28 years ago

The moonlight cast the abandoned street in an almost eerie light. The small town in Iowa was dead at this time of night, especially under this bridge. The distant hum of traffic could barely be heard due to the man's beating heart. Old sweet wrappers and crisp packets rustled it the night wind as the man stood in the middle of the junction, four dirt roads meeting in the exact spot where he stood. Calming his breathing, he opened the small wooden box, almost like a time capsule. His hazel eyes gazed down at the articles in the box. Bones, blood and a tiny photograph of himself, the edge ripped as if someone else was in it, but never wanted to be shown. He set the box on top of his beaten up pickup truck, the rust on it almost like it had a skin disease. He grabbed a shovel out of the car and began to dig in the centre of the crossroads.

Seconds? Minutes? Hours? He didn't know how long he had been digging. All he knew was that he had to save his wife. There was no other option. If there were, then he would never have done this, but this. This was plan Z. This was if all else failed. The mud pile at the side was growing with every dig. Cold sweat tricked down his back as he pushed his brown hair back. Slowly placing the small box in the hole, he pushed the mud over it and waited, skin paling at every second. Waited.

…

It had been one hour. One hour of pacing on the spot. One hour of worrying, hoping that they would finally show up.

He put his hand in his pocket and clutched the vial for what seemed like the 10th time. His bargaining chip.

Finally giving up hope, he sighed and headed back to the car. He put the shovel in the passenger seat and spun around, hoping to forget that the incident ever occurred.

I'm so sorry Eva. He thought as he spun around and jumped backwards, hitting the car door. Why? For there was a man now there wearing a pure black suit.

…

"You are the one that called me yes?"

"N-no…" the man stuttered as he moved over towards the driver side, ready to drive as far away as he could. But he couldn't, as the man was sitting in the driver's seat, perfectly tailored suit on the faded grey fabric. His eyes flashed red before turning back to normal, a colour that he couldn't see in the darkness. The man could have sworn that he was not there before. This confirmed what he thought when the guy in the suit had first shown up. The crossroads demon.

"That's a load of Bollocks. The name's Crowley. And yours?" He stuck his hand out, as if he was daring the man to shake it. The other man swallowed and shook Crowley's hand.

"Jack. Jack Dixon"

"Well Jack. I'm guessing you know the deal" he stepped down from the pickup truck and faced Jack. "You get whatever you want, I visit you in around about 10 years and ask for a little something in return-"

Jack locked eyes with Crowley, hazel meeting red.

"Don't play games with me Crowley. I-"

"Damn. I love games. Especially the sexual kind"

"I know what you aren't telling me." Jack continued. "Whatever I want for the price of my soul, and in ten years, I become a hellhound chew toy. My father was a hunter, you know. I can exorcize your ass straight to the pit."

Crowley shrugged. "If you knew that and still summoned me, you must have been desperate. So, what is it you want?"

Jack almost choked on words "My wife. She has terminal cancer. Weeks to live, at best. I just want her to get better, to survive, so that she can see our 5 month daughter grow."

Crowley stood up. "Well since you know all of this, I assume you know what must be done to seal the deal?" Jack nodded.

"But, I don't want no hellhounds coming after me. I want forever." Crowley looked over at Jack.

"No can do. It's the rules. And even though I am amazing and also the king of the crossroads, I can't change them. You seem like a decent man Jack, but I can't. Unless you have something that I really want, something worthwhile…"

"Oh but I have" Jack pulled out the small vial, stoppered with an old cork. Inside was a white blue light, almost unearthly. Crowley started at it, and his jaw almost dropped. The light cast the whole scene in a mystical light, until Jack put it in his pocket.

"Where the hell did you get that!"

Found it at an old abandoned warehouse where I used to work. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was something rare, something powerful. So Mr Crowley, our deal? This and my soul in exchange for my wife's health and not becoming hellhound chow, ever?"

Crowley looked between the man and his hand that currently resided in his jacket pocket, as if he was making up his mind. Finally, after almost days of waiting, Crowley nodded.

"It's a deal"

Jack and Crowley sealed the deal on the 1st of January 1986. His wife recovered immediately and that was the last Jack Dixon thought he would ever have to see a demon, or anything out of the ordinary. He was just happy to see his wife alive. No more demons, Jack thought.

Wrong.

…

1 month later

Jack and Eva Dixon looked down at their 6 month old daughter. She waved her fat, chubby fists and smiled a toothless smile. She saw it all.

Eva went downstairs to get another bottle, humming as she did so. She never knew what was happening in her child's nursery.

Blood dripped onto the floor as Jack Dixon cut his palm, and it hit the baby in the mouth. Jack glanced at his child as the blood slowly entered the child's system. His yellow eyes scanned around the room as blood continued to flow into the child.

Drip. Drip. The blood slowly stained the cream sheets around the baby a crimson colour as he looked fully at the child.

"You will be special." He crooned "Stronger, better."

Eva, unknowingly, opened the door to the nursery.

"Jack?" she said

Jack, or what was once Jack Dixon turned around, yellow eyes the only thing to see in the darkness of the nursery.

"Jack isn't home right now." He flung his arm out and Eva was thrown against the wall, like so many women before her. She knew what was happening, to a point. She wasn't a hunter, but she believed in demons, angels, anything supernatural. She knew what this thing was.

"JACK!" she wailed. The demon looked at his knife and plunged it into his heart. He cocked his head and smiled.

"Jack is dead. And you-"he flicked his hand and the woman slowly started sliding up the wall onto the ceiling. The look of panic was evident in her light blue eyes. "You're next" with one swish Eva Dixon was dead. The room was then plunged into red-orange tendrils as the fire grew until the whole house was aflame. Jack Dixon's dream of being forever, him and his wife seeing their daughter grow up was crushed.

It wasn't forever.

It had vanished.

Gone.