original by malcom-stjay
Remix Title: I've Got a Fever (the Demon's Got My Contract Remix)
Remix Author: shay_renoylds
Original Story: I've Got a Fever
Original Author: malcolm-stjay
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Summary: Sometimes being an immortal sucks. Especially if you're trying to kill Sam Winchester via common cold.
The plan had been calculated to every possible eventuality. She'd only have one chance to attach the spell to him, after all. That one chance to find a way to actually die for her.
The problem with immortality, she later found out, was boredom. She'd expected that it would be easy after she killed her husband to get his lapis philosophorum. The idiot had figured out the key to eternal life, but hadn't counted on her ability to kill him before he managed to get his hand on the little stone.
She hadn't entirely known who the person was who had been handing the stone to her husband. She'd assumed it was just a slave. It wasn't until much later that she realized how wrong she was.
Hundred of years later, the same creature that gave her the key to life offered her the path to death.
She chose it. Willingly.
xxxxxxxxxx
It had, unfortunately, taken her most of the first century to decipher her husband's notes. While he may have underestimated her, a result of the age they lived in, he hadn't underestimated the ability of other alchemists to steal his work.
She'd had to spend year after dusty year with his notes to figure out what they meant. Once they'd finally made sense to her, she'd almost blown the accursed stone up. The notes turned out to make absolutely no sense - the half-mad rantings and delusions of a madman. Her husband hadn't quite been the man of science she'd originally thought. He was, in all actual fact, more an insane psychopath who'd lucked out. And read the wrong books.
When she finally read the right books, it was with a sinking heart she knew that her husband had committed heresy. And the debt he had to pay to the demon stayed with the stone. And she had the stone. She couldn't lose the stone - even if she tried.
xxxxxxxxxx
She laughed whenever the scholars spat at her. She still managed to find a way into the libraries. She burned the libraries down if they didn't let her in. There were some good things for modern scientific advancements, after all.
She could burn things better: hotter. brighter. stronger.
She lost her name over time. She went by many, Aradia for a time, Cosette for a time longer than that. Finally she just gave up on names all together. You needed an identity to have a name and all she had was an infinite lifespan.
xxxxxxxxxx
Throughout the Renaissance she grew herbs and gave them to people to see which made them sick and which healed them. Some of the people she met thought she was crazy, but she always knew better. She kept journals, and over the years her notes led her to an intimate understanding of the way the world worked. If people died, it was just for own research. She had no need for magic, it was for science in the end. Nothing could harm her. The stone was always on her and purified whatever came to her lips.
But still -- she had needed to know. She needed information the way other people breathed.
The demon constantly taunted her. It lived in the stone, whispering an insidious voice in her own mind. The voice challenged her to new heights of education. The price of her education was over a hundred corpses leaving an almost direct trail back to her.
She moved rapidly, but people noticed midwives in towns where more babies died than were born. By the end of the Enlightenment, she couldn't enter a village without being attacked on sight. That infamy was why she boarded a boat in 1867 bound for the “untameable” Americas.
When she got there, she realized that these new lands were worse than the last. Her infamy had preceded her, and she didn't know the terrain.
xxxxxxxxxx
A hunter caught her in 1879, following rumours of an immortal from the old country. They tried to burn her - again. When that didn't work they tried everything the Bible had on torture to kill her.
It didn't work. Nothing ever did. The fire purified her, though. She couldn't hear the demon for years after that.
xxxxxxxxxx
People searched her out, wanted to know her secret. When they found her, as some did, they offered her gifts.
She took their lives instead.
She couldn't die and so she became obsessed with death. She caused death for so many years, but she'd never really studied the process of the deaths. Between 1897 and 1959 she learned the new sciences to understand death of the body as much as she understood how to cause it.
xxxxxxxxxx
She was in Louisiana when the demon tracked her down. She'd been whiling most of her sanity away in the bayou, playing with gators and eating frogs. At first she tried to mutter it away. He just laughed, business suit covered in muck. He showed her a picture of Sam Winchester. All she had to do was kill Sam Winchester, and she would finally get her reward. She could find her death.
He even gave her a plan.
xxxxxxxxxx
A Jewish magician, supposedly legitimately worked out of LA, would create a holy creatures for her. The demon gave her the statue to be crafted and within days she found herself amongst humanity once more.
The magician's workshop was wedged between failing production companies far away from the strip. It certainly didn't look like much, and with the lack of office support staff it failed to impress even a backwater researcher like her. When he finally came out, Mr. Young didn't look much like a magician. He had a shoddy suit and a Texan accent. He took her money well enough, and didn't ask questions.
“And you did this yourself?” Mr. Young examined the beautifully sculpted creature. The holy symbols were on the chest, almost like tattoos if you didn't look too closely. The demon had given it to her, a shell of feminine perfection for this age.
She nodded, smartly. On task and lying.
The powders she'd mixed for the golem's lips would kill any person ten times over.
Sam would be dead before he knew what hit him.
xxxxxxxxxx
The magician was lied to, and she wasn't - couldn't be -- present as he breathed divine energies into the form. She didn't believe enough to think it would work, but the plan wasn't hers and she had been promised.
She was starting to like this modern age despite herself. It made things so much more simple. People were so much easier to herd if they didn't believe in anything.
xxxxxxxxxx
The golem she kept with her for a little longer than she'd intended. It almost outlived its time limit because the Winchesters were damned hard to find.
The golem wouldn't sound normal, but if the demon had done his job it would entrance Sam as it walked. Spells woven over the original divine spell structure just made her head hurt. She pretended it was normal in this type of situation - that it would assuredly work.
She saw Samuel Winchester's face when he first caught sight of the golem. His brother - Dean if the demon was right - pushed Sam toward the golem. Sam didn't look evil, but she hardly looked like an immortal. She didn't feel bad about what she was doing - Sam was just an means to an end.
When Sam focused his attention on the golem, the creature did its job. It batted perfect eyelids. Sam walked over and kissed her and the herbs transferred. It was a lackadaisical kiss at best, but a kiss it was and she was happy to see the golem complete its task - hideous garters and all.
It was a matter of hours before he would be dead. Victory wasn't as sweet as it could be when the demon didn't appear within seconds.
She hid behind a cloak that the demon had promised would grant invisibility. She ignored the odd looks the other patrons were giving her. They couldn't see her, after all. The demon hadn't lied about anything else, so she hadn't questioned him when he'd given her the black cloth.
That might have been why she was so surprised to be shoved out the door by the bouncer.
xxxxxxxxxx
She followed them to their motel that night. She was hiding in a bush when she finally caught sight of Samuel. He looked damnably better than she felt after a night outside. She started to wonder if she'd miscalculated the dosage. He should have been dead by now.
He left a trail of kleenex behind him, oddly looking as if he just had a cold, and the short one kept making odd clucking sounds after him.
xxxxxxxxxx
The shorter one kept leaving and bringing food back. There was a small hope that Sam had finally died, but she realized that Dean was bringing too much food to only be feeding himself.
She had a duty to make sure the golem had poisoned Sam enough to kill him.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sam didn't come out of the hotel room beyond the car for three days. She stole a car and followed, tried not to drive too slowly to be noticed as they crossed state lines and continued to find new, and increasingly uglier, motels.
Sam should have been dead. Sam could also have been vomiting blood at this point, but he should have been cold and dead. After three days outside with little shelter, she was sore and agitated. The demon hadn't returned as promised. She grimaced and half-stumbled to the window. She almost cheered as she heard agonizing moans. A curtain blocked her view, and she stretched a moment, trying not to be seen when she heard them.
Sam voice caught in a tight moan.
“Dean...” Long and drawn out. She stood up to gloat, thinking a moment on that demon she'd half-forgotten.
“Just like that. Yeah. Stop whining, bitch.” A beat, she couldn't hear the response. “You're the one that thought sex would heal you.”
She stopped. The wind came up and the curtains moved slightly. She caught sight of them, as they moved together. Dean was licking up the inside of Sam's thigh. Dean's fingers disappeared behind Sam's ass, moving backward and forward --
She fled. There were things you just didn't do after all. Especially not with siblings.
xxxxxxxxxx
She sneezed into her sleeve and muttered morosely under her breath. The black Impala was blasting some sort of godawful music, and Dean was doing something obscene to Sam as they drove.
Her chance at death was foiled by those bleeding brothers.
xxxxxxxxxx
Five days after that she stood outside of another hotel room watching as Dean brought chicken soup through the door. They should have been dead.
“You failed.”
She didn't turn. The demon was behind her, but she was still useful to him for now. She had nothing to fear.“Your damnable magic interfered with my herbs.”
“Or you just haven't caught up with the times, babe.”
She turned, ready to fight the demon who thought to kill an immortal but there was nothing there but a laugh from him. “You've one more chance, darling. One more chance to break through this cold you gave him to actually kill him.”
She almost said “life you haven't been able to” but the demon disappeared before she could.
xxxxxxxxxx
At weeks end, she waited for Dean to get the preserved-cans-of-salt he seemed to think would help Sam feel better. She placed a poison in his coffee cup. It was stale smelling, but fresh enough. Still warm, so there was a chance he would drink it.
When he returned he had a new cup, steaming hot in the morning light, she knew she'd been beat. She watched as he picked up the old one and threw it in the garbage.
“Wait! You forgot you --” And with a rumble, Dean left. She watched, dejected, as he left.
“And that's it. One last try and you've got nothing.”
“I've nothing else. I'm done with this.”
“Are you really, little Cosette? We'll have fun with you in hell.”
“That wasn't exactly part and parcel of the deal.”
“Ah, well. Deal's change. So what say you. Entrance to hell now? Or by the by when the apocalypse hits.”
“I never signed that deal,” her voice was bored. Tired, really.
“No. You didn't. But it's better to chose now than later.” The demon paused before starting again, pressure heavy in his voice. “It's up to you.”
She paused, blinking and finally realized what she'd been missing. Though she'd gained immortality from the stone, she wasn't truly damned. By her actions, yes, but not by contract. She'd have time if she chose to fix that, to change her own motives.
“I'll wait. Perhaps it's gotten more interesting since the last time I wandered.”
The demon rolled his eyes and left, and she looked toward the horizon clearly for the first time in over a hundred years. She looked down, and threw away the chamomile tea leaves she'd used in Dean's coffee to “poison” him.
She was, after all, bored. Demons often were the most interesting playmates of all for an immortal.
xxxxxxxxxx
If she'd continued to follow the Impala she'd have been able to see the brothers find her herbs - sent through a friend of theirs who had his own interest in her.
She might even have had time to see the relief on Sam's face when he finally drank the tea and fell to a dreamless, healing sleep for the first time in over a week.
But she didn't. She had her own story now, and had more interesting things to do than watch over a pair of brothers with more guardian spirits than an entire royal family.
But she had to admit, she might stop by to check them out from time to time. Just to make sure they were still in shape and healthy.
Remix Author: shay_renoylds
Original Story: I've Got a Fever
Original Author: malcolm-stjay
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Summary: Sometimes being an immortal sucks. Especially if you're trying to kill Sam Winchester via common cold.
The plan had been calculated to every possible eventuality. She'd only have one chance to attach the spell to him, after all. That one chance to find a way to actually die for her.
The problem with immortality, she later found out, was boredom. She'd expected that it would be easy after she killed her husband to get his lapis philosophorum. The idiot had figured out the key to eternal life, but hadn't counted on her ability to kill him before he managed to get his hand on the little stone.
She hadn't entirely known who the person was who had been handing the stone to her husband. She'd assumed it was just a slave. It wasn't until much later that she realized how wrong she was.
Hundred of years later, the same creature that gave her the key to life offered her the path to death.
She chose it. Willingly.
xxxxxxxxxx
It had, unfortunately, taken her most of the first century to decipher her husband's notes. While he may have underestimated her, a result of the age they lived in, he hadn't underestimated the ability of other alchemists to steal his work.
She'd had to spend year after dusty year with his notes to figure out what they meant. Once they'd finally made sense to her, she'd almost blown the accursed stone up. The notes turned out to make absolutely no sense - the half-mad rantings and delusions of a madman. Her husband hadn't quite been the man of science she'd originally thought. He was, in all actual fact, more an insane psychopath who'd lucked out. And read the wrong books.
When she finally read the right books, it was with a sinking heart she knew that her husband had committed heresy. And the debt he had to pay to the demon stayed with the stone. And she had the stone. She couldn't lose the stone - even if she tried.
xxxxxxxxxx
She laughed whenever the scholars spat at her. She still managed to find a way into the libraries. She burned the libraries down if they didn't let her in. There were some good things for modern scientific advancements, after all.
She could burn things better: hotter. brighter. stronger.
She lost her name over time. She went by many, Aradia for a time, Cosette for a time longer than that. Finally she just gave up on names all together. You needed an identity to have a name and all she had was an infinite lifespan.
xxxxxxxxxx
Throughout the Renaissance she grew herbs and gave them to people to see which made them sick and which healed them. Some of the people she met thought she was crazy, but she always knew better. She kept journals, and over the years her notes led her to an intimate understanding of the way the world worked. If people died, it was just for own research. She had no need for magic, it was for science in the end. Nothing could harm her. The stone was always on her and purified whatever came to her lips.
But still -- she had needed to know. She needed information the way other people breathed.
The demon constantly taunted her. It lived in the stone, whispering an insidious voice in her own mind. The voice challenged her to new heights of education. The price of her education was over a hundred corpses leaving an almost direct trail back to her.
She moved rapidly, but people noticed midwives in towns where more babies died than were born. By the end of the Enlightenment, she couldn't enter a village without being attacked on sight. That infamy was why she boarded a boat in 1867 bound for the “untameable” Americas.
When she got there, she realized that these new lands were worse than the last. Her infamy had preceded her, and she didn't know the terrain.
xxxxxxxxxx
A hunter caught her in 1879, following rumours of an immortal from the old country. They tried to burn her - again. When that didn't work they tried everything the Bible had on torture to kill her.
It didn't work. Nothing ever did. The fire purified her, though. She couldn't hear the demon for years after that.
xxxxxxxxxx
People searched her out, wanted to know her secret. When they found her, as some did, they offered her gifts.
She took their lives instead.
She couldn't die and so she became obsessed with death. She caused death for so many years, but she'd never really studied the process of the deaths. Between 1897 and 1959 she learned the new sciences to understand death of the body as much as she understood how to cause it.
xxxxxxxxxx
She was in Louisiana when the demon tracked her down. She'd been whiling most of her sanity away in the bayou, playing with gators and eating frogs. At first she tried to mutter it away. He just laughed, business suit covered in muck. He showed her a picture of Sam Winchester. All she had to do was kill Sam Winchester, and she would finally get her reward. She could find her death.
He even gave her a plan.
xxxxxxxxxx
A Jewish magician, supposedly legitimately worked out of LA, would create a holy creatures for her. The demon gave her the statue to be crafted and within days she found herself amongst humanity once more.
The magician's workshop was wedged between failing production companies far away from the strip. It certainly didn't look like much, and with the lack of office support staff it failed to impress even a backwater researcher like her. When he finally came out, Mr. Young didn't look much like a magician. He had a shoddy suit and a Texan accent. He took her money well enough, and didn't ask questions.
“And you did this yourself?” Mr. Young examined the beautifully sculpted creature. The holy symbols were on the chest, almost like tattoos if you didn't look too closely. The demon had given it to her, a shell of feminine perfection for this age.
She nodded, smartly. On task and lying.
The powders she'd mixed for the golem's lips would kill any person ten times over.
Sam would be dead before he knew what hit him.
xxxxxxxxxx
The magician was lied to, and she wasn't - couldn't be -- present as he breathed divine energies into the form. She didn't believe enough to think it would work, but the plan wasn't hers and she had been promised.
She was starting to like this modern age despite herself. It made things so much more simple. People were so much easier to herd if they didn't believe in anything.
xxxxxxxxxx
The golem she kept with her for a little longer than she'd intended. It almost outlived its time limit because the Winchesters were damned hard to find.
The golem wouldn't sound normal, but if the demon had done his job it would entrance Sam as it walked. Spells woven over the original divine spell structure just made her head hurt. She pretended it was normal in this type of situation - that it would assuredly work.
She saw Samuel Winchester's face when he first caught sight of the golem. His brother - Dean if the demon was right - pushed Sam toward the golem. Sam didn't look evil, but she hardly looked like an immortal. She didn't feel bad about what she was doing - Sam was just an means to an end.
When Sam focused his attention on the golem, the creature did its job. It batted perfect eyelids. Sam walked over and kissed her and the herbs transferred. It was a lackadaisical kiss at best, but a kiss it was and she was happy to see the golem complete its task - hideous garters and all.
It was a matter of hours before he would be dead. Victory wasn't as sweet as it could be when the demon didn't appear within seconds.
She hid behind a cloak that the demon had promised would grant invisibility. She ignored the odd looks the other patrons were giving her. They couldn't see her, after all. The demon hadn't lied about anything else, so she hadn't questioned him when he'd given her the black cloth.
That might have been why she was so surprised to be shoved out the door by the bouncer.
xxxxxxxxxx
She followed them to their motel that night. She was hiding in a bush when she finally caught sight of Samuel. He looked damnably better than she felt after a night outside. She started to wonder if she'd miscalculated the dosage. He should have been dead by now.
He left a trail of kleenex behind him, oddly looking as if he just had a cold, and the short one kept making odd clucking sounds after him.
xxxxxxxxxx
The shorter one kept leaving and bringing food back. There was a small hope that Sam had finally died, but she realized that Dean was bringing too much food to only be feeding himself.
She had a duty to make sure the golem had poisoned Sam enough to kill him.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sam didn't come out of the hotel room beyond the car for three days. She stole a car and followed, tried not to drive too slowly to be noticed as they crossed state lines and continued to find new, and increasingly uglier, motels.
Sam should have been dead. Sam could also have been vomiting blood at this point, but he should have been cold and dead. After three days outside with little shelter, she was sore and agitated. The demon hadn't returned as promised. She grimaced and half-stumbled to the window. She almost cheered as she heard agonizing moans. A curtain blocked her view, and she stretched a moment, trying not to be seen when she heard them.
Sam voice caught in a tight moan.
“Dean...” Long and drawn out. She stood up to gloat, thinking a moment on that demon she'd half-forgotten.
“Just like that. Yeah. Stop whining, bitch.” A beat, she couldn't hear the response. “You're the one that thought sex would heal you.”
She stopped. The wind came up and the curtains moved slightly. She caught sight of them, as they moved together. Dean was licking up the inside of Sam's thigh. Dean's fingers disappeared behind Sam's ass, moving backward and forward --
She fled. There were things you just didn't do after all. Especially not with siblings.
xxxxxxxxxx
She sneezed into her sleeve and muttered morosely under her breath. The black Impala was blasting some sort of godawful music, and Dean was doing something obscene to Sam as they drove.
Her chance at death was foiled by those bleeding brothers.
xxxxxxxxxx
Five days after that she stood outside of another hotel room watching as Dean brought chicken soup through the door. They should have been dead.
“You failed.”
She didn't turn. The demon was behind her, but she was still useful to him for now. She had nothing to fear.“Your damnable magic interfered with my herbs.”
“Or you just haven't caught up with the times, babe.”
She turned, ready to fight the demon who thought to kill an immortal but there was nothing there but a laugh from him. “You've one more chance, darling. One more chance to break through this cold you gave him to actually kill him.”
She almost said “life you haven't been able to” but the demon disappeared before she could.
xxxxxxxxxx
At weeks end, she waited for Dean to get the preserved-cans-of-salt he seemed to think would help Sam feel better. She placed a poison in his coffee cup. It was stale smelling, but fresh enough. Still warm, so there was a chance he would drink it.
When he returned he had a new cup, steaming hot in the morning light, she knew she'd been beat. She watched as he picked up the old one and threw it in the garbage.
“Wait! You forgot you --” And with a rumble, Dean left. She watched, dejected, as he left.
“And that's it. One last try and you've got nothing.”
“I've nothing else. I'm done with this.”
“Are you really, little Cosette? We'll have fun with you in hell.”
“That wasn't exactly part and parcel of the deal.”
“Ah, well. Deal's change. So what say you. Entrance to hell now? Or by the by when the apocalypse hits.”
“I never signed that deal,” her voice was bored. Tired, really.
“No. You didn't. But it's better to chose now than later.” The demon paused before starting again, pressure heavy in his voice. “It's up to you.”
She paused, blinking and finally realized what she'd been missing. Though she'd gained immortality from the stone, she wasn't truly damned. By her actions, yes, but not by contract. She'd have time if she chose to fix that, to change her own motives.
“I'll wait. Perhaps it's gotten more interesting since the last time I wandered.”
The demon rolled his eyes and left, and she looked toward the horizon clearly for the first time in over a hundred years. She looked down, and threw away the chamomile tea leaves she'd used in Dean's coffee to “poison” him.
She was, after all, bored. Demons often were the most interesting playmates of all for an immortal.
xxxxxxxxxx
If she'd continued to follow the Impala she'd have been able to see the brothers find her herbs - sent through a friend of theirs who had his own interest in her.
She might even have had time to see the relief on Sam's face when he finally drank the tea and fell to a dreamless, healing sleep for the first time in over a week.
But she didn't. She had her own story now, and had more interesting things to do than watch over a pair of brothers with more guardian spirits than an entire royal family.
But she had to admit, she might stop by to check them out from time to time. Just to make sure they were still in shape and healthy.