AN- As an Australian girl with only free-to-air TV, I haven't seen any new episodes yet (I haven't even heard any news about when they'll be airing over here). I'm incorporating some changes (guess who cameos here), but the storyline is now officially AU.

If you're reading this and you haven't read any of my previous stories, you should know beforehand: Dean spent seven years in Hell – instead of four months. No angelic intervention – he was allowed to escape, with the original intent to kill Sam on the orders of Lilith.

And so as Season Four begins, the Cursed series ends…

The corpse was starting to smell.

That would do no good, especially as it was her turn to host the book club on Thursday. And so she decided to load him into the car and dump him.

She didn't even remember who he was now. Some random college geek that made a pass at her in the bar. She remembered the incredulous and amazed look on his face when she had suggested that they go back to her place.

He should have known that nothing was ever that easy.

A nice stretch of deserted road. Perfect. Pull over, manhandle the body out and drop him over the bridge. Simple as that. She didn't have to worry about fingerprints, as she didn't have any. She didn't have to worry about leaving DNA, as she didn't really have any of that, either.

At least not any that the meagre level of human technology was capable of picking up. When the cops found the body in the morning, there would be nothing linking her back to the withered husk found in the river. She would move on. Another town. Another hapless male.

Fools. She was feeling exhilarated. High. Since she was little a hunt could make her feel all tingly. It was almost like some kind of drug. The looks on their faces when they finally, finally realised what she was doing to them. The fear. And the power it gave.

The power.

"Nice night for it."

She gasped aloud. She hadn't heard him. She hadn't seen him. It was like he had appeared from nowhere.

And there was no possible way he could have missed seeing what she was doing. Human!

No. Something darker. She could smell it now. All over him. A predator in the dark.

Waiting.

The lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl and slowly she turned to face him. Ribbons of grey wove back through his dark hair and the expression he wore was vaguely amused, like the world was his plaything and he enjoyed smashing it to the floor.

"Hello." He said, seemingly oblivious to the hostility she was giving off in waves.

"What do you want?" She didn't know who he was, personally, but that hardly mattered. They were all mostly the same anyway.

"Ouch. Is it a crime to want to introduce myself to my brothers-in-arms when I come across them in the dead of night? The dead of night. A rather nice turn of phrase, don't you think?"

He wished to make small talk? Long ago, in her Hell time, demons drank the blood of their enemies and reaped the souls of the wicked.

Where were those great warriors now?

"I do rather like the way they refer to this hour as the Witching Hour." She finally said. "Rather quaint and homey."

"And all their misconceptions about Fridays and thirteens."

"And black cats."

He was really quite good-looking, she supposed. Or at least, his flesh-suit was. It was always difficult to see the true shape underneath. At times you could see, though, this great big thing twisting and turning and convulsing just beneath the skin, yearning to break free.

Yearning to fly, and remind the world of those who were once their masters, and would be again.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I am what was, what is, and what will be. I am the bliss of ignorance and the despair of truth." He said, spinning his words skilfully. And yet there was a genuine ring to it, right down in the pit where her soul once was. "I am the lies that people tell themselves to get through the night."

They all did that! It got so incredibly annoying after a while. Hey, baby, I'm so bad you wouldn't believe it. Whatcha think about that?

She smiled. In delight. In madness. She knew it was true when the dreams began, broken, disjoined images weaving their way through her mind's eye. She saw that the Princes of Hell had no other choice but to challenge the bitch that would be Queen.

There was worry etched on his face. Worry that she delighted in. He was afraid.

"The Black Eden is stirring." He said.

Some said that the Black Eden was the first true demon to be born of the fire and darkness. Yet more said that he was the Left Hand of the Devil. "You can feel it."

She knew then, why he had come to seek her out. Even his black arts would not let him peer through the looking glass into what would be tomorrow. She knew more of what was coming than he did.

Oh, what fun, she thought delightedly.

"Our Saviour." She simpered. "He who perished for us only to be born again. He's coming home again, and He will make this place His own once more."

He looked at her. His stare was hard and piercing. "Eve Potter."

She hardly heard the human name she had chosen for herself so long ago. Names were meaningless to her now. Merely sounds they made to tell each other apart in the melee.

"You will tell me what I want to know."

"So you can destroy Him when He awakes?" Her smile was dreamy. "No, His return was written of, so long ago. It is destiny. Who are you to tell Destiny what it should be?"

"Listen to me, you stupid bitch. This world is going to burn."

"Pretty, pretty. Flicker in the night. The Black Eden rises. He is already here, waiting for that what was lost to be found again."

He scowled dangerously at her. She seemed unconcerned that he might lunge for her at any moment. He hated that he had been reduced to this. To seek her counsel.

Yet she knew things that he did not. He did not understand it, and did not want to understand. There were so few of her kind left, twisted, empty shells of creatures that somehow saw beyond, tore past the restraints placed on them. Saw the riddles and puzzles of what was yet to come. He needed her. And yet…

Whatever she had seen in the future had driven her insane.

"Where is Sam Winchester?"

She smiled a shifty little smile. "Now that would be telling." She whispered. Smiling, she stepped back into the darkness, knowing that he would not attack her, knowing that he would not follow her.

Weak. They are all weak.

"The storm is coming." He called out to her. "And you will be among the first to die."

"The storm is coming?" Eve laughed, a tinkling of broken glass. "Look around you."

And so he did.

He saw the lone tree on the street corner.

And a word.

One word.

One he knew well.

Croatoan.

"Look at them all, sweet little things!" Eve shrieked out. "Look!"

A lamppost, a row of power poles running down the street, buildings, signs, posters, and that one word, over and over.

Croatoan.

He stared around himself, shocked into silence. How did I miss this? How?!

And suddenly the madwoman was back. She peered up into his eyes, adoration on her face. "You know what it means." She reached up to whisper in his ear. "And deep in your black heart, you are afraid. The ways of your kind have been turned back against you, and he is coming."

Eve stepped back, and twirled on the spot. "Can't you hear the voices? They're getting louder all the time, louder and louder."

He took a step forward. "Listen to me."

"No. You listen to me." Her voice was a crack of lightning in the dark. The smile on her face was sweet and serene, and somehow horribly, terribly deadly.

"The storm has come. It is here. It has already started. You're too late."

That was when she spun around to the other man standing behind them, watching calmly, serenely. The one with his neatly combed hair, pressed shirt, and sparkling blue eyes.

"You're both far too late." She told him, the one with the angelic face. "And we shall all burn together."

The Black Eden. Lilith knew of the Black Eden. Knew what it meant.

The world as it was would fall into the pits of Hell.

And finally after all these long years, he was coming back to her.

She dreaded the prospect.

Why? Were they to be irrevocably drawn together like this for an eternity? Perhaps longer? He and she, two sides of the same coin, the reflection in the mirror. Her true other half. Of course, there had been others along the way, but for some damned reason, they kept coming back to each other.

Lilith remembered how once the two of them had set the Old World on fire. She remembered all they had shared, all they had fought for. She remembered how he had believed in her, in her visions for the future when all others ridiculed her.

And she remembered how she had ripped him asunder when he had challenged her, challenged her authority and her power, before banishing him to the world of endless nightmares.

But he had been reborn. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes. He would kill her, and it would be her fault.

The storm around her crackled and raged. He was coming. Coming home. Coming for her.

He would seize her power.

He would stop her plan.

He must die.

The storm broke on the horizon as Lilith looked up. There was a smile on her face. "Come to me." She whispered. There was a mad glint in her eye as she tempted the Fates to throw all they had at her. Her emotions were an insane jumble of searing hatred, lust, and irrational joy.

Home! He was coming home to her!

"Come to me, my Samael."