QUEEN OF THE CROSSROADS

Just so we're clear, I'm not literally the Queen of the Crossroads, although I should be. I've been serving as a crossroads demon for centuries, not that anyone really noticed, so you can imagine when Crowley rose above the ranks of me, I was pretty upset about it. And when he became the King of Hell? Well, let's just say I was not in the mood to serve him.

My human life was pretty normal. My parents took me to London in the early 1300s, and at the tender age of 23, I died from the Black Death. It was lovely enough, I suppose. if I had known that London was as horrible as the crap little town from the Sahara that I was from, I would have insisted to move back home, but my parents probably wouldn't have listened to me, anyway. I'm not very sentimental about my human life, it wasn't terribly impressive. I'm much more invested in this life.
Being a crossroads demon is, after all, pretty exciting work. I get to travel the world, and meet some very interesting people. My resume is impressive, really. In the 1700s I made more contracts than just about anyone, including that Scottish bastard, but did Lucifer or Lilith reward me? Hardly. Still, I had no choice but to fall in line with the rest of them, for fear of being sent back into hell, and tortured. However foolishly, that fear dissipated when that slimy bag of haggis sat his plump little arse on the throne, and I purposely stopped collecting my contracts. Sure my hell hounds were restless, but the satisfaction of knowing that one day, Crowley would have to address my rebellion was satisfying enough for me. But then his hounds came for me, and I had a sudden realization; I may have to meet the bastard face to face. Eventually I did, and this is what happened.

It seemed like I was imprisoned for decades. I was kept in a dank cell, with no light, not even anyone to talk to. I'd sing show tunes to keep myself from losing myself, but the guards were always bringing me down. As far as I am concerned, I should be on broadway. In fact, that's where I got most of my contracts for a very long time. 10 years is likely how long I was actually, and just a blink of an eye to someone like me. I knew it couldn't have been very long I was down there, because a repeat customer of mine tried summoning me several times. Of course, not even a summon could have released me from my cell.

Finally, the day came when Crowley marched his proud self down from the top of the food chain, to visit little old me. I remember it quite vividly; I was slumped against the wall, hands bound above my head, and frankly, I was more uncomfortable than I had ever been. I was singing a tune from Phantom of the Opera, my usual go-to musical when nothing else seemed to lift my spirits. When the cell opened up, he walked in kind of like he was superior to me (which, technically he was, but my pride would never admit to it), crossed his arms in a huff, and sized up my defiance.
'Guinevere,' he said, quietly.
'Crowley.'
'That's Your Highness to you, my dear.' His voice grated across my ears, and all I wanted was to lash out. But then I would lose my perfect body. I didn't dignify him with a response, but instead held his gaze. He grinned at me, like the stupid little prick he was, as he knelt down to my eye level. 'Fell off the wagon, did we?'
I looked him over, dressed in a ridiculous suit, and a dull tie. It bothered me, so naturally I mentioned it. 'You know, you should get a boldly coloured tie. It would brighten up your look.'
Crowley laughed, but it was dry and humourless. 'Is that so?'
I nodded. 'Maybe try a white suit once. Mix it up a bit.'
'I don't like it when my demons don't collect on their debts,' he said firmly.
I should have backed down, but I didn't. 'And I don't like it when a boy half my age tries to intimidate me.'
He held my glare for a moment, before he stood to pace the tiny shit hole of a cell he stuck me in. 'I've looked a lot into your past. That Plague was something else, wasn't it?'
'It was a riot. People stopped bathing, tired to kill all the witches and the poor kitties, it was good times. Too bad you weren't there to see it.
Crowley chuckled again, and stopped to stand before me. 'Under any other circumstance, I would like you. And I don't usually like Londoners.'
'Yes, well, we don't like you, either,' I said flippantly. I let my head fall back onto the brick wall behind me, closed my eyes. 'If you're going to torture me, then please let us continue this conversation. Otherwise destroy me and get it over with.'
'I have no intentions of killing you, my dear. In fact, I thought I might make a deal with you.'
'Oh, how quaint. My favourite thing!' I still didn't look up to him, but hope had risen inside me, that I might actually escape my containment. I wouldn't dare let him know how badly I wanted out, but of course he already knew I would sign away my soul, if I could.
'I want you to go back topside, and do your job properly,' he finally said.
'Just like that? No hell fire or dogs gnawing at my feet?'
'I find it best to not torture possible allies, before the cross you.'
I finally looked up to him. He stared at me with intensity, and it would have intimidated me had I not been delirious from boredom. 'A possible ally? Why would I align myself with you? You weren't half the demon I was on the crossroad.'
Crowley shrugged, aimlessly looking around the cell. 'I may not have made as many contracts as you, but I had the ambition. The vision to push myself up in the hierarchy that you lacked. Otherwise, I wouldn't have usurped the throne, and it could have been you talking to the rebellious ones in chains,' he narrowed his eyes as he knelt down again before me. 'You and I aren't so different. We're both immortal, very strong demons capable of endless mayhem. So, why would I get rid of someone so much like myself?' 'Fond of yourself, are we?'
'Wouldn't you be?' Crowley grinned, and with a snap of his fingers, my cuffs released me, and my arms fell to my sides. I sat upright, but didn't take his hand when he offered to help me stand.
'Why are you really releasing me?'
'All in due time, Guinevere. Just know that you owe me your entire afterlife.'

So that's the story of how I met Crowley. In a dark, lonely cage he swooped in and saved me, and how I have to be loyal to him, because I am actually terrified of hell hounds. He restored to me my ability to go back up where the people are, which I should be grateful for, because the depravity of Hell is like none other I've ever seen. Which is saying something real, I died from the Black Plague. Too many whispers of rebellion amongst his higher up, and a lot of plotting against him. The price I had to pay for my relative freedom was to inform him of impending attacks or wandering minds, and it was not an easy task. But that is all in the life of a Crossroads Demon.