Doubts still niggled away, though. Demons lurked around that motel too, in some numbers. He wondered what would happen to his body if demons discovered it unguarded. Finally, he let it go. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.
Resigned, he tried to make the best of a bad situation. He never knew — he might gain something out of this. Perhaps gain some knowledge he could use against his brother. Or father. He tried not to think about either of them. Thoughts were powerful amongst demons. Just thinking about his father sometimes had the power to summon him.
He did a quick inventory. In the dreams he had experienced before, he’d always been equipped like he was normally in real life. As a boy, he’d been armed with Sinai — his bamboo practice swords. He’d learnt with some pain and terror that bamboo had no effect on the demons sent to torment him in his dreams.
This time was different. He was armed with his real swords. He was wearing his normal items of clothing and boots. Even his pack was strapped on in its accustomed position. It was vaguely reassuring.
In the distance, something appeared. Sam focused his vision, squinting, but whatever it was seemed to resist scrutiny. With a shrug, he decided to walk towards it. It was not like he had anything better to do.
He walked swiftly. When whatever it was in the distance didn’t appear to be getting any closer, he broke into a trot. The object stayed the same distance away. Frustrated, he ran faster and faster until he was sprinting. The object stubbornly resisted his attempts at a meeting.
He stopped suddenly and thought it through. This was a dream. It wasn’t reality. Physics operated differently in dreams. He focused his mind, willing himself to get nearer to this… thing. To his surprise, it worked. He wasn’t moving, but the distance between them seemed to shrink. It got closer and closer and then, finally, he could make out what it was.
A chair. In that chair sat a man. It wasn’t until he was six feet away that he knew without doubt who that man was. His father. Satan himself.
His father was dressed as he often was when they saw each other — calmly crossed-legged in a debonair pin-striped suit. His dark hair was slicked back over his extremely handsome pale features. In fact, if Sam hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have guessed the figure was a demon at all. He supposed that was the whole point. How else was he meant to worm his way into the hearts and minds of men when he looked like a devil?
“Ah. My little horn. So good of you to join me. I wondered how long it would take you.”
Sam hated the way his father was so smug, so knowing. In fact, he hated everything about him.
“What do you want, Abaddon?” he asked, not bothering to mask his feelings. His father knew what was in his heart in any case.
His father adopted a mock affronted expression. “Is that any way to talk to your father? And I would prefer it if you did call me ‘Father’, you know. Although the old names have a certain ring to them, I don’t think there’s any call for formalities between us. You are still my son, after all. ” He smiled at Sam, all charm and suaveness. Even Sam, who knew his tricks only too well, had to remind himself who this creature was. It was all for show. He knew what dwelt under the mask of sophistication that his father liked to wear. Everything about him was a lie. So pretentious.
“Spare me,” said Sam, gritting his teeth. “Let me out of here. I need to return.”
His father raised his eyebrows. “Return, do you? Who to, I wonder? Have some pressing business to attend to, do you? A hot date is it, Samael?” He smirked and it took every ounce of willpower that Sam possessed not to react with violence.
“I have things to do, as you well know,” he said, keeping a reign on his emotions. “Haven’t you got better things to do than talk to me? Why not talk to my brother? Surely he’s better company. He may not be a better swordsman than me, but you two have more in common.”
Satan’s face lost some of its calm. Sam could’ve sworn he saw the corner of his mouth twitch. It was a bit of a sore point, that. The last time Sam and his twin brother had met, Sam had defeated him in single combat. Not only that, but he had then refused his father’s offer to take his place at his side, much to the anguish of his mortally wounded brother. Well, he thought his brother had been mortally wounded. He had run him through after all. Seemed he’d got that wrong.
“Your brother is somewhat busy at present,” was Satan’s tart response.
It was Sam’s turn to smirk. “Yes, I know. Preparing the invasion fleet in Europe.”
Satan looked at him sharply for a moment, silently evaluating his wayward son. “You seem remarkably well informed.” Then he shrugged, seemingly dismissing the matter as unimportant. “No matter. You would have found out eventually anyway.”
“I’ll ask you again, Father. Why am I here?”
“Oh, I like that,” said Satan with a sardonic smile. He clapped a couple of times, the noise refusing to echo around the odd landscape. “Cutting to the chase, are we? Refusing to get sidetracked. Very good. Hikari did train you well, didn’t he?” Suddenly, his father’s face lost all traces of humor. “They’re playing with you, you know.”
“Who are?” asked Sam tiredly.
Satan raised his eyes upward. “You know. The high and mighties, sitting on their golden thrones. They’re playing games with you — with your little girlfriend. Do you think it was just a random request they granted her? To see you again? Or course not. They orchestrated the whole thing. The only reason they made her an angel was so that she could have access to you.”
“And why would they play games with me?” Sam asked suspiciously. “That’s more your style.”
Satan nodded. “Yes, of course it is, but the stakes are so very, very high at the moment. I think Gabriel and her friends are getting a little desperate.”
“So what’s Aimi got to do with all this?”
“They’re keeping you on-side,” Satan said, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “Dangling an incentive, if you like. For you to remain on their side. They know how much Aimi means to you. If it means you will remain their tool on the Earth, they will happily hand her over to you. They just didn’t want to make it too obvious, that’s all.”
“You’re speaking in riddles, Father, as usual.” Sam, despite his promise to remain calm, was starting to lose it. He knew he couldn’t do that though. He was certainly no match for his father.
Satan looked his son in the eye, his expression blank. “They know your loyalties are wavering. They know that deep down, you want to be with your family. With me.”
“You’re delusional. I’ll never join you!” Sam spat. “You know that. Especially after what you did to my mother. I will never, never join you. This was decided when my brother and I fought.”
“Ah,” said Satan, “but I told you it wasn’t over. And it never will be. You will always be my son, regardless of what you think or feel. And don’t for a second think that the future is written in stone. That litany of lies — I think you call it the Bible — is believed to contain only the truth. And the future. It contains neither. Who do you think wrote it? It certainly wasn’t me. Would they really say there was any doubt in there? History, as they say, is written by the victors and for such a long time, those do-gooders had their way. But now it’s my time, time for me to write the future. Do you really think everything is going to play out just the way it says it will in the good book? That your Lord, the son of God, is going to come back at the head of an army in a few years and banish me to a bottomless pit for a thousand years? Given that I know that’s supposed to happen, don’t you think I would’ve made plans to counter this?”