Chapter Text
“Home, I stay
I'm in, come in
Can you feel my hips
In your hands
And I'm laying down
By your side
I taste the sweet
Of your skin
Take off your clothes
Blow out the fire
Don't be so shy
You're right
You're right
Take off my clothes
Oh bless me Father
Don't ask me why
You're right
You're right
In my heart dress
Raise so much faster
I drawn myself in holy water
And both my eyes
Just got so much brighter
And I saw God
Oh yeah so much closer
In the dark
I see your smile
Do you feel my heat
On my skin”
(Imany- Don’t be so shy)
Dean Campbell was drawn to churches. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the Blade’s desire to connect with its divine roots. Or maybe it was Dean’s twisted, inner masochist who wanted to test his luck and feel the shivers on his skin which only hollow ground caused. Or maybe it was the people who went to church. Dean loved to sit among them, no one knowing that the Devil the dear Father was preaching about was sitting among his precious sheep. Dean loved to sit in the back of the church and observe people. Being a Knight of Hell gave him the ability to read people’s minds to some extent. He knew who was sleeping with the nanny and who was taking the ADHD medication prescribed to their child. It was exhilarating, seeing all those people act so high and mighty when in reality they were all deviants. It was like a personal peep show for Dean.
Unfortunately, after some time it got boring. Same faces, same sins. Run of the mill people just weren’t versatile enough for Dean’s taste. So he moved around. A lot. Usually right after thinning the herd a bit. Taking the worst deviants to the only place they really belonged, down below. One might think it was because there was still a drop of humanity in Dean which made him only kill the worst of the worst; rapists, murderers and pedophiles. But that wasn’t the case.
During his killing spree throughout the Midwest Dean had developed a liking to human blood. He had tried different types; children, virgins, whores and priests. All ends of the spectrum and quite many in between. But he had noticed the type that got him going the most were murderers. People who had taken someone else’s life. Who had felt like a God when they had watched the life leaving their victim. Who had held someone else’s faith in their hands. That type of blood excited Dean the most, just the thought of it made him grow hard inside his jeans. That kind of blood was the best, it tasted salty and exciting and it made his skin tingle and jolts of electricity run up and down his spine. It was like his own, personal heroin.
He had once drank the blood of a man who had killed seven children and raped three of them. Dean had kept the man alive for a week, feeding off of him, barely leaving the abandoned house he was occupying back then. He had been so high his cock had been hard for almost a week straight and he couldn’t make his eyes green even though he had tried. They had been constantly solid black. The demon in him had felt like it was on fire, burning his insides in the most fascinating way. He had taken it all out on the man, raping him and feeding off of him the whole week until the man had become so weak from loss of blood and being starved that he was no use to Dean anymore. He had sliced the man’s throat and left him choke to death in the pool of his own blood, not caring to witness the grim ending of a grim being.
But now it was new town and new church for Dean. He had been driving around aimlessly, fucking and killing a couple of prostitutes as he went. When he had felt bored, he had taken the next exit off the main road that seemed like it might lead him into some sort of a town. It wasn’t a big place, maybe 50,000 inhabitants combined but the churches! Dean’s mouth had almost watered as he had driven through the town. There seemed to be a church on every corner. Dean grinned triumphantly to himself. He had hit the jackpot. The more churches usually meant the more deviants in need of salvation.
He chose the only motel in the good side of town. That was the problem with good neighborhoods; they tended to have nice hotels and no motels. But Dean liked motels. He didn’t like the staff keeping too much an eye on what he was doing or where he was going and he liked the low lifes infested in those kinds of places; drug dealers, hookers and what not. So he paid for his room and went for a drive. He would choose the closest church he could find. He preferred the good side of any town because of its effect on the church goers; rich folk tended to have much juicier secrets than their poorer counterparts and they hid it better. Dean had always been a sucker for a good challenge.
He drove pass a fancy looking church, all arches and gargoyles and shit that screamed ‘money, money, money!’. Dean parked his precious ’67 Chevy Impala to the church parking lot and got out of the car. At the front door it had said that the evening service would be held at 7 pm, so he still had some time. Dean leaned against the Impala, taking a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket and flipping one between his lips. He lit up the cigarette and just stood there, lost in his thoughts. Dean blew out smoke rings and watched them disappear into the darkening night.
Suddenly something caught his attention. A man came out from the back door of the church. He was wearing a long, black priest gown that clearly did no justice to his nice figure. Dean’s eyes lingered on the perfect shoulder-waist-ratio the man seemed to possess. The priest went to the dumpsters behind the church to throw away the garbage bag he was carrying in his hand. As he turned to go back in, he saw Dean leaning against the car. The priest smiled to Dean, his hazel eyes warm and welcoming and the dimples on his cheeks popping. He had a shoulder-length, brown hair that the evening sun reflected off, making the man’s hair look like it was dipped in amber.
The priest went back inside and Dean flicked his cigarette away. “Well hello there, Father”, he said to himself and started walking to the other side of the building, humming ‘Hey Jude’ contently. So far this church seemed like an excellent pick.
***********
When the people started to flow in, Dean was already seated in the back row of the church. He barely managed to stop the devilish grin from forming on his lips as he observed the people that came inside. An adulterer. Addicted to painkillers. A shoplifter. Didn’t call the ambulance in time so his 80-year-old husband died of a heart attack and she inherited millions. Dean smiled to himself. Yes, this would be a lot of fun.
As the service started Dean was pleased to see the handsome priest from before. He walked behind the pulpit and the small chatter in the church quieted. As the priest started speaking about the Word of God or whatever, Dean had excellent time to observe him. Then he noticed something that made him sit up more and stare at the priest more intensely. He tried to read the man’s mind to find out what kinds of filthy secrets was the man of God hiding but he couldn’t. Usually when Dean went through people’s minds, it was like an Internet page with lot of pop up adds; he got a lot of information he didn’t need nor want but it was rather easy to block out the unwanted thoughts and focus on the more interesting ones.
But when Dean tried it on Father Sexy, he got nothing. Just some feelings and even they were mild. Dean bit his lower lip, focusing all his powers on the man but the only thing he got out of it was a bleeding lip. The priest’s mind was like a radio that was stuck in between stations, only white noise coming out of it. Dean was perplexed. He had never experienced anything like that before. He was a Knight of Hell for fuck’s sake! No human was immune to his powers.
Dean sat on the edge of his seat for the rest of the service and when it ended, he remained in the church until the last people were shaking hands with the priest at the door. Dean joined the small line, staring at the priest who was now shaking hands with an elderly lady, smiling like he actually enjoyed spending time with these people. Dean grimaced. He was feeling anxious, he wanted to get closer to the man, stare into those hazel eyes and find out all of the priest’s dirty secrets. Dean was tapping on the ground anxiously with his right foot, swearing to some unknown deity that he would rip the throat out of the sweet old lady in front of him if she didn’t move her ancient ass so Dean could get face to face with the gorgeous man.
Then at last. Dean was the last person on the line and as he stepped forward he was finally face to face with the hazel-eyed priest. The man smiled to Dean. “Hello! I don’t think we have met before, are you new to the church? I like to think I know everyone who comes here personally”, the priest said. Dean smiled, a slow smile that he had perfected to trap his prey. All the women and most of the men were powerless before it. “Well yes, Father, I most certainly am new, how nice of you to notice. I just moved to town and word on the streets is that this is the best church around, thanks to its caring Father I dare to bet is none other than the one standing right before me”, Dean said, his voice rough and tempting and dangerous like venom dripping from snake’s teeth. The priest didn’t seem to be taken aback though, Dean noted to himself. Interesting.
The priest offered his hand for Dean to shake and smiled, a genuine wide smile that lit up his whole face. “Well they might be exaggerating a bit, even though I must say I am very dedicated to my church and the people who come here. I’m Father Winchester”, the man introduced himself. Dean took the man’s hand and shook it. “Very nice to meet you, Father Winchester. I’m Dean Campbell”, Dean said and stared the priest in the eyes. Usually skin contact amplified Dean’s powers and made it easier for him to get inside people’s heads. But even that didn’t work with Father Winchester. Dean felt very uneasy. He fought the urge to latch onto Father Winchester’s neck and suck out all the sweet nectar that was pumping in the man’s veins. Blood never lied.
“Nice to meet you too, Dean. So you think you might become one of our regulars?” Father Winchester asked, smiling ever so friendly. Dean decided to play this game. He liked challenges anyway. His smile was sultry and he ran his tongue over his lower lip before answering, feeling satisfied when Father Winchester’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue. “Most certainly, Father. I was very impressed of what I just saw inside and I’m very excited to see more of your… services”, Dean kept a meaningful pause between his words, eyeing the good Father up and down, eating him with his eyes in a way that could not have gone unnoticed by the priest. To Dean’s disappointment the only reaction he got out of the priest was a raised eyebrow.
“Well that is very nice to hear! We have morning service every morning at 10 am and the evening service is 7 pm but I must say, the evening service has been much more popular. And on Sundays we have the mass of course”, Father Winchester said, putting his hand in his pocket, digging around a bit until he handed Dean a slightly wrinkled pamphlet that had all the church’s information in it. Dean took it and put it his pocket. “It was nice meeting you, Father”, Dean said, putting the emphasis on the word ‘Father’, making it sound like a dirty word. Dean was pleased to see the Father licking his lips. A nervous gesture the man himself was probably not even aware of. ‘Good, he’s not totally unaffected’, Dean thought to himself.
“Likewise, Dean. I hope to see more of you in the services”, Father Winchester said, his gaze going so quickly to Dean’s lips and back to his eyes that an ordinary human wouldn’t have noticed it but Dean was no ordinary human. Hell, he wasn’t even an ordinary demon. So Dean smiled and nodded to Father Winchester. “Most certainly, Father Winchester”, he said, giving the man one last good look up and down before descending the stairs and walking to his Impala. Dean smiled contently to himself. He didn’t need to look back to know Father Winchester’s eyes were on him the whole way to the car.