The church was cold and dark. The polished granite-like stone seemed smooth under his feet as he stood in the massive entry, looking toward the altar, his eyes finally resting on the crucifix.

"Jesus didn't come to give us the willies," he muttered to himself as he dipped two fingers into the Holy Water and blessed himself. "In the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit," He mumbled numbly even as his fingers sizzled from the water.

He walked to the front of the Church and knelt down, a small prayer was said, even as the voice pulled at him.

"Sins are fun, Son, you know this first hand, now. I set you free from that life."

"Son, are you troubled?" Greg blinked from his thoughts and looked up at the other Priest that stared back at him in recognition. "Father O'Malley!" he said as he took the man's hand and shook it. "You've been gone so long, everyone assumed you were dead."

"They weren't far from wrong, and it's just Greg now, okay?"

"You no longer lead the flock, or heed his call?"

"A lots changed since I've been gone, Father Richards. I'm actually here for a confession, if that is okay?" he said, watching the other man's face showing shock and emotion. "You know, you never have to ask, please, follow me."

They walked toward the confessional booths, and Greg shook his head, before a searing pain shot through his brain.

"Going to tell him about slaughtering the Fairies" How about knocking up some girl then leaving her to deal with things alone" Oh, I know, how about how you know who your father is, and it sure as hell isn't God?"

"Go to Hell," Greg growled.

"Pardon me?" Father Richards turned to look his direction, with a puzzled expression.

"Said I don't want to go to hell," he replied.

"Ah," the man smiled as he gestured Greg to enter the booth, while he took his place behind the door.

Greg cleared his throat as he wiped the sweat from his forehead thinking of everything that had happened in his time gone from his home town. How everything had become a tangled mess, love lost, promises broken, secrets revealed. He found it hard to believe himself but he knew that Father Richards would think he was making the whole thing up.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, it has been far too long since my last confession."

"No sh!t." The laughter rang through his mind, causing him to shiver, even in the hot church building.

"Go on, my son," the priest replied.

"Let's start with the big stuff, shall we?"

"Whatever helps you clear your conscience, Greg," was the answer given.

"I've killed many men and women, simply because I could, and I was angry. I started trying to hunt demons to kill them, not just send them to hell, but actually kill them, only to find out that my real father is a demon, not just any demon...no, it's the Lord of the Bottomless Pit."

"Here's daddy!"

There was only silence on the other side of the screen, so he continued.

"I met a woman, and had a lot of sex with her, unmarried, unprotected, and at times carnal, animalistic intensity sex. That sex lead to my Fathering a dark child. One of my bloodline, one of hers, easily the Anti-Christ."

"That's you, the child would have been your second in command."

"Would have been" What are you saying?"

"Dead, gone, deceased, the spark of life was snuffed."

"Greg" What are you saying" That you are the son of Abaddon, and is someone in there with you?"

"No, I am alone, trying to get things straightened out in my head..." he lied. "I've lied, I've cheated, drank, smoked...honestly there isn't much I haven't done."

"Greg, you are delusional, let me call help for you," the priest said quietly. "You aren't the man I knew, you need help."

Greg started laughing then, it wasn't his laugh, but that of the Demon. "No, really' You think I'm f**ked up now, wait til later," he said, still laughing. "Paul, it's been fun but I really have to be going."

He stood then, and shoved the crimson curtain back, taking a deep breath and looking around the church.

"Greg, wait," Father Richards said, then he stumbled backwards grabbing the rosary and holding it tightly, as the blood red, and fiery eyes of his friend stared back at him. "The power of Christ compels you!"

"The power of Christ' It is little more than a tickle, Paul. Show them real power, Greg."

The priest watched his friend's face contort in pain then raise his hands into the air, causing the building to shake, and sending bits of plaster crashing to the floor. The altar was the first thing to burst into flame, then the crucifix. The candles became like flamethrowers, the flames shooting from them more than two feet into the air. The floor started to split, revealing an opening that seemed endless. Parts of the roof started falling to the floor and sliding into the void.

"This is a house of The Lord, Demon," Paul yelled at the top of his lungs, still clinging to the rosary.

"I know, why do you think I'm having so much fun?" he said with a glance at his old friend. "Goodbye, Paul." He watched the man's clothing catch fire, and smiled in delight at the man's screams of pain. "One down, billions to go."

Greg fought the force within him, and ran from the church just as the building collapsed onto itself, and burst into flame. The old wood and mortar unable to stand the force of the demon's power. "You can't use me for this, sh!t," he screamed. "You will be wanted for murder of a priest and a couple of cops.""

There are no cops..." he was cut off, and shook his head.

"Freeze! Hands where I can see them, Now!" The man shouted as he cocked the pistol and his partner did the same with the shotgun. "On the ground!"

"Guys, you should get in the car and go, please."

"Are you threatening us" Take the leg, make him go down, Michaels." He heard the shot, and felt the slug impact his leg, but he didn't move, he didn't drop like they expected.

"You like Alice Cooper?" Another shot to the other leg, he felt the bone shatter, and screamed out, inside. "I am a fan...No More, Mister Nice Guy." The car shook and burst into flames, catching both men on fire, and with a snap of fingers, both necks snapped as well. "I want to go home," said Greg, he was in pain but the demon controlled him.

"Vome urav huyig..." The demon started a chant that would bring Greg to hell, to reign with him as he tried to take over.

"No! I want to go to my home, please. One last time."

"Hell, that's an easy one."

The dust swirled around Greg's feet and then the world went into a spin, and in no time at all he stood in his apartment, looking around and shaking his head. "Seriously, you had to trash the place?"

"I was looking for you."

"How did you find me then?"

"Sometimes you are more powerful than I even imagined, you can block where you are, and disappear in an instant, but I think I've got you now." he told him as he appeared there beside him in the kitchen, wearing a different body than the last one he'd seen. "New suit?"

"It is, you like it?" he said with a spin around. The body now was that of a large, muscular black man. "Can we go now" I'm bored." he sounded like a teenager with no game system or cell phone. "Give me a minute, I want to look around," Greg said as he walked toward the kitchen. He knew by all means he shouldn't be walking, he could feel the blood running from his leg, down toward his shoes, and he knew that in the blood lie the answer, how to win, while losing.

The drawers were pulled out and emptied into the kitchen floor, everything was everywhere, but it wasn't long before he found it. His grandfather's Old Hickory Butcher Knife. He was trying to keep his thoughts to himself, and hoping he wasn't projecting anything.

He sat in the corner of the kitchen, away from the Demon's sight, and slashed that razor sharp knife to the bone of his left wrist, then the same with his right wrist. The pain seared through him like nothing he'd ever felt, even being shot hadn't felt like this.

"In the name of the Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost." He said quietly as he dragged the blade from his palm to the middle of his forearm, staring on the right side, then the left. The blood had already began pooling around him from his legs, but it started flowing from the arteries in his arm, and he let his mind flow just as easily. His vision started fading, and then he saw the face of the black man, twisting with screams of anger and felt his body being shaken, but it was too late.

"No! All the hard work, all the years!? The body went up in smoke as Greg's apartment burst into a fireball, and he forced a slight smile before the remainder of his life drained out through the crosses he'd cut into his wrists.