Chapter One: The Beginning

Darkness covered Earth, shrouding its cowering inhabitants forever in darkness. He fell, fell to the deepest depths of the seas and the highest points of the mountains. Falling, he dragged with him his friends; they willingly followed his terrible plunge into the abyss of darkness. Starved, despondent, and writhing in the pain of eternal separation, they screamed in agony. The poor inhabitants of Earth shuddered at the sound of their shrieks. In their tortured finite minds, a plan was formed to injure the Creator, the Father, the One responsible for their torment. Twist Earth's inhabitants; destroy and distort the Creator's favorite children. Make His pain so terrible that He will be forced to concede, forced to relinquish His throne. We will forever be remembered as the ones who tore the Creator from his throne in the celestial palace. Such were their words in the dark places below the planet. They thought they chanted this song in secret, but a silent observer watched with care. The Creator will never fall to the banished ones, no matter the pain that He has to endure. The observer listened and heard all, every piece of the vile plot. In the blink of an eye, he flew from the world to the Creator's celestial palace.

"My Father," said he, bowing low before his maker, "the troublemakers are devising a plot. They plan to..."

"Yes, thank you, Michael, I already know," the Creator said sadly. He knew that this path might come, yet He had hoped that the fallen ones would not make such a decision. He knew when He created them, the path they would take, yet still, He had hoped that they would change that decision for a better road. He had hoped that they would choose to remain with him in the heavens rather than revolt and be sent down to the depths of the earth. He had hoped...

...

"Jess, are you ready, yet?" Sam whined impatiently. "The theater starts in an hour!"

"Oh, shut up! I'll be down in a minute!" Jessica yelled back at him. Even though they had only been married a year, things were getting a little rocky in their world. Divorce seemed like it was just around the bend to Jess; she did not know how much more of Sam's impertinence she could take. When they had first begun dating, he was loving and affectionate, but lately, he was cold and impatient. It seemed that she could do nothing right in his eyes. Even the meals that she took time out of her day to prepare for him were declared inadequate. The honeymoon was obviously over and looked like the marriage might be too. Jess sighed as she gazed into her mirror, her hair still a bit of a mess and her makeup not on quite straight. This will have to do, she thought to herself. If he doesn't like it, he can...

"Jess! Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled at him as she headed down the stairs of their two-story house. This house had belonged to Sam's father before he had died four years ago. Jess had never met them, but it seemed like she would never live up to the perfection of Mrs. Winchester, Sam's mother. Jess was always doing something different than the way she had done it.

"Finally," huffed her husband as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Here is your coat. Now let's go."

"Thanks," said Jess sarcastically as he helped her into her wool wrap and handed her the red purse. To many women this would seem like a wonderful and courteous gesture but not Jess. She felt that it was her right to be given the courtesy. After all, she cooked his meals, did his laundry, and made sure that his house stayed clean. As they left the house, Jess's thoughts strayed to her boss, Tyson Brady. He was a kind man who had gone to college with Sam, and, from what she had heard in the office, he had no family. She began to wonder where he was and what he was doing. As she got in the car, she would have been shocked if she had known that the subject of her thoughts was also thinking about her.

...

"It's almost time," the blood in the chalice gurgled as Tyson Brady gazed into it's swirling depths, "the girl must die soon if the wheels are to be put into motion." For once, Tyson or Brady, as he was called by his friends, was grateful that the office was so empty on a Friday night. The screams of his secretary went unanswered as he slit her throat. Blood and other...nasty business where just a part of the job description when you were a demon. Hopefully, her body wouldn't be discovered until Monday morning by which time Brady would have paid for an air-tight alibi. Things got so complicated when you had keep you meat suit intact and out of prison for long periods of time.

"I don't understand," Brady responded, a wrinkle furrowing his brow, "the brothers are estranged. They haven't spoken since Sam went to college years ago."

"You let me worry about that," the chalice whispered. "Just make sure the girl dies."

"Yes, Master."

With that, the chalice went still, and with the metal scent of blood still in the air, Tyson Brady began to plot the untimely end of one Jessica Winchester.