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Title: The Bad Guy
Fandom: SPN
Category: Gen
Rating: Adult themes
Word Count: 775
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Notes: A bad guy coda to Forgetting To Fall
Summary: This is Edgar Casen.
No one is born a bad guy.
000
It’s the feathers that catch his attention. The large bear of a man is standing in front of him in the diner, at the edge of his table but not willing to sit down until he is invited. The man is turning a feather over and over in his fingers.
“He asked me. It’s… what he wants,” the man is saying but Casen’s attention is caught. The feather is white and large, looks soft like it was plucked from the underside of an egret’s wing. There is dirt ingrained in the man’s hands, under his nails and emphasising the whorls and lines but none of it touches the feather, like it is impervious to such a mundane thing.
“Anyway, some people told me you could help,” the man continues and Casen, who had turned his back on hunters like this a while ago, smiles.
“Sure. I’ll need to see him, though.” He knows he might have pushed too far, too fast. The man’s eyes narrow and his hands clench into fists, the delicate feather disappearing between meaty fingers. Then he relaxes and sighs.
“Sure. We’re staying at a farm. You can come with me.”
Casen desperately wants to ask for the feather but that he decides, really would be too much.
000
He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but the tall, coltish boy with the stretch of white wings is not it. The boy is looking wary, dressed in ratty jeans and a t-shirt that has seen better days and there is dirt smudged across one cheek. The pure white wings shining dully in the sun are so out of place that Casen almost laughs.
Something in the back of Casen’s mind itches.
This, it says. This one.
The father is talking, telling Casen about another boy that is currently running some nothing errand to keep him away because he wouldn’t understand and can we do this quickly?
Casen looks at him and smiles and the man flinches. Casen recognises that he has to be careful because John Winchester knows enough to flinch and that’s too much. Casen doesn’t try a smile or anything else a normal person would do to be disarming. Instead he is all business and this above everything makes John more comfortable.
“Shall we?” he says to the boy, gesturing him inside the farmhouse. He shakes his head when John goes to follow and he can see the argument forming on his lips when Casen holds a hand up. “Let me help him,” he says and John’s mouth thins down as he nods slowly.
Casen hears it when the other boy returns, how full of rage and hurt he is to be deceived in this way.
Casen lets it wash over him like the warmth of the morning sun.
000
When he gets back to his apartment, he finds it not as empty as when he left.
“I’m protected,” Casen says, turning and pulling his collar aside to show the ritual scars. He has made deals upon deals upon deals to get where he is, a teetering house of cards with the bottom card being his soul. He still has a grip on it, no matter how tenuous and he is not about to let some lower being just waltz in and take it.
A shadow uncurls itself from his living room and resolves into the form of a young man with black hair and dark blue eyes. His features are almost sharp enough to cut and when he smiles, Casen fights the urge to turn away.
“The Winchesters are not yours to toy with,” the demon hisses. “Especially the sons. We have plans for them.”
“I was merely asked to perform a service. I don’t see what business it is of yours Dashmael,” Casen says.
“Break the binding,” the demon commands and Casen laughs.
“That I can’t do. It’s in the older brother’s hands. Whisper in his ear if you will but I will not take back my gift.”
“You would really interfere in the great design?” the demon asks, but there is worry lacing his tone and Casen hears it.
“I am merely ensuring my rightful place,” Casen says.
The demon snorts, a lick of flame curling from his mouth. “You walk dangerous ground. Your protections such as they are cannot shield your forever.”
“I would worry about your own ass, Dashmael. The fallen boy will be my doing and you will need to explain how you failed.”
Casen takes a moment to smile at the demon. “Make sure you get a front row seat, because it will be glorious.”
Fandom: SPN
Category: Gen
Rating: Adult themes
Word Count: 775
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Notes: A bad guy coda to Forgetting To Fall
Summary: This is Edgar Casen.
No one is born a bad guy.
It’s the feathers that catch his attention. The large bear of a man is standing in front of him in the diner, at the edge of his table but not willing to sit down until he is invited. The man is turning a feather over and over in his fingers.
“He asked me. It’s… what he wants,” the man is saying but Casen’s attention is caught. The feather is white and large, looks soft like it was plucked from the underside of an egret’s wing. There is dirt ingrained in the man’s hands, under his nails and emphasising the whorls and lines but none of it touches the feather, like it is impervious to such a mundane thing.
“Anyway, some people told me you could help,” the man continues and Casen, who had turned his back on hunters like this a while ago, smiles.
“Sure. I’ll need to see him, though.” He knows he might have pushed too far, too fast. The man’s eyes narrow and his hands clench into fists, the delicate feather disappearing between meaty fingers. Then he relaxes and sighs.
“Sure. We’re staying at a farm. You can come with me.”
Casen desperately wants to ask for the feather but that he decides, really would be too much.
He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but the tall, coltish boy with the stretch of white wings is not it. The boy is looking wary, dressed in ratty jeans and a t-shirt that has seen better days and there is dirt smudged across one cheek. The pure white wings shining dully in the sun are so out of place that Casen almost laughs.
Something in the back of Casen’s mind itches.
This, it says. This one.
The father is talking, telling Casen about another boy that is currently running some nothing errand to keep him away because he wouldn’t understand and can we do this quickly?
Casen looks at him and smiles and the man flinches. Casen recognises that he has to be careful because John Winchester knows enough to flinch and that’s too much. Casen doesn’t try a smile or anything else a normal person would do to be disarming. Instead he is all business and this above everything makes John more comfortable.
“Shall we?” he says to the boy, gesturing him inside the farmhouse. He shakes his head when John goes to follow and he can see the argument forming on his lips when Casen holds a hand up. “Let me help him,” he says and John’s mouth thins down as he nods slowly.
Casen hears it when the other boy returns, how full of rage and hurt he is to be deceived in this way.
Casen lets it wash over him like the warmth of the morning sun.
When he gets back to his apartment, he finds it not as empty as when he left.
“I’m protected,” Casen says, turning and pulling his collar aside to show the ritual scars. He has made deals upon deals upon deals to get where he is, a teetering house of cards with the bottom card being his soul. He still has a grip on it, no matter how tenuous and he is not about to let some lower being just waltz in and take it.
A shadow uncurls itself from his living room and resolves into the form of a young man with black hair and dark blue eyes. His features are almost sharp enough to cut and when he smiles, Casen fights the urge to turn away.
“The Winchesters are not yours to toy with,” the demon hisses. “Especially the sons. We have plans for them.”
“I was merely asked to perform a service. I don’t see what business it is of yours Dashmael,” Casen says.
“Break the binding,” the demon commands and Casen laughs.
“That I can’t do. It’s in the older brother’s hands. Whisper in his ear if you will but I will not take back my gift.”
“You would really interfere in the great design?” the demon asks, but there is worry lacing his tone and Casen hears it.
“I am merely ensuring my rightful place,” Casen says.
The demon snorts, a lick of flame curling from his mouth. “You walk dangerous ground. Your protections such as they are cannot shield your forever.”
“I would worry about your own ass, Dashmael. The fallen boy will be my doing and you will need to explain how you failed.”
Casen takes a moment to smile at the demon. “Make sure you get a front row seat, because it will be glorious.”
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