#featuring: satan (unholydeeds)

[bloodsalted]

fucking croonies. culties. whatever you wanna call em!!! dean growled in frustration as he fought his way through the ones guarding this place like fucking attack dogs at the ready. even took a bullet to the leg he wasn't expecting. a graze. nothing more. turns out sir satan-wannabe was a shitty shot. slowed him down, though. trying to get to the place he saw the fire through the trees. he knew that's where they'd be and he was running out of time. gripping the colt firmly in his grasp--the elder winchester kept on. teeth bared. a dirty mess from the kicks he accrued on his way here--blood dripping down the leg of some tattered jeans. heavy boots plod forward through the crowd...

..that starts parting for him. underneath hoods, he can see jubilant grins. twisted onto the faces of the idiots who are summoning this THING. are summoning??? no. fuck!!! no...

...SUMMONED. they summoned it. as in past-tense. as in--as dean stumbled into the clearing to witness, standing there with a triumphant grin on his blood painted mouth, the very being he was fighting tooth and nail and knife and whatever else he could use to keep locked away? gone? ka-poot? doesn't matter.. dean blinks through the sweat staining his brow. dripping into his eyes. and cocks the gun.

no one moves to stop him.

that's a bad, bad sign...

the voice in his ears closes his throat. has his heart dropping to his feet. past it. into the ground. i have been expecting you. and the trigger doesn't waste any time falling as dean's finger pulls---to an empty click. or a jam. or----his brows stay flat. refuse to buckle. he pulls again. another click. no bullet. he doesn't say a word but it's written on his face: FUCK!!!!!!

his hand swings behind his back, the gun tucked away. from the sleeve of his pocket and into the opposite falls a hunting knife. intricate carvings decorate the blade. the back of his free hand sweeps over his mouth. "yeah?? well get rid of these assholes and maybe you can tell me why...." seriously. get rid of these schmucks. it's not like they were necessary. the idiots did what they set out to.

@bloodsalted wants to play with the devil.

The Winchester brothers,    what a fucking pleasure it had been to have both of them in his grasp.     The immense torture he brought them both.     Yet,    that was ripped away from him by the windbag in the sky,     the false god.      Dean Winchester,     was supposed to be his,   in hell.    The plans he had for the eldest brother.     How elated the dark lord had been when Dean Winchester was thrown on a rack,    tortured   —-    over and over again.     He was going to be his next project,     a newly made demon.     The eldest Winchester reeked of sin.     Satan had been watching and waiting for a moment to reclaim what was his.     Once you gave your soul to him there was no going back.     That’s exactly what he did,    did he not?    To save his little brother from the clutches of death.        Not to mention there was a darkness within the eldest,    and so much potential for so much more.      He had broken every sin there was. There was no beating Satan at his own game.      Not really,   he always found his way back out.     Tonight was the night he would be brought to earth.     This time he wouldn’t be wearing a meat suit.     No,   he would have his own angelic body back.     He would be at full power,   and not even the false god could put him back in hell.      The black mass was full of coven members, young to old,    all dressed in black robes and naked underneath.   All chanting in unison,    the altar was set,     a young virgin girl was strapped down to the stone tablet,   naked.     Her cries were ignored as the chanting grew louder.   The coven leader stepped forward a dagger in hand,    the handle had satanic carvings in it.     “ Tonight is the night we raise our dark lord.    With this virgin blood as an offering we raise Satan,    the lord of lies,     lord of filth.     Arise Satan!”   The coven leader raised the dagger high,     the moonlight catching in the blade before it was driven down,     plunging deep within the virgin’s chest.    The ground began to shake violently,    lightning licked the sky as an unnatural storm began to brew.       The flames of each candle rose high.    The coven gathered around the now dead body,      as they carved open the young girl's chest,     removing her heart.      All chanting,   “Hail Satan!”     Once the ground stopped trembling,    a form stepped from the ruins.    The coven parted as their master stepped through them.       Handing him the heart as they all bowed before him.     The dark lord took the offering,     pleased with their work.    He brought the heart to his mouth and sunk his teeth into the muscle, blood trickling down his chin.   The sound of a gun being cocked drew Satan’s attention.     A disturbing wicked grin pulled at his lips.    He knew exactly who it was,   he felt his presence way before he ever stepped into these parts,     Dean Winchester.       Satan knew he would come,    and that’s exactly what he wanted. He turned toward the eldest Winchester,   heart still in hand.    “You’re a little too late Winchester,   I have been expecting you.”