The Brightest Light Casts the Darkest Shadow - fic

[amberdreams]

Fanwork: (Fic) The Brightest Light Casts the Darkest Shadow.
Genre: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Gen - Sam and Hallucifer
Word count: 653
Warnings: Season 7 spoilers.
Written for this prompt on spn_muses

"This is your shadow on my wall. This is my flesh and blood, this is what I could have been."-- David Bowie, I Have Not Been to Oxford Town 

Hallucifer loves to play games.  Especially with Sam.  Any game really; but he does have a few favourites. 

Hide and seek, now that’s a good one. 

He lulls Sam into a false sense of security by hiding deep inside some forgotten memory, wrapping it around him all cosy and warm, just waiting for the right trigger to jump out screaming.  The really cunning thing about this game is that poor silly Sam doesn’t even know that he is playing the seeker, until he discovers Hallucifer clinging onto the coat tails of the information he was searching for. 

The last time Hallucifer tried that ploy, the results were awesome.  The brothers had been interviewing this elderly couple, posing as journalists.  Sam was doing his usual empathetic crap, all soulful eyes and sympathy, when the old guy said something about Louisiana legends and Sam remembered the tiny insignificant fact that would help the Winchesters find the monster of the week that was causing all the problems.  Even as he turned to Dean to tell him what the Winchesters were looking for was in fact a Fifolet, Hallucifer leaped out of the recollection with a wild cackle that just grew and grew when darling Sammy tumbled backwards out of his chair in shock. 

When Sam had fled the room, he’d left Dean scrabbling for an explanation that didn’t make Sam sound crazy-cakes and two shocked old fools, almost more disturbed by the two Hunters than they had been by their earlier traumatic encounter with the angry Fifolet.

Chess is another wonderful pursuit.  Being a strategist with a long-term view, Hallucifer can move his pieces slowly, then sit back and wait to see his plans come to glorious fruition.

Dean’s knight to Dick Roman’s bishop; big brother all ready for the sacrifice, as usual.

Bobby’s castle taken and destroyed. 

That was a particularly satisfactory one.  The grief in Sam’s heart kept Hallucifer fuelled for days; weeks even.  And seeing Dean’s raw pain day after day – well that was even more delicious.

Serves Sam right, for throwing Lucifer back into shadow, for keeping the light-bearer trapped in eternal night instead of walking God’s green earth, where he should have been remaking Paradise whilst revelling in the feeling of Sam’s blood pumping through Sam’s flesh, all the while knowing that flesh was made even more beautiful through housing the spirit of God’s favourite archangel. 

Hail Samifer, full of grace.

So who’s the Queen in this game of chess, did you ask?  Why Sam is, of course!  And s/he’s there for the taking.

Of course Sam mumbles and protests and tries to believe all this manouevering has nothing to do with the Devil in his head, but Hallucifer just laughs.

“You always were a sore loser, Sammy-boy.” He smiles. 

He knows that it is cheating, that Sam doesn’t stand a chance of winning when Hallucifer is sitting right there in his brain pan, aware of every move his host can possibly make well in advance of the thought even crossing Sam’s mind.  But that is all part of the fun.  The hopelessness.  The anger and frustration.  The growing madness and need that is fizzing through Sam’s veins underneath the outward façade of calm he is using to fool himself and the world (or rather Dean - as there isn’t much else left of the Winchesters’ world to fool these days).

Hallucifer revels in it all, the turmoil of emotion and confusion bubbling under the surface like molten magma.  Slow burning but fierce, and under such a head of pressure that it is only going to take one tiny crack to bring Sammy tumbling down.  All his castles crumbling under the force of that eruption.

Mmm mixing metaphors.  Tut tut.  Sam wouldn’t approve.

Hallucifer grins, wide, wider. Rubs his hands in glee.

Because, you know, kicking down the sand castles of Sammy’s mind might just be Hallucifer’s favouritest game of all.