A Demon With An Existential Crisis

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  • Publiceret: 13 jun. 2016
  • Opdateret: 13 jun. 2016
  • Status: Igang
This story is told from the perspective of a demon. This particular demon is an addict, and seems to question things much more than other demons. Things kinda turn around when suddenly Crowley, King of Hell, turns up and shit just got worse. The Winchesters are also definitely involved, which can't be good. How will things turn out for this demon?


1. AA For Demons

This is the story of my life. Who am I? More like WHAT am I? No one special. No one you need to worry about at least. Unless of course you've got business with me.
  My problems aren't your business either, darling. Whatever drinking problem I have is not for you to worry about. It is for me though.
  "I thought we had a deal!" I hissed. The man looked at me, almost as though he pitied me. I stood in the middle of a gravelly crossroads at twilight. He seemed slightly curious as well. "We do," he said calmly. A few seconds of silence and no response fell. He then reached into his jacket, pulled out a blood-bag (what a curious thing to keep in your pocket) and threw it to me. I caught it and opened it. I gave him a silent look. Then I let some of the blood drip on my finger and licked it off. I closed the blood-bag and seemed to be thinking about something.
  "What's it for?" He asked. His curiousity had finally gotten the better of him. "That's none of your business," I said harshly and cut him off. "Give me the rest," I replied after a bit. He still seemed curious and gave me a slightly annoyed glare before he popped open the trunk in his car and pulled out a big duffle-bag. He threw it to me. "There you go," he said. I smiled satisfied, then walked over and kissed him. I put something in the back of his trunk and walked back to the car I had arrived in myself.
  For a moment we looked at each other and his eyes changed for a second and went completely black. I winked at him with as much sarcasm as I could muster, got in my car and drove far away from that place. I could've easily gotten away from there a lot faster, but I needed a place to keep my duffle-bag and privacy. Privacy seemed very good right about now.
  I found an empty parking lot a couple of hours away and parked the car in the shadow. I reached inside my jacket to pull out the hospital-ly blood-bag he had given me. I opened it and stared at it with a deep lust lurking within me. I felt something dark within me. Darker than my soul. I sighed deeply.
  I lifted it up to my lips and slowly started draining it all into my mouth. I felt the sweet sensation of the blood slide down my throat. I felt things I never had before. Or to be more precise: I felt something.
  Creatures like me can't feel. We don't have that within us. It isn't as much because we can't feel. We just don't want to. We simply just don't care. We can feel anger as I had earlier when I hissed at the demon. Because that's what he was. I gazed up slightly and looked in the little mirror in front of the driver's seat slightly above my head. At first I could see two hazel pools of life stare back at me. They were rather beautiful. Then something happened. I blinked and the image changed. Suddenly there were two cold black eyes of darkness staring at me instead of the lively hazel ones.
  I stared at them for a while, but then turned my gaze back to the blood-bag. It was human-blood. I could feel the sweat drip from my forehead and my body writhe in pain. But what a sweet pain. I knew that meddling with human-blood like this was dangerous, but I was hooked. I had a severe drinking problem. I was an addict and my burden was fresh warm human-blood.
  There should be a rehab for demons. Other demons would probably find this revolting. They'd take advantage of it. Some demons think it makes you weaker. Mostly because it makes you feel. I heard some ridiculous stories about the King of Hell as well. That he too was an addict like me. Not that it matters though.
  I have to say that taking this stuff ain't easy. It makes you more human. Apparently the Winchesters drugged him. It was painful as... well, you get it. It hurts a lot. If a normal person drinks demon blood, it can affect them. Make them stronger. Darker. Which is what happened to one of the Winchesters. It didn't grant him his abilities. It just boosted them. Made them go more dark side. Pretty effective too.
  But anyway. Here I am. Downing 0,50 liters of blood like it's nothing. Well it kinda is to me. "Hello, darling," a voice suddenly said, causing me to jump in my seat. I looked to the passenger-seat, only to find the King of Hell sitting in it. I got a bit nervous. What was he doing here? "C-Crowley," I said, still in shock. "What are you doing here?" I asked and tried to cover up what I had just been doing. But to no avail. He had apparently already noticed. Kinda hard to cover it up when you have blood dripping from your chin and a blood-bag in your hands.
  Crowley smiled knowingly and with a certain charm he always possessed. I wanted to punch him in the face for that smug look, but it wouldn't do me any good. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and put the bag away shamefully. I then continued to stare at him. "What do you need?" I asked. "Still drinking blood like some vampire are ya, love? I know of something a lot more effective," he said.
  I looked at him curiously. More effective? He nodded, and took something out of his pocket. A syringe. "You mean human drugs? That's not half as effective," I said. He shook his head impatiently. I felt a bit uncomfortable.
  "Human drugs? That's for weak mortals," he replied with that British accent of his. "I've got something really special for you," he continued. He left me kinda in discomfort. I didn't know what he had planned. Crowley is after all the King of Hell. He has even made deals with the Winchesters himself, which is way more than what I have achieved.
  But back to the conversation. I was speechless. I mean, drinking human blood doesn't affect a demon, it just made ME feel something. Or I tried to. I had started to doubt myself. I was a cocky son of a biscuit, but I stayed neutral. And I don't know why the blood seemed to attract me.
  "That's very thoughtful, but I don't need it," I answered. "Are you sure?" He asked. "Look, I'm neutral during this fight, and I'd like to stay that way," I replied. "It would make me very happy," he said. I hesitated. Why was he doing this? What kind of blood was in the syringe?
  Since I didn't say anything, Crowley decided to continue. "This is very special blood," he said. "I looked down at the syringe in his hand. "Blood of what?" I asked him. He seemed to think it over, as if he wasn't sure if he'd tell me. "Of WHO, you mean," he corrected me.
  I looked at him. He had a smirk on his face. "Who? Whose blood is it? What makes it special?" He smiled triumphantly, as he seemed to have gotten my attention. Dumbass.
  "This is the blood.." he said with a dramatic pause. I shifted in my seat impatiently. "...of Sam Winchester," he finished. My jaw dropped. Wow yeah. That would definitely make it special. I stared at it in disbelief. How did he get it? Sam Winchester, the true vessel of Lucifer, is a hunter and a damn good one. He's always with his brother Dean.
  I bit my lip, thinking about it. Then I forced myself to look at Crowley again. The human blood on the floor of my car didn't seem half as interesting anymore. "But why me?" I asked. He smiled again. Seemed to do that a lot. "You've got connections. You're very useful to me, so I arranged something. You're more valuable than you realize," he said. He sounded like a salesman. But he was after all a crossroads demon. "Hopefully that answers it. I can explain further later or I could of course keep it, if you don't want it. It would be such a shame, wouldn't it?"
  I hated this guy. He was incredibly manipulative. But all demons were. "No!" I yelled. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Going once.. going twice..." he continued. "I'll take it! I'll help!" I said quickly. "Sold! To this lovely demonlady!" He smiled and raised his arm slightly, moving the syringe towards me. "What do I do now?" I asked. "Sit still," he said.
  He then stabbed me in the arm with the syringe and injected the blood of the Winchester into my veins. "Give it some time," he said. I nodded. It didn't take long before it kicked in. And when it did it was not what I expected. Incredible pain surged through my body, causing me to writhe and jump in my seat.




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