View Full Version : The Supernatural Chronicles, an SPN RP

June 7th, 2012, 12:33 PM
[( this is the official story thread for The Supernatural Chronicles.... if you are looking to join or wish to post story ideas, please visit us here (http://forum.gateworld.net/threads/85061-Supernatural-RPG-brainstorming-and-OOC-discussion-thread)... nothing but actual story should be posted here.... thank you, and enjoy )]

The Supernatural Chronicles: Out of the Pit

It was once Its Master’s favourite, but now It is banished to the dankest corners, forced to feed off scraps. Master’s new favourite is a Shiny Soul, one that doesn’t scream no matter what Master does. It thinks the Shiny Soul is boring, but Master has such fun with it. Each day the Shiny Soul dims just a bit more until one day it looks like tarnished gold. It soon leaves the Rack and joins them. This pleases the Master more than anything. The Master is so pleased, He gives it a Name, Dean. It has faithfully served the Master for Millennia, and still It does not have a name. Its hatred for Dean triples as It seethes in jealousy. Whispers spread through the Pit that soon the great Daystar will be awoken.

Then the Great Lights come and all shriek away from Them. They go to the Master’s favoured and grab him. Finally Dean shrieks and screams and begs like he never did while on the Rack. It revels in the sound. They drag Dean up and It follows so It may continue to bask in the beautiful music Dean makes. It is not sure why the Great Lights wish to have Dean, barely a demon and still carrying the taint of humanity. No one stops It. They are all too busy shirking away from Them. Before It knows It, It is free from the Pit. Dean’s cries have stopped and It is no longer interested in him. Instead, It wonders until it happens upon a Meatsuit. The Meatsuit is male, young, and fit. His features are aesthetically pleasing - dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, boyish charms - but these revelations come in hindsight. For now, all It cares about is that he is alone and weakened with sadness and grief. There is nothing barring Its passage, and It takes him as his own.

From a distance, He feels power build, and it zaps through him like a clap of thunder. In that moment, he knows. He knows Dean has also found a Meatsuit, or rather given one by Them. But he cares not for that right now. He is finally free of the Pit and He intends to enjoy it while he can. Dean can wait.

June 9th, 2012, 04:46 PM
Hell. The dark, decaying and damned place. The only place in the universe where Father's love did not shine. Hell is the exact opposite of everything I am. I am Kadiel, Angel of the Lord; I fear neither powers of Hell nor powers on Earth. The declaration runs through my mind as my wings, as extensions of my grace, are flared and ready for battle. The demons that fight against us are the strong few, the older ones, ones with experience. Most of the souls in hell cowered under our heavenly power. But even those strong demons put up a hell of a fight; this was their territory, the place where they were the strongest.

Blood. Dark demon blood covers my clothes and exposed skin. Bloodied and mutilated bodies litter the path. Castiel is on my right, Uriel on my left, Hester, Inias, Jethro, and Rehab behind us. That is my squadron, the chosen seven. It had been days since we had arrived to help with the siege on hell, constant battle, no rest. Orders from heaven declared the soul, Dean Winchester, to be freed from hell. Orders that we obey without fail. We must accomplish our goal.

The inner circle of hell finally broke.We make our way straight to our destination. The soul held a razor blade covered in blood. He was damaged, pitiful and soiled, but Heaven's orders demanded he be freed. Castiel walked up to the quivering body, summoning his Grace and power to its full potential. My brother touched the soul, gripping his shoulder. We temporarily fused our grace together, and with a hurricane-like force, the seven of us flew away from the Pit. Our mouths were the first to proclaim it: Dean Winchester was saved.

Castiel had departed immediately to see to the resurrection of the body and unification of body and soul. I flew off to one of my favorite places on Earth, a beach along the Oregon coast. I will use the time to meditate and rest. The mission had been a success, but I needed a few moments of peace to recover from the horrors of hell.

Unexpected pain overwhelms me, white hot and intense. A sword stabbed through my vessel's back and penetrated my grace. I struggle helplessly, the pain is indescribable. I will die here. I am close to surrendering my spirit, when an idea occurs to me. As a final effort to maintain my life, I fling myself away from my vessel. My grace shreds, as my very essence is ripped apart.

Cold darkness covers me like a blanket. I know nothing until I wake. It must have been weeks later, but I do not know for sure. My weak and broken form hovers over an endless body of water. I am alone.

June 12th, 2012, 06:56 PM
It was a simple wooden cross, crude in its assembly. Two pieces of timber held together by three rusty nails. But it was special none-the-less. What made this cross so special, what made it standout, were the two letters carved into it. These initials represented 29 years of surviving everything that Hell sought fit to spit out. And it spit out quite a lot. A lowly epitaph, some might think, hardly befitting the man whose body lay beneath. Yet it is exactly what he would have wanted. No more, no less, just enough to let the world know that he once had a place in it. That he mattered.

To the average Joe these letters would mean absolutely nothing. Just some dead guy's abbreviated John Hancock on a cross. But, to one young girl, they meant everything. These letters, these initials, belonged to her big brother. She carved them with his pocket knife the day they buried him, a day she will never forget.

The young girl in question was currently walking towards the grave, her hands thrust deeply into the pockets of her Diesel jeans. Her thick brown hair was pulled into a half decent ponytail that swayed with every step she took. A black Led Zeppelin tank top underneath a careworn purple flannel, which she left unbuttoned, and a pair of red Rocky GORE-TEX Oak Logger boots completed her outfit.

Grace Winchester stepped up beside the cross and frowned. She pulled her right hand from her pocket and rested it on the transverse with a sigh.

"Hey, Dean... " She whispered.

Grace reached for the chain around her neck and fingered the silver ring that hung there. Dean's "bottle opener" as she had come to think of it was one of the only things she had left of him. She never took it off. Grace turned it this way and that, watching it gleam in the afternoon sun.

A moment later the ground started shaking.

"What the hell?"

In an instant Grace was on her ass, all thoughts of Dean forgotten as the Earth literally shook, rattled and rolled all around her. She noticed a high pitched noise had joined the "earthquake" and she cringed.

"Oh, this can't be good."

A moment later the shaking came to an abrupt stop. She rolled onto her stomach as the high pitched noise started to reach it's crescendo. Grace grabbed her ears in pain and screamed.

June 19th, 2012, 09:00 PM
Unbeknownst to Grace, Castiel stood mere feet away, watching as she screamed in agony. She curled in on herself, her hands surrounding her ears but doing little to block out the noise. He tilted his head to the side in concern and frowned as blood trickled from between her fingers.

In the blink of an eye Castiel was right next to her. He crouched down and lightly touched his fingertips to her forehead. The bleeding stopped and her screams died away as she lost consciousness. He stayed in his crouched position, studying her face, amazed at the resemblance she bore to Dean.

Castiel tore his gaze from her prone form a moment later and looked over to the cross, to the dirt at its base. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. Their job was done and Heaven's weapon was once more within their grasp.

He looked back to Grace and said, "When you awaken so shall Dean."

With that the Angel of the Lord disappeared in a flutter of wings.

A few seconds later a burst of energy shot out of the ground with the sound of thunder. It signaled the exact moment that soul collided with body, the moment that Dean Winchester was made whole once again.

The blast wave knocked over every tree within a 30 yard radius, each one of them falling away from the grave site in a starburst pattern. Grace was lying right in the middle of it; she and the cross remained miraculously untouched.

Gracie never heard the faint cries for help that arose following the blast. Nor did she see the pair of hands popping out of the dirt a few moments later as her brother, Dean, dug himself out of his grave.

He was halfway out of the hole when he noticed Gracie lying on the ground a few feet away.

"Gracie?" He croaked his voice weak from disuse.

He wasted no time in pulling himself the rest of the way out of the hole. The second his feet were free he crawled over to his sister as fast as he could, intent on making sure she was okay. He was winded by the time he got to her. Being dead for 3 months will do that to you.


Dean reached for her neck, his dirty hand shaking, whether it was from exertion or fear he wasn't sure, and checked her pulse. He whispered a steady mantra of "Pleasepleaseplease..." as he searched for the right spot. Upon finding it he breathed a sigh of relief when he detected a steady rhythm; if a tad slow, beneath his fingertips. "Thank God."

He took in a deep breath and said, "Okay baby girl, time to wake up..."

A quick check for injuries turned up nothing, much to his relief, so he gently rolled her onto her back so he could attempt to wake her up. He brushed a few errant strands of hair away from her face before proceeding to tap her cheek.

"Come on baby, wake up and show me those pretty green eyes of yours."

A few more taps and her eyelids began to flutter.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" Dean murmured.

She turned her head away and mumbled, "Five more minutes D'n..."

A few seconds later Grace's eyes popped open with a sudden realization. She turned back around and gasped. She sat bolt upright when she saw Dean kneeling in the dirt beside her. Her big brother, who died a little more than three months ago, is alive!


"In the flesh!" He spread his arms out wide and smiled.

Grace got to her feet, Dean followed suit. "But... How?

"I don't know, and right now I don't care."

"Is it really you?" Grace stepped closer to him.

"It's really me, sweetheart."

"Oh...my God." Her eyes welled up with tears and she launched herself into his arms. He held her tight and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"I missed you too kiddo." He kissed the top of her head and sighed.

Grace pulled back so she could get a good look at him.

"I know, I look amazing, huh?" Dean looked down his body a moment only to be met with a face full of holy water when he looked back up. He blinked, turned his head to spit out the water then looked back at her.


"I had to be sure." Grace replied, pocketing the flask of Jesus juice. She took a black bandana from her back pocket and handed it to him.


She burst out laughing while Dean was wiping his face.


More laughing...

"What's so funny?"

"You...you should have seen your face! When the holy water... it was just...and you... Oh, it was hilarious!"

Grace was doubled over now, her body nearly bent in half and Dean couldn't help but laugh right along with her, his guffaws joining her own.

Her laughter stopped abruptly a moment later. When Dean curiously opened his eyes Grace was gone.

"What the...?

He did a complete three-sixty and, to his dismay, his sister was nowhere in sight.


June 20th, 2012, 11:49 AM
It shrugs the shoulders, settling the Meatsuit more firmly around It and exits the cemetery. Now that It is finally free, it longer wishes the company of dead things. Dead things are no fun. It hears the pathetic whimpers of the soul it has suppressed and invades his mind. My mind now, It thinks. It will have to get used to being a him now. The difference between itself and the soul is flimsy. The soul's barriers are thin and easily penetrated. Each penetration brings new agony to the soul and It delights in the pain as It rapes whatever meager information It can from the soul. The Meatsuit has a name, Ivan, though those close to the cretin call him Van. It mulls it over and finds the name pleasant enough for Its use.

Van sneers at the Church with its giant cross and false hope as he passes it. The Meatsuit was devout. A moment of doubt had weakened him enough to allow It inside, and It savours the possession even more. It had been in the Pit so long, It had forgotten what the surface was like. Van turns down Main Street, a passive and stoic expression poised for the filthy humans he passes. Inside, he marvels at the ingenuity and progression the humans possess. It has lead them to be more open to corruption and sin. Van smiles as he realizes that fun will not be in torture, but temptation. A girl, some years younger than his own Meastsuit and smelling of lust and innocence, makes her way toward him. He contemplates taking her, ruining her for all else. The soul shivers in horror at his thoughts and his joy doubles. He will have this wench. He will take her innocence and her trust, and when she has nothing left to give, he will bathe in her blood. He feels a stirring in his loins, but ignores it. First he must woo her.

As she nears, her mouth turns down into a concerned frown. "Van? Are you alright?" she questions.

It is then realizes he his smiling. He searches through the soul's memories and finds that the boy was in the cemetery to visit the grave of his deceased mother. He schools his features to something a little more somber, a little less manic. When he speaks, he allows a roughness into his voice that sets her at ease. "Hey Jen," he replies, her name coming to him in an instant. "Just remembering the good times."

The frown eases, but her concern still lingers. She threads her arm into his and guides him down the street. "You what this calls for? Milkshakes. Mr Davidson's triple thick, gotta eat it with a spoon, milkshakes. My treat!"

Van smiles inwardly to himself in bemusement. This girl will be easy. The soul rallies, but he quickly quells it down and shoves it into a corner. To the girl he says "sounds good. Lead the way!" She beams at him with false cheeriness and continues to drag him down the street. Oh how sweet she will be when he finally tastes her!

June 20th, 2012, 01:08 PM
The black '69 Camaro purred silkily under her hand, the gentle thrum calming her better than most anything else in the world. Well, except for sex that is. Heat pooled in her eyes as she thought of the one person she would love to **** at this point in time, then she sighed. It's too bad he's in hell.

Still, I'm not doing too bad on without him, she thought as she fingered the small wad of $20's in her purse on the seat beside her. No; $200 for one night wasn't bad at all.

If someone were to call her a whore to her face, she would make them bleed so bad they would barely have any left in their body. But that didn't mean they were wrong, because that was exactly what she was. Her actual title was a Hunter, like Sam and Dean Winchester and many others, but she had a few other jobs on the side – one of which was a Courtesan. Male or female didn't matter to her; a job was a job and she did hers well. She only went to the ritziest places to grab a client, thus ensuring that she would make a decent amount of money for the night. Actually, $200 was a bit low for her standard rate but this one had been really good in bed so she'd forgiven her; but just barely.

A set of headlights passed her on the other side, waking her up a bit. She'd left before the sun had even begun to think about rising. Absently, she peered out of the windshield and stared into the sky, watching as it slowly began to lighten. While most Hunters preferred the night to travel, Raiah actually liked the daylight; it helped keep her awake whereas the night usually made her want to go to sleep. Unfortunately, most of her job – either one – was done at night which meant she needed to sleep during the morning and sometimes part of the afternoon in order to keep awake enough in the night.

Keeping one hand to steady her Baby Girl, Raiah used her other one to rub her eyes. Unlike her client, she hadn't fallen asleep right after sex; getting a man off was so much easier than getting a woman. But, even still, Raiah was good at what she did and soon her client succumbed to her slender but strong fingers. The sex had been great, but that was only when you compared it to sleeping with all the other yahoos of the world. Only one man had ever gotten her to a climax, and that man was Dean Winchester.

Mm, Dean. Her body tingled at the thought of him and her soul purred. She wanted to rub against him like a cat, but screw him like an animal of a much more vicious nature. That man drove a lot of women insane when he was alive, but none felt his death as much as Raiah had.

Well, her mind amended, Grace did, but it was in a completely different way.

Poor Grace. The girl had been stoically devastated when her eldest brother had died. She'd refused to show it, but Raiah hadn't had a problem seeing the pain underneath the mask. With as much time as she'd spent with Dean, she'd learned to see what wasn't there and all she'd seen then was anger, pain and determination. Raiah had understood all of the emotions, but, like Sam, she had obeyed Dean's wishes and hadn't done anything to try and get him back; despite every fiber of her being screaming at her to.

“Bring out your dead!” rang through the car, startling her for the merest of seconds. Thankfully there hadn't been anyone on the road with her to see her swerve a bit, but she was still annoyed by how easily she'd been scared. Apparently the smooth tones of Frank Sinatra couldn't even stop her mind from wandering completely to the past.

She grabbed the phone while it was on its third time of saying, “Bring out your dead!”, smiling at the Monty Python reference. Her smile broadened a little when she saw Sam's name flash on the screen.

“Sammy! How are ya babe?” she greeted in as cheerful a smile as she could put into her voice. While she adored the middle Winchester, talking to him often sent pain through her heart. Like the rest of his family, she missed Dean. But that was a hole in her heart that would never be filled and she knew it, so she'd done her best to accept it and move on.

Moving on – there's a concept that she wasn't familiar with. She'd been trying to put that one into practice for over thirteen years, ever since her parents' deaths, and she still hadn't managed it. To think that she could move on from another loss, one more recent and just as important to her, was a fool's wish. But, hey, if Sam and Grace could try, so could she, right?

Sam's relatively deep chuckle echoed over the phone, making her smile in return. Other than Dean and sometimes Grace, Raiah was the only one who was allowed to call him 'Sammy'. She didn't do it often, but when she did, he never corrected her – much to the annoyance of his big brother. Though she was only a couple months older than Sam, Raiah thought of him as a younger brother and that was exactly how she treated him.

“I'm good, Raiah, how about you?” he answered, hesitating on the word 'good'.

They way he delayed made something within Raiah's chest drop to her stomach and her heart jolt to a brief stop. At first she thought she heard a catch in his voice, perhaps a tear, and she automatically thought it was sadness. But what had fate served the Winchesters now that had the middle one trying not to cry? Couldn't she give them a break?!

Sam let out a shuddering breath and this time Raiah pulled the car over, actually managing to pull into a fairly vacant gas station before shutting it off. A bright red sign with black letters in the form of 'QT' shone down on the hood of the Camaro, gleaming dimly against her window. The heart that had previously stopped now pounded thunderously in her chest, speeding her breathing and heightening her senses.

Please God, don't let it be Gracie, she fervently prayed.

She was ashamed to admit that she was scared to ask him what was wrong, but Raiah knew she had to do it; if not for her sake then for his. The two of them had formed quite the familial bond during her brief but numerous stints with the family. He was one of the best friends she had and she knew the same was said for him in return. They never discussed her relationship with Dean – that privilege was left to Grace – but when the subject mattered, she was who he turned to in times of need. Unlike Dean, and sometimes Grace, Raiah didn't mind being emotional. Everyone needed someone to release their feelings to and for Sam and Raiah, it was one another.

“What is it?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

“It's Dean,” Sam breathed, obviously fighting through tears that streamed down his cheeks. “He's back.”

Raiah sat in the Camaro, her Baby Girl, frozen. She didn't know what to feel, really. Hopeful disbelief was the first thing to register in her mind but her more cynical side wouldn't allow her to fully believe it; not yet. Tears began to fall down her own cheeks despite all she refused to accept.

“You'd better not be messing with me,” she threatened. Though she didn't think Sam was actually screwing with her, she couldn't think of another, logical, reason for the middle Winchester to tell her such a lie. The tears began to fall faster as she felt the sting of salt being ground into her wounds. “Dean is dead; we buried him.”

“I know, and we don't fully understand it yet, but it's true. He's back,” Sam assured, semi-rushing through his explanation.

“We?” Raiah asked, catching on to the word.

“Yeah, uh, me, Dean, and Bobby.”

For a minute, Raiah sat in silence. Her mind was buzzing with ways this could be possible. Unfortunately, none of the reasons she came up with were good. The top one being, was that a demon had somehow hijacked Dean's soul and body. But surely Bobby would have tested for that; and a Shapeshifter, and a Bodysnatcher. Wait, did they have Bodysnatchers or was that Raiah's mind sifting through old movies in an attempt to make sense of the unreasonable?

“And, you're sure it's him?”

“Yeah. Both Bobby and I performed the tests; it's really him.”

Raiah felt like she couldn't breathe. There was no way this was possible and yet, Sam wasn't known for keeping a joke this cruel running for this long. She turned the key in the ignition over, turning the car back on then began heading to one of the pumps. “Where are you? I'm coming to you.”

“We're about to go visit a Psychic friend of Bobby's.”

“Pamela,” Raiah stated, recalling the woman's name. They'd had a brief fling going while she'd been in town so she knew her rather well.


Climbing out of the car and stretching stiff muscles, Raiah sighed.

“Alright, I'll meet you in town in eight hours, maybe less. Text me the name of the hotel you guys are in when you check-in.”

She put the pump nozzle into the car's gas tank and watched as the numbers climbed.

It's a good thing I'm frugal with money; these gas prices are gonna be the death of me, she thought as she leaned against the car and listened to Sam breathe. In the background she heard a knock on a door then Sam's startled gasp.

“Okay. I'll see you then.”

Raiah hung up without bothering to wait for a 'goodbye'; she knew she wasn't going to get one. Dawning light slowly crawled up her legs, kissing the small bit of stomach she showed as she stretched some more before it moved up to gently caress her mocha-caramel colored skin. The pump clicked that it was done, but still she stayed where she was, enjoying the feel of the heat on her face.

As a child she'd grown up in Arizona. She'd loved roaming around her neighborhood, flashing any boy whose head turned her way a broad, flirting grin. Now, the only time she had to soak up the rays was in between cases while on the road.

A car honked, not at her, but it was still enough to get her mind back to reality and to the task at hand. She put the pump back in its niche then went into the store to grab a big fat cup of Joe. Most gas station coffee tasted like a monkey had pissed in battery acid but she knew she would need the caffeine – she had a lot of miles to cover in a small amount of time and nothing was going to get in her way.

June 20th, 2012, 08:47 PM
Van leaves Pontiac, IL in his rear view. Jen had enjoyed a strawberry milkshake, and then Van had enjoyed her. She had been sweeter than he had expected. He smiles as he remembers the sounds of her screams and only wished he could have stayed long enough to hear the horror of whomever found her afterwards. But had been hazardous. He didn't know enough of the local geography to easily escape once innocent little Jen's body was discovered. No, it was better to get out of dodge while he still could. There would be other girls along the way. He remembers hearing the stories from others who had exorcised back into the Pit. Every last one of them made the mistake of staying put, making them sitting targets for the Hunters to find. Van would not make that same mistake. He would keep moving, string his victims out as far as he could stand, and never kill them in the same way. It would keep the Hunters off his trail, at least for a while. Not indefinitely of course; if there was one thing Hell taught you, it was all good things eventually come to an end. Some Hunter would one day get lucky and exorcise him back to the Pit, but he intended to make sure that day was as far away as possible.

So after carefully cleaning stray drops of Jen's blood off his body, Van made his way down to the Motel parking lot and helped himself to a car. By the time the sun crested the horizon, he'd turned south onto Route 66. Two hours later, he was pulling into Springfield. Van found himself a diner, and with the judicious use of doe eyes and his Meatsuit's boyish charms, conned a meal out of the motherly waitress attending his table. He idly watched the people walking outside as he quietly ate the large stack of sticky pancakes, mulling over who his next target should be. Granted, Springfield wasn't that far from Pontiac, and he wouldn't have time for a slow chase, not once the authorities in Pontiac realized Van had gone missing. Van drained the dregs of his coffee before throwing a few crumpled dollar bills on the table. He made his way outside into the warming sunshine, picked a direction, and began to walk. It was time to explore this new city before quickly jumping back to the old one for the benefit of Pontiac's police. Once he was sure all suspicion was no longer on him, he'd be free to roam as he willed. He could even use Jen's death as an excuse to just get out of Pontiac for good. After all, he just lost his mother to a debilitating disease and someone just murdered his fiance in a very sickening and gruesome way. All he had to do was bat his eye lashes and pout. But first, before he went back to act, he needed to do some recon.

June 21st, 2012, 01:55 PM
Kadiel stretched her wings painfully, but she pushed the uncomfortable feeling aside. Her grace healed slowly, but at least she was on the road to recovery. The angel quickly became accustomed to her new vessel, Lily: a young woman, dressed in dark jeans and a light blue dress shirt, tall with honey brown hair and sparkling dark blue eyes. The vessel was a musician, a songwriter, and music was etched in her mind and as well as her soul. She grew fonder of the vessel as she opened up Lily’s mind, searching through memories, relationships and motivations. Still, the angel was weak and was having a difficult time utilizing her Grace to its full potential. Whatever had attempted to kill her would come back. She needed help.

“Castiel! Brother, I need you.” She spoke into the dimness of the Lutheran church sanctuary where she had found the vessel. The response was immediate. A dark haired man in a tan trench coat stood a few yards away.

“Kadiel. It is good to see you.” Castiel’s concerned gaze quickly swept over her drooping wings, the silvery feathers dim and disheveled.

“And you brother.”

He loosened up slightly at the conformation that his sister was alive. “When we lost contact with you, we searched but could not locate you. What happened?”

“I was attacked and barely escaped. Someone has the power to kill angels.” She shared her memory of the rest of the experience with him.

Castiel’s features darkened and he looked down as he spoke. “Havilah and Jetur did not escape as you did.”

Kadiel bowed her head, sending a quick prayer to her Father for her two fallen brothers. “What is doing this? Why do they target our garrison?”

“I don’t know. But we will find out.” Castiel paused and continued. “Kadiel, I know you are not fully restored, but I have an assignment for you. You’re position and skills make you invaluable for the task. The Winchester sister has been taken.”

“The Winchesters? I know heaven’s eyes have been turned towards the brothers, but what value is the girl?” Kadiel hesitated at the thought of getting back into the impending war.

“A seal will be broken unless she is found and freed. It is an order from heaven.”

“I will find her, you have my word.” Kadiel straightened, all emotion gone as she spoke to her superior.

Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder. “I trust you.”

Kadiel blinked and without another word carefully spread her wings and disappeared.

June 21st, 2012, 02:52 PM
The sun stretched high overhead as Van leisurely walked through the streets of Springfield. A small breeze floated by and he shivered. The Meatsuit was sensetive to cold weather. Inside, the soul burned with purity, but with the death and defilement of Jen, it had wilted slightly. Not enough to make a difference, but enough to be noticed. His idle stroll led him away from the public, and before he knew it, Van found himself in the shadow of a warehouse. Confused as to why he would end up here, Van closed his eyes and consentrated. He could feel the steady strum and pulse of power building, and realized he had unconsciously followed it back to its source. he circled the building once, looking for an entrance. A metal door hung askew on its hinges and Van exerted a small amount of power to muove it out of his way. He followed a small corridor into a large storage room.

In the center was an alter, and tied to it was a petite brunette with startling green eyes. Van eyed her whistfully. If she so obviously wasn't already taken, he'd stake a claim on her himself. There was air of contained power and fury about her, and something else that was vaguely familiar, but Van couldn't place it. He heard, rather than saw, other demons enter the room from shadows. Van merely spared them a glance before fixing his eyes on the girl. "Don't mind me," he spoke up when he felt two of them make their way toward him. "I'm just here for the show." He let his demon essance bleed into his eyes and the others quickly backed off once they saw it.

One came forward in their stead, obviously their leader. "This is our bounty. The glory for breaking this seal is ours."

Van looked up at that voice. The Meatsuit was nothing special, a middle-aged, portly woman who had seen better days. But the demon inside was powerful. Van rose his hands in surrender. "All yours," he agreed. "Powers building pretty high. Found it by accident. Mind if I stay and watch? Always did love a good slaughter."

The demon considered him for a moment before lifting her chin. "You may," she allowed. "But you interupt us, I will string you in her place."

"Understood," Van responded with a smirk. He knew it was an idle threat. Human blood was needed for the ritual. If any one of them bled once it began, the entire thing would fall apart and they would have to start from scratch, including finding a new venue and sacrifice. And with so much power already funneled into this site, they would never be able to raise enough power again.

June 25th, 2012, 09:16 PM
Kadiel landed outside of a dark warehouse and carefully folded her wings again. The sky was painted in shades of pink and purple with the dark blue of evening covering most of the east, the demonic ritual would begin soon. Using her broken grace, she searched the urban area to get the bigger picture, hopefully their wouldn't be any surprises. The dimly lit industrial warehouse was in a less populated section of the city, away from the prying eyes of the average person.

Grace Winchester and group of demons were inside the building, thankfully it was not guarded with Enochian sigils. With a single thought she produced her silver blade, its weight a comforting presence in her right hand. This job would be simple, one of the reasons Castiel sent her on her own, just a couple of idiot demons playing with their master’s toys. Kadiel frowned, disgusted by the thought of the abominations. However, that didn't make them any less dangerous to humans. One of the Seals would be broken if the girl died tonight.

Kadiel had studied the ways and cultures of human for centuries; she had far more patience with them than many of her siblings. For hundreds of years, angelic presence on earth had been diminished and hidden. Many humans did not even believe such beings existed. Kadiel had little idea of how Grace Winchester would react to the revelation, but that was a topic for another time. First the angel had to free her from the demons and their perverted ritual. The sun was quickly setting, the time to act was now.

Without further hesitation, the angel burst through the large warehouse doors.

September 14th, 2012, 04:28 PM

Voices that made her skin crawl drew her from unconsciousness. Demons, her mind supplied. Her head pounded, but when she tried to move her limbs she realized she was chained down. A quick but covert glance revealed that she was lying on an altar of some kind. The altar was cold, so much so that it seeped through the flimsy white dress she now wore, sending shivers up her spine. They took my clothes! [email protected]! She looked down to her bare feet and saw that they too were chained down, rusty shackles wrapped around both ankles.

Well that's just terrific!

There were three black candles on either side of her, positioned at her shoulders, hips, and knees. Each of them tucked into aged man-made niches in the alter. A lone blood red candle stood at her head, dripping melted wax into her hair as the leader set it aflame. It's twin stood at her feet and Grace watched as stunt demon number three pulled a familiar looking zippo from the pocket of his warn jeans and flipped it open with a malicious grin before lighting the candle. They were now all lit, their flames burning hot and high.

Panic set in, which drew the attention of several demons, including the newcomer who was talking to the leader.

Gracie listened to the conversation with building fear.

"Mind if I watch? Always did like a good slaughter." Van smiled in morbid fascination, his eyes dark as pitch.

"You may." The leader intoned after a moment's consideration. "But you interrupt us, I will string you in her place."

"Understood." Van smirked.

"Good." She brushed past him, intentionally hitting his shoulder as she went.

She barked out a few orders as she made her way to the altar. Grinning as her demon henchmen did her bidding so willingly. She did have them by the short and curlies after all.

Her final order was aimed at stunt demon number three, who was still standing at the foot of the altar. "Zeke, bring me the knife! It's time."

March 20th, 2013, 04:40 PM
Van tore his gaze back to the altar. He wondered idly how the others had managed to move the granite monstrosity that was their alter before dismissing the thought. Green eyes met tarry depths and Van licked his lips. Oh! If only the demon b**** didn't have prior claim! The girl would have made a delicious prize, so full of fire. There was something about her soul that sang to him, but he just couldn't place what it was. Through grimy windows, the shadows lengthened as the sun set. Soon all light came from the 8 candles adorning the alter. Power built and Van darted his tongue out to taste it. He frowned, opening his mouth to taste the power again. Something was wrong. There was something else twining with the power and it tasted familiar.

The others were busy with their ritual, so Van slipped back out the way he had come. He looked around and saw a solitary figure poised and ready to attack. He studied her, trying to figure out why she seemed familiar. Her silhouette glowed with an ethereal light. A moment more and it finally dawned on him. This girl, who foolishly stood to attack a den of demons was one of them. One of the shiny things that had come for Dean and taken him away. The very same being that Van himself had followed out of the Pit. Her focus was on the warehouse and she had yet to spot him. Van took to the shadows and rounded behind her. "And what manner of creature are you?" he whispered in her ear.

She jumped and lashed out with her power. Van jumped back, only just avoiding the searing heat of the attack. "Demon!" she hissed, drawing her hand back to attack again.

Van rose his arms in supplication. "I have no quarrel with you. If not for you and yours, I would still be Below. You have my gratitude. But you best hurry if you plan to sabotage the ritual. Spill blood if you can manage it. Any blood will do except the girl's."

The girl eyed him with great suspicion and distrust. "Why help me?"

"I repay my debts," Van stated simply. "And the girl... intrigues me. If she lives, it will be a bonus. But you best strike now if you wish for that to happen." Van willed himself away, but he did not go far. From his new vantage point on another warehouse nearby, he would be able to watch the battle that would soon ensue.

March 27th, 2013, 02:16 PM
The demonic filth had actually addressed her. Her short conversation with the abomination had been just that, a conversation, and then he had withdrawn. She would rid the world of him later, for right now she had a job to do.

It took the demons near the alter a few seconds to realize they had company. She could do a lot in a few seconds; she was no beginner when it came to fighting demons. Her angelic sword flashed in the candle light as she quickly decapitated the first demon, they had no idea what they were dealing with. Two hell-spawn jumped at her all at once. Swing. Stab. Slice. Her movements were like a dance, fluid and unprecedented.

Three demons down, their bloodied bodies motionless on the cement floor. She shook her sword, flinging some of the loose blood off, creating a small trail of droplets. The rest of the demons looked at her with fear in their pitch black eyes, but they stood their ground. If not for the petite human girl staring wide-eyed at her, Kadiel would have used one swift expansion of her grace, destroying the demons quickly and easily. Part of the angel almost wished to do that, but she couldn’t risk hurting the girl. Besides, she was unsure how well she could harness enough power to perform such a feat.

A female demon stood next to the altar, a long knife in hand. Her eyes flashed black, but her face betrayed her fear, “Who are you?”

The angel didn’t bother with a reply. She flexed her wings, instantaneously landing behind the offending demon, impaling it with her sword. All of a sudden a strong force seized her from behind; a demon wearing a large muscular male confined her in a choke hold. Kadiel struggled, trying to bring her sword around, but her power slipped away. She was exhausted from killing and fighting, her damaged grace was strained and breaking. The demon began chanting in Latin, an ancient spell that had been lost for millennia. Pain overwhelmed her senses and she screamed until her true voice took over. The high windows shattered the clinking of shards of glass drowned out by the high pitched angelic voice. The demon who had grabbed her relaxed his hold for just a second, giving the angel the opportunity to fling him away. The remaining demons shirked away and covered their ears in pain.

Kadiel gasped, trying to catch her breath and keep control of her vessel. The demons would be repelled for just enough time to grab the Winchester girl, every second counted. Long strides took the angel to the girl’s side. Dazed and confused, Grace lay on the altar, blood dripping from her ears. Kadiel felt a brief moment of regret, but shoved it aside. Gathering her waning strength, the angel pressed two fingers on the girl’s forehead and flared her wings. Seconds later they landed on a carpeted floor in the home of Bobby Singer. Just in time for Kadiel’s grip on her grace to weaken further. The angel collapsed, landing unconscious side by side with the bleeding Winchester girl.

March 27th, 2013, 06:30 PM
Van willed himself back into the warehouse. The Other had disrupted the ritual just in time, though the screams of her true voice was a surprise. He rubbed his lobes, trying to dispel the residual ringing left by her music. The power left on the battleground called to him. Van closed his eyes and opened himself up to it, soaking it up like a sponge. The power left from her burned, but he took it anyways. The spice was new and unique and very much palatable, and Van relished it as it burned his essence. Moments passed as Van dined on the broken and abandoned power. Finally when he could take no more, Van pulled himself back into his meat suit. Azure orbs danced with claimed power as Van inhaled deeply, trying to scent the girl. He would find her and he would have her, the Other be damned.