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Age to age he stands
And time is in His Hands
Beginning and the End,
Beginning and the End

The Godhead, Three in one
Father, Spirit, Son
The Lion and the Lamb,
The Lion and the Lamb

-Chris Tomlin


Thick smoke spews out of the pit into the dark.

The stink of brimstone fills the night, causing lungs to scream for air and parched throats to thirst for water. Fire burns everything in its path.

"The last seal has been broken! All hail Lucifer, Lord of Darkness, Prince of Evil!"

The chanting swells as the crowd gathers, rioting in the streets, some on their knees in reverence, others screaming and clawing themselves in abandon, still others watch in silent awe at the wondrous sight before them.

They swarm, running, stumbling, falling, towards the majestic figure rising up out of the smoke, wanting to touch the Unholy One, the Omega, the Alpha, the End of Days, the Beginning of Nights,

Once tainted and cast out, Satan has risen, to be worshipped, adored. In the form of man, he has risen to be praised, to take his rightful place in the universe.

One hand lifts and there is silence – the crowd falling down on knees and bellies, crawling towards their Lord, heads bent in adulation. All eyes look down because to have the Lord look upon a face, meet a gaze, is to be engulfed in a swift fiery death.

His large wings flutter in the night, his sapphire eyes cold and lifeless, dripping fangs shine yellow in the glow of the fire that surrounds him. His hand sweeps back, pointed claws hanging from long knuckled fingers on spidery limbs, bony ridges prominent on his forehead and spine.

"BEHOLD" Satan's voice is old, the memories of a thousand nightmares creaking in its timbre, and dead because life belongs only to the light, "MY SON! I give him to you, birth of an unholy womb. Mother Mary and Father John! "

A wing snaps back to reveal a man. He stands alone, imposing in height, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, head held high as he stares unflinching, challenging the crowd, daring anyone to question his power, his magnificence.

Again, His Father's voice booms out, "It was prophesied! My Blood! My Son! Follow Him as you would Me! Obey Him! He is the Lion, the Word! We are One!"

The crowd raises hands to the sky, chanting, "Follow the Son! Follow the Lion!"

Satan smiles, well pleased. He puts a hand on his Son's shoulder, watching as his green eyes turn black and an evil smile slashes across his handsome face.

Dean Winchester is no more. The AntiChrist has Become.