It was pathetic really, watching the kid slowly choke on his own blood as he bled out in the middle of the forest, all alone.
It had been quite a show though. The kid had decided that he'd be a hero and led the Alpha pack away from his own pack of werewolves. What he hadn't accounted for was that he wouldn't be making it through the night alive.

A choked cough drew the demon closer to Stiles's weakening body, curiosity taking the better of the demon. Should he possess the boy? Gain a new vessel? Or should he leave him to die and let all his little doggy friends find his lifeless body.
It had been quite a while since he had a body to claim as his own, the temptation was almost too great to ignore. Though, something was nagging him at the back at his mind. A dark feeling lingered, leaving him feel uneasy despite being one of the devil's children and he shouldn't even be capable of these feelings.

"P-please." The demon swirled around, it's smokey form twisting around itself as he stared at Stiles in surprise.
"You can see me?" He had heard stories of other demons being called out to by dying humans, but he'd never once believed, having not ever seen or experienced it in his 400 years of existence.
Blood dribbled from the corner of Stiles's lips and down the side of his face as he weakly coughed, his body starting to finally give up on fighting. "Just do it."
The demon floated closer to the boy. "You'll have no control of your body unless I let you. You'll die when I move on."
Stiles looked at the black smoke hovering above him with hooded eyes. "I'm dying now, aren't I?" He sarcastically spat, groaning as pain shot up his body from the large claw gash on his stomach.

The demon hummed, ignoring the sarcastic tone of the boy as he continued to determine if he would possess the body or not. It shouldn't be such a hard decision, but the feeling at the back of the demon's mind halted him more than what he liked to admit.

A movement out the corner of his sight caught the demon's attention and he swirled around only to come face to face with a supernatural being that he was truly afraid of, a reaper.
Though they only take souls into the afterlife, the demon couldn't help but be afraid of the wrinkled old being staring at Stiles. The boy stared back at the reaper in horror, his mouth open in a silent scream.
"N-no. Please!" He all but screamed, looking up at the black smoke with panic stricken eyes. Seeing the reaper meant that he was almost at his end and the boy must have done his research to know what a reaper was in the first place.

Turning back to the old man in the pristine black suit, the demon swirled around, moving himself between it and Stiles. "The boy's mine." He stated simply to the man. He bowed his head to the demon, taking out his pocket watch as he did so and tapped it with a long bony finger.
Then, he was gone.

Stiles would have sighed in relief if it weren't for the fact that he was lying on the forest floor bleeding to death. He glanced up at the black smoke still curling around in the air above him. His vision was starting to blur and the smoke started to fade from his sight.
Accepting that the demon wasn't going to help him, Stiles allowed his eyes to slide shut.

If he wasn't going to help, Stiles would rather not look at the smoke as he took his last breaths.

"Fine."

Opening his eyes in confusion, Stiles almost jumped with how close the smoke was to his face. Without permission, the demon worked it's way through Stiles's lips and down his throat. The boy coughed voilently, his throat burning as the demon forced itself into his body, making him it's new home.
Then, he felt disconnected. He couldn't feel the pain anymore. He couldn't feel the ground underneath him, couldn't feel his arms or legs, couldn't feel the clothes on his body or the blood sticking to his skin. It was like he lost all sense of touch.

Trying to lift his hand, Stiles found that he couldn't.

"What?"

The words didn't leave his lips despite that he spoke it. It came out as a thought.

The demon laughed at Stiles's confusion. "I told you, you'll have no control over your body." It stated with a mocking tone, inspecting the back of the human boy's hand. He flicked a bit of dried blood off the knuckle with a sigh.

He could hear the wolves running through the trees, howling loudly as they searched for their fragile little human. Stiles heard the wolves too and he made a small sound, surprised that he had enhanced senses.
The demon ran a hand over Stiles's stomach, feeling the skin stitch itself back together under his fingertips. The shirt was completely ruined though. The bruises on his arms and legs were already faded and the movement under his skin along his shoulder indicated the healing of his broken shoulder blade.
He'd be sore for a few hours, it was always like this when he took over a new body just as the soul was dying. He's used to it.
Taking a deep breath, the demon closed his eyes and began to dig through Stiles's mind.

"Am I going to at least find out your name?"

The demon smirked, his eyes still closed as he continued his little digging, curious as to what lurked in his new vessel's mind.
Lost his mother at a young age, blames himself for the ordeal. Goes by Stiles rather than his real name. His father is the sheriff of Beacon Hills. Best friend was bitten by Peter Hale, the Alpha Wolf, when they were sixteen. Was offered the bite multiple times, refused. Helped kill said Alpha and now Derek Hale, Peter's nephew, is the Alpha. Fought against the Kanima which turned out to be a classmate who had been bitten by Derek though didn't fully transform into a werewolf. Was in love with some girl since he was a child until she declared her undying love for the Kanima boy. Depression, hidden behind laughter. Such a fragile, lonely human.

"Samuel. Call me Sam though."

"Okay Sam, what's the plan?"

Stiles cackled with laughter at his unintended rhyme and Sam rolled his eyes. He was already getting sick of Stiles's voice at the back of his head. Just five minutes ago, the boy was choking on his blood on the verge of death and now he's already chattering away.

"Don't have one." The demon simply stated, pulling the bloodied shirt up over his head and discarding it to the ground.
Stiles made a protesting whine with some mumbling of his favourite shirts always being ruined.

"I just saved your ass from a reaper and you're complaining about a ruined shirt?"

"Yeah well, I have pretty weird priorities."

Sam scoffed in amusement. "No shit."

A twig snapped behind them and Sam turned the two around, his eyes turning black in instinct to attack. Though, when a startled deer peered around a tree, Sam relaxed and allowed his eyes to return to hazel.
"Jeeze, jumpy." Stiles muttered as Sam ran a hand through his hair. Stiles hadn't been bothered cutting it in his usual buzz cut and it currently flopped loosely over his forehead, the gel he had put in it earlier having lost it's strength.

"Why do you humans bother all that hair product shit? When I was your age, we were more concerned about where our next meal was coming from." Sam spat, suddenly overcome with nostalgia and bitterness. Memories of his human life suddenly swarming him uninvited. "You're all ungrateful little shits who don't care that you get to have an education, that you can go out and buy whatever the hell you want. It sickens me so much."
Stiles was oddly quiet as Sam ranted, making the demon even more angrier. "Got nothing to say? I just saved your life and there's not even a 'thank you'?"

"Stiles?"