Sammy's Plaything

Chapter 4

 

Sam was getting fed up with following Azazel's orders. He decided to start with a simple bargain, Sam had one Hell of a back up plan, but he would give the demon a chance to get out of his way before he exorcised him.

 

"Hey there Sammy, boy what can I do for you? Things not turning out quite how you planned?" Azazel said.

 

"Damnit Azazel, I'm sick of being your soldier boy, jumping at every order. Either you stick to watching from the sidelines or I take you out and all your dreams go out the window."

 

"Sam, Sam. After all I've done for you, this is how you decide to show your appreciation. I gave you a gift, Sam. I may have given it to a lot of other people, but you were always my favorite. I went out of my way to make sure it was you that one the my little contest. I even refrained from killing your annoying martyr of a brother, though I've had plenty of chances. And now you're trying to put me out to pasture. I'm not sure I trust you to run things."

 

"Listen up Yellow Eyes, this isn't really a negotiation, it's more of a courtesy. I'm telling to either step down quietly or I put you down. I'll let you check in from time to time and I will follow your general plan to lead a demon army to greatness and world domination, but I will do so on my own terms or not at all," Sam said firmly.

 

The Yellow-Eyed demon seemed taken aback by his pupil's sudden display of uncharacteristic dominance. He had no idea that Sam had such ambitious dreams, it had always seemed to him that perhaps a former demon hunter was a poor choice as the leader of a demon army. Though Sam did seem to be a lot more willing to compromise than his firmly black-and-white, right-and-wrong brother. He supposed he could do a lot worse than to let his skillful protege take the reigns, but he felt that he needed to show the young pup who's boss.

 

"If I do step down there will be some conditions. I can't have my pals downstairs thinking I've gone soft. Your first duty will be to cleanse North America of those filthy vermin people call hunters. They'd only be gunning for you anyway."

 

"Very well, Azazel, but I refuse to kill Dean or Bobby."

 

"That seems reasonable enough Sammy, I know you have plans of your own for Dean and as for Bobby he rarely leaves that house to do anything, much less hunt. I suspect he's become agoraphobic."

 

The two men shook hands firmly and it seemed each was trying to squeeze the other's hand harder. After a few tense moments, the yellow-eyed man walked down the marble steps and out into the hot desert air, he seemed to consider his surroundings momentarily, then he was gone, the dust swirling in his wake.

 

Sam was feeling conflicted about his new task, but it seemed these days his conscience was becoming more faint as if it was merely a voice shouted into the wind from a long ways off. It's true that over all the hunters appeared to be fighting a losing battle and he knew very few of them personally, but it was hardly grounds for mass extermination. If those hunter's lives were anywhere near as bone-crushingly depressing as his or Dean's he'd be doing them all a favour.