"I can't believe I'm doing this..." Crowley thought to himself as he held the syringe of human blood. He injected it into his skin, feeling the warmth of humanity flow into his veins. It used to hurt, but by now it was an enjoyable pain. He was a sort of masochist like that. But then again, who in Hell wasn't?

He couldn't believe it. He was a junkie, a human blood junkie. "I'm like a reverse Moose." Crowley mused bitterly as the last of the blood worked its way out of the syringe and into his system. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Sam. Why did the boy have such faith in him? See a good in him that didn't exist? That couldn't be? "I saw your humanity that night, I know that part of you's still there..." Honestly, how could he of all people suddenly be so idealistic when it came to the demon?

And why did Crowley want to live up that?

He'd been fighting it since the boys dragged him to The Treehouse. Hell, he'd fought it since he was stuffed in a trunk. But there was this tiny part of him that was human. That still sought forgiveness from the boys, from Castiel, from Kevin, even from God. But mostly Sam. That part of him seemed strongly, strangely attatched to Sam. It wanted to make him proud.

He would've been lying if he'd said he hadn't been slightly attracted to Sam Winchester before. While most of his "advances" had just been bravado, he admitted Giagantor was handsome (But then again, what creature at this point wouldn't?). But then it was just fleeting lust. Besides, when someone and his brother constantly throw a spanner into your plans, it really kills any and all attraction you might have had.

But now it was different. Now he had a fixation on him. Crowley didn't want to say he'd imprinted on the hunter, but it increasingly felt as though he had. ("Bollocks!" He thought. "I've turned into a pedophilac werewolf! There's no dignity to be salvaged from that...") He hated that Sam had done that to him. That Sam believed in the "good" in him. That it was always Sam who visited him. That it made him secretly happy when he did.

That was why he was using Kevin's blood. A prophet's blood was sure to be better then that of a man fresh from confession. (At least, he assumed that was the hiarchy...) He was hoping it could finish the job. Cure him. Make it all stop.

Make him worthy of Sam.

Sure enough, the cause of all his annoying angst had to visit. Sam had concern in his eyes. ("Concern for me?" Crowley thought. "That's new...") "Moose..." he said, using the poker face he'd more or less perfected. "Crowley..." Sam said, actually pulling up a chair. "You're planning on sticking around a while? Be still my heart..." Crowley replied snarkily. Sam didn't reply, continuing to wear his sad puppy face.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked. Quite sincerely, Crowley noted. Did he... Did he know? "I'm as fine as a jailbird can be, Sam." He retorted. Sam slid back his chair.

"Fine. But just to let you know, Crowley, I go through this "nothing is wrong, I have nothing to tell you" thing with my brother all the time. I'll keep asking until you tell me..."

Crowley smirked. "I'll be looking forward to it, Moose..." Sam got up and headed for the door. "You really expect too much of me, Sam..." Crowley caught himself saying. Sam paused with his hand on the doorway. He sighed. "Maybe I do, Crowley. Maybe I do..."

As soon as the door closed and Crowley was sure he was alone, he slammed his fists on the table and buried his head in his hands.

"Sam Winchester, you're going to be the death of me..."

~0~

A/N So, yeah, this was kind of an experiment/practice for me. I've never really written a straight up shipping fic before. Plus, I wanted to put more Mooseley fics into the web. There are not enough Mooseley fics out there. Gotta show my strange ship some love! *ahem* Not to sound needy, but please feel free to critique... I'd really appreciate it... Well, carry on, my wayward companions... -CH