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Care and Feeding of Your New Demon	By : KagetsuAsame Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2177 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding Supernatural, nor do I make anything from writing this.

Chapter List
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-Dean-
            It was Sam who figured out the ghost was attached to the produce delivery man. He had been having an affair and not with another woman, no, with a man. His wife had been heartbroken, killing herself in his delivery van by shutting it in the garage and turning it on. She was using the food to attack her victims, especially young men. That was how they found themselves in his house trying to figure out what he had done with her body.
            "Where did you bury your wife, Mr. Grayson?" Sam was the calmer of the two; Dean was getting impatient although it was wonderful to see Sam struggle with his meals.
            "Why does it matter?"
            Dean's lip curled into a snarl, "It matters because you cheated on your wife and now she's attacking people with produce because you couldn't keep it in your pants. Answer the question, where did you bury your wife?" His voice was a low growl.
            He pressed himself back into the couch, eyes wide, "S-Sunset Vista Cemetery."
            "That wasn't so hard, was it? Let's go." He looked at the man, "I hope you've learned your lesson, cheating is bad." He stood, Sam following after.
            "Did you really have to scare him?"
            "Yes, that idiot was too wrapped up in himself to care about anything else. I hope this gets it through his head that the world doesn't revolve around him." He grumbled, getting behind the wheel.
            Sam directed them to the cemetery, now they just had to find her grave and dig it up. Night was falling by the time they found it. He hadn't even sprung for a special message. The tombstone consisted of her name and dates of birth and death. The brothers shook their heads before beginning to dig. Dean was a never ending font of energy, able to get down to the coffin in record time. As Sam began pouring salt over the remains he found himself thrown away, slamming into a tombstone. Dean let out a shout, caught by surprise; the ghost stood there, her face contorted in anger.
            "Sammy!" He snarled, his brother wasn't moving and blood dripped from his temple, "Look at me, bitch." He growled lowly, eyes burning black, flickering to red and yellow as he clenched his hand into a fist. The ghost screamed, eyes wide as she began to burn red, screeching as Dean destroyed her. His eyes burned with hellfire as he drove her into the ground, sending her soul to hell. He stepped forward, moving quickly to Sam's side, "Sam? Sammy?" He checked his pulse, his hand shaking slightly. It fluttered strongly under his fingers, "Don't you dare ever think of dying on me, I will hunt you down and drag you back kicking and screaming if I have to." He hugged him close before picking him up, "Making me go all chick flick." He shook his head, grabbing their tools and heading back to the car.
            "Dean?" Sam moaned softly as he was put in the backseat.
            "Easy Sammy, it's ok, can you stay awake for me?" He swallowed hard.
            "Dean, what's wrong with your eyes?" He scowled slightly, looking up at him through hazy eyes.
            "Just stay awake, I'm going to get us back to the hotel, you have to stay awake, ok? You have a concussion at least."
            "My head hurts. Did you get the ghost?"
            He swallowed hard, taking them to their hotel, thankful he was conscience, "Yeah, I ganked her ass. She won't be bothering anyone anymore."
            He couldn't run the risk of his brother dying. He was human, he could be hurt badly, and Dean couldn't always protect him. He was worried, not just for how fragile Sam really was but he would die one day, he would leave him, and then what would he do? He had to look out for Sammy and he couldn't do that if he died. There had to be a solution, he just wasn't seeing it yet.
-Alastair-
            He could feel the grace pulsing beneath his fingers. The angel was bound tightly to the rack, his wings spread out with hooks. Hell was such a wonderful place; he could force the angel to manifest those pretty wings of his. He could remember how it felt to have wings, to have grace, and could feel the desire for it in the pit of his soul. This would strengthen him; he just had to figure out how to extract it properly. Grace could be a fickle thing and sneaky. He brought the angle blade up, sliding it against his throat.
            "How do we extract your grace, that shiny pulse beneath your skin." He slid the blade down then back up, nicking the skin. He could see the brightness of his grace in the wound, "And it hides inside." He smirked, "How do we extract it, little angel? Does it just simmer here, waiting for someone to tease it out?"
            The angel hissed at him, "You shall never have an angel's grace, demon."
            He grinned, smirking at him darkly, "I did once, had my own grace, I'm looking forward to tasting it once again." He closed his lips around the wound.
            He moaned, feeling the grace against his tongue. He lapped it up, working the wound open further, drinking in his grace, feeling it fill him. His eyes falling closed as he felt it fill him fully. His fingers gripped at his hair, pulling his head back. The last of his grace slid past his lips, filling him with long forgotten strength.
            "Y-You...fiend..." He hissed lowly, hanging limp in his bonds.
            "I have been called many things but that is the most un-creative insult I've ever encountered." He smirked, "Without your grace do you know what happens? You become mortal. Do you know what happens to mortals in hell?"
            The angel's eyes widened comically, "No..."
            His smile widened, "Yes." He hissed lowly, "You become just like the souls here and you will become a demon."
-Castiel-
            Angels had begun vanishing without a trace. They weren't being killed they were just suddenly gone. There was no reason to kidnap an angel unless they possessed information but angels didn't commonly break. There was something else going on here. The demons had been oddly silent as well. There were still problems with them but Alastair seemed to be planning something. Dean and Sam were well hidden again and there was only one ritual that could hide them so well. It was good they had performed it but he was beginning to miss his talks with Sam. Uriel was licking his wounds after their fight and he was doing his best to stay off their radar. With the disappearance of angels they weren't worried about Castiel. All of the angels that had gone missing were low ranking. Even the lowest ranking angel could smite a demon, leaving that avenue out, there weren't many things that could take out an angel but they weren't finding bodies.
            "Castiel, what have you done?" It was a young angel, loyal to Zachariah.
            He sighed softly, meeting her gaze, "I have done nothing untoward. The Winchesters deserve our protection; they do not deserve to be damaged in the pursuit of power."
            "You would betray us for those humans? Go against your brothers?" She shook her head, moving closer, "Come home, Castiel, it will be better for you if you come willingly."
            "No." His voice was firm, "Leave me. I have no desire to harm you but if you choose to attack me I shall defend myself."
            Her hands flew to her head as she stepped back away from him. Alastair stepped out from behind a nearby car, his hand raised, holding her with his powers, "Castiel, you've been taking good care of my boy and his brother."
            "Alastair." He narrowed his eyes, gaze locked on the demon.
            "It's so good to see you." He smiled darkly, pulling the angel blade from her sleeve, "She was planning on killing you." He offered it to him.
            Castiel took it slowly; weary of the demon, "Why have you come?"
            He closed his fingers, watching the female squirm, "To say thank you. You've taken good care of Dean and Sam, watched out for them; I'm impressed with your dedication."
            "What are you doing with the angels you take?" It was too easy for Alastair to hold her; she should have been able to at least fight.
            "Did you know that I was once an angel?" He asked conversationally, clenching his fingers tight, making her gasp in pain, "I was cast out with Lucifer, sent to hell. I excelled there. I was always a little different than my brothers. Now I rule hell and I would be happy to keep things running smoothly, to maintain the status quo, if your bosses would leave my boy and his brother alone." The sound of her neck snapping echoed through the parking lot, "They won't, I know they won't and so do you. I will do whatever is necessary to put an end to their meddling affairs. For an angel, I like you, you're not so bad, but if you stand in my way I will see to it that you will never interfere with my plans again, am I clear?"
            "Yes, I understand."
            He smiled amicable, "Good, now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He picked her up before disappearing.
            He fell to his knees, the power he felt rolling off of Alastair was growing and it frightened him. In that moment he knew what Alastair was doing, he was consuming their grace to increase his strength, all so he could kill Uriel and Zachariah, maybe even Michael. He shivered, he did not want to come between him and his targets, did not want to be the next one he took, and he certainly didn't want his grace to fuel the ex-angel. If he was taking the angels to hell they would become demons, they would fall after he consumed their grace. He refused to allow that to be his fate, his priority was protecting Sam and Dean and that is what he was going to do.
-Bobby-
            They were following him, seemed to be waiting for him to make contact with the boys again. He had no intention of doing so; it could wait until this whole situation was done with. He had put Sam at risk and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Then there was the matter of Dean. He didn't know what to do, he had checked on the jail he had escaped from, no one had been hurt or killed just a little shaken up. Sam had told him that Dean didn't hurt anyone, at least not anyone who didn't deserve it. Dean was still Dean, at least on some level, but he was also a demon and demons couldn't be trusted. Since the meeting with Castiel he had stepped up the protections on his home, including the banishing symbol. He wasn't sure if it would work made of metal and engraved into his wall but he was willing to give it a try. In all honesty he wasn't surprised when his door swung open and a balding man stood looking at him.
            "Bobby Singer, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've been waiting to talk to you, my name is Zachariah and I wanted to talk to you about Dean."
            He narrowed his eyes, "What about him?" He sliced open his palm, moving forward, close to the sigil.
            "It isn't right that he's a demon, he's meant for so much more. We want to fix him, make him human again."
            He paused next to the sigil, "How would you do that?"
            "In order to purify him we need to capture him. The problem is we can't find him but you can. If you bring him to us you'll be doing the world a great favor."
            "How about you take your plan and shove it up your ass? If Dean wanted to be a demon then that's his choice. You can't make the decision for him." He slammed his hand against the mark, smiling in satisfaction when Zachariah was removed from his home.
-Alastair-
            It was enough, it would have to be. The stolen grace would burn itself out eventually but for right now it would be enough until he could get Uriel's. He had no intention of turning that particular angel into a demon; he was on the kill list. Not only would he be too much trouble but he was just a general pain in the ass. He stood calmly in the middle of a large field, the same field Dean and Sam used for their ritual.
            "Uriel, Angel of The Lord." He sneered, the angel blade in hand, "I call thee, come before me." The flap of wings made him smile and the appearance of the angel made it grow.
            "Alastair." His lip curled up into a snarl, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
            "The pleasure is all mine." He moved forward so they were standing toe to toe, "You have something I want."
            "You have something I want as well. Your head, on a plate."
            He stepped back, letting the blade glint in his hand, "We will have to agree to disagree on what we're getting out of this."
            He swung, catching the angel across the cheek. Uriel snarled, lashing out in response, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him across the field. Alastair rolled, pushing up onto his feet, spinning the blade between his fingers.
            "I can already taste it, angel." He dove, lashing out, the blade sliding across his throat. The rest of his momentum was used to pin the angel, "Say goodbye to your grace." He latched onto the wound, drinking it down. Uriel let out a final struggle before going limp, the last of his grace drained from him, "How does it feel to be human?"
            "What have you done?!" He pushed at the demon above him, struggling to get out from under him, "You foolish creature! What have you done?!"
            He smiled, running the blade down his cheek, "Now, the other angels I took grace from, they became demons but you, you won't get to enjoy the next phase of life, no Uriel, you are going to die." He drove the blade through his throat.
            He cleaned the blade before standing, leaving the dead angel in the middle of the field. He felt refreshed, stronger than ever, and in that moment he knew he could take on Zachariah. Hopefully removing two of the leading powers under Michael would throw things into disarray. Zachariah was next but he wasn't up for it just yet, he needed some time to let the new grace settle in.
-Sam-
            When Alastair showed up to spend time with his brother he knew something was off. It became even more apparent when Dean got back from his time with him. He could virtually feel the power rolling off the elder demon and it made him crave. He wanted to taste it, could imagine it on his tongue. There was always the chance he could relapse, that was made abundantly clear to him. He could smell the blood on Dean and he wanted it.
            "Dean..." He swallowed hard, looking at him, "I need some space."
            He scowled, "What's wrong?" He moved closer.
            "Can't you tell how powerful Alastair has become? It's too much for me, you smell like his power, his blood. I'm going to relapse if I'm around you right now."
            "I'll be outside, ok? If you need anything let me know. In an hour or so the blood should even out and we can try again, alright?"
            He nodded, gripping the edge of the bed, "Thanks."
-Dean-
            He stepped outside, giving Sam some space. Alastair was waiting for him. It surprised him; usually after they met up he left to go take care of things in hell. He blinked, leaning against the door, looking at his partner.
            "You're still here." He raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with him.
            "Yes, I thought you might like to join me in dispatching Zachariah."
            He scowled, "Since when do you hover outside waiting for me to come out?"
            His head cocked to the side slightly, reminding him a little too much of Castiel, "Does it bother you?"
            Dean slapped him, hard, "What the hell? That grace is messing with you." He sighed, "When this is over I'm going to put you on the rack."
            "Do you want to come?"
            He sighed, closing his eyes, "Yes, I want to come. Let me tell Sam." He opened the door, poking his head in, "Hey Sammy, you get some rest, if you need me, call. I'm going with Alastair to take care of Zachariah."
            Sam nodded, "Thanks for letting me know."
            He gave him a thumbs up before closing the door and going back to Alastair, "Let's go."
            The demon snapped his fingers, transporting them to the open field. Uriel's body had been cleaned up but there was still blood on the ground from where he had been killed, "Zachariah, Angel of The Lord, I call thee, come before me."
            Dean crossed his arms over his chest, standing off to the side, watching and waiting, "You're not eating this one." He hissed, glaring at his partner.
            "As you wish."
            A rustle of wings and Zachariah stood before them, "Alastair, Dean. Have you come to kill me as well? Drain my grace?"
            "I do not desire your grace." He drew the blade, "However you will die here tonight."
            Zachariah looked surprised, "I haven't heard you talk like that in an eternity. Grace affecting you more than you thought it would? Next thing you know you'll be sprouting wings."
            Dean snarled but it was Alastair who acted and Zachariah didn't expect the speed at which he moved. The blade sliced forward, catching his shoulder, just barely missing his throat. They tumbled to the ground, struggling in the dirt, the blade rolling to the side. Dean reached out. Feeling the blade snap into his hand, he moved forward, neither of them were paying attention to him. Alastair was beneath him, revealing the angel's back to Dean.
            "Hey, Zach." He grinned, the angel looking back, "Bye." He drove the blade into his throat. The shadow of wings burned into the ground almost making it look as though they belonged to the demon, "Now get up and take me back to Sam, I have an offer for him and then I will be back below and you had better be on a rack when I get there."
            Not another word passed between them as Alastair returned them to the hotel, "I will see you when you finish."
            Dean stepped inside to find Sam laying in bed, "Hey Sammy, feeling better?"
            "Yeah." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
            "Good, that's good." He pulled out his blade, running it over his arm, splitting the skin. He watched as the blood began to bead and trickle to the floor in thick drops, "I have a question for you and I know it isn't going to be easy..."
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Care and Feeding of Your New Demon