"Come on, little witch. You're only prolonging the inevitable. We're going to have you one way... or the other..."
***
There are some rules you don't break
when it comes to the supernatural.
1. Don't be an idiot.
2. Don't make deals with Demons...
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The Witch
By the time I was ready, the sun was in its final descent. This was my last sunset. The earth almost seemed to be saying it's goodbye as reds and purples filled the sky. Dark clouds with rain started to roll in the distance, closing in on me.
Sam came to collect me just as dusk hit. His knock was lazy and hard.
I jolted out of the haze I was in and went to answer it carefully.
"Aren't you pretty this evening," he mused, leaning against the door frame. His eyes wandered over my body.
His face was painted like a skull. His glittering silver eyes pierced the black paint around his eye sockets. His already sharp cheeks seemed to cut the light itself. He was already terrifying enough without the makeup. And now he was like a beautiful nightmare.
"And you look... horrifying," I swallowed.
He grinned, throwing his arm toned arm over my shoulder as if we were best buddies. But I hadn't seen much of Sam since the house fire. And before that... the alley.
"You're too kind. Come on. Let's crash a party," he sighed, guiding me towards the common space.
I had to know what I was getting myself into tonight. I couldn't live with this pit in my stomach.
"What is the Priestess," I asked nervously.
He laughed loudly at the question, skipping ahead of me and turning to walk backwards.
"Only the most important woman in all of hell," he grinned, tossing a knife in the air from one hand and catching it in the other. "She's said to be the Dark Star that balances the Morningstar."
I frowned. "The Morningstar as in... the devil?"
He snorted. "Yea. Lucifer. El Diablo. Satan. Whatever you wanna call him. The big man downstairs."
"I'm not being forced to marry anyone... right?"
He shrugged. "I'm not spilling anymore secrets, little spitfire. I plan on enjoying tonight and I don't want Mal's wrath."
Speak of the devil... and he shall appear.
Malachi stood at the door, fixing the cuff links on his suit. He had a mask pulled up to his forehead, making it difficult to see what it actually was.
"Good choice, Sam," he sighed. "You've earned some fun, haven't you. I wouldn't want that to be ruined by bad choices."
Sam grinned. "Nah. I've got some plans."
Destiel swaggered in all dressed in black. Dark cowboy boots, dark jeans, dark shirt and vest. The only thing that wasn't black was the large decorative silver belt buckle on his hips. He held a broad rimmed cowboy hat at his side.
