all the black eyed idiots fall into line, not weasly conniving sales men. Not a single demon of honour had stepped up to take his place when the hunters had taken that shot, in fact, the only ones worth a damn had come up to earth in an attempt to free their father, just as all demons should have been doing. Lillith, Alastair, Eve, all had been slaughtered. That was another thing the hunters would pay for in the end.

In any other town, in any other country, this little chat on the street might’ve appeared friendly. It could’ve been two old friends catching up on the years that’d passed since they’d last crossed paths. Even if it hadn’t been a demon and a hunter talking in this town it could’ve been a dozen other supernatural things and yet the folks around them were no wiser. No doubt informed by his sons of the current state of affairs, John went straight for the biggest wound he bore with the sort of precision he’d come to expect from the man. ”Better for me than for your boys,” Azazel responded lightly. Grinning now, far more smugly than he should’ve been considering the fact that he didn’t have a single demon or anyone else on his side right now, Azazel rocked back on the worn heels of his boots. ”Bet they told you we had a little reunion a while back. They bought along those little lackeys of theirs. Have to say I particularly enjoyed the girl, Jo, was it? We got to spend some real quality time together. Me, her and that oldest boy of yours. Bet they’re still thinking about it now.” Two could play the wound poking game. Azazel didn’t imagine that Dean had been too forthcoming about what he’d gone through with anybody, but those nights when he woke in a cold sweat still gave the demon a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. The angel could heal all the physical wounds he wanted, it was those mental ones that scarred the longest.

Tags: John Eric Winchester
Word Count: 807

[John Eric Winchester]

I Walk These Streets, A Loaded Six-String On My Back.
I Play For Keeps 'cause I Might Not Make It Back.
----------------------------------------------------------
John nodded in response, keeping up appearances to the strangers around them that it was just a friendly conversation. Informing everyone around him that there was a blood thirsty demon in their midst was not a very wise move at this point in time. For one thing, John would be dead before he got the sentence out of his mouth, and for another thing, it would put all the innocent lives around them at risk. "Yeah, I am not saying I would like to build a summer home there or anything, but I don't think the place is as bad as people say." John continued his charade of pretending like hell wasn't all that bad. The truth was, hell was worse then anyone ever told him in the past. John now knew that Dean suffered the same fate that he had, like father like son he guessed, and in the grand Winchester tradition, the topic was never brought up between themselves. It was probably for the better that they didn't go picking at those old scabs.

"Oh? I thought the Angels destroyed your army?" John rose an eyebrow at him. Of course the demon was feigning confidence right now, even though Dean and Sam told him that Castiel and his angels fought Azazel off enough to stop him from raising Lucifer from his cage. He growled a little at the mention of the reunion they had. Dean and Sam didn't mention many specifics about what had happened, but he knew that Dean and Jo Harvelle, the daughter of one of John's old partners, had been attacked by the demon and it was up to Castiel and Sammy to rescue them. He knew Dean wouldn't want to share to many details with him, but it was clear to John that Dean wasn't the same man that he had left on this earth when he died. Wounds healed, but the mind could not, and the experiences Dean has had since John's death were beginning to mount on his son.

"I'd tell you to go to hell, but you would probably like that Azazel." John said to him, a small growl escaping his lips. He probably shouldn't try provoking a demon like this, but he didn't care anymore. "This fight has always been between me and you. You better not lay another hand on Dean or Sam or Jo." John added quickly. his fatherly instincts kicking in. Right now John didn't care about what Azazel might do to him, all he cared about was protecting his sons from the monster. Dean honestly didn't need any more torture in his life, and he had heard from Sam that Dean and Jo had gotten quite close in recent times, so the feelings were extended to Jo as well. She was basically family right now if Dean cared that much about her, besides, John owed it to her after what happened between him and her father all those years ago, something John still felt guilty over.

Tags: Ol' Yellow Eyes Azazel
Words: 500
Notes: My great and worthy opponent.
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I Been Everywhere, Still, I'm Standing Tall.
I've Seen A Million Faces, And I've Rocked Them All.

[Azazel]

---

To most demons, appearing this human would have been an anathema. The power running through their veins meant that they didn’t have to play these stupid games most of the time, most demons, though, lacked a great deal of subtlety. They were never going to rise through the ranks and, unfortunately, would never likely free their father. The yellow eyed demon on the other hand had managed the first and despite a few setbacks, was still at work on the second. John Winchester popping back to help out his boys was definitely a setback, one Azazel knew he hadn’t needed after that little fiasco with the angels. Laughter rolled free of the meatsuit’s throat, just loud and merry enough to garner glances from some of those around them. ”Oh Johnny Boy, you have no idea. I suppose they just had you vacationing in the wrong spot. Maybe next time I can arrange a little visit while you’re there and I’ll show you just how hospitable it can be.” The smirk remained on Azazel’s face as he narrowed his eyes, then held up a finger for John to wait a moment. ”On second thoughts, why don’t you ask that eldest boy of yours, he got to spend a nice long vacation there. They were practically considering him one of the family by the time he went home.” If he’d had his way Dean’s stay would’ve been far longer, as would John. He’d have to do something about that once he’d taken care of heaven’s little pests, restore the right order of things before Lucifer took his spot back up.

There’d often been parlay between the two of them, or at least between his children and John Winchester. While one part of him had been glad when it had been brought to an end, another part had honestly missed the hunter’s feeble little attempts to get a rise out of him. There were sure to be moments where he’d be tempted to remove the hunter’s tongue just for fun, but for the most part, the banter was just the right touch of nostalgia. ”You mean your boy’s little pet? That angel couldn’t blow his own nose without it dropping right off his face,” Azazel murmured, trying for amused rather than angry. Admitting that almost entire army was gone was impossible, his ego wouldn’t allow it, but John knew that of course. Just as he knew that John’s ego wouldn’t enjoy the fact that he’d missed his son’s little vacation at the tannery. ”The angel might have cost me a few but ask him what happened to his side in return. That includes Dean. It was sweet little Cas who came to pick up Dean and the girl, of course he needed to after Sammy failed so badly.” There’d been a fight that night of course, the child that had nearly been his sneaking into the tannery, destroying the sigils that kept the angels out before trying to take him on single handed. If it hadn’t been for the angel, that little meeting would’ve gone very differently.

The yellow eyed demon was still grinning at John, rocking back lazily on the heels of his boots, but as John growled he gently clucked his tongue. Why, anyone passing would’ve thought he was getting to the man. Such a shame, and such a demonstration of John’s famous lack of control. ”Now now,” Azazel purred, tugging his hand free of his pocket to hold up a hand to John to silence the man a moment. He exerted a tiny amount of will, trying to close off John’s windpipe just faintly to stop that impatient little noise. ”There’s no need to start slinging around demands, not when it was all so friendly.” He cocked his head, his smile taking on a sour edge for just a moment as he regarded the hunter. ”I’d have thought you’d have learned by now that this was never about you Johnny Boy. Who did I visit that first night? Who was mine while you were stuck downstairs? I suppose he told you about his little addiction. Such a shame that he chose my kind over his own family.” Azazel was better that the boys hadn’t given their dad anything but the positive potted history of the Brothers Grimm since daddy had gotten back. No one ever wanted to lead with the bad news, not unless they were delivering it with the whiff of brimstone still clinging to them. Poor Sammy, all guilt ridden over all that he’d done since his dad had sacrificed himself for his eldest boy.


Tags: John Eric Winchester
Word Count: 767

[John Eric Winchester]

I Walk These Streets, A Loaded Six-String On My Back.
I Play For Keeps 'cause I Might Not Make It Back.
----------------------------------------------------------
"I would expect nothing less of you." John replied, showing that he did not fear what Azazel could do to him in this world or hell or any other world if he so chose. At the very least, that was one thing no one could take from John, the fact that he showed no fear, and even sometimes laughed in the face of danger. People can call him stubborn, a bad father, and other things, but no one can call him a coward. "I expect your best if I ever do... go on vacation again. I would be disappointed if your hospitality wasn't up to snuff." John said with a smirk. John knew the cliff notes, about how Dean died and went to hell, how he began torturing people on the rack instead of being tortured himself. John didn't fall for that temptation, but he didn't blame Dean for doing it. John knew full well what it was like in hell, so there was no way anyone could blame Dean. "That must have been nice. You always wanted a Winchester for a family member, to bad you tried and failed with both of my boys." John mocked back. It was true, when it came to the Winchesters, Azazel was a big failure, and the demon had to know it.

John admittedly didn't know much about Castiel. He knew that Cas, as Dean called him, pulled Dean from hell and did countless other things for them, but he still hadn't met the angel himself, in fact John before his death thought angels were all but a myth. "That may be, but he was able to pull my boy from hell. So he bested you." John mocked him with a grin. He nodded. "I suppose there were loses on both sides of that battle." As Azazel went on about how Sammy failed. Anything Sam Winchester did was not a failure, not in John's eyes, so long as he was trying. John was proud that Sam tried in school and he is proud of what he does as a hunter, fail or succeed. Even if John didn't say all of this to Sam all the time. Sharing feelings just wasn't in the Winchester gene pool. As quick as the growl started it was soon forcefully stopped by Azazel. Damn him and his demonic powers right back to hell. "Friendly." He managed to get out. "You made it about me the night you broke my family apart. It was then my mission to break yours apart as well, starting with you and your father." John slung back. He did he best to ignore the comments that Azazel was making about his sons, but the addiction thing caught in his head. Addicted, to what?

"I'm sure my boy had his reasons for giving in to temptations." John snapped back. If he could he would gladly shut Azazel up once and for all right now, however, it just wasn't in the cards as John didn't have any weapon that could kill Azazel once and for all. However all he had to do was keep talking, to piss the demon off as much as possible. Sooner or later, hopefully, backup of some kind would come to help him. Other wise, Johns return to the land of the living would be a short lived one.

Tags: Ol' Yellow Eyes Azazel
Words: 557
Notes: This is the last post I owe that is really past due. So I am happy.
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I Been Everywhere, Still, I'm Standing Tall.
I've Seen A Million Faces, And I've Rocked Them All.

[Azazel]

---

A part of the Yellow Eyed demon had always these few minutes he got to spend with John Winchester every few years. For a human the man had proven particularly entertaining, his attempts to stand tall and beat down the fear obvious, the fear beneath the bluster just as evident. Winchester thought he’d seen the worst that could happen in hell, that he’d withstood everything the demons had to throw at him. The man didn’t have a clue, he just hadn’t had the right tormenter. One weak spot was all that was required, eventually enough pressure on it would have John cracking just as his boy had done. Eventually he’d have the man by his side, his soul forever blackened by Hell’s finest. ”It’ll all be yours,” Azazel promised, reaching out the hand he’d held up to clap it against John’s shoulder. ”Well, yours and Dean’s. There’s a real special spot waiting for little Sammy when he gets there with me.” It hadn’t been his aim to use the same methods on Sam that’d been used on Dean, the first attempt with the boy being vastly different. Still, given the right circumstances Azazel knew just what Sam could achieve when he was sucked below. That was where all the Winchesters were headed eventually. ”Try, and try again, isn’t that what your kind say John?” Azazel asked, cocking his head as he studied the hunter. He wasn’t done trying with the Winchesters, would never be done, not until he’d used those mewling creatures to spring his father from the cage.

Being reminded of the latest failure in his string of attempts to get Sam on his side, to get Lucifer free of hell was a bitter pill for Azazel but the demon hadn’t let it show, in fact he’d feigned amusement over the whole thing, over Castiel’s interference in a battle even God couldn’t be bothered fighting. The angel joining the side of the Winchesters had been a thorn in his side from the moment Castiel had set his hand upon Dean’s scrawny arm and hauled him free of his rightful spot amongst the fire and brimstone. Azazel’s shoulders rose and fell beneath the old canvas jacket his meat suit continued to sport. ”I’d hardly call it besting me when I wasn’t the one holding him there,” Azazel managed smugly, avoiding hissing the words through gritted teeth. If it had been him the angel wouldn’t have had such an easy job freeing the hunter. Hell had fallen apart in the vacuum left by his ‘death’, Crowley’s rise leaving the demons at their lowest possible ebb. ”Hell’s got endless resources, heaven on the other hand … ask Castiel just how the ranks up there are falling apart. You won’t have a single feather on your side soon and you’re gonna need them John. I’m not the only thing rising from the depths, this won’t be the only battle.” Of course Crowley was just as likely to side with the humans as he was to crush them beneath his boot. The current King of Hell was far too fond of his throne to consider freeing the one person who might kick him off of it.

It didn’t take much to put a human in its place. The instant John started to lose his temper he’d raised a hand, using his power to shut the man up for a moment. All it would’ve taken to make that permanent was just a little more will but he had plans for Winchester now he was back, the sort of plans that might be delayed by killing the man, however briefly. Shaking his head, Azazel laughed as he let his grip slip once more now that Winchester was at least speaking civilly. ”Now son, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick,” Azazel crooned. ”This was never about breaking your family apart. I just wanted your boy. If that foolish wife of yours had done what she’d promised, you’d never have had a problem.” The smirk that graced the demon’s lips only grew as John mentioned his mission. He would never have imagined just what a fire he could light in John Winchester on the first night they’d met, on the night he’d forced Mary to choose between her dad and her boyfriend. ”Looks like only one of us is succeeding in our mission. Your boy’s breaking John, it started the minute he tasted us. Ruby had that boy of yours in her grip and he’s never entirely been free of it. Did Dean tell you how Sammy ran? How he left him in my hands for days before him and that angel came and got him? I broke him John. Poor little Sammy, no back bone anymore.” Enough details of just how hell had started taking those boys apart and John would likely snap like a twig. Winchester had never had much restraint, especially where his boys were concerned. It had been his hubris that’d lost him his life in the first place and if he wasn’t careful it would happen all over again.

Tags: John Eric Winchester
Word Count: 848