InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "it was ridiculously romantic."

♦ A Z A Z E L ♦ (_yellow_eyes_) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2010-10-30 00:43:00

Entry tags:

azazel, mary winchester

Who: Samuel Campbell!Azazel & Mary Winchester
When: Starts morning of 5/28
When: 'Family' breakfast, followed by peril
Where: Various locales
Rating: TBD

Things were beginning to come to a head. He could feel it, almost taste it. He knew that soon his Father would make his move, and draw Sammy Winchester into the fold. It was coming soon. Which meant that Azazel didn’t really have to hide, anymore. Or he could at least start having a little more fun. So he put out the invite to Mary, playing the daddy card.
Hunters always did have a thing for their dads, he’d found over the years.
The morning she was coming over, Azazel prepared carefully. In the basement of an abandoned building just outside of town, he had already set up a special cage – a room with no locks, essentially, that one couldn’t enter unless they were a demon (or accompanied by one) or an angel. To prevent the latter from entering, he inscribed the entire building with Enochial sigils designed to keep out any of the wings. Knowing that this might lead them directly to him, he spent the night doing the same to other various buildings around Lawrence. They weren’t the kind of symbols that the normal eye could see, which made it simpler. No painting or drawing, only a little use of will and they were there. In the room he had prepared for Mary, he placed a bed, nothing more. It wasn’t as though he was a complete barbarian – he wouldn’t make her sleep on the floor. After all, she was the mother of his Father’s vessel. While he had no problem killing her (again), she did deserve some small measure of respect.
Once everything was ready, he returned to the apartment he kept as Samuel Campbell. He made a fresh pot of coffee, adding a special powder to one cup before pouring a serving in for the hunter, and set out a plate of donuts. When the knock came, he had no trouble containing his excitement, but he still couldn’t repress a small shiver of anticipation. He answered the door holding her mug, and gave a fatherly smile as he held out the coffee.
“Good morning, Mary. Hope you still like two creams and a sugar, like you used to.” He stepped back so she could enter.

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_takeasadsong
2010-11-02 05:56 pm UTC (link)

"Thanks dad," Mary said gratitude as much for the familiar, reassuring gesture as for the caffeine. She took the coffee and leaned in to give her father a one armed hug and kiss on the cheek then rocked back on her heels to take a deep drink from the mug. She was, after all, very grateful for the caffeine too. Hunts took more out of you in your thirties than at nineteen she'd learned quickly enough, both physically (a soreness in her muscles attested to that) and emotionally. It had been hard to get out of bed that morning when all she'd really wanted to do was sleep or just lie there secure in the knowledge that her husband was in bed next to her and her sons had both given in to her indulgence in hovering and texted her that they'd gotten home safely the night before. Nothing like helping the boys you still remember best as a toddler and baby blowing away the monsters that killed their half-brother's mother to make you realize life didn't exactly like you planned she thought wryly, taking another swig of coffee.

"I'd say John says hello," she said, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand, "but he was still snoring like a log when I left. You never told me," she adopted a mock-accusing tone and shook her finger at her father, "how much harder hunting was at thirty than nineteen. I think I pulled muscles I didn't even know I had. I don't know how you and mom did it," and there was that old, achingly familiar stab of pain when she mentioned her mother, that same quick thought, why not her too? But she had her father. She had her father and her family had come through this hunt and she'd focus on that. She took another sip from the mug for something to do with her hands. At this rate I'll have chugged down three cups before we eat.

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_yellow_eyes_
2010-11-04 04:21 am UTC (link)

"Of course, Mare." He didn't mind keeping up the pretense for now. He lightly pressed a kiss to her cheek in return, inwardly smirking. If only the Winchester knew who their precious Mary was hugging at the moment. He drew the blond woman into the apartment and motioned for her to sit at the table, where the donuts were. At the sudden accusation, 'Samuel' put his hands up in innocent defense.

"Would you have ever listened to us? You barely wanted to be in the life as it was, it was hard sometimes just to tell you stories." The words were softened with a smile so that she wouldn't think he was trying to start an argument, though that would have been fun as well. However, such a move was worthy more of a lesser demon, like Ruby, rather than him. "We did it because we knew we were keeping you safe, Mary. That got us through it, each night." He reached out and lay a hand on her shoulder, patting it lightly. Seeing how fast she was drinking the coffee, he moved towards the counter and picked up the pot, moving back to her to refill her cup.

"Easy there, girl. Too much caffeine can have the same effect as too little." But he smirked inwardly, because he knew that very soon she would begin to grow sleepy, and then she wouldn't be able to move...oh, she wouldn't actually be asleep. Mary would be able to see and hear and feel everything he did to her.

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_takeasadsong
2010-11-04 09:17 pm UTC (link)

Mary opened her mouth, starting to look affronted, then closed it again with a laugh as she let herself be guided into the chair her father had indicated. "You're right," she admitted, resting her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in upturned palm as she looked up at her father and rolled her eyes. "You forget yourself as a teenager awfully quickly once you can don't you?" she asked, wincing a little as she allowed herself to recall her countless flounces out of rooms and dramatic pronouncements of rebellion at dinner. "John says Sammy went through the same phase, maybe he takes after the Campbells," she joked, though in all seriousness if she could see her family in either of the boys it was Dean. Sam was John through and through, though she doubted either of them would welcome hearing that.

Her expression softened as her father went on and she smiled up at him. "I know that now," she answered quietly. She still disagreed with her parents' choice to bring her up as a hunter and if she'd been around she was still certain she would have done whatever she could to shield Dean and Sam from the life but she did understand being willing to do anything to keep your children safe. If there was a way she could get hers out of this whole mess she would still jump at the chance no matter how risky.

The mood was broken somewhat by her father's chiding about caffeine and Mary made a face and lifted the cup to her lips again in mock-rebellion. The act was somewhat ruined, however, by the almost jaw-cracking yawn that followed it. "Maybe you're right," she said shaking her head, "I feel even more exhausted now than when I woke up," she took another sip of coffee, even with what her father had just said the 'feel tired = drink more coffee' compulsion was pretty much bone deep. It's not just that I'm tired though there's something... she put down the mug and raised a hand up, splaying her thumb and forefinger to massage her temples. "Maybe I'm coming down with something..."

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_yellow_eyes_
2010-11-05 02:41 am UTC (link)

"You do, yes. Children usually think they're vulnerable, only to find out that the world doesn't quite work that way." She'd understand the double meaning soon enough. Taking another sip from his own mug, he smiled faintly. "No, I'd say Sam is definitely his father's son. In more ways than one." But he wasn't speaking of John, of course. No, Azazel was referring to himself, but how would Mary know that? It was his own private joke. For now.

As she complained about being sick, he walked back to the counter and set the pot down again, taking just a moment to smirk out of her sight. He should have known that she wouldn't eat before coming over - she wouldn't have wanted to ruin her supposed breakfast with her father. And she had also not yet touched the donuts he had so thoughtfully offered. So much the better. Smoothing his face, he turned while leaning against the counter, gazing at the woman in concern. "Coming down with something? I doubt it's that, Mary. It's probably just the powder that I slipped into your mug before you got here." When her eyes, startled, met his, he smiled slowly, his own gaze flashing and changing to bright yellow. "After all, I had to do something to make our time together more....comfortable for you. If I tried to move you without it, well there would be kicking and punching and possibly - embarrassing for you, I'm sure, but so many women do it - hair pulling. You'd wear yourself out." He watched as she moved to stand, but instead slumped back in the chair.

Smirking now, he started towards her, maintaining the face of her father for the time being just because it gave the enitre situation a special added 'oomph'. He did love when things came full circle. Dropping down to lean down beside her, he whispered into her ear. "No deal is going to save you this time, Mary Winchester. That, I can promise." Straightening, he placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, a faux replay of the movement he had made just a few minutes earlier. With this movement, he invoked a bit of his will, and caused both of them to disappear from the hotel and outside the building he had prepared. He shifted to slide one arm around her waist, now, the very picture of a concerned father helping his daughter into the basement of the building. Once inside, another touch of will and the two stood inside the doorless room he had created, and he dropped her on the bed.

"Now, Mary...what shall we do with you first?"

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_takeasadsong
2010-11-05 03:16 am UTC (link)

Mary tried to catch herself as she hit the bed but the drug was already too strong in her system and she fell awkwardly to the side, hip bruising again the edge of the frame, hand draping off the side, hair splaying across the pillow. “No,” she whispered, voice sluggish, even that one syllable slurred.

It had all happened too fast, one second he'd been her father, she'd been sick, and then his eyes had flashed, he'd whispered about the powder, and the last strength had gone out of her legs. In her mind she'd suddenly been in her son's nursery again recognizing that yellow flash, being thrown against the wall before she could do more than scream and she'd been planning her next move, the kick that would give her time to get to the gun she'd hidden there. Then she'd felt herself rising onto her toes thought what? as a sudden interlude to her frantic need to get between this thing and her son. Her feet had left the ground and she'd been too confused to be scared because this wasn't a fight and then...

And then he'd had his arm around her, transporting and dragging her through a series of locations and she couldn't have said if he was using his powers or if she was blacking out, she'd slowed down and the world had sped up. All she was certain of was that thing's arm around her waist in a parody of the way her father had helped her up the stairs when she was hurt, from hunting, once from a fall from her bike, too old to be carried but never without support. The demon's arms couldn't quite replicate it. Too much steel she thought, and when he kissed me there were too many teeth.

Then he was speaking again and she found the strength to turn her head, to curl her fingers up into a fist. She didn't answer, he didn't need the satisfaction, just narrowed her eyes into a glare and tried to concentrate, to take in everything about the room she was in. Because she was going to get out of this, and when she did she was going to be ready.

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_yellow_eyes_
2010-11-05 03:38 am UTC (link)

His eyes tracked the movement, and her smirked as her fist curled. "Well, well...you're fighting that so hard. In case you can't tell, the more you fight it, the faster the paralytic works through your system. Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'your face will freeze that way'." He shifted and sat on the edge of the bed. Meeting her eyes, he raised his hand and squeezed his own into a fist mirroring hers. She would start to feel her heart constrict slowly in her chest, almost to the point of agony, before it would relax again. "No. Killing you is too easy. Too quick. It's much more fun to keep you alive and see just how strong the Campbell bloodline really is."

He leaned in close to her again, still smirking...and yes, still wearing her father's face. "It's something I taught all my demons, you know. Go for the hurt first, not the kill. It's what I taught Ruby, when I told her to seduce Sammy. Fuck him until he wanted nothing but her, and the tainted liquid running through her veins. She was such a good little soldier back then. If you only knew what she did to your boy...and what she still does to him now, when they're alone in bed together." That said, he closed the distance and pressed his lips tightly to Mary's. There was nothing sexual or sensual about the kiss. His mouth was bruising, wanting nothing more than to hurt her. After kissing her almost to the point where she might lose consciousness from not being able to breathe, he broke the kiss and turned his head, spatting on the floor.

"Gah, the taste of Hunter always disgusts me. But I can overlook it, for a woman like you." Azazel's face turned back to hers as he smirked yet again, one hand reaching out to brush a finger down her cheek. He was lying, of course, just having fun. It was so easy to disturb hunters. And it was something he took particular delight in. With the exception of Sam Winchester, most hunters would rather die than be touched in that way by a known demon.

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_takeasadsong
2010-11-05 04:01 am UTC (link)

Mary's breath hitched as her heart contracted inside her chest, tightly, impossibly, and wouldn't release. It was instinctual to want to throw her head back, to gasp, but her body was frozen and all she could do was scrabble her fingertips frantically against the floor, nails scraping against concrete as her vision went black. Being a hunter for so long her body had always been at her command even more than that of another healthy young person, having it turn traitor on her was almost as terrifying as the pain. Long after it had unclenched, started beating at double time as if to make up for the cessation, her breath came out ragged.

She tuned out his threats as best she could, thinking tactics, keeping calm, trying not to fight the paralytic until she absolutely had to. Keep taking stock. No door. No windows. I'll have to force him to teleport me back out. Just have to get control. The bed, I could take it apart, use the slats as a weapon if he... her thoughts cut off abruptly as Azazel leaned closer, as his whispers turned to Sam. That's not working on me, she thought, steeling herself against the words, because if you're here taunting me he's safe. He's safe.

Then, suddenly, his lips were pressed against hers and she couldn't help herself, paralytic be damned she tried to wrench away or fight back. She tried to open her mouth and bite down on his lip but all she could do was part her lips enough to gasp, to exhale air she couldn't get back. God no, I can't her vision blurred and dimmed, her chest burned, but that was nothing next to the disgust, the shuddering that couldn't actually manifest in her skin, the helplessness against it. When he pulled away she squeezed her eyes shut. The finger dragged down her cheek was a mockery of every time her father had taken her temperature or tucked her in mixed disturbingly, revoltingly, with the way John would cup her cheek to bring her attention back or just to linger after they'd kissed...

No. She pushed the associations from her mind and made herself open her eyes and look at Azazel like he wasn't wearing her father's face, like he was any demon she had to fight. “What do you want?” she managed, voice thick and slow like it was coming from behind a gag, words formed with a partially-paralyzed tongue.

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_yellow_eyes_
2010-11-05 04:18 am UTC (link)

Her thoughts were playing out on her face to the point where Azazel had a pretty good guess of exactly what it was she was thinking. After she recovered (barely) from the kiss, he stayed where he was, sitting beside her, keeping his own face only a few inches away. "Oh Mary, Mary....do you really think it's that simple? You honestly expect this to go the way of the movies, where the evil villain reveals his plan in the third act, just before the hero rushes in to save the day?" He paused dramatically, then looked around slowly. Finally, he met her eyes again with a smile.

"Hear that? No one rushing in. No Winchester boy running in with guns blazing, all righteous anger and better-than-the-world attitude." He leaned in even closer, so that the only thing she would be able to see would be his eyes, glowing yellow in her daddy's face. "And no one to hear you scream." Abruptly he straightened, and dug into her pants pocket to drag out her phone. He wasn't worried about any weapons she might be concealing, because, let's face it folks, any weapon she had would do nothing to him. And for the time being, he was content to let her think that he was merely possessing her father.

He couldn't wait to see her face when she found out the truth, that all this time, it had been him. That her dad had never come back from the dead to begin with. He stood, holding her phone in front of her face. "Now, I've got some work to do, setting a few false trails. The drug will probably wear off while I'm gone, so make sure you do your best wearing yourself out, trying to get out of a room with no doors, windows, or locks." He grinned at her. "I'll see you, mommy dearest." And with that, he was gone. For now.

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