(Disclaimer: Don't own anything Supernatural related, the following story is mine)

Armageddon.

Chapter One.

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Revelation 12:9: "And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and
Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast
out with him."

He sat on his 'throne', his arms leaning casually against the bones that made up his chair. The bones of the damned that were now blackened with age, the heads of his three most illustrious conquests perched on the back, sitting high, for all to see. 'Charoum'…'Haamiah'…'Remliel'…their glory now gone, bought down from their exalted positions to now watch eternally over his plans, his deeds, his evil…his home. Desecrated as they should never be.

He raised a hand, beckoning the guards to bring his latest triumph forward. He smiled as the chains that bound his latest prize dragged heavily along the blood-soaked floor, the chains forged specifically for their kind. Forged deep within the pits, in fires that were fed by the most unholy of holy…the fallen ones.

Forced to his knees, the prisoner refused to lower his gaze, refused to bow his head to his enemy, refusing to allow him the slightest satisfaction of the kill. He'd seen the heads of his brothers sitting high upon the defilement he called a 'throne'. He would be joining them soon, there was no doubt. He raised his face to the heavens in prayer, not begging for mercy, not asking to be saved, but pleading for forgiveness for his sins, for the sins that would now befall mankind once he was destroyed.

"Look at me, Tabbris" he paused "No?" he laughed "It doesn't matter. Once you join your 'brothers' , you will see what your death has wrought! It has already begun…you see that…you all see that!" He circled his captive, his laugh chilling all those who heard it "I chose you for a reason, Trabbris…like I chose Haamiah, Remliel and Charoum" he laughed again "I will have my soldiers, Tabbris…one's that HE uses against us" he raised his sword, the black blade pulsing with a life of it's own "MY time draws near!" and he swung the sword in an arc, the scream of the blade like a trumpet on the winds, as the prayers died on the lips of another fallen.

He reached down, picking the head up and holding it high, a triumphant scream reverberating through the chambers as he revelled in his kill. He, the Father of Darknes, the Bringer of Chaos…the Slayer of Angels.

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Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to will the headache away. The headache he always got when he was in 'that place', as Sammy liked to call it. He looked down at himself, his clothes were covered in the blood of his latest kill. He looked up at Sam, hardly a drop on him; he raised his gaze further and glanced into his brothers eyes before looking away quickly. He didn't need that right now. He got up slowly and headed to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

He turned the water to hot and stripped, getting under the steaming jets and turning his face up to it. The scalding water seeming to burn some of the headache away, not all of it…it never did. The headache would persist for a couple of hours at least. He wasn't so much getting used to it but more understanding the pattern. A pattern of headaches that had been increasing these last six months or so. He knew Sam was worried, he saw it in his eyes every time they walked away from one of those kills. He needed to figure this out but they'd just been too damn busy of late. He picked up the soap and cleaned himself vigorously, getting the last traces of them off him before turning the water to cold, the shock of it waking him up.

He stepped out of the shower, dried himself and looked at his neck in the mirror, almost healed. His eyes flicked to his necklace and his mind drifted…he shook his head, he couldn't dwell there, it had been too long ago and the memories of that month together…no, he needed to focus. He rested his head against the mirror as his mind refused to listen to him, her face rising like a phoenix from the flames of his mind, refusing to allow him to forget.

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Sam changed, he knew what was coming now. Dean would come out, all refreshed and drag him to some shitty bar and they'd drink til all hours of the morning as he tried to forget about the kill. Dean was spiralling out of control again…and he was getting headaches now as well. He thought Sam didn't know about them but he was more attuned to his brother than ever. The events of the last two years bringing with it an understanding that he couldn't explain. They'd been through more in the last two years than their whole life put together…surviving all that they had bought with it an unbreakable bond but it was one that was fraught with danger. The danger of Dean's uncontrollable rage, the way he seemed to embrace it sometimes…using it not as an advantage but as a punishment.

He sat on the bed and picked up his phone, scrolling through til he found the number the needed. His thumb hovered over the 'dial' button for a long time before he sighed, closed his phone and waited for Dean to emerge from his awakening.

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Sam had been right of course. They'd been sitting in a shitty bar, not far from their latest shitty motel for an hour, steadily drinking shitty beer while Dean said nothing.

Sam sighed "You could just ring her you know"

Dean looked away from his brother, scanning the bar "Ring who?"

Sam laughed softly "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, dude. You manage to get any info from that …last one?"

Dean shook his head "No…but…" he shook his head again "It's nothing"

"What?"

Dean just shook his head "Nothin'"

"Tell me, Dean. We're getting closer to that yellow-eyed asshole…I can feel it and I know you can too"

Dean stared into his beer for a long time before whispering "He laughed at me, Sammy. Said it was all going to plan…this was what they'd expected and we'd know soon enough what was happening…all of us would" he shrugged and sculled the rest of his beer, not wanting to tell Sam how the demon had asked about his headaches "So I cut the fuckers head off. You want another?" he didn't wait for an answer before heading to the bar.

Sam stared after Dean's retreating figure, he didn't like the sound of that, didn't like the sound of it at all. He'd noticed the sharp rise in demonic activity in the last six months or so and the few conversations he'd had with Zeke, had confirmed they'd been just as busy as he and Dean. Something was happening…something was coming and he had a feeling that all hunters were being kept busy for a reason. Whatever was happening was diversionary. What was coming was BIG.

Sam watched his brother chatting up one of the waitresses and sighed. Dean was on the fast track to self-destruction, there was not putting it off. He picked up his phone and made the call he'd almost made earlier. Voicemail. He left a short message and hung up, hoping he'd hear back soon.

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She felt the rush of air that followed the swing of the blade as she ducked, turning and striking, not going for the kill, she needed him incapacitated, not dead. He swung again, catching her shoulder and she roared in rage and struck back furiously, driving him to his knees, stopping her blade inches from his neck before kicking him onto his back and driving one of her swords into his shoulder, pinning him to the floor.

She turned and went to the stricken man, lifting his head into her lap, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. That he was going to be fine, she'd get help and he'd be back drinking with them and kicking arse as he always did. He smiled at her then coughed, the blood flying from his lips and spattering her face. He whispered something and she leaned down to hear it…but the whisper died on his lips. She lay him down gently, rising from the floor, trying to contain her fury. She took the chalk from her pocket and drew the symbol she needed.

She leaned down, her face inches from the demons "I'm taking my time, arsehole"

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Dean stood under the shower, his head hung as he thought back on last night's kill again, hoping to get some fresh insight. He'd been in 'that' place again. That place where he could see nothing but the rage, hear nothing but the screams of fury, his screams that echoed through his mind as the memories of the last two years surfaced and refused to be pushed away until he dealt with them. And he dealt with them the only way he knew how. He killed. Demon after demon suffered under his blades, under his wrath and still he wasn't sated, still the memories came back…each time with more vengeance, each time crashing back into his mind, making him relive it. And brining with it the headaches.

He turned the water off when it ran cold, stepped out and dried himself. He checked his neck in the mirror, the scar was gone. His mind started to drift again and he bought it back to the present…he needed to concentrate. And his concentration had been slipping a lot of late…this last week especially. Slipping to a place he wanted to be but knew he couldn't. He put his fingers to the necklace, the one she'dgiven to him the last time he'd seen her, the last time he'd spoken to her, the last time he'd kissed her. Shit. He was doing it again. He turned when the bathroom door opened behind him and he grinned automatically as he groaned inwardly.

"Aaah, someone called Jay just rang for you…said she'd call back"

"You answered my phone?" he asked angrily.

He looked past her as he heard a loud pounding on the door and Sam calling his name. He pushed past the waitress, stormed to the door and flung it open "What Sam!"

"Zeke just called…Jay's missing"

To be continued…