“Meet Azazel.”
When everything went off the rails, when there was an evil greater than almost anything threatening everything, then rule books went out the window.
It was cold in the forest, unnaturally cold. It made Tonks shiver and wish she could pull her wand to make the journey a little more comfortable. Pulling her wand was only proof of her not being the bloke she was mimicking though, so it stayed put.
Tonks had been too late to save Sam - not fast enough, but gifted enough - but failure was no longer an option.
Not even the entire bloody world counted on her not making a mess of what seemed to be a demon invasion.
Tonks wasn’t sure how two boys from Nowhere, Kansas managed to get involved in a mass breakout of demonic spirits from Hell, but look at who their brother was.
Winchester boys, Tonks realized, were exceptions to all the rules.
Or, they had been, until Sam…
Tonks shivered again, as much from emotions she was fully suppressing as anything. It was painful, thinking about Sam. And it wasn’t even for Tonks that it became so overwhelmingly painful.
Dean and Harry loved their brother. Dean had been… he… Tonks had never actually seen a man appear so lost and desolate before. Tonks thought that Harry, who was only a kid, was going to be just as devastated.
The whole situation was heartbreaking, but Tonks had to focus on the mission.
Constant vigilance, and all that.
The bloke that killed Sam - killed Sam echoed unhappily in her mind - had been on his way to meet with a demon. Tonks had taken as much from his mind as she could before she sent him directly to MACUSA. He, Jake, had killed one of their aurors, the Head of a Defense Department, and MACUSA damn well better figure out what to do about it.
Tonks knew what she needed to do, knew how to do it even. The demon expected to meet either Jake or Sam at the little building that held the gates to Hell. That was where he would be waiting with the only weapon that could kill him.
Azazel, the demon with the yellow eyes who set up so many to die, wasn’t going to be expecting Tonks to show up. That would work in Tonks’s favor - she had transfigured her clothes, changed her appearance. When she met the demon, he would think she was the bloke that won his sick contest.
Supernaturally strong, no magical abilities.
It would be a rather nasty shock when Tonks summoned the gun from him and used it to blow him right back to Hell.
Tonks might even get a raise… if anyone believed her. Moody would be impressed though, it almost put a skip in her step to picture finding him at Hogwarts and telling him she saved the world.
Demons though… Tonks shook her head again… only the Boy-Who-Lived would have brothers involved with demons. Or… hmm.
Nobody quite knew why You-Know-Who attacked the Potters or how Harry survived. Maybe it was all tied together somehow? Demons were nasty creatures, no humanity, no soul…
It was worth thinking about on her way to confront one anyway.
Demons were covered in Tonks’s NEWT creature class. For all intents and purposes, they were impossible to kill. How did someone kill the dead? In auror training, they were discussed briefly, just a mention of how nobody knew if even an unforgivable would be effective because no witch or wizard who antagonized them had lived to discuss the spells they used.
Tonks had seen it though, seen it in the thoughts of the boy who had visions with Azazel. The secret wasn’t magic or a curse, only a handgun that Tonks thought must be incredibly powerful if it could be used to open the gates to Hell. It must have its own form of magic, enough to send Azazel to Hell.
That demon did a lot of damage to people, it was the reason that a good man was dead. Tonks wasn’t the vengeful sort, not really, but she had to force herself to not smile when she thought about finishing off Azazel.
A task that was simpler thought than done, as it turned out.
Tonks had mimicked Jake’s appearance, transfigured her clothes to the military uniform he wore (Tonks rather liked the trousers), and arranged her expression to match his.
What she couldn’t have anticipated was that Azazel shared blood with the not-quite-muggles and he was able to smell it.
“Well, well, well…”
Tonks entered the clearing that held the cement building covered in chains. In Jake’s memories, there had been a battle there with him and Sam fighting a woman, Ava, and her army of spirits. Ava’s body still laid on the ground, discarded and uncared for, but Azazel was there too.
Azazel looked just as he had in Jake’s thoughts and memories. Truthfully, Tonks thought he looked like a normal bloke. The yellow eyes were unique, but not the first pair Tonks had ever seen. He was dressed a bit rugged, his shirt and trousers not unlike what Sam and Dean wore.
The black jacket was Tonks’s goal though, that was where the Colt would be.
Azazel tilted his head and his smile was sharp, unfriendly. He inhaled deeply then fixed Tonks with a piercing gaze.
“Who might you be?” he asked. “Because you are not my child.”
Tonks debated briefly, quickly. Admit she wasn’t Jake or stall?
Stall, definitely. Or, at least, keep him distracted just long enough for her to summon the gun.
“Force-feeding me your blood doesn’t make me your son,” Tonks said, easily replicating Jake’s voice and forcing herself to use his different way of speaking.
It was easier to impersonate her fellow Brits, truly.
“You have never had my blood,” Azazel said. He breathed in again and then tapped his nose with an index finger. “Tried and tested, foolproof. What are you?”
Well, Tonks tried to stall.
“I’m the person who sent your ‘child’ to prison and who’s going to end your existence.” Tonks could change her appearance on the fly and she had her wand pulled and aimed at Azazel the same instant she took on her own appearance.
She kept the height though, no need to trip in a battle over the trousers that would be too long for her.
Tonks tried to summon the gun just as Azazel waved his hand in an irritated motion to send her flying toward the trees. Tonks kept a hold of her wand, but she hit the tree fairly hard.
Stars tried to burst in her vision and Tonks blinked them away while she twisted her wrist to aim the wand back at Azazel. It was a bloody inconvenient time for a concussion and the nausea that it came with. Some sort of power had Tonks stuck to the tree, something more powerful than any charm she knew to free herself.
“One of Eve’s spawn.” Azazel made a face as if Tonks were the abomination to human life there. “You’ll be with Samuel then.”
“Nobody’s with Sam,” Tonks snarled. It was insult to injury, bringing up Sam while he had Tonks stuck in place like a petrified firstie. “He’s dead. Your bloody sick games killed him!”
“Aw, damn.” Azazel snapped his fingers and Tonks had never been so enraged at a lack of empathy in her life. “You know, I liked him, I thought his part in this would be ironic.”
Ironic.
Tonks was positively trembling with fury as Azazel opened the jacket he wore and pulled the very gun Tonks needed.
“I’ll have more children,” Azazel said nonchalantly. He twirled the gun on his finger and sent Tonks a smirk. “Every day one of my children grow into their powers. There’s a fiery one in Missouri, you wouldn’t believe what she can do.”
“You’re sick,” Tonks said with a twist in her gut. It was demon blood he was infecting children with, giving them all some mockery of magic when they grew. It made Tonks think of reports from the war that raged when she had been a young child.
Purebloods had been invested in discovering if their squib family members could be given magic. In those days, there was no one to stop them from experimenting, mixing blood with potions as they tried to force magic from squibs.
Not only did it fail, but it ended in a lot of deaths.
Azazel was doing the same thing, feeding demon blood to babies and waiting to see what happened when they grew. He was another sick man placing his bloodline over the general health and wellbeing of others.
At least Azazel could blame his lack of morals on the demonic part of him, some people didn’t have that as an excuse.
“Am I?” Azazel turned his back on Tonks and she refocused her efforts on summoning that gun from him. Tonks’s wrist was rather stuck, but she had her wand in hand and needed to steady herself to use it without the usual spellwork.
“Yeah,” Tonks began talking, trying to distract Azazel from opening the gate he neared. “You call them your kids then kill them off? I don’t know what parenting books you read, but I reckon you might have misinterpreted them.”
“Every father wants their children to grow big and strong,” Azazel said, casual as could be. “If that means a few of them die to make room for their sibling, then that’s the price of greatness.”
“You call it greatness?” Tonks scoffed. “Sam Winchester was great! He was a bleeding hero!”
“And now he’s dead. Not so great, huh?” Azazel bent over at the waist to affix the barrel of the gun with the lock on the cement building, the one that sent shivers up Tonks’s spine with its overwhelming sense of darkness. When Tonks strained her neck, she could see the hexagon shape of the barrel lined up perfectly, it was a key to unlock the gates.
The damned gates to Hell.
“You wanted him to die!” Tonks yelled, trying to buy herself just a few more seconds. Tonks was too worked up, there was too much adrenaline flowing through her. If Tonks had only a few more seconds, she could calm herself and summon that gun.
“You were scared of him!” Tonks laughed and it was breathy, somewhat hysterical. “You knew he’d never do what you wanted and so you made sure he wasn’t the one who survived!”
That struck a nerve. Azazel spun to face Tonks and he pulled the gun backward, aiming it to the sky, before tilting it forward again. Tonks, like a puppet on strings, was pulled forward then slammed in the tree again.
She was definitely going to have a concussion, but that wave of pain was what she needed to calm herself.
“I gave them freedom,” Azazel hissed, his face red and a vein throbbing on his forehead. “I wanted the second Winchester brother to lead my army. You’ve got no idea, little girl.”
Little girl, that was rude.
“Yeah?” Tonks could feel it in her hands, the thrum of magic that rarely let her down before.
It didn’t save Sam, but it could have. And since it didn’t save Sam, it would avenge him.
With a quiet and firm command in her own mind, Tonks summoned the gun from Azazel. The instant it touched her palm, Tonks slid free from the hold Azazel had her in.
“I’m taller than you,” Tonks said, as airily as she could manage with a triumphant smirk curled across her face. Tonks held the gun with her right hand, her wand was in her left.
Tonks pulled back on the little hammer and heard the quiet click of a bullet locking in place. Merlin, she hoped that she had the information right.
Imagine making such a scene and then not even killing the demon… Tonks would be worse than You-Know-Who failing to kill a baby.
Azazel stared Tonks down and there wasn’t fear in his eyes, no emotion at all. It might have been because he was a demon, or it might have been because he was quicker than Tonks had thought.
“Taller, but much less intelligent.” Azazel was the one to smile then, sharp and cruel.
Tonks wasn’t delaying, she pulled the trigger the moment he smiled.
It happened at once —
The bullet burst from the gun with none of the recoil Tonks had been expecting.
It flew through the air, directly toward Azazel.
Tonks and Azazel gasped at the same time as it struck him in the chest.
And Azazel tore down the unlocked chains covering the gates as he fell.
Tonks had a moment, just one moment, when she tried to lunge forward with a shout pulling at her chest.
It didn’t matter though, Tonks should have known that. The instant the chains hit the ground with Azazel’s body, the ornate door burst open. What looked like smoke began pouring out, so thick and black that it completely filled the skies and Tonks was choking as she moved.
Gates of Hell.
Demons.
Tonks was certain that the smoke were demonic spirits being released on the Earth.
How many had been freed? Tonks couldn’t be sure. How many were trapped and trying to escape? Probably a number higher than Tonks had ever learned in school.
Tonks felt the demonic spirits ripping at her skin like shards of glass when she fought forward to reach the door. Tonks coughed and choked as she struggled with the door. It was bloody stuck, it didn’t want closed.
“CLOSE! DAMN YOU!” Tonks yelled, pulling on it with all her might. Tonks screamed again as she thoughtlessly shifted to a build more muscled, more —
Tonks was a terrible witch, truly.
Tonks stumbled back a step, tripping over Azazel’s body, and covered her face with one arm to point the wand in her hand at the door.
It took one spell to close it, another to lock it.
The stream of spirits cut off immediately and Tonks was able to look upward to watch the last of the escaped spirits fly away. There was a sinking feeling in Tonks‘s stomach that felt a lot like failure and terror.
What had she done?!
Intentions were going to count for nothing.
Tonks had no jurisdiction in the United States, she had no right to be where she was. Tonks would be lucky if she wasn’t fired and arrested for involving herself in the entire situation.
It would have been overlooked if she had succeeded, but she didn’t. Tonks didn’t prevent the gates from being opened, she didn’t stop demons from escaping Hell. All Tonks did was kill one demon, one demon that still released Merlin knew how many others.
“This is your damn fault.” Tonks looked down at where Azazel laid, his eye sockets burned out by the passing of the spirits.
It was Azazel’s fault and it was Tonks’s fault for getting so involved. She should have contacted MACUSA then hauled her arse home if they didn’t want foreign assistance.
If Tonks was going to end up being questioned by the Wizengamot, she could at least make sure that Dean had all the information. Sam had been the auror, but Dean would probably like to know that Azazel was dead anyway.
The man they lived near, Bobby, Tonks thought he was called, had been talking about the gates of Hell when Tonks saw him before she and Dean went to find Sam. Tonks could take him the gun that unlocked the gates and have him hide it away.
Technically, it would be considered evidence. But Tonks didn’t trust that someone wouldn’t get curious about it sitting in an evidence room somewhere.
Plus… Tonks got the feeling that if Bobby hunted demons and creatures as Sam had, the bloke would need the gun at some point.
As soon as Tonks was certain the door was locked up twice as effectively as it had been before she let it open, Tonks grabbed Azazel’s wrist and disapparated.
It seemed rude to appear in someone’s lawn with a dead body, but it was a gift of sorts.
A consolation prize?
‘Sorry your brother is dead and I let probably thousands of demons escape hell, but here’s the bloke that killed your mum!’
Tonks wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she landed on the front lawn of the Winchester’s house - herself or her cousin.
“Tonks?!” Sirius Black had seemed to be pacing on the porch of the house where the Winchester’s lived. That wasn’t too strange, Tonks had sent him a message when she took Dean home with Sam’s body.
“Sirius?” Tonks blinked and swayed some, momentarily confused on how he recognized her. Tonks looked down and saw that at some point she had reverted to what Mum called her ‘baseline appearance’.
Tonks was cut, bleeding, but undoubtedly herself.
“Is that - Tonks, what??” Sirius had started toward Tonks and pulled himself to a complete stop a yard away, his eyes locked on the dead and partially charred body Tonks brought.
“Meet Azazel,” Tonks said, forcing a crooked grin she didn’t feel. “He’s the demonic bastard that killed—”
“He killed Jessica.”
Tonks’s eyes ticked automatically to the voice that should not be speaking. There was no reason on earth that voice should ever be heard in anything except for memories because ‘dead’ wasn’t a temporary state of being.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t.
Tonks felt all the blood in her body drain to her feet as Sam Winchester walked down the steps of his porch toward her. Sam wasn’t looking at Tonks, he was looking at the body she brought with wide eyes.
When Tonks’s adrenaline crashed, when it all became too much for her to try to understand, it was Sirius who moved quickly enough to catch her before she hit the ground in a faint.
“What the fuck is going on??” Sam asked.
Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head, sick with worry and wondering if he had done the right thing when he encouraged Harry to go find his brothers.
Sirius would have died for James, James would have died for Sirius.
Neither of them would ever have wanted Harry to barter his soul for his brother. It had to be one of them though, Sirius could see proof of it in Sam Winchester breathing before him.
Let it have been Dean…