Sam,

I think that this is possibly the first time I have called you anything but Moose – let's just have a moment of silence to bask in this glorious moment.

You don't actually look anything like a moose, you know? Okay, I'm lying, but what can I say; a few drops of purified blood still can't make a leopard change his spots. Or maybe they can, seeing as I'm writing this letter in the first place.

You'd think I'd be better at condensing my ideas onto a piece of paper, considering that I've written so many twisted contracts - but with you, I just can't gather my thoughts together. The mere mention of your name, and I turn into some giggling fifteen-year-old schoolgirl. Tell me how you do that, I'm begging you – how do you end up being my one, sole weakness? It drives me insane, more insane than I already am.

I miss my humanity, Sam. I miss giving a fuck about people and what they think and how they are – I miss feeling. When I was first sent to Hell, it was awful. I was a Nobody with a capital N. Everyone felt the need to walk all over me – and they did, and there was no one there at the end to pick me back up and tell me that things only got worse. But worse they did get. I thought death would be a relief, but it wasn't – it was so much worse. It was a living nightmare that didn't end, and after centuries I finally realised that the only person who could make things better was me.

So I did. And now look at me – I went from being a Nobody to being the King of Hell. I thought I loved it, having that much power. I had the entire Underworld at my feet, and I could do to them whatever I wanted. If I said jump, they would build a fucking trampoline to please me. I was a god in my own right, and I made sure everyone knew it – knew that I could, and would do unto them what was done to me.

But I didn't love it, Sam – I'd forgotten the meaning of the word until you came along. I didn't realise at first that what I felt to you was, in fact, love. I just knew that I felt this strong, strange attraction to you. Why do you think I hounded you for so long? I had bigger fish to fry, but you were my only concern.

I saw the way your brother and that smarmy angel were together – how close they were; how much they cared for one another. Sam, I wanted that with you. I wanted you to see past my flaws and my demonic soul and realise that somewhere, deep down, I could mean something to you.

God, that sounded cheesy, excuse my French. I loved you Sam – love you – and as we worked against each other to complete these trials, the feeling only grew. We've always been on opposing sides, and I wanted that over. That's why I asked for a surrender. Wouldn't it look out of character if I pledged my allegiance to you and simply backed down? I knew what I was getting myself into when I came to you with the tablet. You and your brother thought you'd trapped me well and good, but I could have gotten out of it. There isn't a trap big enough to ensnare me.

I wanted you to save me. Not only was I sick and tired of Hell, but I wanted you to see me in a different life. And you began to, didn't you, Samuel? As you injected me with more of your blood, you saw the demonic side of me peel away and slowly, slowly, my humanity was restored. Nearly entirely, until it all went wrong.

Angels. Why have we decided that they are the good guys, when they cause us nothing but trouble? On those terms, I'd make a pretty good angel, don't you think? And I nearly was one, wasn't I, until you began dying. Or continued to die, whichever way you see it. Nevertheless, you had to stop, and as I write this now, I can already feel that glimpse of humanity dying.

I'm the King of Hell, darling, and I am in love with you. Through your efforts, I can now feel that love within me, burning bright like the fiery depths of my kingdom. I may not be going to Heaven, and maybe this ability to feel won't last – but you made it possible, even just for a bit, and for that I am eternally grateful. And believe me when I say that eternity? Well, it is a really long time.

Don't die, Moose. As much as I want you in my bed, I don't think Hell is quite ready for you just yet.

Crowley