Prologue: Lamenting the Singer
Bobby Singer sat alone in the back room of his home. The blinds were drawn cutting out all outside light. The only flicker casting shadows were candles arranged in a circle around him. Bobby was on his knees. Before him was a small black box, decorated in gold trimmings. It was clearly a puzzle. Bobby traced his finger around an arranged circle on one side.
A stinging static shock burned his finger, but he didn't dare take it away. The top of the box slid up, opening to Bobby's touch. The box continued to move, twisting into its true malicious design. Bobby aided the process, raising the main mechanism of the lament configuration and turning it slowly before pressing back down. A small circle opened on the top. Three hooked chains launched from the opening. One dug deep into Bobby's neck bringing a heavy flow of blood. Another burrowed into each arm, staining his shirt a crimson red.
The room was filled with light now, but it did not ease the ominous atmosphere. Footsteps echoed through the room over the sound of heavy chains. "Welcome Bobby," a feminine voice cooed.
"We have such sights to show you," a sinister male promised. He stepped foreward. He wore sleek black robes, a mix of a priest and a butcher. His skin was pale white and his face was cut in a clear pattern like the graph paper children used in school. At the intersection of each of the lines, a nail had been hammered into the man's flesh.
"What are you?" Bobby coughed spilling more blood from his lips.
"We are angels to some," Pinhead chuckled, "and demons to others. To you Bobby Singer, we shall be both."
Bobby smirked, raising a shotgun from behind him. He fired into Pinhead's torso, but the rock salt had little effect. "You summoned us Bobby. You surrendered your power to the box. Your soul belongs to us now."
"What if I ain't got a soul to sell," he grinned.
"Then we shall claim everything else." Pinhead grimaced. More hooked chains dug into Bobby's skin, raising him up off the ground. The old hunter groaned in pain as they began to pull with more strength and security than they should have been able. His flesh began to rip and he could not help but let out a scream of pain much to the demons' enjoyment.
The hooks tore the man who had once been Bobby Singer into small pieces covering the floor with a deep layer of blood. Pinhead turned and walked away, back to the Labyrinth. The Female followed him. The entire grisly scene vanished as the box returned to its normal formation.
Sam Winchester awoke in a cold sweat, the nightmare seeming to vivid and real.