Dark Despair

By

Valtira

Disclaimer: I have no claim to the TV Series - Supernatural, Sam, Dean or John Winchester. I have put Dean on my dance card though, a waltz would be lovely. 

Authors Note: This is a sequel to Soul Survivors, but it is also a complete story in and of itself.

Darkness rises from the depths of hell to hunt the hunters. Dean is captured by an elder Demon and grievously injured. Can Sam and John find him without falling into the demons trap themselves?

Please Review, tell me what you think.

Chapter 1 Evil consumes

They were college boys, drinking, joking, and preparing for a fraternity initiation, seniors playing a prank on the new freshman. There in the depths of the fraternity house they prepared. The book they held was old, the pages yellowed and cracking, a book of power. It was a game, only a game.

A pentagram drawn in salt on the concrete floor held a circle in its center. Symbols of power filled the pentagram. A hundred candles littered the floor flickering wickedly they barely pierced the dark abyss.

Three young men waited, dressed in white. Floor length robes covered their bodies, the fraternity symbols painted across the front. Not in red paint as they suspected, but blood stained the pristine color of the robes, Chicken's blood, the first sacrifice to a god of the underworld. It was a game, only a game.

It was nearing midnight when the first initiate stood in the center of the circle. Four voices chanted in unison. Each word brought a new sound, a new rumble from the basement around them. It made them all shiver.

A fifth senior hidden in the walls played a dangerous game. He pulled a string and watched as blood poured from the ceiling covering the new initiate. Smoke and fog circled the room, a new addition to the script, his eyes widened in surprise. It was a game, only a game.

One, two then the third initiate stepped into the circle. The rumbling grew louder, the basement floor shuddered. The third ritual began. He was young barely eighteen, he stood straight and tall well over six feet, his shoulders were broad, his hair blonde with eyes of sapphire. He suppressed his amusement, knowing it was a game, only a game.

His name was Gabriel. Blindfolded he was led into the room. They placed him in the circle a booted foot scraped at the salt breaking the line. Already the chant had begun, when the blindfold was pulled from his eyes. He blinked several time, clearing the fog from his eyes. The room flickered in the unnatural breeze. He stared down at his feet, hissing in surprise sucking in a breath. Fear coursed through his veins. Symbols of power lay at his feet. He tried to move, tried to run but it was already too late. The dark lord had risen. It was no longer a game.

Anath csentar wilmet se'teth

Fae lee kovar

Coh fomar dar queva

Belathauzer

(Let Darkness walk the earth

We command thee

Come forth and conquer

Balthazar)

They called his name, his symbol glowed brightly. Ebony tendrils spiked up through the floor coiling around the young boy's legs. Gabriel forgot for a moment the words his mother had taught him, fear made him remember, but it was too late.

The words were spoken, thrice they were chanted and thrice they called to the underworld, hailing his name.

He awoke from a dreamless sleep and stood to listen. He did not have to heed their call; he was too strong for that. This was no dark sorcerer who called him. No bon would be granted, it was a game, only a game. A game they could not win.

Of late his minions sent to corrupt and defile had themselves been destroyed, not banished back to the underworld, but destroyed. His anger had grown, his desire for revenge thrived in his black heart. He would answer their call.

Fire and darkness were his dominion. A dark cloud sped through the fiery shadows straight for the crack forming in the dusky clouds above. He had not taken human form in a millennia. It was time for rebirth.

The chant ended, blood poured from the ceiling raining down over the white robed figure. It filled the circle at his feet and began to boil. Ebony tendrils held him fast; he struggled but could not free himself. A scream of despair escaped him, his ankles burned where the black tendrils touched.

Four faces looked up in fear.

Gabriel fought for his existence, words of power his mother had taught him rolled off his tongue, but the black demon was too strong. He could not stop himself from breathing in the noxious fumes as they surrounded him. The dark lord soon gained dominion. The boy's consciousness fled in horror as the monster flowed inside him. Running fast, running far he hid himself away in the darkest recesses of his own mind. He would survive; the demon would enjoy the torture.

Belathauzer's essence broke through the barrier and took possession. His image impressed itself on the boy's. Two heads molded into one. Black scales grew lighter, taking on the tan of the boy's skin. The only difference was the sapphire eyes, now black and fathomless. Not a flicker of light reflected in their dark depths.

He fit himself neatly into Gabriel's body. Muscles rippled beneath the skin, he stretched catlike enjoying the freedom the body gave him. The demon roared in triumph fire spewed from his mouth up into the rafters. The dry brittle wood caught quickly. The game had only just begun.

Behind the walls the fifth student was caught in the surging fire. A fiery blast of heat and flames consumed him. The boy didn't utter a sound.

The Dark Demon reached out testing the wards set in place to hold him. He laughed! With a flick of his wrist he wrote his own symbol in the air breathing the word of command. The wards shattered, and the Dark Lord stepped into the basement.

Four young men scrambled from their places on the floor, they ran stumbling over each other in their fear. Fire closed in around them cutting off their escape.

Belathauzer reached out his hand closed around the neck of the senior closest to him. Flinging his captive backward he sent him spinning into the flames. The stench of burning flesh filled the room, his screams echoed in the small space filling the others with mind numbing terror.

With a flick of his hand the Dark Lord send two more flying into the flames. The last white robed figure fell cowering to the concrete floor. Babbling incoherent words spilled from his mouth. Belathauzer stepped forward. The Dark Lord's form shifted reforming into a black mist that wrapped itself around his last victim.

Belathauzer consumed him. His eyes – windows to the soul were plucked from his head. The demon sucked the life from the body, tearing the soul apart he threw it back to hell as the fire roared around him. The black mist disappeared, solidified; Belathauzer stood clutching the withered body in his hand a satisfied smile on his face.

With the body still clutched in his hand, the Dark Lord burst through the wall and up into the chaos he had created. He smiled! The Fraternity house was in an uproar, hell fire had spread to the upper floors, voices screamed in the night. Fifteen students would die, not a single fraternity brother would leave the house alive.

The Dark Lord strode into the night. The withered body was lifted into the air. Black tendrils twisted around the withered ankles and crept upward to hang the body from the highest branches of the nearest tree. The body hung upside down, withered arms stretched outward at shoulder length. A dark hand reached up.

He walked into the night, sucking in a deep breath he reveled in the freedom1. He sent his mind out, searching, hunting for his minions. Only a few answered his call, the darkest and strongest were gone. Belathauzer's anger simmered in his black heart. His army would be rebuilt, his enemies would pay.