Emma Swan is tired of the shitty hand in life she has been dealt. Especially regarding abusive foster parents. That's why she foolishly makes a deal with the devil. His name is Regina Mills. What neither of them expects to find along the way in the quest of vengeance is love. Eventual Swanqueen. Demon Au.


A/N: I've fallen down into the deep dark abyss that is the SwanQueen fandom and the only way I can escape is if I write...I swear I always find these good fandoms years later. But anyways, here's an AU story. Consider this story sort of like practice with writing the characters before I delve into more solid works. So constructive thoughts are helpful. Hope y'all enjoy.

The Monster in my Bed

Prologue


Take control, it's now or never- Sick of it, Skillet


God.

He couldn't help her.

She'd tried. No, she'd begged, pleaded, kowtow'ed, bent herself out of shape, spent the last bit of air in her lungs as she had laid on the floor, clutching broken ribs, nose streaming, with skin black and blue, and still she had beseeched and implored that higher power. And still it hadn't been enough. She'd made deals. That she wouldn't eat candy or her favorite food- fries. That she would go to church more often, that she would do more kind deeds for people, but her offers, all that she really could humanely do providing her fragile ten year old body and the societal limitations that came with it, had not been enough to sway him.

So she'd done the only thing she could do; the only option that awaited her. She'd made a deal with the devil. And he had come answering.

After one particularly cruel beating at the hands of her foster father, an illiterate drunk who smelled of piss and cigarettes, she had decided enough was enough. She couldn't stand being powerless. Couldn't stand the bleak future awaiting her. One she didn't ask for. Smearing her whole palm in the blood that had pooled around her head, she made a crude pentagram on the floor. It was something she had seen in the horror films she'd caught a glimpse of her foster father watching. He enjoyed senseless slaughter and the screams of terror of those weak and afraid. Emma didn't understand the pull of such things, but she was on a path to coming to a harsh and cruel understanding.

Than, painfully making her way over to the kitchen for candles, holding her aching sides with one hand, she found the stub of only one and hoped that it would be enough. Shaking limbs helped her down the stairs to the dank cellar called her room. He was gone, out drinking on the stoop, something he always did after he'd stick it to her.

"Don't want you to grow up into a punk," he'd growl at her, toeing a bruise on her stomach with too much pressure. She winced. "Or a slut. I know your type. Blonde bimbos who go running to a man for just a couple dollars."

Emma would never do that. Never. But he never listened to her pleas and eventually they stopped coming to her tongue and she laid there silently as he taught her a lesson.

She hated him.

Hated her life.

Hated all the people around her, blind to his ways, that had never extended a helping hand.

She didn't want to hate, didn't think it healthy for herself to hate. But the emotion was dark and consuming and heady and it felt so good to pour out all her angers and all her failures at life on him.

So she lit the candle, muttered hellish sounding words, and invoked the powers of hell to come get her.

She knew it was something silly she was doing. She knew there was no way it would work. There was no such thing as a higher power; life had proven that people gave and took and nothing could stop them, not even the law much less fictional concepts of deities, from their greediness. And this silly farce of a ritual made her feel better. Made some of the anger in her fade. She fantasized briefly what she could do if it did become true. If it actually worked. She'd punish her foster father for sure. And then...well, she hadn't really planned the rest out well. But money, food, and shelter were something she could use. Because they were all things that didn't come in steady supplies to her.

Her eyes slipped close as she laid down on her back on the wooden and bloodily decorated floor. Images of feasts spread in front of her eyes, as did a nice bed and clothes she could wear without fear of them slipping off of her because of their second hand nature. And maybe school. Yes, she'd go to school. Where she could learn and make friends her age.

"Are you going to lie there long?" A rich, darkly velvet voice filled the air with it's tones.

Emma's eyes snapped open and instantly zeroed on in a new fixture in her shoe box sized room. Sitting on an overturned wooden crate that doubled as Emma's desk and night stand, was a woman. She sat, legs crossed over the other, immaculately dressed in a pencil skirt, black heels, and a shirt and jacket all in the shade of light gray. Her hair was a short brown that trailed down to her jawbone, tips curled up deviously just like her full red lipsticked mouth. Her eyes were dark, so dark in fact, that the pupil seemed to take up all the white.

She had an arched brow, looking down at Emma in amusement. "Who-how-" Emma sputtered out, sitting up quickly, unable to process this. Had her foster father finally fucked up her brain? Had it been one hit too many and now she was hallucinating?

"You called me. So I answered." The woman said this plainly, like it should be apparent.

"Called-?" Emma was still at a loss. The older woman gestured a languid hand at the bloody circle on the floor and the sputtering candle. Emma swallowed dryly as understanding flooded her. She had never expected such a thing to happen- for one of her prayers to go answered. "You're the devil," she said slowly, a mix of fear and awe coursing through her body.

"I prefer to go by the name of Evil Queen. But for human appearances, you may call me Regina."

Emma was still in slight disbelief at her fortune (misfortune?) at actually succeeding in summoning a real life demon. "Are you real?" she couldn't resist from asking.

"I most certainly am," the Evil Queen, or Regina, said a touch haughtily.

"You don't look...like the depictions in horror films."

"Dear, if I showed you my true form you'd shit your pants from fright before promptly dying of a coronary. Besides, the movie's are not at all close to even what we do look like. Our forms are beyond human comprehension." Regina spoke this so assuredly that it sent a shiver down Emma's back. She tried to imagine the most horrid of images and failed. What sight could be so terrifying she'd die?

"But...a businesswoman?"

"I like the look of efficiency." Regina's reply left a lot lacking but Emma let it go, her mind whirling with more pertinent questions.

"And you're here, why?"

"Like I stated previously, you called me. You asked me for help, did you not?"

"I did...but I didn't think it would actually-"

"-work? I'm quite efficient unlike those pesky, lazy, overindulgent angels that God surrounds himself with, like some sort of harem." Disgust filled the Evil Queen's voice.

"So they do exist. Angels. And God?" Emma's ten year old brain was having a hard time keeping up, and the pain in her sore head and body was making it harder for her to focus, making it harder to convince her it wasn't all a part of some dream. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the floor-? But no, she pinched herself and the scene around her did not change.

"Of course they do," Regina snorted contemptuously. "And they wronged you, didn't they?"

Emma nodded her head simply.

"They saw you in pain, they heard your pleas, and yet they refused to do anything to help you. Refused to alleviate the terror of that horrid man the state calls your foster father. They simply watched silently as you suffered, amusing themselves on your plaintive cries." Regina's words were dark, her tone even more and at each word Emma felt a righteous anger fill her.

"That is why I'm here to offer you something that you want." At this Regina hopped off the crate, and stood over Emma. She held out her hand in an offer to help her up and Emma only hesitated a few seconds before latching onto it. The demon's hand was warm and sturdy. Reliable. Regina dropped her head to peer at Emma in keen interest, black eyes boring into Emma's very soul; it was like she could read into her mind, her very wants.

"Power." The single word was a hiss. "You want to be able to take back your life. You want revenge on those who have wronged you. And I can give that to you. You will never again be powerless with me by your side. Do you want that?"

"I do," Emma said resolutely, falling under the willful wiles of the demon. Regina didn't have to try hard to seduce the girl- she was merely a poor child that was frightened and angry and hurting. Those types were always the easiest to get to.

"Then make a deal with me. All you have to do, is sign your soul over to me for a certain amount of time, like a rental, and I'll do anything and everything you want me to." Regina's words were poison, were a sickly sweet promise, and Emma was too young to understand the repercussions of her hasty actions. All she knew was that someone had finally listened to her; had promised to stay by her side.

"You promise you won't leave me?" she asked in a vulnerable voice. Too many people who she had met had left her without a backwards glance.

"I swear to it. You won't ever be able to get rid of me," Regina's smile was positively evil, her words foreshadowing, but Emma was too blinded by the possibilities of a bright future to notice.

"I agree to the deal."

The ground shook, dust fell from the ceiling. Emma looked around in shock. What had caused that?

Regina paid it no mind, still onto business. Her grin was shark toothed, ivory glowing sickly white in the light.

"Excellent. Now give me your hand."

Emma did as asked and Regina cupped the girl's small hand between the two of hers. "This may hurt a bit, but what is a little bit of pain for so much pleasure." The sensation of warmth tingled at Emma's hand. Then it pricked, and burnt, and smoldered, and she let out cries of pain, biting her bottom lip between teeth to try to hold them in. She had learned young not to cry out loud from pain; it was a weakness, let the bullies know they were doing any damage. Yet this pain was nothing like she had ever felt before. It was like her hand had been stuck between live flames and was being electrocuted at the same time.

Her body jerked and she instinctively tried to wretch her arm free but the demon's hold was tight and she only looked on serenely as Emma's eyes leaked big fat tears. Emma didn't ask the demon to stop it because she'd learned by now that people didn't listen to her when she asked them to stop, and besides, Regina had said a bit of pain was needed.

At long last, what seemed like an eternity, the brunette let go and Emma stumbled back a couple of feet away, examining her hand with rapt wonder. On the back of it was an intricate circle with archaic swoops and swirls. It was a clock of sorts and the minute and hour hand were positioned on the spot where the 12 should be.

"What is this?" Emma asked around her tear laced voice and stuffy nose.

"It's a time keeper. It shows how many more years you have me in your service. Each year is one hour passed. This tattoo also allows you to summon me to wherever you are."

Emma had to say the mark was pretty, all in black ink and glistening with a sort of inner glow. "And when I run out of time, what happens? You go bye bye forever?"

"You could say that," Regina's eyes flashed with hidden secrets but her lips imparted no more.

A slamming of a door upstairs made Emma jolt. That meant her foster father had come back from his drinking and was no doubt going to check up on her if she had learned her lesson. Panic flared in her chest. There was a mess on the floors and she had Regina in the room. "Quick, help me clean this all up."

"Clean the blood up?" Regina asked fake innocently, like this was an absurd concept.

"If he sees this on the floor, than he'll hurt me!" Emma pointed at the floor, waving.

"Emma, who are you talking to?" Heavy steps on the wooden stairs alerted her that it would be too late soon and so zipping up her lips, she stood at attention, hands behind her back, trying to seem the very model of a good child.

He came in a second later, his thin hair mussed up and eyes beady and beard wet where alcohol had fallen. "What is all this? Where did this blood come from? Who is this bitch?" He roared suspiciously.

Regina only smiled surreptitiously. "Emma, I think we should clean the mess up now. Starting with him." A loud choked gasp came from his mouth as his feet came up several feet from the ground. He waved his limbs around fruitlessly, eyes bulging in shock. "Now, Emma, tell me where did he hurt you? Where did he like to hit you the most?"

Regina hadn't even lifted a finger but she was radiating some sort of power. Emma could taste it on the air. It tasted like ozone, smelt like fire, and felt like ants crawling over her skin. Her eyes were wide open in astonishment, in curiosity. So this was the sort of power Regina had and that now Emma had as well. Licking her lips, the blonde pointed at his ribs. "He broke my ribs once."

Her foster father shook his head no in wordless horror.

"You heard the lady. It's what she wants." And with a snap of her fingers, there was a sickening sound from the man. His screams were silenced but his mouth fell open anyways, neck veins popping out with the effort of having his pained cries muffled.

It felt good. Good to see him suffering. Powerless against her.

"Anything else?" Regina turned to look expectantly at Emma.

The blonde gave her a shaky little smile. "His heart. He hurt my feelings too often." She clutched her chest in remembrance, and Regina clutched his and suddenly red spray was everywhere in the air. It coated Emma's cheeks but she couldn't care to wipe it away because a soft laugh was bubbling out of her throat unbidden.

"Do it again," she clapped her hands in childlike glee and the Evil Queen was more than happy to comply.

That night anyone who had failed Emma found life failing them as they fell down in red clouds, chest cavities empty, dying eyes losing the last trace of emotion in them.

That same night Emma finally understood why bullies liked hurting others, why the screams of those weaker were so enticing. It felt good to hold the fate of others lives and their futures in their hands. And now with Regina by her side, Emma was going to make sure no one was master of her fate but herself. She wasn't going to allow anyone to ragdoll her around in life anymore.

She was Emma freaken Swan and she was going to take her life back.