stilljustandrew (
stilljustandrew) wrote2010-04-12 08:13 pm
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[Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]
Jonathan's vision was pretty well unmistakable. Gabriel's in danger, and doesn't know it -- or at least doesn't know the specifics.
That would be enough on its own, even if Andrew didn't more or less owe him his life.
Gabriel's nowhere to be seen at Milliways, and no one seems to have run into him in the past couple of days. Well, and that's normal enough; there's no reason he'd be here all the time, and plenty of reason to make himself scarce, all things considered. Maybe he's just back home.
Please just let this not be too late.
Andrew writes out a note at the bar giving Jonathan's vision in as much detail as he can, folds it carefully in quarters, and writes "The Trickster (G.)" on the outside.
That would be enough on its own, even if Andrew didn't more or less owe him his life.
Gabriel's nowhere to be seen at Milliways, and no one seems to have run into him in the past couple of days. Well, and that's normal enough; there's no reason he'd be here all the time, and plenty of reason to make himself scarce, all things considered. Maybe he's just back home.
Please just let this not be too late.
Andrew writes out a note at the bar giving Jonathan's vision in as much detail as he can, folds it carefully in quarters, and writes "The Trickster (G.)" on the outside.
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Stubborn as Sam Winchester was.
He's not. He knows he's not. But he can try to be.
And he doesn't for a moment think that he'll be able to hold out where Sam didn't. Not forever. Not for good. And chances are pretty low that anybody's going to be able (or, let's face facts, willing to take the risk) to come and rescue him. Lucifer's right: he's going to say yes eventually.
So all there is ... is to see how long he can make it take.
Andrew straightens as best he can, and waits for Meg to appear.
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She doesn't even bother glancing at Andrew; her focus is all for Lucifer.
"You called for me?"
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"I did." He flicks a glance at Andrew, then back to Meg.
"Tend to our ... guest. As we discussed."
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"I'll be delighted to."
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This will be bad.
His arm abruptly twinges, hard, where a knife went into it some years back.
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"Good."
He glances at Andrew.
"We'll talk again. Soon."
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The words are flippant. The tone isn't: a whisper like a guttering candle wick, struggling to draw the last of its wax, struggling to stay alight just a little longer.
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"Oh, we're going to have fun, Wells. I can't wait to get started."
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"Till your daddy takes your T-bird away?"
(It's an only slightly better attempt at bravado than the last thing he said.)
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"Something like that."
A beat.
"Guess we're gonna have to make the most of the time we've got while it lasts, right?"
Meg claps her hands sharply together, and three guards promptly enter the room in response to her summons.
"Take him downstairs," she orders.
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He folds his arms loosely across his midsection, and looks away.
This will be bad.
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Meg leaves them at the top of the stairs. It's only after the guards get him to the center of the cell that she arrives, carrying a cardboard box.
She crouches down, setting it on the floor, and starts to open it, then glances over at them.
"Why is he still on his feet?"
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They don't, much. This time the shove is accompanied by a casually brutal blow to the kidneys, and his knees buckle without any further encouragement at all.
He swallows bile and keeps his eyes on the box.
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Then a collar, and a metal chain.
Finally, Meg picks up a smaller box that's labeled as being from a medical supply shop, and turns to pin him with a look.
"I remember your little trick last time. With that Dvasha bitch."
The gloves she lifts from the box are specially designed, with metal-braced foam splints to separate and immobilize each finger.
"Don't think you'll be pulling that one again."
She adds a roll of duct tape, and smiles.
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But the sight of the immobilizing gloves strikes a deep chill into him, splintering what's left of his composure; involuntarily, he tries to draw back, tries to pull his hands protectively to his chest.
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She flicks a glance at the guards. One moves up behind him, grabbing him with one arm under each of his, then up and around his shoulders in an immobilizing armlock, the demon's hands clasped behind Andrew's neck. The other two move to his sides, one reaching for each of Andrew's arms.
"Too bad," Meg says, walking toward him. "You're going to wear them. But because I'm feeling nice right now, I'll give you the chance to let me slide them on your hands without fighting. Because if you do fight me, you'll still be wearing them, but I'll break each one of your fingers first."
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(there's no profit in trying my patience, Andrew)
It's not about agreeing to work for Lucifer. It's not something he has to resist. It's not a battle he needs to fight.
Fight them anyway, one inner voice urges. Don't make anything easier for them. Don't get in the habit of saying yes.
Save the resistance for when it matters, urges another.
He feels cold, and vanishingly small.
"Okay," he whispers finally, closing his eyes. "Okay, I won't."
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Meg closes the distance between them, tucks one of the gloves under her arm, and holds the other in one hand as she reaches for his right wrist.
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After a moment he swallows again, and opens his eyes to watch the process.
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Meg finds a pressure point at the juncture of his wrist and palm and bears down on it hard as she flattens his hand into the glove, laying each finger into its individual channel and squeezing the splint closed around.
A doctor would add a velcro strip and stop there, but Meg wraps duct tape firmly around wrist and fingers until his hand is completely immobilized, then smiles into his eyes.
"There." Beat. "That's one."
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And then forces them open again as she takes hold of his other hand.
He's got to watch what she's doing. He's got to know how this goes together, in case -- in case there's any chance, later --
There won't be and he knows it.
He watches anyway.
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"Very good."
Her glance meets his.
"You're awfully quiet, Andy. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
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Barely audible: "I don't have anything to say to you."
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"Boys, I think you can handle the rest of this. Entertain him while I go see to our other guest."
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