Cursed (A Supernatural FanFic) *Under Editing and Rewriting!!*

Deals With The Devil

AN: Hi guys! Ok, so I'm writing a fairly quick (third person) Jake POV because there is stuff that happened that only he and Yellow Eyes know about...and it's pretty important. (the gun he hands Jake is the Colt by the way.)
Thanks again for reading!
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He pulled onto a backroad and parked his car in front of a railroad track. Jake got out of the car and looked around...waiting. After a few minutes, he felt a presence and turned around; Azazel was standing behind him.
"Howdy, Jake. So, did you have a nice trip?" He said with a grin.
Jake was in no mood for his games, "I'm here. I did what you asked. Now what?"
Azazel sighed, Fifty miles, thataway," He pointed in the opposite direction of where Jake was standing...across the tracks, "There's a cemetery. A crypt. You got to open that for me. Think you can manage that, sport?"
His anger bubbled up almost uncontrollably, something that Jake found had been happening a lot lately,"You know what? Screw you and your freaky orders. Go do it yourself."
Azazel tsked, and shook his head remorsefully, "Oh, I can't. I can't go that way— not yet."
"Why not? " Jake asked.
He shook his head again, "I just can't. But if you're gonna open that crypt for me, you're gonna need a key." He pulled a weird looking gun out from his jacket, and held it in the air.
"A gun?" Jake deadpanned, skepticism written all over his face.
Azazel smiled, "Oh, this isn't just any gun, Jake. This is the only gun in the whole universe that can shoot me dead," He pointed the gun to his head mockingly.
"Is that so?"
He nodded, "Yep. Here, take it."
He handed it over and Jake immediately cocked it; aiming it at him while Azazel looked on in mock horror. "Oh, my. I'm shocked at this unforeseen turn of events. Go ahead, Jake. Squeeze that trigger. Be all you can be. This'll all be over. Your life can go back to normal. Of course, the Army won't take you back 'cause you're AWOL. But I'm sure you could get your old job at the factory back. But then, on the other hand, the rest of your life, and your family's, could be money and honey, health and wealth, every day is ice-cream sundae. And all you got to do is this one little thing."
He chewed on what the demon was offering him...offering his family, "Why me?"
"Oh, Jake. It's got to be you. I've been waiting for you for a very long time. You're my leader. You open that crypt, and you will have your army."
"You're talking about the end of the world," He said.
"No," He said, almost sympathetically, "Not the end— the beginning... a better world, where your family will be protected. More than that. They'll be royalty. Buddy boy, you have the chance to get in on the ground floor of a thrilling opportunity. Whaddya say? It's your call."
He chewed on it some more, and eventually lowered the gun.
He smiled, and nodded at Jake approvingly.

"Attababy."
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*Riley*

When I lost my best friend Sarah, I felt guilt.
I felt the kind of guilt that you try to avoid at all costs.
The kind of guilt that, if left unchecked, could be the undoing of you...and it was.
I became suicidal after. I knew that when I went to that vamp den, it would be the death of me, and it was a reality that I welcomed with open arms. It was a suicide mission.
Then, after almost two years of avoiding them, Sam and Dean came along, and saved me...again.
After I got that vision, of Sam's death, I knew what Azazel told me was coming to pass, and I felt personally responsible for anything that happened. How could I not?
After all, maybe if I had told them...then maybe nothing would've happened.
Maybe they would've found a way around it. But no, I decided to keep it from them.
When I called the Roadhouse and no one answered, I felt...weird.
But when I called Ash, and there wasn't even a ring, I felt panic.
I jumped straight out of bed, and got in my car; I was headed for the Roadhouse.
When I got there, I was greeted with a pile of rubble, and the stench of death.
I stood in front of the smoldering pile for about a half hour before I finally let out a gut-wrenching scream. When I was done, I calmly got back in my car, and called Bobby.
No answer.
I drove way above the speeding limit, and after what felt like hours of tireless driving.
When I started it was night, when I stopped...it was midday. I stopped three houses down from Bobby's place, and walked the rest of the way. It wasn't burnt down to the ground, which gave me hope, but just as I was about to knock on the door...I heard Dean and Bobby talking.
"No, thanks. I'm fine," I heard Dean say. He sounded different...something was missing.
"You should eat something," Bobby said, sounding forlorn.
"I said I'm fine," Dean snapped.
I stepped away from the door, and peered in the window to see what was going on.
Dean was drinking directly from a whiskey bottle, and Bobby was holding a bucket of fried chicken. They both looked like broiled crap.
"Dean... " Bobby said, sounding sad, and reluctant, "I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time... we bury Sam?"
I felt my heart drop...no, I heard wrong...I just heard wrong.
"No."
"We could," He stopped and sighed, "maybe..."
"What? Torch his corpse? Not yet." Dean said sounding too calm.
No...I heard right. Sam is--Sam is gone.
I slid down to the ground, and held in the animalistic cries that wanted to rack my body.
He was dead and it was all my fault.
It kept playing in my head over an over...its all your fault, its all your fault...over and over.
It took me a long time to get myself together...I had to see him.
I waited until I heard Bobby leave, then Dean got ready to leave...but he stopped, and sat down-next to something. Sam's body.
He sat, and started talking.
"You know, when we were little— and you couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.'" He stopped, and sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
"I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...and I screwed it up," He stopped, and took a deep breath.
"I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry," Now I could see he was crying.