Best in Show
Rating: PG
Genre: Dark Humor
Summary: Why has the Demon been so invested in the Winchesters?
Author's Note: Beta'd by
lyonie17. The Boys need a hug, but since Kripke owns them, he doles them out.
Best in Show
“Why? Why’d you do it?” Dean yelled accusingly at the golden-eyed Demon lounging before him. “Kill our mother? Dad? You’ve taken everything from us, you son-of-a-bitch!”
A faint hiss came from Sam, as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Jess.” He glared with wounded eyes at the familiar form of his father, pained lines falling into place as they had for the last twenty-three years of his life. Dean gathered himself together enough to offer solace to his brother, pausing in his tirade to brush a hand over Sam’s arm.
“You were - are - an investment,” the Demon said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms in that recognizable manner their father had used on them when he felt they were being deliberately dim-witted. “Existing eternally can get boring, so even we demons need to find a hobby. Ahh, my Meg…she was a horticulturist. Was trying to cross daisies and poison ivy for a little fun. My boy collected…,” the Demon grimaced manfully, “…action figures. Can you believe it? But it pleased him, so what could a good father say?”
“As for my hobby…think of it like dog breeding - first you need a champion stud and bitch, or the pedigree means nothing. The resulting offspring could be worth much if raised correctly.” He silenced a sputtering Dean with a casual narrowing of the eyes, the look their father had used to trigger obedience when they were young and the instinctive training cause Dean to stiffen at attention for a moment. “You asked for answers, boy. Don’t blame me if you don’t like what you hear.” Dean pressed his lips together, his eyes burning with hatred as he allowed the Demon to continue.
“Mary had to be removed from the equation. If she had lived, she would have ruined you, and produced a series of weaker pups until your stock meant nothing. You and Sam would both have been wearing pocket protectors and plaid pants, driving a VW Cabriolet to your Dungeons and Dragons meetings.” The Demon rolled his eyes scornfully, the look of disdain marring his features yet another jarring reminder of the father they had so recently lost.
“You would have been worthless.” He shoved the large, calloused hands that had stitched wounds and, in a wisp of memory, wiped away tears, into his pockets. “All I care about is, the longer you stay alive, the more valuable you are. The bad news is that poachers hope to keep you without going through me. Why do you think you run into so much crap in these backwoods hellholes in the middle of nowhere? Do you even know how many times I have saved your collective asses over the years? I’ve kept the worst ones away, but I can’t watch you 24/7. I’ve got other investments far less capable of taking care of themselves.” The Demon sighed mournfully, “Christo! I miss the days when it was legitimate business to take your pups away at birth and lock them in a cage and raise them right. Damn DETH squads.” He arched an eyebrow at Sam’s puzzled glance. “Yeah, we’ve got ‘em, too - Demons for the Ethical Treatment of Humans…they pushed for free-range breeding and minimal interference during growth. Fucked things up royally for the professional breeders.”
Sam’s arms snaked around Dean a second before his brother lunged at the Demon, holding Dean firmly as he struggled to swing at the mockery of his father, taking the elbows to his ribs with barely a muffled grunt. Dean suddenly sagged against him, hanging listlessly in Sam’s arms, only the bulk of Sam’s body keeping him upright. “So what did you get for our dad?” Dean ground out from between clenched teeth.
“For all that delicious, angsty pain…and a breeder?” the Demon chortled obscenely, that flash of a rare grin making their father’s face light up in a way they had rarely seen. “Part of a timeshare in Aruba…oh, and this….” The memorable features of their father melted into the warm visage of Missouri, blurring into the strong lines of Caleb’s face, then Luther, Ellen, flipping faster and faster through faces familiar and non, until slowing through Sam’s light-up-the-world smile before finally slipping solidly into the form of Dean. “Neat trick I picked up, eh? I’m open for business full-time now. No more messy possessions to worry about, sleazing around looking for a weak soul to shack up with. I can be who I want, when I want - no waiting!” His husky laugh turned into a feminine trill as he blurred into Jessica, making Sam wince softly in pain.
“So what are we worth?” Sam asked hollowly, averting his eyes from her image by burying his face in his brother’s hair, arms locking more tightly around Dean’s body for some feeling of sanctuary.
The Demon smiled laconically, pushing himself away from the wall while shifting back into their father, pausing to straighten the familiar black leather coat. “Best in Show, boys. Best in Show…Sporting Division!”
Genre: Dark Humor
Summary: Why has the Demon been so invested in the Winchesters?
Author's Note: Beta'd by
lyonie17. The Boys need a hug, but since Kripke owns them, he doles them out.
Best in Show
“Why? Why’d you do it?” Dean yelled accusingly at the golden-eyed Demon lounging before him. “Kill our mother? Dad? You’ve taken everything from us, you son-of-a-bitch!”
A faint hiss came from Sam, as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Jess.” He glared with wounded eyes at the familiar form of his father, pained lines falling into place as they had for the last twenty-three years of his life. Dean gathered himself together enough to offer solace to his brother, pausing in his tirade to brush a hand over Sam’s arm.
“You were - are - an investment,” the Demon said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms in that recognizable manner their father had used on them when he felt they were being deliberately dim-witted. “Existing eternally can get boring, so even we demons need to find a hobby. Ahh, my Meg…she was a horticulturist. Was trying to cross daisies and poison ivy for a little fun. My boy collected…,” the Demon grimaced manfully, “…action figures. Can you believe it? But it pleased him, so what could a good father say?”
“As for my hobby…think of it like dog breeding - first you need a champion stud and bitch, or the pedigree means nothing. The resulting offspring could be worth much if raised correctly.” He silenced a sputtering Dean with a casual narrowing of the eyes, the look their father had used to trigger obedience when they were young and the instinctive training cause Dean to stiffen at attention for a moment. “You asked for answers, boy. Don’t blame me if you don’t like what you hear.” Dean pressed his lips together, his eyes burning with hatred as he allowed the Demon to continue.
“Mary had to be removed from the equation. If she had lived, she would have ruined you, and produced a series of weaker pups until your stock meant nothing. You and Sam would both have been wearing pocket protectors and plaid pants, driving a VW Cabriolet to your Dungeons and Dragons meetings.” The Demon rolled his eyes scornfully, the look of disdain marring his features yet another jarring reminder of the father they had so recently lost.
“You would have been worthless.” He shoved the large, calloused hands that had stitched wounds and, in a wisp of memory, wiped away tears, into his pockets. “All I care about is, the longer you stay alive, the more valuable you are. The bad news is that poachers hope to keep you without going through me. Why do you think you run into so much crap in these backwoods hellholes in the middle of nowhere? Do you even know how many times I have saved your collective asses over the years? I’ve kept the worst ones away, but I can’t watch you 24/7. I’ve got other investments far less capable of taking care of themselves.” The Demon sighed mournfully, “Christo! I miss the days when it was legitimate business to take your pups away at birth and lock them in a cage and raise them right. Damn DETH squads.” He arched an eyebrow at Sam’s puzzled glance. “Yeah, we’ve got ‘em, too - Demons for the Ethical Treatment of Humans…they pushed for free-range breeding and minimal interference during growth. Fucked things up royally for the professional breeders.”
Sam’s arms snaked around Dean a second before his brother lunged at the Demon, holding Dean firmly as he struggled to swing at the mockery of his father, taking the elbows to his ribs with barely a muffled grunt. Dean suddenly sagged against him, hanging listlessly in Sam’s arms, only the bulk of Sam’s body keeping him upright. “So what did you get for our dad?” Dean ground out from between clenched teeth.
“For all that delicious, angsty pain…and a breeder?” the Demon chortled obscenely, that flash of a rare grin making their father’s face light up in a way they had rarely seen. “Part of a timeshare in Aruba…oh, and this….” The memorable features of their father melted into the warm visage of Missouri, blurring into the strong lines of Caleb’s face, then Luther, Ellen, flipping faster and faster through faces familiar and non, until slowing through Sam’s light-up-the-world smile before finally slipping solidly into the form of Dean. “Neat trick I picked up, eh? I’m open for business full-time now. No more messy possessions to worry about, sleazing around looking for a weak soul to shack up with. I can be who I want, when I want - no waiting!” His husky laugh turned into a feminine trill as he blurred into Jessica, making Sam wince softly in pain.
“So what are we worth?” Sam asked hollowly, averting his eyes from her image by burying his face in his brother’s hair, arms locking more tightly around Dean’s body for some feeling of sanctuary.
The Demon smiled laconically, pushing himself away from the wall while shifting back into their father, pausing to straighten the familiar black leather coat. “Best in Show, boys. Best in Show…Sporting Division!”