Mary Winchester (_takeasadsong) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2011-01-31 18:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | azazel, jacen solo, mary winchester |
WHO: Mary Winchester, Jacen Solo, Azazel
WHERE: A room somewhere inside the warehouse of creepy
WHEN: January 30th
WHAT: KILLING AZAZEL RIGHT IN HIS GODDAMN FACE
STATUS: Incomplete
WARNINGS: Death, sith, demons, Johnny Cash in the cut text
Jacen was going to rip apart every demon he could find just so he could get to his daughter and sister. Talking to Tenel Ka had helped, she knew what she would feel. What Allana, Jacen, Cade, his Mother, Valin, any Jedi in this place would feel. Anakin would feel it too, Jacen was giving in to the part of him he had tried to suppress for Tenel Ka’s sake. The hate and anger he had left behind when he had found himself dammed for his crimes after his death. She’d feel all those reasons she’d betrayed him all over again. ...No, not betrayed, he wasn’t to think like that. He looked around at Mary, eyes as tinged with yellow as the demon they were here to kill and he found he didn’t care if he was scaring her. She knew he wasn’t a demon and she was here for her own reasons. This demon needed to die.
“If you’re ready, this is the best chance you’re going to get, if you can keep up.” he told her, sending a volley of lightning into a redheaded woman with black eyes who had been sneaking up on Mary. Probably killing the host, but it stopped the demon, for now at least. Others could worry about the ancient words of this planet that sent them back to their own damnation. But he didn’t care enough right now to stop and take the time to save innocent lives. Mary would have to deal with that too. But he knew enough of her to believe she’d do whatever she needed to to kill the man
There were those who might call Darth Caedus as evil a being as the demon they were about to face. But he was strong where Jacen Solo was weak, and giving in to his Sith Training would save his daughter and sister, and that was what was important after all. That was what had happened before after all. A second blast of lightning opened the locked door before them and he immediately threw up a shield on Mary Winchester as they ran down the next corridor.
---
“I’ll keep up,” Mary said as she took aim with the handgun she’d brought from her own supplies and dropped another demon with a shot to the kneecap. Her tone didn’t betray any offense at the implication that she could fall behind, any fear at what they were about to do, or any discernible emotion whatsoever. When she’d met Jacen outside the warehouse and he’d turned, when she’d first seen his eyes, it had been hard not to reach for the colt, as it was she’d had her hand on her other gun before she could stop herself. Still, once that first shock was over, there hadn’t been the moment of doubt that she’d expected to feel, that she probably should have felt about working with someone so far over the edge. She told herself, when she could bring herself to think about it, that she was different than the nineteen-year-old who had knelt in the dirt and made a promise to something she didn’t understand. Now though, with that thing so close, with an end in sight, she looked directly back into another pair of yellow eyes and nodded without hesitation. She didn’t let herself think of Sam and the demon blood, of what she would have said if someone else had let him slip again so that he could become a weapon.
When the door in front of her was ripped off its hinges by the lightning blast she brought her gun up and hurried into the corridor after Jacen. She trusted that the shield was in place, the fact that they’d come this far without a scratch was testament to its effectiveness, but it wasn’t something she could see and all of her instincts still screamed at her that she was standing in the middle of a battle without cover. “Can you sense whether or not we’re close yet?” she asked, unsure of the scope of his abilities. Jedi abilities she thought and, for a moment, during one of the most solemn hunts she’d ever been on, almost let out a slightly hysterical laugh, if someone could have told me this would happen when John dragged me to see that movie and I fell asleep before that kid ever got off the desert planet...
He was ready to get this over with, get this demon out of their lives forever and that had been before he’d taken Allana and Jaina. There were others helping, all with their own reasons and stories, some that had friends kidnapped, others that Azazel had hurt in his time here, and even some who were just that rarest of things, a good person. Jacen didn’t ask for their reasons, he didn’t care. He just wanted this done. He pushed a demon out of their way, searching the creatures dark and twisted soul. “...Yes, he’s close” he said simply, following the sense of the demon he had as he continued down the corridor. He could sense Allana and Jaina too, mostly unharmed, they were to be hosts for demons loyal to Lucifer, it would not now happen of course. No one was going to take his sister and daughter from him for such a purpose. Not Lucifer himself or not any of his loyal demons such as this one. Azazel had done more than enough to deserve what awaited him if Mary Winchester’s aim was true.
With a blast of lightning that any Jedi could feel Jacen pushed the door off its hinges and immediatly caught the yellow eyes that almost matched his. At full strength Jacen was almost unbeatable, but of course so was the demon, so long as he wasn’t aware of the ace up Mary Winchester’s sleeve. And Jacen was ready to be a very destructive distraction.
He brought a wall down at the far side of the room, Mary was protected of course and the others would have time to get out. It wasn’t a load bearing wall or anything. But it was proving a point. And being a very loud obvious distraction. “My sister” he began, yellow eyes tinted with a dark rage he was finally letting loose completely. “And my daughter. That was your last mistake demon.”
---
Azazel wasn’t entirely clear on where the ball had been dropped. Some detail somewhere had to have been missed, because by now those he’d arranged to be kidnapped should have been possessed already, ready and willing to perform whatever job necessary for his Father. He had his own suspicions of exactly what his Father’s plan was, and how it related to the ultimate goal. World ending was the final game, Azazel knew, but unfortunately even Lucifer had rules he had to follow. And because of those rules, there were certain steps that Azazel had to make sure were taken, even if the entire plan wasn’t shared with him. Despite what Ruby claimed, what was important here was loyalty. The kind where you didn’t question why you did something; you simply did it.
Back to the ball-dropping. Due to the unforseen delay in his plans, Azazel was now determining exactly how he was going to move the entire lot, when he sensed the death of a few of his minions nearby. He turned from the map he’d been studying on a table and faced the door, a small sigh escaping. Of course, he had been half expecting something like this and was disappointed, but even this likely fell under Lucifer’s plan, for all he knew.
His Father did so love creating diversions. And if Azazel’s efforts here kept the Winchesters and everyone else distracted in Lawrence, it would further Lucifer’s own efforts elsewhere. There was, after all, that small detail that was taking place up north, at that very moment, involving a specific group of labs.
As the door flew off its hinges into the room, Azazel casually waved a hand towards it, causing it to head for the the table and destroy certain parts of the map that he didn’t want seen by any. His gaze flickered once towards the far wall as it tumbled outwards, then back to the man and woman who were entering the room. He met the yellow gaze curiously for a brief moment, then turned his attention to the blond standing beside him, and smiled slowly.
“Ah, Mary. I should have known you were the only one in the family who’d have the guts to try something like this,” he said, before addressing the man in response to his words. “Actually, I’d say that wasn’t precisely a mistake. Obviously, the mistake was in not possessing one of them myself, by now. A fact that can be momentarily rectified, I assure you.”
----
Debris from the wall blew past Mary, parting around her as it ricocheted off of Jacen’s shield so that she was standing in the middle of the destruction untouched, unruffled by so much as a breeze. The stillness made her feel steadier and when Azazel addressed her she raised her chin and forced herself to look him in the eyes. This thing had killed her parents and John, had tricked her into betraying her children, had killed her, tortured and taunted her and yet she had never felt as steady, as certain, as she did looking into those eyes and knowing that she was about to kill him. Later, when she thought back to this moment, she would be a bit uncomfortable remembering the way her muscles had gone completely steady, the way she’d savored it, that feeling of power over him, that moment when he was in the palm of her hand and she only had to clench her fist closed in order to crush him. In that moment she wasn’t thinking about protecting her family or even about revenge, she was entirely focused on the fact that she had the only thing in this world she could have said she really, personally hated at her mercy. I could make him suffer, she thought, Ruby would never have to know. And if she did? She doesn’t exactly have the right to--
There was a scream from somewhere back down the corridor, where the rescue was going on. It could have been a demon or a human, male or female, but as always when there was a sound of pain or fear in battle Mary’s first thought was catalogue it, to determine whether it was one of her family. The act of doing that brought her back to herself and she shook her head quickly, just as Azazel turned away from her towards Jacen, taunting him about possessing his family. This is it she thought and, if she had been reveling before, thinking too much, she was all motion now.
It was ironic, years of fear, of suffering, of plans and plots and love and loss coming down to the motion of an arm, the tense and release of a few muscles. She raised the colt and leveled it at the demon who, over the barrel of a gun, looked almost as human as the host he was wearing. Later she would wonder about that man, about whether he was still alive, revived with the demon, still a passenger and witness, but she wouldn’t feel any guilt; if the man was alive this would be a release. In the moment she was entirely invested in the movements she’d been preparing for, in some ways, since she was a girl (her father’s hands over hers on the gun, her mother’s whisper of “steady, steady, you don’t always get a second shot” at her shoulder). She thumbed back the hammer, extended her arm, and pulled the trigger.
“That’s for my sons,” she whispered, the sound lost in the noise of the shot, “you bastard.”