Fic: The Devil went down to the arcade (SPN/Gen)
Total crack.
Title: The Devil went down to the arcade
Disclaimer: Not mine
Words: 1250
Genre: Gen, Crack, humor
Notes: Yeah, sorry about this. References "The devil went down to Georgia", "Tribute", "The Devil and Daniel Webster," and my own strange mind.
Summary: Sam challenges the demon for Dean's soul.
The Devil went down to the Arcade
Sam had this image of himself as a modern day Daniel Webster, defeating the Crossroads Demon with well-thought out arguments and perfectly executed witty riposte. But since he had never even gotten to law school, it would only be a farce. Never mind that he was pretty darn sure US courts had no jurisdiction over demons.
So he discarded that idea, and kept researching. It came to him one night as Dean drove them through Georgia, for once the radio blaring instead of one of his brother's weary cassettes. The words of the song sunk into him and he bolted upright in the passenger seat.
"That's it!"
Dean looked over and snorted. "No way you're going to learn the fiddle in three months, dude." He pushed in a tape, overruling the sounds from the radio.
Sam frowned. "It doesn't have to be the greatest song in the world..."
"Just a tribute?"
"Just better than the crossroads demon."
He practiced for hours. Sam kept at it even when his wrists ached, when his fingers twitched in his sleep. Brightly colored notes and chords haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He even hummed the tune as they drove, fingers tapping out familiar patterns on the dashboard.
"You're driving me crazy, man," Dean said one night, watching Sam exert himself once again. "This isn't going to work."
"It has to, Dean." Sam slumped next to him, rubbing his right wrist absently. "I'm so close."
Dean tossed him the tiger balm from the duffel. Sam took it gratefully, soothing his sore muscles. He couldn't use anything like it for the real event. That would be cheating. And if there was one thing he knew, you had to be darn careful when dealing with demons.
The moment came almost unnoticed. He completed the song perfectly, five gold stars as his reward. Sam was ready to challenge the crossroads Demon for Dean's soul.
She appeared as she always did, as a ridiculously beautiful woman with dark hair and soulful eyes. Sam wondered how she managed to find the perfect body so quick, or if she had someone on standby. What if the only person around was a wrinkled old bum? And where the hell did she find an evening gown?
She laughed at them, Sam standing protectively in front of his brother, who leaned against the Impala. Dean looked like he didn't have a care in the world, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at his ankles. Sam's palms were sweaty. He ran them along his jeans absently.
"I challenge you to a contest," Sam declared, clearing his throat.
"You don't have a fiddle," she said, a smirk on those perfect lips. "Do you honestly think I haven't gotten this request before? A thousand times before?"
Sam shook his head. "It doesn't have to be a fiddle. It only has to be musical."
She frowned. "You've done your homework. What are the stakes? What are you offering me, Sammy?"
"I win, Dean is free and clear, body and soul."
"And if I win?"
Sam swallowed. "You get us both."
"Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, startled out of his ennui to rush against Sam.
"It's my challenge, Dean." Sam clutched his brother's arm. "I have to do this. Let me save you."
Her laughter interrupted the moment. "Touching. You are always so entertaining. I'm almost tempted to give Dean here more time, always so special what he comes up with."
"So," Sam said. "My challenge, my instruments..."
"Your soul." she hissed.
Sam nodded.
"No!" Dean said again, but Sam ignored him. He stepped forward to seal the deal with the demon.
"So," she pulled back. "Where are your instruments?"
Sam smiled, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "We'll need to go to the arcade."
She had balked at first when they walked in, seeing that shiny machine in the corner. But the deal Sam struck was good, he got to choose the instrument. And playing Guitar Hero at the arcade counted.
Every source he checked, every reference said the same thing. Demons were bound by musical deals. It didn't make sense, Dean had argued, but neither did pelting ghosts with rock salt. And though the music here was generated digitally, it was still dependent on Sam hitting the right buttons on the plastic guitar attached to the machine.
"You're so overdressed for this place," Dean told the demon.
"Dude, are you flirting with the crossroads demon?"
Dean shrugged.
She flipped her hair and cocked an eyebrow. "Plenty of time for that later, sweetheart. Let's get started."
Sam wiped his sweaty palms one last time, then plunked his tokens in and selected the song. They were going head to head in a pro battle. The machine would decide the victor. Sam set the mode to "expert."
"No, Sammy! Not expert!"
The Demon cackled beside him, strapping on her guitar like a pro. She ran perfectly polished fingernails along the colored buttons along the arm of the guitar. Sam felt a fissure of fear. This was it, this was the moment he'd been practicing for.
The song queued up, the track appearing, and then splitting into two separate tracks. Sam on the left, the demon on the right. The intro started..."Carry on my wayward son..."
"Don't sing, Sammy, don't sing!" Dean shouted encouragement from the sidelines.
Sam zoned into the screen, his fingers becoming an extension of his mind as they moved across the guitar, matching the patterns of the notes as they ran down the track. He winced as he missed a note. The needle in the middle of the screen inched further onto the demon's side. No, he couldn't allow himself to lose. Focus, Sam, focus.
A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead as he fought his way back. He couldn't wipe it from his face, his hands were set on this path. His right wrist ached, still weak from having broken it nearly two years ago. It was only his strum hand, but a strum at a wrong time could make or break a song.
He gritted his teeth as they reached the most difficult guitar solo in the song. It had the most amount of notes, so Sam made the most of it, deploying star power and doubling his score. The needle inched closer onto his side of the screen. Yes!
He grew overconfident and missed the relatively easy next sequence. The demon laughed in triumph, the needled squarely on her side of the board once again.
But she had forgotten about the final guitar solo.
Just as she missed the first few notes of the final riff, Sam gathered up enough energy to deploy star power one last crucial time. With the final notes of the song, the needle just made it over to Sam's side of the board. Sam had won.
They both held their breath as the demon just stood there, staring at the score in shock. Slowly, she pulled the plastic guitar over her head and laid it at Sammy's feet.
It was over.
Dean whooped as she walked out of the arcade, all but pouncing on Sam. "You son of a bitch, you did it!"
Sam grinned and pounded Dean on the back. "I'm the best that's ever been."
Title: The Devil went down to the arcade
Disclaimer: Not mine
Words: 1250
Genre: Gen, Crack, humor
Notes: Yeah, sorry about this. References "The devil went down to Georgia", "Tribute", "The Devil and Daniel Webster," and my own strange mind.
Summary: Sam challenges the demon for Dean's soul.
The Devil went down to the Arcade
Sam had this image of himself as a modern day Daniel Webster, defeating the Crossroads Demon with well-thought out arguments and perfectly executed witty riposte. But since he had never even gotten to law school, it would only be a farce. Never mind that he was pretty darn sure US courts had no jurisdiction over demons.
So he discarded that idea, and kept researching. It came to him one night as Dean drove them through Georgia, for once the radio blaring instead of one of his brother's weary cassettes. The words of the song sunk into him and he bolted upright in the passenger seat.
"That's it!"
Dean looked over and snorted. "No way you're going to learn the fiddle in three months, dude." He pushed in a tape, overruling the sounds from the radio.
Sam frowned. "It doesn't have to be the greatest song in the world..."
"Just a tribute?"
"Just better than the crossroads demon."
He practiced for hours. Sam kept at it even when his wrists ached, when his fingers twitched in his sleep. Brightly colored notes and chords haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He even hummed the tune as they drove, fingers tapping out familiar patterns on the dashboard.
"You're driving me crazy, man," Dean said one night, watching Sam exert himself once again. "This isn't going to work."
"It has to, Dean." Sam slumped next to him, rubbing his right wrist absently. "I'm so close."
Dean tossed him the tiger balm from the duffel. Sam took it gratefully, soothing his sore muscles. He couldn't use anything like it for the real event. That would be cheating. And if there was one thing he knew, you had to be darn careful when dealing with demons.
The moment came almost unnoticed. He completed the song perfectly, five gold stars as his reward. Sam was ready to challenge the crossroads Demon for Dean's soul.
She appeared as she always did, as a ridiculously beautiful woman with dark hair and soulful eyes. Sam wondered how she managed to find the perfect body so quick, or if she had someone on standby. What if the only person around was a wrinkled old bum? And where the hell did she find an evening gown?
She laughed at them, Sam standing protectively in front of his brother, who leaned against the Impala. Dean looked like he didn't have a care in the world, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at his ankles. Sam's palms were sweaty. He ran them along his jeans absently.
"I challenge you to a contest," Sam declared, clearing his throat.
"You don't have a fiddle," she said, a smirk on those perfect lips. "Do you honestly think I haven't gotten this request before? A thousand times before?"
Sam shook his head. "It doesn't have to be a fiddle. It only has to be musical."
She frowned. "You've done your homework. What are the stakes? What are you offering me, Sammy?"
"I win, Dean is free and clear, body and soul."
"And if I win?"
Sam swallowed. "You get us both."
"Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, startled out of his ennui to rush against Sam.
"It's my challenge, Dean." Sam clutched his brother's arm. "I have to do this. Let me save you."
Her laughter interrupted the moment. "Touching. You are always so entertaining. I'm almost tempted to give Dean here more time, always so special what he comes up with."
"So," Sam said. "My challenge, my instruments..."
"Your soul." she hissed.
Sam nodded.
"No!" Dean said again, but Sam ignored him. He stepped forward to seal the deal with the demon.
"So," she pulled back. "Where are your instruments?"
Sam smiled, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "We'll need to go to the arcade."
She had balked at first when they walked in, seeing that shiny machine in the corner. But the deal Sam struck was good, he got to choose the instrument. And playing Guitar Hero at the arcade counted.
Every source he checked, every reference said the same thing. Demons were bound by musical deals. It didn't make sense, Dean had argued, but neither did pelting ghosts with rock salt. And though the music here was generated digitally, it was still dependent on Sam hitting the right buttons on the plastic guitar attached to the machine.
"You're so overdressed for this place," Dean told the demon.
"Dude, are you flirting with the crossroads demon?"
Dean shrugged.
She flipped her hair and cocked an eyebrow. "Plenty of time for that later, sweetheart. Let's get started."
Sam wiped his sweaty palms one last time, then plunked his tokens in and selected the song. They were going head to head in a pro battle. The machine would decide the victor. Sam set the mode to "expert."
"No, Sammy! Not expert!"
The Demon cackled beside him, strapping on her guitar like a pro. She ran perfectly polished fingernails along the colored buttons along the arm of the guitar. Sam felt a fissure of fear. This was it, this was the moment he'd been practicing for.
The song queued up, the track appearing, and then splitting into two separate tracks. Sam on the left, the demon on the right. The intro started..."Carry on my wayward son..."
"Don't sing, Sammy, don't sing!" Dean shouted encouragement from the sidelines.
Sam zoned into the screen, his fingers becoming an extension of his mind as they moved across the guitar, matching the patterns of the notes as they ran down the track. He winced as he missed a note. The needle in the middle of the screen inched further onto the demon's side. No, he couldn't allow himself to lose. Focus, Sam, focus.
A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead as he fought his way back. He couldn't wipe it from his face, his hands were set on this path. His right wrist ached, still weak from having broken it nearly two years ago. It was only his strum hand, but a strum at a wrong time could make or break a song.
He gritted his teeth as they reached the most difficult guitar solo in the song. It had the most amount of notes, so Sam made the most of it, deploying star power and doubling his score. The needle inched closer onto his side of the screen. Yes!
He grew overconfident and missed the relatively easy next sequence. The demon laughed in triumph, the needled squarely on her side of the board once again.
But she had forgotten about the final guitar solo.
Just as she missed the first few notes of the final riff, Sam gathered up enough energy to deploy star power one last crucial time. With the final notes of the song, the needle just made it over to Sam's side of the board. Sam had won.
They both held their breath as the demon just stood there, staring at the score in shock. Slowly, she pulled the plastic guitar over her head and laid it at Sammy's feet.
It was over.
Dean whooped as she walked out of the arcade, all but pouncing on Sam. "You son of a bitch, you did it!"
Sam grinned and pounded Dean on the back. "I'm the best that's ever been."