A/N: Well kiddos, apparently I like writing really dark shit. This is obviously AU. I tried to make it substantial enough to stand on it's on as a one-shot, though I really like the idea. If there's interest, I will make it a chapter fic. I like having two different projects going on at once, to suit whatever mood I am in at the moment. So I wanted to see how receptive everyone was to a dark side/anti-hero Sam (and big Brother Dean who will either have to save him or kill him, right?)

So, reviews, follows or faves will be taken as interest. Enough interest=chapter fic. Otherwise, we will just have one seriously dark AU one shot.

As Always,

EverReader

Disclaimer: Definitely not my sandbox.

"All the Pretty Monsters"

The tall man stared out at his army. 43 of them had been taken. But Hell was not called Hell without reason. Only six pairs of eyes tracked back.

He smirked darkly. It would be enough. They would be enough. They were, after all, the culmination of hundreds of years of plotting and planning. Each one born of carefully arranged unions and merging bloodlines. Each one of the as sharp and bright as a diamond and darker than the blood of the Light Bringer himself. They had been forged into weapons, and their will, his will, was as sharp as edged steel.

The seven of them would remake this wretched world. The angels would beg and the demons would scream and the Boy King and his army of six would dance in the ashes.

No one could stop them.

Michael and his army would try, once they finally understood what they had helped to create, to unleash. The angels would find that their assumed victory was not so certain after all. The demons would find their own finely honed weapons turned back upon them.

He would see the cage of the Bright Star sealed forever.

The Boy King did not fear God, either. The God that would not bestir himself to save the lives, no, the souls, of 43 children ripped screaming from their families and cast into the pit simply for the crime of being born would not stir now.

The man smirked again. Perhaps God wanted to see the world burn as much as they did.

They would tear apart this world and remake the broken, bloody pieces into a shape of their choosing.

And the Boy King and his army would rain down hell on anyone who tried to stop them.

"Sam." The dark skinned man said the word lowly, as one might say a secret, or a prayer. They stood in a rough circle in the darkened alley, a warm breeze shifting the scent of sulfur. The man stared down at the cooling bodies strewn around them.

He grinned wider this time. His playmates had gotten a little messy. He forgave them. They'd only been topside a few moments before Azazel's henchman had been on them. They'd settle in when the time came.

"Drink what you need." He said, making eye contact with each of the six others. "Then we move. We expected this. The plan proceeds." The others nodded their assent, eyes never breaking contact with the leader.

"And the bodies?" Max asked impassively.

"Leave them. They'll send a nice message." The Boy King's grin grew, a savage light in his eyes.

Ava tilted her head and him, catlike, and blinked slowly. "All hail the King." She said sardonically, her smile as she sidled up to Sam somewhere between worship and sin and utter devotion.

Not one stood there against their will. He had saved no one who did not want it. They followed him by choice. Hell had stripped away their joy and their fear. It had burned away memories and morals and empathy.

Every other power in the universe had forsaken them, had turned away from the half-demon abominations. They had no religion left but that of the man standing in front of them. The one who gave them their names back when they had forgotten them. The one who had bled for them, had bled others for them. Their God was neither locked in a cage, nor hid away among the stars. They smiled amongst themselves as they murmured their assents.

"All hail the King."