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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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?"
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"What are you gonna do to him."
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"Go to hell," he whispers, without opening his eyes.
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"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."
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"Joey," hoarse and shaking, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry --"
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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.
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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 --
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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."
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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 --"
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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?"
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"You unspeakable bitch."
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"Flatterer."
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(Rage is good. Rage is a support; something to hold on to.)
"You can tell your boss the answer's still no."
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A beat.
"No one does. Not even your precious Sammy."
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"Someday." Very even. "Someday I am going to learn your true name, and when I do there won't be a deep enough hell to hide you from me."
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"Dream on," she breathes, her lips barely a whisper away from his. "You wouldn't believe how many others have said me something similar. They all ended the same."
"But you..." Her smile is slow, and murderous, and somehow terrifyingly sweet. "... you're different. I'm going to take special care of you, Wells."
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He could twist his head around and try to bite her hand; he could try to kick her again.
He swallows, and doesn't move.
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"Now then."
A beat.
"Why don't we really get things started."
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"Yeah," he whispers, his mouth completely dry. "Go ahead."
About two minutes later, he stops trying not to scream.