OMG I'm in Supernatural?

#9 Why, oh why can he not die?

This is a filler. Sorry about not writing in a while. I've been busy :) Enjoy.

Of all the places Lucifer "the devil" would be at, why a freakin' graveyard? I hated graveyards. Creepy and all dark and spooky. Like a horror. Oh my lordie, this was like a horror film. I couldn't think of any examples but maybe like Freddie Kruger but instead of Freddie Kruger it was Lucifer a fallen angel ready to kill. Me. And the Winchesters.

 "You're a bit late,"

You'd think Lucifer would look badass. You know?  He wasn't. He looked to be in his late thirties with greying hair. He was average height and not the biggest person.

"That's Lucifer?" I found myself asking, "you'd think he'd be tougher!"

Dean gave me a look that said "if we make it out of here I'm gonna murder you."

"I was told you were chitty chatty," By who?

 Lucifer flicked his wrist.

It just so happened that I went flying through the air and landed on the side of a tree.

Before I passed out, I mumbled, "that was rude."

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"Mackenzie,"

"Go away," I mumbled, "mm head hurts."

The sharp pain in the back of my head was not from a hangover. I didn't know if that was good, or bad?

"Get up," Dean opened my eyelids with his fingertips.

"Stop it," I was going to kill him, "wait!" I sat up quickly.

"What happened?" I asked, "did he-who-shall-not-be-named get away?"

"He's Lord Voldemort and this isn't Harry Potter,"

Boy did I know that. This was Supernatural.

"Did I miss the action? Again!" We sat in Bobby's living room, me lying on the couch. Dean on the floor beside me.

"He got away," Dean sounded so sad, I couldn't help but place my hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get him next time," I whispered, trying to ignore the way my heart speed up at the sight of Dean. He really was quite handsome.

"We sure will. How's your head?" Sam stepped into the room.

"Hurts but I'll survive,"

"Did Dean tell you that Lucifer didn't die when he shot him in the head?" Sam sat by my feet. I was so tiny you could've fit two of me on the couch.

"No," I gave Dean a look.

He shrugged, "I was getting to it."

"I wanna know, why, oh why can he not die?" I sang off key.

"Because he's the devil," Dean gave me a "duh look".

"Or because he's been eating to many MacDonalds,"

I was trying so hard not to think of Jo and Ellen's death. The guys looked tired and I knew they needed a rest.

"Where're we going next?" I asked fiddling with a piece of my hair.

"Who can say?" Dean shrugged again.