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17 December 2014 @ 12:34 pm
Army of Cain (Darkness Is Coming) - Blood Ties - Chapter 3  

Author: silver ruffian
Category: Twisted Dark AU
Characters: Demon Dean, Sam, Morgan Le Fay, Camille, Castiel, Hannah, Crowley
Pairings: Demon Dean/Morgan Le Fay/Camille
Rating: R
Summary: Demon Dean encounters legendary Fae sorceress Morgan Le Fay one fateful night. She gives Dean the ability to duplicate himself. Later Dean falls victim to Sam's containment and summoning spell. Which Dean is which? The captured one undergoing the blood cure, or the one leading the others in the assault against Sam, Castiel, Hannah and the other angels in the bunker?

Chapter 3 – hell night at the movies

Somewhere topside humans in their worthless meatsuits crowded into darkened rooms to watch talking raccoons and giant fire breathing lizards wreck havoc. There was always one or two in the crowd who hid compact digital camcorders in their handbags or underneath their jackets. They saw a need and they rushed to fill it. These were humans after The King of Hell's own dark heart. Bootleg copies of first run movies were a booming business, one that even Hell had their claws into.

As for the rest of the humans? They ate overpriced buttered popcorn, spilled soda until the floor became nasty and sticky, yelled at the movie screen, laughed too loud and thumped the backs of the seats in front of them with their feet.

Hell’s screening room was much more civilized than that. The King didn't tolerate such nonsense, unless he was the one laughing his head off. Thumping the seats in front of him wasn't possible because his tall, expensive, black leather covered director's chair was the only seat available, aside from the cheaper ones the three technicians occupied in the control station off to the side.

Tonight Fletcher the head flunky was already there, fidgety as always in his light grey suit. A tall blonde minion dressed in black stood by the door. She was a server; judging by the way she constantly stared at her perfect red nails she was obviously bored out of her mind.

Everyone snapped to, ramrod straight, when Crowley suddenly appeared in the room. He smiled at the sudden increase of fear and tension. He could have been old school about it, walked in and used the door like so-called "normal" folks, but keeping his flunkies on edge, never knowing when and if he would appear was good for business. It kept them on their toes.

After all, Hell didn't run itself. But sometimes the little engine that could chugged merrily along the tracks all on its own, fueled by fear, intimidation and the countless bloody examples Crowley made public since he made his triumphant return. He had no illusions about his loyal subjects; they’d turn on him in the blink of an eye if they thought they could get away with it.
After Crowley settled himself in his chair Blondie walked forward. Seeing the bottle of GlenCraig whiskey on her tray made Hell's Finest Salesman smile. The server carefully poured two fingers into the cut crystal glass. Then she favored him with a bright smile, bowed and returned to her station by the door.

Crowley looked her up and down appreciatively. Not bad. Another would-be consort. Ever since Lola betrayed him to Abaddon and was summarily "retired" (killed) there had been a constant stream of hopefuls who wanted to take her place.

The head flunky came forward, bowing. He had a head full of lush silver hair. His name topside was Glen Fletcher; in his previous life he'd been a television evangelist. Little old ladies all over the country sent him their last dollars, nickels and dimes for salvation. None of that did Fletcher any damn good.

“What, no popcorn?” Crowley muttered.

The old dolt looked confused. “Popcorn, sire?”

Crowley stared hard at his servant. “I want butter flavored. A big bowl.”

“Yes, sire.” Fletcher turned and snapped at the waiting minion. “Butter flavored popcorn for the king!” She nodded and hurried out of the room. Fletcher turned back to Crowley and his expression softened as he bowed again. “I apologize for that oversight.”

Crowley didn’t acknowledge the apology. He quirked one eyebrow at the wall of screens instead. "Progress report?"

One of the techs turned in his chair. He nodded respectfully. "We're up and running. Body cameras and comms are fully functional. The team will engage Le Fay in five minutes. We'll have a live feed in three."

Crowley sniffed at the red carnation in his lapel. “Her own fault. Stubborn Fae bitch.”

Fletcher stood perfectly still while Crowley took a long, slow sip. Wonderful stuff. The nectar of the gods. “All she had to do was say yes and agree to work for me. Even her own people are on the outs with her. Anything else?”

Fletcher answered helpfully. “Her shapeshifter is with her. Not a problem.”


Less than two minutes later the King of Hell had a large bowl of perfectly popped buttered popcorn on the table next to his chair.

A minute later the show began.

The wall screen was divided into twelve separate screens, one for each body cam. As the live feed came in all twelve screens lit up. Trees and branches whipped by in a blur.

Crowley stared at the screens with a critical eye. One of the features of this new camera rig was night vision. Even though demons didn't need that, it was still nice to be able to see everything so clearly. The sound quality was also top notch.

Ten minutes later Crowley would regret having those features.

Hell's assassins howled and screeched like banshees as they ran and leaped through the dark forest. The fast moving jerkiness of the camera motion reminded Crowley of the movie “The Blair Witch Project", a quaint little comedy with a few minor scares.

All twelve screens paused. There she was, that Fae bitch, up ahead, running through the forest at top speed. A huge grey wolf ran by her side.

The demons surged forward. Three of them went wide as they surged ahead to cut the Fae off. A buzz of white static, and then a startled voice, one of the possessed ones: “Boss, I think there's something else out---”

Two of the screens blinked, rolled to white static, then went dead.

Crowley sighed ruefully. Human toys were wonderful, but tech had its faults. This wasn't the first time a glitch had occurred. Shit happened, as the meatsuits were so very fond of saying.

Of course, the last time 'shit happened' the previous tech team paid for it with their lives.

A few seconds later, a babble of excited voices: "WHAT???" "AHHHHH----"

Four more screens rolled to black.

Crowley scowled. Cameras one through six were still active, but this was still pretty damned annoying, especially when things were just getting good. He tapped his fingers on the leather armrest. Fletcher stared straight ahead, but his eyes bulged like doorknobs with fear and anxiety.

The techs were too busy fiddling with their board controls to notice.

Up ahead Morgan Le Fay turned to face her tormentors. She made a curious hand gesture and her right hand filled with a curved golden dagger that resembled an oversized claw. Her wolf stood snarling beside her, all teeth and fury, eyes gone to slits.

Le Fay smiled grimly, then raised her left hand and motioned the demons to come get her. The action on the screens blurred as the demons closed in, slashing with their knives, then jumped back out of range.

The Fae bitch was still different shades of purple, but some of the darker stains were blood. The long black dress she wore was slashed and cut in places. Her companion wolf stood by her side, bloodied and defiant, thick smoke grey fur speckled with blood. They swayed on their feet.

Now this was entertainment.

The blades were treated with a poison specially designed to weaken Fae kind. The two females stood in the center of a circle of demons. Six different screens showed six different camera angles: from behind, on the sides and in front.

Crowley picked idly at an imaginary speck of lint on the right knee of his immaculate black suit. "You did mention that I want trophies, didn't you?" he said casually, as though it wasn't a big deal; everyone present knew it really was. "Their heads. That knife looks like a collector's item. A real keeper. I want it."

Fletcher bowed solemnly "The team was made aware of your wishes, but we can always remind them. Thy will be done."

The technician in the middle chair relayed the message to the team over the coms.

"Roger that, base," the team leader replied.


Several demons darted in, blades flashing in the moonlight. Morgan Le Fay deflected most of the blows in a blur of movement. Her wolf snarled, then howled as she received several glancing knife strikes. The demons leaped back, laughing and whooping. This was the beginning of a long, slow, painful death, a message to the other Fae, which was exactly why Crowley didn’t send Juliet after her.

Juliet didn’t do slow death.

Crowley smiled as he fisted a handful of movie theater popcorn. He popped it into his mouth and chewed with gusto.

“Evenin', fellas," someone off-camera drawled.

That most excellent butter flavored popcorn took on the taste of bitter ashes. The King's cheeks bulged out like a chipmunk's as he choked on the popcorn. He immediately recognized that familiar whiskey smooth voice. Crowley didn't need to breathe, but his Adam's apple hitched up and down as he forced himself to swallow the suddenly dry lump. He grabbed his glass and gulped whiskey down.

The demons turned.

Dean Winchester stood relaxed and easy. His hands were empty. No First Blade in sight.

That didn't make Crowley feel any better.

Fletcher's thin face creased up worriedly. “Sire---”

"Shut up. Shut up!"

“You’re not supposed to be here, Winchester,” the lead demon snarled. "This isn’t your kill. We're not after you. Not yet, anyway.”

Dean shrugged. “I was just wondering why it takes six big bad demons to take down two Fae.”

The demon scowled. “Six? There’s twelve of us."

“There were 12 of you,” Dean said mildly. “Now there’s only six.”

The demons snarled. Three of the others shifted position, moving fast and nimbly through the clearing towards the newcomer. Now Dean stood in the center of a rough triangle, while the leader and the other two covered Le Fay and Camille.

Dean seemed remarkably unconcerned about this. The two Fae stared at him in disbelief.

"Doesn’t matter. You're the boss' pet. His useless boy toy."

"Wow. You use words that hurt." Dean mock-sniffed. "That makes me sad."

The demon in charge sneered. "I imagine if we brought him your head too he'd like that. Three birds with one stone."

"Is that a fact?" Dean smirked.

Crowley leaned forward in his chair. "Get them out of there!" he hissed.

Fletcher and the techs looked confused. "What?"

"I said get them out of there---"

"Sire, he's only one demon," the head tech replied.


Everyone in the room jumped.

The lead tech shouted into his mike: "Alpha Team, disengage immediately. I repeat, disengage immediately-----"

They never did.

Perhaps it was just another equipment malfunction. Or maybe the killers were just too hyped up to listen. In any event, things went south very very quickly.

The largest demon rushed at Dean from behind. That particular vessel was a huge bearlike human male, especially chosen for his size. He wrapped his arms around Dean's midsection, pinning his arms to his sides.

Monitors two and three blurred as the other two demons rushed forward, piling on top of Dean and the big one as they fell backwards. The two others who stood with the leader also leaped to join in. They all whooped and shrieked with glee.

The leader turned and charged at Morgan Le Fay. Camille yelped as she was hit across her muzzle and her chest. She stumbled backwards, then recovered.

She was too late.

Morgan Le Fay's dagger was knocked out of her hand. The demon struck her in the face, hard, grabbed her and then spun her around in front of him like a shield. He put his knife to her throat and dragged her backwards a few steps.
The demon grinned. The tip of his blade nicked her smooth skin. Blood trickled down her long shapely neck. The skin surrounding the cut darkened as the poison flooded into her system.

Camille stalked forward, head down. Le Fay's eyes were glassy, unseeing. She shuddered when the possessed one licked the side of her face with his tongue. He winked at Camille. "Now now. Be a good little puppy and I won't hurt her."

That was a lie, of course.

Dean laughed, a low rumble of unholy amusement.

Bright red light blazed from five of the monitors on the wall. The demons in the dog-pile shrieked like lost souls.

~TBC this week~

Current Mood: satisfiedsatisfied
Current Music: Only the voices inside my head