stilljustandrew | [Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]

Entry tags:

au,
detroit au

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She repeats the process on his left hand, then tosses the duct tape back into the cardboard box and steps back to admire her work.

"Very good."

Her glance meets his.

"You're awfully quiet, Andy. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Andrew swallows.

Barely audible: "I don't have anything to say to you."

"Not yet, maybe," she says, sweetly, then nods to the guards.

"Boys, I think you can handle the rest of this. Entertain him while I go see to our other guest."

"Other --?"

He bites down on it, too late.

The smile she turns on him is bright and blade-sharp.

"Told you."

She glances back at the guards, then turns and walks out of the room.

The thoughts that chase through his head are she's got somebody else here, somebody I know followed by she wants me to think she's got somebody I know followed by should have kept my mouth shut followed by ow.

It's not really a beating, just a few desultory blows to keep him from struggling while they wrench his arms behind his back and buckle the cuffs on. The collar's next; one of them takes his face in a bruising grip from behind and jerks his head back, while another fastens it, not tightly enough to give him trouble breathing.

Not that he's not already having trouble breathing, between the pain and the anticipation of worse.

It's several minutes before Meg walks back into the room, and when she does, she's not alone. Two more guards are with her, dragging a boy who looks to be about sixteen or seventeen at most.

Another young woman of similar age walks in after them. The kid keeps trying to twist his head to see her, and the look on is face is one of horror mingled with stark fear.

"Please," he begs; "please, I'll do whatever you want, don't, please--"

One of the guards casually hits him in the stomach, and he loses his breath and his words at once.

Meg isn't giving any attention to this little byplay. She's watching Andrew, searching his face for any reaction.

There's plenty reaction to look at. Andrew's eyes have widened, and his face has gone pale; the relief that they don't have any of his friends is quickly subsumed under the horror of he's just a kid, what are you doing to him.

He glances at Meg, and then tries to catch the kid's eye.

It even works. As soon as he can raise his head again, still gasping for air, the kid's glance falls on Andrew. His eyes widen, and he turns ash-gray.

"No."

"Shh, don't worry, Joey," the girl croons, stepping around them to the front of the little group -- and at the sound of her voice, Joey closes his eyes, refusing to look at her. A tear leaks out of the corner of his eye and slides down his face.

Meg smiles. "Andrew, I want you to meet Joey and Jenny. They're just the most adorable little high school couple ever, don't you think?"

Her words are dripping with saccharine-sweet sarcasm. Jenny turns her head and smiles at Andrew, giving a little wiggle of her fingers in greeting. Her eyes are jet black.

And by now he knows what that means.

Anger stirs, fueled by horror and pity and the knowledge that there's nothing he can do -- and a deep, horrible suspicion of what's coming next.

He swallows, and whispers "Hey, Joey."

Joey opens his eyes and darts a fear-filled glance at Andrew. He licks his lips, but doesn't speak.

Meg walks closer, so that only Andrew and the guards holding him can hear her.

"I thought I'd give you a demonstration of what you have to look forward to if you don't agree to serve His wishes on your own. A little preview of coming attractions, let's say." Anticipation fills her words, her glance, the smile she turns on him.

"Unless you'd like to spare Joey here the experience he's got coming and not-so-incidentally spoil my fun by consenting to help now, that is. What do you say, Andrew?"

Andrew shuts his eyes.

"What are you gonna do to him."

"Nothing I haven't done before," Meg murmurs, leaning closer to Andrew. "You've even seen the effects."

He can feel the tip of Sam's hunting knife prick his chest, snag in his shirt, rip downward.

"Go to hell," he whispers, without opening his eyes.

Meg smiles.

"Been there."

She turns away and looks back at Joey and Jenny and their guards.

"Sorry, Joey -- looks like Andrew here won't be saving you today."

At that his eyes snap open, and seek out the kid's face.

"Joey," hoarse and shaking, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry --"

He doesn't even have a chance to respond.

Joey's mouth drops open in shock, and his stunned, uncomprehending gaze fixes on Andrew -- and as it does, Meg nods to Jenny.

The girl throws her head back, and an oily black column of smoke rips upward into the air, coiling into a cloud over Joey's helpless form. The smoke twists around itself, then pours downward and into the boy's mouth, distending his cheeks and throat as it shoves its way into his body.

He expected the demon wearing the girl's body to kill the boy, probably with some embellishments first, such that she'd remember it later; he expected it to take a while.

That's not happening, and for a moment he can't quite work out what it is, and then --

"NO!"

There's nothing he can do, there's nothing he could do even if his arms were freed, why is he struggling --

The guards holding him adjust to his frantic efforts easily; he's not going anywhere.

Jenny collapses to the ground, sobbing and gasping for air. The last of the smoke slithers its way out of sight down Joey's throat; his mouth snaps shut, and the guards holding him let go as he stiffens.

"Joey?" Jenny sounds even younger than she looks, and utterly terrified. "Joey?"

Joey shudders once, then blinks black eyes and turns a chilling smile on the girl, who cringes back at the sight of it.

"Hey baby."

Oh god no --

Andrew sucks in a breath that scrapes his throat like ice, and speaks as fast and as clearly as he can. "Jenny. Listen to me. That's not Joey. That's the demon that was controlling you, I don't know how much you remember, but believe me, you have to believe me, it's not him --"

She throws him a hunted look even as she tries to push herself backwards, away from Joey. One of the guards reaches down and yanks her to her feet, then shoves her forward, into Joey's arms.

Jenny screams as he grabs her by her long hair and grins down at her, then picks her up with effortless ease and walks out of the room, followed by the guards that had brought them in. She's still screaming faintly somewhere off in the distance down the hall when Meg kicks the door shut and turns back to Andrew.

"You're a bright boy, Andy. I'm sure our little lesson wasn't lost on you, right?"

Andrew swallows hard.

"You unspeakable bitch."

She laughs in his face.

"Flatterer."

His breath's coming faster, hoarse with rage.

(Rage is good. Rage is a support; something to hold on to.)

"You can tell your boss the answer's still no."

"Maybe for now," she tosses back. "But you won't deny him forever."

A beat.

"No one does. Not even your precious Sammy."

[Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)