Note: I do not own Supernatural or the rights to any of its characters. This is my first fan fiction in a while, so hope it's ok!
The mans long black winter coat ruffled in the wind, the ends flicking like the shoreline as he ran through the blackened night. His coal black hair slicked back from the harsh winds he was so desperately fighting against, small leafs and twigs fruitlessly trying to cling to their new found, rumpled home.
He was running for his life; the pale mood seemed to illuminate his skin like a beacon as the woods foliage snapped painfully loud beneath his feet. He could hear himself with excellent quality, he knew he was being loud, if he had a damned heart beat it would probably liken to bombs dropping at this very moment; but he was far beyond secrecy and hiding, he was no longer the hunter, he was the hunted.
He'd supposed he had sort of deserved it, snatching young girls from their beds, only to molest and drain them. His orders were clear, he was to help maintain the race, but when he saw their unshed tears praying for mercy, he lost control of his desire. They had it coming either way, the way they danced in those filthy clubs, always curving their bodies towards him, short skirts and low cut tops, he remembered when humanity had class! Well, almost. He'd loved the pretty ones, the innocent looking yet obviously oh so experienced ones. He'd loved tearing his talons into their sweet, heated flesh; and they had loved him, for the most part. At least, when he was the mysterious, handsome stranger, not so much the brutal rapist, but we can't have it all.
Then she came into his life, so pale he was astounded to hear a strong heart beat. The way she'd moved with the music was like liquid, not promiscuous, it was almost as if she was the music. Electricity flowed through the air and his long since useless veins were pumped with desire. She wasn't his usual type, oh no. She was exotic, strange and held herself with such power, even the Gods would be jealous. Now his desire to claim that power for his own had destroyed him.
If he needed to breathe, he was sure he wouldn't be able to run for as long and as far as he had. Surely this creature was not of this world, even his own supernatural strengths were running dry. He needed to rest, he needed to feed, he needed to live!
Slowly his pace became less frequent, until eventually he came to a complete stop. Hopefully, the trees would shade him, if only for a moment. Arching his neck towards the moon, he wondered if the Holy were really so evil to sick this indescribable monster even on his undead ass.
"What's the matter, darling?" Her voice was like velvet, wrapping around his form and echoing throughout his existence. Quickly he turned towards the speaker, her form was shrouded by the night, but one thing stood clear. Those ice blue orbs, so light they could be confused for the moon itself, piercing directly through his body, his mind, and if he hadn't sold his soul to the devil so very long ago, they would have burned it to ashes.
"I thought you LIKED the pretty ones!" Thin, pale hands moved with impossible speed, long black nails dug into his skull and a resounding 'snap!' scared away the innocent woodland creatures.
Pearly white fangs peaked through her luscious rose painted lips as she grinned down at the decapitated body.
"Whoops."