The devil went down to Georgia,

he was looking for a soul to steal.
He was in a bind 'cos he was way behind:

he was willin' to make a deal.

He walked in the blistering Southern sun, a large, black hat pulled down over his forehead, headed towards the young man who was already hard at work in the fields, even though the shadows betrayed the fact that it wasn't any later than nine in the morning.

"Francis Sullivan?" The young man looked up at the stranger who stood with his arms crossed, the shadow from his wide-brimmed hat keeping his eyes from view.

"The name's Jack Kelly," he corrected. "I haven't been Francis Sullivan for years."

The stranger smirked. "Of course, of course."

Jack glared at him, and shoved the end of his shovel into the soil. "Well, you know my name. Tell me yours."

"I go by the name of Spot Conlon."

"Spot Conlon?" An ugly, angry look crossed Jack's previously handsome face. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the devil, Jack," he said slowly, then turned to look at the Victorian house about three hundred yards in the distance. "And I can help you get what you want- if you're willing to make a deal."

-----

Jack considered. Fresh from the heartless streets of New York, where he had lived on pennies a day, felt no love, and fought for respect, any belief in a God had fizzled out at a young age- most likely on the night he watched his own father murder his mother.

And with no belief in God, there came no belief in a devil- and instead of being impressed or unnerved by the man standing in front of him, he was annoyed. He had enough of fucking lunatics in New York. Down in Georgia, in this tiny town with a population less than a hundred souls, he was supposed to be safe from the scum of the world.

However, the man did present an interesting deal- all Jack had to do was "give him his soul" and in return "Spot" would help him woo his "lady fair"- Mia, the farm owner's daughter.

It was an intriguing offer, and for a man who didn't believe in a devil or eternal damnation, it was fool proof. Jack held out his hand, and Spot shook it.

And so Jack, without realizing it, entered into a pact with the devil himself.

-----

Though Spot didn't realize many things, as well. The devil is not like God- he is not omniscient.

And he could feel his original plan go to hell when an auburn haired-beauty rode up on a chestnut mare, her nearly-black eyes looking at him curiously. "Jack, who's your friend?"

Amusement overcame him as he watched Jack Kelly stutter- the once arrogant young man was rendered senseless by this girl- and he knew his task would be foolishly simple. Jack Kelly's soul was as good as his.

That is, it would be if Spot didn't have this nagging voice at the back of him mind, telling him that he wanted the girl. The stupid voice was ridiculous- he had entered a deal. No girl for Jack meant no soul for him, and no soul for him meant hell. Literally.

So he was quite surprised with himself when he swept off his hat, exposing piercing blue eyes that could charm a snake and an enchanting grin. "Aiden Conlon. Jack's cousin, ma'am. And you are?"

-----

When his eyes met hers- him being the man who called himself Aiden- Mia nearly fell off her horse.

The feeling that came over her was almost indescribable. Part lust, part obsession, part infatuation- part revulsion.

But as the other three parts surged, they overpowered the fourth, and Mia was lost.

Conlon now had control.

-----

And he knew it. He knew that he had her, and he knew that he had Kelly fooled.

And he knew that, once again, he would win.

For he was Spot Conlon. For he was the devil. And that meant that he always got what he wanted.

-----

Jack Kelly was wary. He didn't like the look this Spot Conlon character was giving his Mia, and he especially didn't like the look of stupid adoration she was giving him.

After all, Mia was smarter than that look gave her credit for- that was what attracted him to her in the first place.

But he was forced to look down, grit his teeth, and continue working as she invited Conlon to help her put her horse away, and then into the house for tea.

He was never invited into the house for tea. And he'd be fucked if this lunatic got to Mia before he did.

-----

But Spot knew what was going on in the mind of Jack Kelly- omniscient he was not, but the man formerly known as Francis Sullivan was not one who kept his thoughts locked safely in his mind. The air around him radiated with wrought emotion.

It was nearly enough to make Spot giggle with pure glee. He'd get what he wanted, Jack would believe he got what he wanted, and Spot would leave that day with two souls.

For once a woman touches lips with the devil, she belongs to him, and no one- not even God himself- has the power to change that.

-----

Mia didn't know why, but she wanted him.

She desired him with more feeling, more animalistic lust, than she had ever desired anything in her life- not even when she'd watch Jack working, bare-chested, out in the field.

It wasn't that he was uncommonly handsome- he was good-looking, no doubt, with a body any woman would sell her soul to touch- but she had seen many more handsome men in her lifetime.

It was those eyes. Those eyes that somehow persuaded her, without strain, to invite him into the empty barn with her, and equally as effortlessly beckoned her into his arms.

------

She tasted like strawberries: a slight hardness, a slight bitterness disguised by sweetness.

And the blue-eyed devil couldn't help grinning into the kiss as her pulled her body closer to him, then took her for his own.

------

His usually cold skin still hummed with her warmth as he walked away from the small farm, black hat once again upon his head. He hummed to himself as he passed her- who would always remain his- and Jack Kelly, who was foolish enough to believe her profession of love.

------

Jack took her hands, eyes shining. "Mia, do you really mean that?"

She smiled at him, eyes clouded with love. "Of course I do, Jack."

And with that he pulled her close, kissing her with every ounce of passion he possessed. And she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

And a voice at the back of his mind wondered how she could be so cold while the sun beat down upon her. But soon that voice was silenced as the warmth flowed out of him.

-------

And somewhere down the long, dusty road, the devil laughed.

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Happy Birthday, Raven! Love it! I command you!

I left all this for the bottom, since I didn't want people to get distracted.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Mia (who's Raven's creation), nor the lyrics from "The Devil Went Down to Georgia", which are what opened up this story.