Crown of Thorns
Title - Crown of Thorns
Summary - It was a demon John wasn't expecting, a hunt that he didn't count on going down exactly how it did. All he knew is that this demon got into his mind, twisted his thoughts around into a pile so dark that he couldn't even remember his own sons. This demon who somehow managed to take away everything he held dear, to make him lash out against his oldest son. It was this demon who changed his youngest son's opinion of his father forever.
Rating - PG-13
Part of 'The Dark Horse' series
Chapter Index
"Crown of Thorns"
"Chapter Four: Twisted Hierarchy"
The darkness seemed to come in waves. One minute, he'd see a light at the end of the tunnel, hear whispers deep in the seed of his brain, before he caught flashes of horrific images that drew him deeper into the dark abyss. It seemed as though he was always on the brink of consciousness when the strangest thoughts went through his mind.
His head felt heavy and hazed as he marched towards a stage with his hands twisted behind his back in bristly rope. It felt like acid was corroding his stomach as he walked down the aisle of faceless people to the scaffold. The crime he committed was muddled in his mind. Flashes of attacking Dean floated through his head as a dirty rope was slung around his neck. Just as the chair beneath his feet was kicked out from under him, he looked around to see Sammy's nursery.
Images of Mary clouded his head as she bore messages of stop fighting and wake up. The feeling of weightlessness seemed to be disappearing as he felt heavy. The weight of his thoughts seemed to crash down upon his shoulders. His eyes opened and took in the white, sterile surrounding. Only then did he see his youngest son near tears and angrier than John had ever seen him.
John twisted his wrists which were bound by hospital shackles. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out what Sammy meant. His youngest left in a huff - the door slammed on his way out. He couldn't remember anything that had happened. It was as though a huge black void invaded his mind and latched onto the deepest corners of his mind. The last thing he remembered was packing up the boys for the drive to South Dakota.
The door to the hospital room opened several minutes later to reveal a tall brunette nurse who smirked as she entered. The door closed with a soft snap and the lock clicked. Something told John to grab a gun, but that thought was fruitless. The woman walked closer and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, Johnny, look at this mess," she spoke softly as her fingers trailed up his bare arm. "I mean, you sitting here while Dean's all black and blue in ICU. Look at that, I'm a poet."
"What do you mean? What happened to my son? If you did anything, I will-"
"Oh, but John, I didn't do anything to Dean. You did. You beat him to a bloody pulp. Sammy had to knock you out just to make you stop."
He comprehended the words that left the so-called nurse's mouth but couldn't believe a word of it. He beat up Dean? There was no way in hell that he would even think about laying a finger on either of his boys. They were his constant, his touchstones who kept him going even when he met his wits end. There was no John without Dean and Sam at his side.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Black clouded over her eyes before returning to the normal green swirl. John fought against the restraints. He just had to slip one wrist out to take control. The demon reached towards his wrists and pulled the strips tighter.
"John, I'm hurt. You really think I'm here to kill you or something?"
"What? You want to play some poker and forget about the fact that you're a good for nothing piece of crap demon?"
"Ouch. Way to hurt a girl's feelings."
"You're no girl," spat John.
"Really? I think I sort of am."
She reached down and cupped her breasts to prove her point before a low chuckle escaped through her lips. Leaning back, she arched an eyebrow at John.
"You do anything to my boys, and you'll live to regret it while rotting in hell."
"I promise, John, I just want to talk." She lifted one hand and made the Boy Scout hand sign. "Demons honor."
John huffed out a breath of air as his wrists continued to twist in the shackles. The skin slowly started to chafe as his wrists swelled up in pain. John, on the other hand, kept his poker face while he watched the demon get comfortable on his bed as though he were a sick child and she was reading him a bedtime story.
"You see, it's a dark, twisty hierarchy of the highest demands. You hunters have your hierarchy, the rookies struggling their way up to be renowned hunters. We have a hierarchy as well, except someone is trying to screw it up with psychics and war. You see, there are some demons who don't believe Lucifer is real just like there are humans who doubt your God. Some people think they're just names… words."
"You're preaching to the wrong choir," John told her matter-of-factly.
"Really? I would have taken you for a man of faith, Johnny."
A man of faith? How could he believe in divine intervention, that everything happens for a reason, that God doesn't give anyone more than they can handle when Mary was ripped out of his and the boys' lives? For the longest time, John worried that his lack of parenting skills would wreck his children. He worried how two boys could grow up healthy and balanced without a mother in their lives. How could they survive living on the road with a father who is constantly in danger?
"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought," he bit back bitterly.
"Well, I guess it's all about the hierarchies then: leaders and followers." She paused as a sneer left her lips. "You know what they say about all the king's horses and all the king's men…"
"Actually, I don't assume. You know what they say when you assume."
"Oh, you're cute, John."
John continued to twist and turn his wrists to no avail. The longer he forced pleasantries with this demon, the more likely he was to snap. He hated demons. He hated anything that wasn't human. There were rumors about Mary. Jim Murphy did his digging into Mary's death. His opinion was that a demon killed her because of who she was. John didn't have it in him to believe it.
"You're the valiant dark horse galloping through the American frontier into prominence. It really is too adorable for words. When I took this job, I didn't expect to become so… attached to you."
"What's your job?"
He tried to talk in a steady voice; however, he thought he might have screamed the question. All he could hear was the blood pumping wildly in his ears. A demon targeted him? Why would any demon target him of all people?
"You want to hear a story, Johnny, while you're all small and sick in your hospital bed?"
"Go for it."
"Once upon a time, Samuel Colt was one of the few and last leaders of the hunting world - except, people couldn't stand the thought of being under him. So not only was he battling demons, but he was battling fellow hunters who wanted nothing more than Colt's blood on their hands. Soon, Colt went mad with paranoia. He started building churches and iron railways and even attempted to make a demon-killing gun. It's laughable really. He's the huge joke down in the demon community because he started to battle windmills and nothing else."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, Johnny, there are hunters and demons alike who think you're going to be the next Samuel Colt. They think you're crazy enough to be held in such high esteem. The demons, however, fear that fellow hunters will actually follow you. They think that you're a force to be reckoned with, and hunters would be insane enough to want to follow you and to want you to succeed."
The very notion of him being a leader of hunters was laughable. Sure, he could take charge and bark orders like nobody's business - he was an ex-Marine after all. Except, the thought of leading hunters into battle didn't appeal to him. He wasn't hunting for glory or for fun. He was hunting because something supernatural killed the love of his life, and John couldn't rest until he murdered that thing with his bare hands.
"I'm no leader."
"That's what all the great leaders say. I was sent by a demon who wanted your family out of the picture, out of the business. You see, John, I'm high on the hierarchy of demons because I can rest my hand on anyone's head and alter their brain. I made you forget the day you first met me. I made you slowly start to forget your sons. I implanted the idea in your brain that your sons were evil. I did that. I'm considered the best demon assassin," she said affectionately. "There are all types. Assassin demons, crossroad demons, elemental demons, wrecking havoc demons… the list goes on. Some demons, like the crossroad demon, are enslaved. They're down near the bottom of the food chain. They belong to a big shot demon who feeds off the souls of mortals. You see, after a crossroads demon dies or collects enough souls, this big shot takes the lowest from of demon and makes it into something. After so many souls, a crossroads demon is allowed to run their own life, possess people, and cause chaos. I, on the other hand, am not enslaved. I get reimbursed each time I kill someone or something. I'm paid the big bucks, and there are only a couple of us in existence. America's my turf."
"I didn’t know demons used money," he said through clenched teeth. "I just assumed you pillaged, raped, and murdered for survival."
"No, we don't get paid in money. How ludicrous is that when we can just pillage, rape, and murder?"
John twisted his wrists as a fiery pain shot through his arms. This demon had been hired - hired - to destroy his family. He needed to get out of the restraints, scoop up his boys, and get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. Demons were evil, crazy son-of-a-bitches. He wouldn't put anything pass them.
"Don't worry, Johnny, I won't hurt the boys. I'm much too fond of you. You were like nothing I imagined," she spoke as though she were talking to a small child.
"What the hell did you imagine?"
"A sociopath who cares more about hunting than his own flesh and blood for starters. You're so protective. It's not what I imagined with all the stories that go floating about."
"Excuse me?" John questioned as his wrists started to throb.
"I hear stories about you that rival Alexander the Great and King Arthur. One demon referred to you as the modern day Julius Caesar who is training your boys to take the crown once you fall." She laughed softly. "It's ironic seeing how you betrayed Bill Harvelle and murdered him."
"Seeing as you've heard so much about me, then you know that when I'm out of this hospital I'm going to hunt you down like the animal you are and send you straight back to the pit."
"Charming, John, and I thought we were having such a nice chat. I can always go into your mind and delete this little memory, or I can tell you who killed your wife. I want him dead, Johnny, because he's a pain in the ass for all of us. He has this whole master plan falling into place. He thinks he's the Devil and God all rolled up into one."
Demons lie - end of discussion. There was no point to consider believing her. Her words, however, struck a cord deep down in his heart. If he could kill the thing that murdered Mary, then he and the boys could finally try to have a normal life. They could settle down, Dean could have a home and job, and Sammy could go off to college. It would be perfect.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"He goes by the name Azazel. That's all I'll give you: a name. You can go about your research and figure out the truth. Kill him."
The bed squeaked slightly as her weight left the springs. She walked towards the door without another word. John stared at her as her hand gripped the doorknob. She turned around with a smirk dancing on her face.
"Your wife, Mary, she knew him. He'd come to her before in her dreams. Right after she turned twenty-two, she began to get nightmares. Am I warm? The same thing will happen to your youngest. Azazel touched him when he was a child just like he touched Mary when she was young."
With that, the demon vacated the room to leave John with an overwhelming amount of thoughts. It had been a couple weeks after Mary turned twenty-two when she'd bolted up in bed next to him, terrified. She'd never told him what the dreams were about. They became less frequent as time wore on. John suspected that she was getting better at hiding them. A couple months after Dean was born, Mary told him she hadn't had a nightmare since her little angel came into her life.
Mary's life before John was hazy. She rarely talked about it. She moved around a lot when growing up with her uncle and brother. John had only spoken to them once or twice. The last time he saw Ben Seraph, the guy attacked him in the waiting room of a hospital in Billings, Montana. The last time he saw Douglas Hale was shortly after Mary died. Her uncle came to the Guenther residence to find out what happened. John told him about the fire, the screams, and how he saw Mary pinned to the ceiling with her stomach cut open. Douglas Hale was the first person who believed the story and told him to keep digging.
He had to talk to Douglas Hale again. He had to find out exactly what he knew about Mary's death and a demon by the name of Azazel.
Author's Notes - I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. This chapter is really setting up the title piece to the series entitled "The Dark Horse". There's lots of foreshadowing of the story to come. I've always wanted to let you all know that I've been replying to review responses like mad for all the stories I have listed. So don't forget to check those out. Once again, thanks Shannon for editing. Any mistakes left are my fault.
Summary - It was a demon John wasn't expecting, a hunt that he didn't count on going down exactly how it did. All he knew is that this demon got into his mind, twisted his thoughts around into a pile so dark that he couldn't even remember his own sons. This demon who somehow managed to take away everything he held dear, to make him lash out against his oldest son. It was this demon who changed his youngest son's opinion of his father forever.
Rating - PG-13
Part of 'The Dark Horse' series
Chapter Index
"Crown of Thorns"
"Chapter Four: Twisted Hierarchy"
The darkness seemed to come in waves. One minute, he'd see a light at the end of the tunnel, hear whispers deep in the seed of his brain, before he caught flashes of horrific images that drew him deeper into the dark abyss. It seemed as though he was always on the brink of consciousness when the strangest thoughts went through his mind.
His head felt heavy and hazed as he marched towards a stage with his hands twisted behind his back in bristly rope. It felt like acid was corroding his stomach as he walked down the aisle of faceless people to the scaffold. The crime he committed was muddled in his mind. Flashes of attacking Dean floated through his head as a dirty rope was slung around his neck. Just as the chair beneath his feet was kicked out from under him, he looked around to see Sammy's nursery.
Images of Mary clouded his head as she bore messages of stop fighting and wake up. The feeling of weightlessness seemed to be disappearing as he felt heavy. The weight of his thoughts seemed to crash down upon his shoulders. His eyes opened and took in the white, sterile surrounding. Only then did he see his youngest son near tears and angrier than John had ever seen him.
John twisted his wrists which were bound by hospital shackles. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out what Sammy meant. His youngest left in a huff - the door slammed on his way out. He couldn't remember anything that had happened. It was as though a huge black void invaded his mind and latched onto the deepest corners of his mind. The last thing he remembered was packing up the boys for the drive to South Dakota.
The door to the hospital room opened several minutes later to reveal a tall brunette nurse who smirked as she entered. The door closed with a soft snap and the lock clicked. Something told John to grab a gun, but that thought was fruitless. The woman walked closer and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, Johnny, look at this mess," she spoke softly as her fingers trailed up his bare arm. "I mean, you sitting here while Dean's all black and blue in ICU. Look at that, I'm a poet."
"What do you mean? What happened to my son? If you did anything, I will-"
"Oh, but John, I didn't do anything to Dean. You did. You beat him to a bloody pulp. Sammy had to knock you out just to make you stop."
He comprehended the words that left the so-called nurse's mouth but couldn't believe a word of it. He beat up Dean? There was no way in hell that he would even think about laying a finger on either of his boys. They were his constant, his touchstones who kept him going even when he met his wits end. There was no John without Dean and Sam at his side.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Black clouded over her eyes before returning to the normal green swirl. John fought against the restraints. He just had to slip one wrist out to take control. The demon reached towards his wrists and pulled the strips tighter.
"John, I'm hurt. You really think I'm here to kill you or something?"
"What? You want to play some poker and forget about the fact that you're a good for nothing piece of crap demon?"
"Ouch. Way to hurt a girl's feelings."
"You're no girl," spat John.
"Really? I think I sort of am."
She reached down and cupped her breasts to prove her point before a low chuckle escaped through her lips. Leaning back, she arched an eyebrow at John.
"You do anything to my boys, and you'll live to regret it while rotting in hell."
"I promise, John, I just want to talk." She lifted one hand and made the Boy Scout hand sign. "Demons honor."
John huffed out a breath of air as his wrists continued to twist in the shackles. The skin slowly started to chafe as his wrists swelled up in pain. John, on the other hand, kept his poker face while he watched the demon get comfortable on his bed as though he were a sick child and she was reading him a bedtime story.
"You see, it's a dark, twisty hierarchy of the highest demands. You hunters have your hierarchy, the rookies struggling their way up to be renowned hunters. We have a hierarchy as well, except someone is trying to screw it up with psychics and war. You see, there are some demons who don't believe Lucifer is real just like there are humans who doubt your God. Some people think they're just names… words."
"You're preaching to the wrong choir," John told her matter-of-factly.
"Really? I would have taken you for a man of faith, Johnny."
A man of faith? How could he believe in divine intervention, that everything happens for a reason, that God doesn't give anyone more than they can handle when Mary was ripped out of his and the boys' lives? For the longest time, John worried that his lack of parenting skills would wreck his children. He worried how two boys could grow up healthy and balanced without a mother in their lives. How could they survive living on the road with a father who is constantly in danger?
"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought," he bit back bitterly.
"Well, I guess it's all about the hierarchies then: leaders and followers." She paused as a sneer left her lips. "You know what they say about all the king's horses and all the king's men…"
"Actually, I don't assume. You know what they say when you assume."
"Oh, you're cute, John."
John continued to twist and turn his wrists to no avail. The longer he forced pleasantries with this demon, the more likely he was to snap. He hated demons. He hated anything that wasn't human. There were rumors about Mary. Jim Murphy did his digging into Mary's death. His opinion was that a demon killed her because of who she was. John didn't have it in him to believe it.
"You're the valiant dark horse galloping through the American frontier into prominence. It really is too adorable for words. When I took this job, I didn't expect to become so… attached to you."
"What's your job?"
He tried to talk in a steady voice; however, he thought he might have screamed the question. All he could hear was the blood pumping wildly in his ears. A demon targeted him? Why would any demon target him of all people?
"You want to hear a story, Johnny, while you're all small and sick in your hospital bed?"
"Go for it."
"Once upon a time, Samuel Colt was one of the few and last leaders of the hunting world - except, people couldn't stand the thought of being under him. So not only was he battling demons, but he was battling fellow hunters who wanted nothing more than Colt's blood on their hands. Soon, Colt went mad with paranoia. He started building churches and iron railways and even attempted to make a demon-killing gun. It's laughable really. He's the huge joke down in the demon community because he started to battle windmills and nothing else."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, Johnny, there are hunters and demons alike who think you're going to be the next Samuel Colt. They think you're crazy enough to be held in such high esteem. The demons, however, fear that fellow hunters will actually follow you. They think that you're a force to be reckoned with, and hunters would be insane enough to want to follow you and to want you to succeed."
The very notion of him being a leader of hunters was laughable. Sure, he could take charge and bark orders like nobody's business - he was an ex-Marine after all. Except, the thought of leading hunters into battle didn't appeal to him. He wasn't hunting for glory or for fun. He was hunting because something supernatural killed the love of his life, and John couldn't rest until he murdered that thing with his bare hands.
"I'm no leader."
"That's what all the great leaders say. I was sent by a demon who wanted your family out of the picture, out of the business. You see, John, I'm high on the hierarchy of demons because I can rest my hand on anyone's head and alter their brain. I made you forget the day you first met me. I made you slowly start to forget your sons. I implanted the idea in your brain that your sons were evil. I did that. I'm considered the best demon assassin," she said affectionately. "There are all types. Assassin demons, crossroad demons, elemental demons, wrecking havoc demons… the list goes on. Some demons, like the crossroad demon, are enslaved. They're down near the bottom of the food chain. They belong to a big shot demon who feeds off the souls of mortals. You see, after a crossroads demon dies or collects enough souls, this big shot takes the lowest from of demon and makes it into something. After so many souls, a crossroads demon is allowed to run their own life, possess people, and cause chaos. I, on the other hand, am not enslaved. I get reimbursed each time I kill someone or something. I'm paid the big bucks, and there are only a couple of us in existence. America's my turf."
"I didn’t know demons used money," he said through clenched teeth. "I just assumed you pillaged, raped, and murdered for survival."
"No, we don't get paid in money. How ludicrous is that when we can just pillage, rape, and murder?"
John twisted his wrists as a fiery pain shot through his arms. This demon had been hired - hired - to destroy his family. He needed to get out of the restraints, scoop up his boys, and get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. Demons were evil, crazy son-of-a-bitches. He wouldn't put anything pass them.
"Don't worry, Johnny, I won't hurt the boys. I'm much too fond of you. You were like nothing I imagined," she spoke as though she were talking to a small child.
"What the hell did you imagine?"
"A sociopath who cares more about hunting than his own flesh and blood for starters. You're so protective. It's not what I imagined with all the stories that go floating about."
"Excuse me?" John questioned as his wrists started to throb.
"I hear stories about you that rival Alexander the Great and King Arthur. One demon referred to you as the modern day Julius Caesar who is training your boys to take the crown once you fall." She laughed softly. "It's ironic seeing how you betrayed Bill Harvelle and murdered him."
"Seeing as you've heard so much about me, then you know that when I'm out of this hospital I'm going to hunt you down like the animal you are and send you straight back to the pit."
"Charming, John, and I thought we were having such a nice chat. I can always go into your mind and delete this little memory, or I can tell you who killed your wife. I want him dead, Johnny, because he's a pain in the ass for all of us. He has this whole master plan falling into place. He thinks he's the Devil and God all rolled up into one."
Demons lie - end of discussion. There was no point to consider believing her. Her words, however, struck a cord deep down in his heart. If he could kill the thing that murdered Mary, then he and the boys could finally try to have a normal life. They could settle down, Dean could have a home and job, and Sammy could go off to college. It would be perfect.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"He goes by the name Azazel. That's all I'll give you: a name. You can go about your research and figure out the truth. Kill him."
The bed squeaked slightly as her weight left the springs. She walked towards the door without another word. John stared at her as her hand gripped the doorknob. She turned around with a smirk dancing on her face.
"Your wife, Mary, she knew him. He'd come to her before in her dreams. Right after she turned twenty-two, she began to get nightmares. Am I warm? The same thing will happen to your youngest. Azazel touched him when he was a child just like he touched Mary when she was young."
With that, the demon vacated the room to leave John with an overwhelming amount of thoughts. It had been a couple weeks after Mary turned twenty-two when she'd bolted up in bed next to him, terrified. She'd never told him what the dreams were about. They became less frequent as time wore on. John suspected that she was getting better at hiding them. A couple months after Dean was born, Mary told him she hadn't had a nightmare since her little angel came into her life.
Mary's life before John was hazy. She rarely talked about it. She moved around a lot when growing up with her uncle and brother. John had only spoken to them once or twice. The last time he saw Ben Seraph, the guy attacked him in the waiting room of a hospital in Billings, Montana. The last time he saw Douglas Hale was shortly after Mary died. Her uncle came to the Guenther residence to find out what happened. John told him about the fire, the screams, and how he saw Mary pinned to the ceiling with her stomach cut open. Douglas Hale was the first person who believed the story and told him to keep digging.
He had to talk to Douglas Hale again. He had to find out exactly what he knew about Mary's death and a demon by the name of Azazel.
Author's Notes - I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. This chapter is really setting up the title piece to the series entitled "The Dark Horse". There's lots of foreshadowing of the story to come. I've always wanted to let you all know that I've been replying to review responses like mad for all the stories I have listed. So don't forget to check those out. Once again, thanks Shannon for editing. Any mistakes left are my fault.