Chapter 3

A small group of sparrows sits on an old elm tree and stares down at a green lake. They tilt their heads with a great interest as merry whistling sounds come from below.

Strong hands and arms splash and cut through the cool water. There's some coughing and spluttering too.

"See something you like?" shouts a deep, gruff voice and the feathered creatures fly away hurriedly.

The man lets out a low chuckle and lies on the water's surface, spreading out like a starfish. He hums happily and looks up at the cloudless sky.

Rays of sun light up his face and his green eyes sparkle like emeralds. The sun licks his body hungrily and when he gets bored, he decides to come out of the water.

The man walks out of the lake slowly, running his hand through his wet hair and brushing out water droplets.

He has the most perfect body anyone has ever seen; tall and athletic, with broad shoulders and arms nicely toned. His chest and abdomen have well-defined, chiseled muscles. The whole body radiates inhuman strength and power.

He makes a few steps, moving away from the lake to a small, sun-lit place and lies down on the warm, green grass.

"Mhhmm, what a lovely feeling," he purrs and tucks one hand under his head. The summer heat feels nice against his wet skin. Warmth and the beauty of his surroundings make his mind wander off to somewhere else.

"No, please don't…" Teary eyes are staring at him and their owner trembles in fear.

"Did I ask you to talk?" asks a voice seductively, as a finger traces a line along the victim's jawline.

"But… but I didn't do anything... I did not break the rules…" a boy whimpers. He's no more than twenty.

"Do I look like I care?" The words are whispered in the darkness.

"But why? How…You can't…" the distressed voice cracks and there is another sob.

Bone chilling laughter is accompanied with a light bite on the victim's neck. "I can't? Who told you that I can't? Let me prove you wrong." The strong hands flip the body over and hold it against a wooden wall.

"As much as I would love to hear your screams, we need to keep it down." The violator gags the boy with his silk handkerchief. "Let the fun begin!" He smirks and pulls the boy's shirt up…

A smug smile is dancing on his full lips as he enjoys the memories. Instinctively his hand has started caressing his abdomen, going down in slow movements. He parts his strong, taut thighs and grips the half-erect member, a slow moan escaping from his throat.

"Thank me that I didn't kill you, little bitch." His breath shudders as his hand speeds up stroking.

He's close, very close, knees buckling and breath becoming ragged. Just a few more strokes and…

"My eyes!" someone screams, and the man lost in self-pleasuring yelps, startled. "For the love of the Blackened Heart, Dean!"

Dean jumps to his feet, his face and chest flushed. He holds his clothes and an unsheathed sword in either hand. But in a few seconds he recognizes the screamer.

"What the fuck, Sammy? Can't I have some private time?" he yells at the newcomer, dropping the sword.

The other man is taller, with floppy brown hair and hazel eyes. He's muscular and intimidating.

"Were you not my stupid little brother, I would rip you to shreds!" Dean continues indignantly. "Fool!"

Sam just huffs and tries not to pay attention to his brother's tirade.

"What's the matter? Something happened while I was having a pleasant time with myself?" Dean cocks up one eyebrow.

"Alastair has summoned us. He is holding a meeting."

"A meeting?" Dean finishes dressing himself and winces slightly when the trousers brush uncomfortably against his swollen member.

"Yes. I only know that it's something very important." Sam rests his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Alright, let's see what the old dog wants." Dean walks to a tree, to which a mesmerizing black mare is tied. "Ready, baby?" Dean pats her head lovingly and hoists himself into the saddle.

Sam gets on his auburn stallion and gallops behind his brother. They follow the path that leads to the fortress deep inside the woods, far away from any village.

"Something big has to be going on, if he summoned all the demons," assumes Dean, glancing into the distance in front of him.

Sam grumbles something incomprehensible in response and his older brother does not bother to ask him to repeat it.

"We should hurry," Sam says suddenly a moment later and loosens his grip on the reins. The auburn stallion neighs and flies forward like an arrow. The younger demon grins mischievously as his brother is left behind.

"Oh, come on Sammy, you know that Impala can beat him." Dean laughs loud and Sam knows that his brother is right. Rage might be a perfect horse in each and every aspect but Impala is beyond perfection. Sam is sure that if it were a demon like them, whether male or female, his brother would definitely sleep with it; when it comes to sex, Dean doesn't care about gender. The only thing that matters for him is good looks. Young, pretty beings.

"What did I tell you, bitch?" someone yells into his ear and Sam jumps a few inches off of his saddle. It's Dean, who gallops away, cackling madly.

"Idiot!" the younger brother shouts after him.

They do not rest their horses until they reach the tremendous fortress built from limestone and sandstone with heavy iron gates in the middle.


Alastair sits on his golden throne, looking grim and sinister like always. But today, there still is something different about the demon lord. A short scepter spins in his hand.

He looks around the hall that is full of his warriors. He knows exactly how many demons there are: exactly two hundred and fifty two, including the demon lord himself; he does not need to count them.

Dean and his brother are in the first row, waiting for whatever their master has to tell them. Sam looks peaceful, while his brother seems about to lose his temper. They've been here for almost an hour waiting for Alastair to announce the reason for their gathering.

"Stand still," Sam hisses to his brother, as he nudges him almost imperceptibly. Dean grunts and curses when his Sam's elbow hits him painfully in the ribs.

Finally Alastair shows mercy and begins. His nasally, snarky voice fills the chamber.

"Today at dawn, one of my wolves was killed by a villager. He came into the forest and was plucking apples from a tree, when Thunder attacked him. My puppy fought well and gifted the bastard with many wounds. He did not survive. But…" Alastair stops as a slight fidgeting gets his attention in the back rows. The movements cease abruptly as the demon's cold, burning stare drills the culprit. "…that abomination stabbed him with a poisoned knife, and Thunder died. Painfully."

There is a dead silence and everyone can hear a fly buzzing somewhere up on the ceiling.

"At midnight we raid their village and annihilate them." Alastair's voice clearly states that the decision is final and nobody is to argue against it.

Sam stares down at the marble floor. His brows are knitted together. Unreadable expressions replace each other on his face.

"Hey," Dean croaks beside him. "Are you alright?"

His younger brother shakes his head. No, he is not alright.

"This isn't right," he whispers. He wants to add something else, but Alastair cuts him off.

"At the hour of Sleeping Shadows you are expected to be at the gates, armed and armored. And if I see even one person missing, I will punish the entire army. And you know I do not lack imagination in my punishments." Alastair's evil smirk can make one's hair stand on end.

As they exit the hall, Dean grabs his brother by the arm and drags him to the side. "What's happening to you?" he hisses, looking around cautiously. They don't need witnesses for this. Apparently his silly younger brother has started to have doubts.

"I'm not sure this is the right thing to do, Dean," Sam mumbles almost inaudibly.

"Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten who you are?" Dean's nostrils flare and his breath comes out unevenly.

"I haven't, Dean. I am a demon and I understand that, but it doesn't mean that I can't have doubts and personal opinions!" Sam snaps his head up and looks at his brother resolutely.

Dean's mouth falls open. His green eyes are wide in shock. "You are playing with fire, Sammy. Do not decline the nature you were born with. We were born to kill and destroy. We are not made for pity and compassion," Dean grunts through his teeth. "And don't you dare, don't even think about not coming with us tonight!" He points his finger warningly at Sam.

Sam rubs his forehead. He can feel a headache on its way. As much as he does not want to go on a raid with his brother and the other demons, he cannot refuse. He cannot get Dean punished because of his doubts.

"I will come," Sam says briefly and turns around to leave with hurried steps.

Dean stares at his back and can only frantically wonder what in the netherworld's name is going on with Sam.


As ordered, the demons are gathered at the gates of the fortress at the hour of Sleeping Shadows. Alastair sits on his fire red mare Lilith, looking at his army. The demon lord smirks when he sees that all of his demons are present. Of course no one dares to disobey; after what happened last time someone defied his orders, nobody wants to push their luck.

Alastair divides his army into two troops. Dean and Sam are both in Alastair's troop, while the other one is led by Alastair's second-in-command, Azazel.

As soon as the demon lord gives a sign, the demonic horde goes off with terrifying noises. The horses are neighing, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing fire and thunder, mouths frothing. The ground quakes under their hooves.

A flock of black ravens croak and fly towards the village as the messengers of doom.