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Unholy Devotion	By : FemmeBono Category: Supernatural > Het - Male/Female Views: 1749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or it's characters, nor am I making money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Unholy Devotion
- 2-Cht 2
- 3-Cht 3
- 4-Cht 4
- 5-Cht 5
- 6-Cht 6
- 7-Cht 7
- 8-Cht 8
- 9-Cht 9
- 5
- 6
- 7
Cht 6
Days later, Grainne stood at the ready, facing Damian across the street as he posted up beside a white frame row house. Twelve other demons loyal to the king surrounded the other houses, which had been quietly and subversively taken over. Each demon carried a hex bag in their pockets that clouded the senses of those around them. They moved in stealthily, as the last house they were staking out was the house holding the demon Knight. Grainne’s group, which had closed in around it would be the first wave in. Damian’s group, which stood at the outer perimeter, would be the second wave. There were only three demons inside with the Winchester demon. Damian and his crew had already scouted the scene in the days leading up to this and now was the time to move in.
Grainne signaled to Damian, who raised a fist in response. With that, she patted the hex bag once to confirm it was still there, and ran up the steps, kicking in the door. Two of her demon crew moved in behind her while two other demons moved in the back. One more demon each broke through the second story door and a window by the fire escape. Then all hell broke loose.
The first thing that registered when Grainne and the others ran into the front room was that there were three demons waiting. She heard the commotion from the back of the house telling her that the two demons she had sent in the back door were engaged fighting still more, while the sounds that had broken out upstairs said there were others. She wasted no time wondering how they had been so far off in the numbers. She took out one of the demons who came at her, and turned to engage another. Behind her, both her king’s demons grappled with the one burly one who was left. At close range, the enemy could see them. The hex bags only worked to cloak their movements as they closed in on their targets. Now the bags did them no good. She caught a blur in her periphery as one of her men fell down the stairs, eyes staring with the First Blade sticking out of his back. It was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

Grainne came to with a splitting headache. She looked at her lap and the dark stain on the denim, then she perceived someone standing just to her left and tried to strain her eyes to see. A scuffed pair of brogans with faded jeans was all she could see from the way her head was angled down, and she scarcely dared raise her head just yet.
“I know you’re awake,” a male voice growled, “wakey wakeyyy.” He said it in a mocking singsong that grated on her ears. She raised her head and sure enough, Dean Winchester stood before her smiling grimly. Then his eyes flashed a glaring black.
“So,” he said, “Grainne O’Malley.”
Grainne tried not to wince at the fact that he knew her full name.
“I have to say, you guys fought a good game. Probably could have beaten all my boys…” he trailed off as someone else approached. “Except you didn’t consider that I already knew you were coming.” Grainne looked over and choked back a gasp. She strained against the ties that held her to the chair and glared at Damian who smirked back.
“Sorry about your boys,” he grinned more openly now, “they chose a weak king. They had to go.”
“Roland?” Grainne questioned, knowing the answer already.
“Gone.” Damian smiled more broadly.
“And what of Gambion?” she said, momentarily confused. “You led the charge against him—“
“Of course I did!” Damian shouted suddenly. “He gave up the Knight’s location all too quickly. He was not careful. He suspected you of trying to gain his trust and yet he still let you in on our little secret. He could not be trusted with something as big as this. He had to go. Besides,” Damian grinned conspiratorially. “It helped solidify us with the king’s and your trust, much to your ruin,” he said, dropping the grin.
He stepped closer to Grainne and brushed a fingertip over her collarbone. “Word is the king thinks quite highly of you.”
Grainne recoiled visibly in the chair as he bent down to her eye level.
“We’re going to leave you alive, just for him. But we’re going to make sure he gets the message loud and clear.”
With that, Dean stepped forward with a syringe in his hand and smiled cruelly. “This won’t hurt a bit,” he said, then jabbed the needle into her bare arm and laughed softly when she jumped and yelped. “You’re right. I’m lying. It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” And with that, he pushed the plunger into the barrel. Grainne watched as the needle emptied its contents into her veins and she swallowed as she felt the alien tickle of humanity siphon its way through her system. At a table off to the side sat donor bags of blood. Just what in all hell was he doing, she wondered.

She woke on the floor, her throat dry and parched, her whole body aching and wracked with fever. Dried blood crusted over open wounds and small pools of it lay in spots around her prone body. Footsteps sounded through the house, muffled voices echoing up the stairs through the hall to the room where she lay helpless. Please let them end me now, she thought. She had no hope of ever seeing Crowley again, and wondered fleetingly if they had staged a coup in hell. Grainne heard the door open and braced herself for another attack but instead heard a sharp intake of breath and then a voice, “Sir! Your Highness, I found her!”
Grainne’s heart leapt at the thought. Crowley? As soon as the name crossed her mind, she heard his voice. “Grainne? Gah! Bloody hell! What did they do to you, pet?” Crowley hurried to her side and crouched beside her. She was so forlorn looking up at him that it nearly broke him. Cuts and gashes covered her, with big welts and bruises, and here and there little puncture marks.
“S-sir,” she started, only shaking her head when he made shushing noises. “Sir,” she continued, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?!” Crowley gasped, “sorry? For what? You couldn’t have known—“
“I failed you,” she said, her voice broken with sobs. “I failed so completely. I didn’t know about Damian. And they said…they said for my failure, they would punish me for you. Make it easy for you.”
“What? How?”
She was so ashamed that she could barely whisper it. Crowley almost didn’t catch it at all, except his gaze caught the table beside her chair and saw what was on it. He glanced down at her again and realized that the needle marks in her arms and neck were evidence of the punishment they had meted out. It dawned on him what she did not want to say out loud, “I’m human. They made me human. I’m so sorry.”
Grim faced, Crowley swept the hair back from her brow and scooped his arms under her, lifting her up. In his mind he could hear his own voice again, “where do I even start to look for forgiveness?”
He could not wait to get his hands on Damian. “Bellamy,” he addressed the demon who had found Grainne, still standing nervously just outside the door.
“Yes sir?”
“Tell Blachard he’s in charge for the time being. I have business I had to attend.”
“Yes sir.” The demon was gone almost before the words were out of his mouth.
“Sir? What are you going to do with me?” Grainne asked grudgingly.
“What are you feeling right now?” Crowley asked.
“Famished,” she replied weakly, “and so so thirsty!”
“Then we’re to find you food, water, and a place to rest…and I damn well know who better help!”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Unholy Devotion