AN: Inspired by this prompt by phantomrose96 on tumblr: Fic idea where a lonely person sells their soul to Satan to be their friend. And Satan just rolls with it until he realizes at the time of their death he genuinely likes them.
Since he can't renege on the contract he takes them to Hell and puts them in a high position of power. Demons hardened by millenia of torture now have to answer to a shy, self-conscious, quiet, depressed, lonely person who has unintentionally become Satan's #1.
I switched it up a little bit. This is set in s1, and Elena knows bits and pieces about the supernatural and knows the Salvatores are vampires already.
She wonders if it will work, she only took a year of Latin. She's not sure if she pronounced the words correctly, she followed instructions from an obscure website that looked like it was made during the beginning days of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
She closes her eyes like the instructions said, it wouldn't work otherwise.
She keeps her eyes closed, she had been meaning to do this for a while. She hadn't planned to do it now. She hadn't thought of her shaking voice and the mascara that had eagerly run down her cheeks. She wonders if he'll care. She wonders if he'll notice, or if he'll come at all. He's known to unpredictable. She had read up on the god she was summoning, there's almost eleven centuries of mythology on him. Some of the myths and stories disagreed with each other, but they all agreed on the oddest thing: his eyes. All of it, the stories and poems and myths all agree that he has intense brown eyes.
She waits a few more seconds, taking a careful breath. It feels like the air has shifted, it feels different somehow. She doesn't immediately dismiss it as wishful thinking, but she can't confirm it just yet either.
She hears an unfamiliar voice greet her.
"Hello there." The voice is intense, but soft at the edges. It's an old voice, she can almost pick up an accent, but doesn't. She opens her eyes and freezes for a moment. The god of the underworld, is standing there looking at her. Those accounts were right, those eyes of his are intense.
She's never felt so small in her life. He speaks first, and she notices that he's wearing a suit. He looks almost like an average businessman. Like a businessman who would be unfazed by millions of dollars, wears designer suits and could also be a model if he wanted to.
"You wanted to make a deal with me?" His voice is still soft at the edges, perhaps he did notice the mascara on her cheeks after all.
"I do." She tries to keep her voice steady, aware that she's not dealing with just the run of the mill supernatural. He's a god.
"What are your terms?" He asks and she tells him. She's willing to trade her soul for just one thing.
It's such a little thing, so many people take them for granted. She just wants one.
He presses, and asks what she wants.
"A friend." She answers simply.