The day Sam leaves for Stanford, Azazel is not happy. He'd foreseen the possibility, having watched Sam's rage grow over the years until he couldn't keep it in anymore, even tending to the fire in the boy's eyes a few times himself. Got to keep the boy fit and ready for his role after all. But while it wasn't unexpected, it still threw a wrench in his plans--a very small one but no less annoying.
Dean's soul is long gone by now, having slipped out of its own body like a shadow sometime during what was supposed to be the boy's teenage years (oh, how fun they were). Azazel had to admit, he missed Dean's presence. His fear, anguish, and hatred was delicious.
John collapses on the couch and buries his head in his hands. A sob escapes from his lips and Azazel rolls his eyes.
"Oh, this won't do at all," Azazel mutters, loud enough for John to hear.
The man swivels his face up at the boy he always thought was Dean, eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I mean," says Azazel, slowly, with a smirk curling at the edge of Dean's pretty lips, "that you screwed up, Johnny. Because of your idiocy and the fact that you're only human, you've pushed away the one thing that you needed to keep close to you at all times if you wanted any chance at capturing the demon that killed your wife."
John is instantly on his feet with a gun pointed at Dean's chest. Azazel bursts out laughing until he can feel tears pouring out of Dean's beautiful green eyes. "What are you, really?" John barks.
Azazel smiles and decides, what the hell. He blinks and Dean's hazel green eyes vanish, replaced by putrid yellow irises. John's breath hitches. "Get the hell out of my son, now." He cocks his gun. "I won't ask twice."
"Oh, Johnny," he shakes his head, chuckling, "You don't get it, do you? Your son hasn't been home in a long, long time. I've been here since the night poor Mary Winchester burned to a crisp." John flinches and Azazel can see his grip on the gun loosening.
"No... "
"Oh, yes." Azazel raises his hand and snaps his fingers.
*
About an hour later, he's in the Impala and pulling out of the parking lot of the burning motel, passing by a herd of cop cars along the way.
He puts on a Metallica tape and sings along to Enter Sandman.
Sleep with one eye open, Gripping your pillow tight. Exit light Enter night Take my hand We're off to never neverland.
He's got a long way to go until he reaches Stanford.
Enter Night 2/2
Dean's soul is long gone by now, having slipped out of its own body like a shadow sometime during what was supposed to be the boy's teenage years (oh, how fun they were). Azazel had to admit, he missed Dean's presence. His fear, anguish, and hatred was delicious.
John collapses on the couch and buries his head in his hands. A sob escapes from his lips and Azazel rolls his eyes.
"Oh, this won't do at all," Azazel mutters, loud enough for John to hear.
The man swivels his face up at the boy he always thought was Dean, eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I mean," says Azazel, slowly, with a smirk curling at the edge of Dean's pretty lips, "that you screwed up, Johnny. Because of your idiocy and the fact that you're only human, you've pushed away the one thing that you needed to keep close to you at all times if you wanted any chance at capturing the demon that killed your wife."
John is instantly on his feet with a gun pointed at Dean's chest. Azazel bursts out laughing until he can feel tears pouring out of Dean's beautiful green eyes. "What are you, really?" John barks.
Azazel smiles and decides, what the hell. He blinks and Dean's hazel green eyes vanish, replaced by putrid yellow irises. John's breath hitches. "Get the hell out of my son, now." He cocks his gun. "I won't ask twice."
"Oh, Johnny," he shakes his head, chuckling, "You don't get it, do you? Your son hasn't been home in a long, long time. I've been here since the night poor Mary Winchester burned to a crisp." John flinches and Azazel can see his grip on the gun loosening.
"No... "
"Oh, yes." Azazel raises his hand and snaps his fingers.
*
About an hour later, he's in the Impala and pulling out of the parking lot of the burning motel, passing by a herd of cop cars along the way.
He puts on a Metallica tape and sings along to Enter Sandman.
Sleep with one eye open,
Gripping your pillow tight.
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
We're off to never neverland.
He's got a long way to go until he reaches Stanford.