*a/n: While hello fanfiction, have you missed me, I missed you, oh yes I did! Oh hey all, how's life, I know college is finally done for the summer and I can get back to writing! :)

So with that said, here's new story I think all my WWE readers and my Supernatural readers will love (Hey as they say, I'm just capitalizing on two pristine markets). So hopefully I don't screw this up big time otherwise I am pretty sure I'll be shunned by the fanfiction community for life… Alright let's go!

Disclaimer: This brings a tear to my eye that I don't own any Supernatural characters or WWE wrestlers, but one day! Don't judge, a girl can dream! Read On…

Summary: The WWE is the best in the world for a reason, but when wrestlers start being killed in an unnatural way, it's up to Sam and Dean Winchester to get things back to normal before it's too late and the WWE goes under forever.

Black Magic- A WWE and Supernatural Crossover

Prologue: The Dead and the Dying

Phil Brooks let out a deep breath as he passed through the curtain, the roaring crowd cheering and on their feet screaming for him was still ringing in his ears. The sweat dripped off his brow as he grabbed a towel one of the technical producers handed him so he could whip off his body.

"Great job out there, Phil," John Cena, the WWE's golden boy grunted out at his counterpart. Phil was renowned for his role as the WWE Champion CM Punk. Punk was a reckless crazed rebel, who would do anything for the WWE Championship and just to cause a little chaos, he had turned the entire WWE upside down with the help of some other wrestlers and the creative department. Phil smirked; he hoisted the WWE Championship up onto his shoulder nodding toward Cena.

"Not a bad job, yourself out there old Johnny Boy," Phil responded. John Cena was this generations The Rock, not that many would gladly accept that comparison, especially Cena himself who was involved in a giant feud with the Great One. Cena was one of the faces of the WWE, he was the one they called when they needed some babies kissed or a good will public relations outing done. It had been a long road for John Cena, fifteen years ago, he was driving a limo around Los Angeles, now he was in the wrestling ring every night fighting off the bad guys and protecting the WWE Universe from any harm that could come to it.

"So you going to the pay per view after party?" questioned Phil as the two walked back to their retrospective locker rooms.

"No, Liz came down for the show tonight and I think we're going to go out and get dinner before we head out for the show tomorrow, I won't be able to see her until we get back from Europe." John said sadly. Phil could see it in his eyes that the life of a WWE wrestler was not an easy one. That's why he had never chosen to get hung up with romantic relationships. Plus it allowed him to be the captain of his own ship, nothing to tie him down or hold him back.

"John!" screamed a female voice that Punk recognized as Elizabeth Cena, who was standing outside her husband's locker room door. Liz was John's high school sweetheart. The two had been through everything together, and even though she didn't want to be part of the WWE's John Cena's life, she was still a part of the real John Cena's life. Liz was a loving women and she would do anything for her husband even in the direst situations.

John embraced his girl in a big hug sweeping her into his arms and inhaling her scent of jasmine and vanilla. It was one of the most beautiful things he ever smelled, and given he was a professional wrestler he had smelled some pretty nasty stuff.

"I missed you," she said right into his ear while wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I know Lizzy, I missed you too," John said as the two were locked in the middle of a deep intense lovers stare down. Punk was pretty sure they would start ripping their clothes off right in the middle of the hallway if he hadn't been standing beside the two and their co-workers hadn't been around.

"While, I'll see you later John," Punk said as he hastily made his retreat to his dressing room not getting any acknowledgement from either of the Cenas, who were still probably trying to fuck each other with their eyes. Punk was still grateful he didn't have a ball and chain like that tying him down as he said earlier, he was his own person, no girl could take that from him.

Shutting the door and sighing he went and turned on the television in his dressing room turning on the Chicago Cubs game and putting on some tunes. He headed to the bathroom stripping off his grimy ring gear and throwing it aside as he turned on the shower waiting for it to warm up. He stepped in it letting the hot water hit his skin as he closed his eyes and cleared his mind.

Phil let his muscles relax after an intense day of training and then the pay per view. The water washed over his tattooed skin as he breathed a sigh of relief. It had been awhile since he had the chance to let down his guard like this and relax since… No, no he wasn't going to think about that. Absolutely, not, this was his time and he had nothing to do with that. It was just a matter of him and the other wrestlers all being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He turned off the shower and let the steam rise into the atmosphere as he grabbed a towel wrapping it around his waist tightly. He walked over to the mirror as he wiped away the condensation on the mirror looking at his frazzled hair after stepping out of the shower. He looked down for a second and reached for his comb dropping his glance from the mirror for only a second.

But when Phil looked back up, what he found was not possible.

A man with blood red eyes stared at him with a dark grimace etched across his features. His clothing was torn and tattered. There was blood seeping out of his abdomen with scratches running up and down his forearms and face. The man continued to stare at Phil as Phil blinked rapidly trying to make this illusion go away.

His mind was playing tricks on him. He had taken a chair shot to the head that hadn't been planned, and he being the moron that he was, hadn't gone and had the trainer check him out. Phil was regretting that decision, right now. He should have gone to the trainer.

The man with blood red eyes stepped forward and closer to Phil.

"You're… you're not real…" Phil finally said finding his voice as it shook, the man continued to glare.

"You killed me. It's your fault I'm dead. You have her, she was mine not yours. You killed me for her." The man said as he lurched forward toward the wrestler. Phil shook his head as he ran out of the bathroom and out of the dressing room into the hallway which was bustling with workers forgetting that he only had on a towel.

"Somebody call security! There's a renegade fan in my dressing room!" yelled Phil as several producers rushed passed him and into the dressing room to remove the fan.

"Phil," one of the producers said coming back out of the room and looking at the talented wrestler, "There was no one in there. Are you okay? Did that chair shot earlier confuse you?"

"I'm fine," Phil snapped as he stomped back into his dressing room angrily as he dismissed the rest of the crew not really caring about anything else. "Get a hold of yourself Phil, you just have been reading too many crazy graphic novels as of late, you just need to rest."

He threw himself down onto the couch, shutting his eyes as he listened to the music in the background letting his mind wander. Soon his breathing became steady and deep snores came from him, the man commonly known as CM Punk, had fallen asleep.

What he didn't know though was the man with the blood red eyes was back staring at him, but this time he had something in his hands. He quietly snuck up next to Phil, who didn't even stir and slipped the wrought iron chain around his neck.

The man smiled as he saw Phil's eyes roll up back into his head and heard his heart stop.

A knock on the door came shortly after that, one of the producer's creaked open the door as she slid into the dressing room of the infamous CM Punk.

"Punk, it's almost time for your segment." The female producer stated as she walked toward the couch where Punk, she assumed, was still sleeping. "Punk, come on, get up."

With a nudge she knocked the now stiffened body off the couch and onto the floor with a large crash. The woman producer gasped as if she were in a living nightmare. She had only seen this on really badly written cop television shows.

Punk's eyes were glazed over, his body not breathing, his heart not beating, but worst, worst of all was the sick gruesome smile that was etched across his dead face.

The producer let out a blood curling scream that sent other workers and wrestlers running into the dressing room to see what had happened, but it was too late.

Phil Brook's body lay motionless and dead on the floor; no one could help him now. His boat had already sailed and he definitely hadn't been the captain at the time.

(XXXX)

And so we begin are tale, don't worry it's all Sam and Dean next chapter so don't get to worried Supernatural fans, I wouldn't leave them out of this little party! Anywho…

Good, bad, mentally insane? Let me know by clicking that little blue box right below this to tell me how I did on the 1st chapter. I'm hoping I did decent so if I did show me some love!

~always with much love ~L.

See you next time! Review?