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Spunk And Red Hair, Leather And Love

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Went running through Hell in a brand new meat suit, all spunk and red hair, leather and sin, the newest monarch. With the rise of The Queen came promise, promise of slavery! Promise of pain! It seemed more demons had fallen for the marvelous knight than angels had from heaven in the past millennium. She had made a point to prematurely collect hundreds of the souls Crowley had laid claim on herself and was now back in Hell, confident in her power. All she knew of Crowley was that he was lost in another no-tell motel after her double agent betrayed him. He was probably alone laying on a musky floral duvet, staring up at a popcorn coloured ceiling, strung out from his last fix. Was it the blood of a saint? Perhaps the blood of a prostitute, with a lace of methamphetamines.

 

Abaddon was not simply taking a stroll through her kingdom on this day, she was scouting. She had not built any perfect squire yet, so why not when she had a moment free? She had picked a few human souls, did with them as she wished, tested them, but they had all broke. The humans could not handle the process to become a demon it seemed, not this quickly. An old rumor had struck The Queen then, one from the piece of time she had omitted when she was chasing Henry Winchester. She skipped through the dungeons, skipped past broken limbs and shattered minds, merrily on her way. She heard of a certain prisoner that had sold off her soul to Lucy’s firstborn in exchange for the murder of her parents. Excitement was pulsing through her suit’s veins, just imaging-

 

The Queen stopped short in her tracks, who was this girl? Petite and curvy, hair matted and bloody. Abaddon was one ‘Hell’ of a sinner, in most every aspect. Who were they kidding when some devout man said no women could lay with another woman? Angels may not encounter lust, though it was one of Abaddon’s favorites. She turned on her heel, walked forward, and brought her pointer finger to the girl’s chin to caress.

 

“My my, what do we have here?” She started. The squire could wait, after all there was all of eternity to find the perfect decaying soul. Abaddon just stared and held the girls chin until there was a pleading moan for her to leave, to not torture her, to not take from her. She had been held up by hooks in her shoulders and shackled by each limb. It was a sight that would usually bring Abaddon the deepest joy, someone being so broken, so shattered, so alone. Though The Queen of Hell let out no giggle, no endearment towards whoever it was that set this girl out to rot.

 

“What is your name?”

 

“B-Bela Talbo-t” An accent? gorgeous to the eyes /and/ in the ears. Abaddon smirked.

 

“And how did you lose your soul to me?” Shock spread through Bela, whoever this was now owned her, for the rest of eternity. She couldn't find it to care if she was bought or Hell was overthrown, or even if this was mental torture, it was all the same to her. The piece of her that still burned did roar though- maybe she could cut a deal with her newest capture.

 

“I sold my bloody soul for the murder of my parents.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I wanted their money, Bob’s your uncle.” That’s when Abaddon finally clicked together the girl she was hunting for and the piece of art in front of her.

 

“You can’t lie to me… Abbie.” Abaddon then took her lingering finger and pulled on Bela’s chin until they made eye contact. This was usually the part that drove those on the brink mad. This was the part Abaddon showed her true self through the eyes of flesh she wore like a dress to the prom. This was not supposed to be the part where her whole world was tainted with what a hit of this human’s blood must be like. Something was so different in the eyes she gazed into than she expected. There was so so much, there was a million of every emotion, buried so deep, so well.

 

Bela noticed this quickly and began to plead, to make a deal. She offered to kill the Winchesters, she offered to torture other souls stuck in Hell herself, she offered to do anything Abaddon wanted to be let free. All of this just went in one ear and out the other- Abaddon becoming weak with need. The Queen wanted more of this feeling, and she knew how to get it. She snapped her fingers, and there was a syringe. Blood was being pulled from a screaming Bela, and soon being pushed into a soothed Queen. Fingers were snapped again, and Bela was let free. Her shoulders no longer pierced by hooks, her limbs no longer shackled, all her wounds healed and blood cleaned.

 

“I am Abaddon, the Queen of Hell.” She spoke as she looked into Bela’s eyes, lost in the humanity of her soul.

 

“Th-thank you for letting me down.” Bela found it in herself to stumble out. She was obviously afraid, and Abaddon regretted frightening her, letting her rot in her cells. Whether it be a case of Stockholm Syndrome or not, Bela was surprised by how entranced she was by her capture. She had watched this demon's soul change, she saw it in her eyes. She did not care if this was fake- just another form of torture, to give her all she ever wanted and then take it away- she was going to let herself get lost in it while she had it.


Abaddon let Bela go free, to prove her love for her. Though it was not long until Bela lit the match that summoned her Queen. She would have nightmares that it was all intricate mind torture and it was all coming to an end, but then she would wake up to spunk and red hair, leather and sin, and everything was alright, at least for another moment. The Queen gave up her throne once her love returned, gave it up to Crowley, cut a deal that Bela and herself were safe from all demons, knowing that he never went back on a deal. The Winchesters were baffled that she just fell off the map, though they did not look for her, why kick up settled dirt?