A/n: This story takes place in season 4 episode "I Know What You Did Last Summer." So spoilers for that as well as season 3 finale.

Language warning!

This is a POV from the demon Sam had summoned after Dean died.

I don't ownSPN or any of its characters.

Don't Piss Off the Freak Winchester

I didn't know just how short of a stick I had drawn, until I was standing off to the side of the crossroads glaring over at the intoxicated raging bull who also happened to be the youngest of the infamous Winchesters. It was impossible not to smirk at the sight before me. The parents were out of town and the kid had definitely gotten into the liquor cabinet, if you follow what I'm saying. His eyes were puffy with dark purple bags under them that really brought out the bloodshot red.

I watched as the young buck flung a now empty bottle of Bourbon, that had only seconds ago been glued to his lips, at nothing in particular shouting loud enough to wake the dead. I had been kept in the loop of what was going on with the notorious brothers who had made themselves a Hell hold name. They were the talk around the water cooler. It was always "Sam Winchester this" or "Dean Winchester that." I'm fucking sick of it. Who cares if Sam was Azazel's favorite of the demon children? Why make these losers so much bigger and badder than the rest? I thought I'd never hear the end of it.

Then Azazel was killed by none other than who? Oh yeah, Dean fucking Winchester, shocker. I always did think old yellow eyes had a screw or ten loose. Maybe if he hadn't been so obsessed with the youngest Winchester, or any of them for that matter, he wouldn't be dead. I mean, it was only a matter of time. I heard that the older one, Dean, had a real hard on for protecting his family, especially his fucked up little brother. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

But now, brother dearest was roasting on an open fire with Alistair for company and his freak of a sibling was summoning one of us. Lucky fucking me, my name was pulled from the proverbial hat. But whatever the boss wanted, I served him and him only.

I admit it was satisfying to see a Winchester all broken up and desperate. I'd heard about it of course when Dean had shown up looking to bring back Thing 2. But unless you see it for yourself, you don't get that high. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning with a shit ton of presents just waiting to be torn into. Watching him when he had been kicking dirt over the box he had buried in order to summon me, had actually been really amusing. He had looked like a drugged up three legged dog trying to bury a bone.

"I was wondering whether to come or not," I finally call out, directing his attention to the spot I've been watching from. He whirls around with fire in his eyes, but I stand my ground. "I mean, you shot one of my co-workers." I slide the kid a snarky grin to let him know how entertaining I find all this as he makes a B-line for me. His walk needed some work, but his eyes...if looks could kill. Unfortunately for him, they can't. "Don't take this the wrong way Sam but you don't look so hot buddy," I grow serious now as he approaches and I taunt. "I guess burying your brother didn't agree with you." The drunken mess stops and sways a bit unstable, throwing his arms out in what he thinks is an intimidating 'here I am' and what I think is a good way to land himself on the ground. He's really not in any position to be moving around, or talking, but he insists on both.

"Well."

"Well let's see that special knife of yours." That bitch Ruby was really causing waves here. Clawing her way out and running off was one thing, but aiding the Winchesters and supplying a weapon that could finish us off to those grudge holding sacks of meat, that demon whore was going to pay. The freak pulls out the knife I had been referring to and slams it down on the surface he had stopped in front of.

"No Devil's traps either. I'm not here to play games." The raging bull's eyes are evidence of that. I take his word as a means of it being safe for me to approach him, so I do.

"Well let me guess...You wanna make a deal." It wasn't a question, it was a way of showing him that I wasn't an idiot, but he was. "And around and around the Winchesters go. Sorry Sam, that's not going to happen." It gives me pleasure to be the one that gets to tell this spoiled little shit 'no.' A word he likely doesn't hear often. When does the special treatment end for this guy? First Azazel, now Lucifer. But at least the latter of them knows what he's doing, that's more than I can say for the former. Sam nods his head and for a second, I think maybe the Princess will just go cry himself a river maybe build a bridge and get over it. But that thought is shot when I feel a burning pain unlike anything I've ever felt before. Where the fuck did that bitch get this thing? More importantly, how in the hell did I fall for that? Like you can ever trust a Winchester.

"I don't want ten years. I don't want one year. I don't want candy, I want to trade places with Dean." This guy came looking for a clean cut deal, too bad he wasn't getting one. We don't always aim to please, despite what we crossroad demons do.

"No," I reply simply, as though he doesn't have a demon killing knife through one hand like some kind of fucking shish kabob while pinning down my other with a surprisingly tight grip for a plastered distraught guy.

"Just take me! It's a fair trade!" He roars.

"No!" Honestly I don't know what anyone sees in this guy, he's got the strangest mood swings. One minute he's screaming at me, the next he looks like someone punted his puppy into the next State over. He's worse than a fucking crazy woman on her menstrual cycle. His voice lowers and is a bit slurred, but I read him loud and clear.

"Why not? Lilith wants me dead, just let Dean go and she can have me." Oh my Lucifer this kid was a whiny son of a bitch, dramatic too. Something wasn't right with these Winchesters and how far they were willing to go for the sake of one another. It was warped and frankly, it was creepy. And wasn't Azazel and Lucifer's superstar suppose to be the smart one? I chuckle despite my less than humorous situation at the pure lack of comprehension this kid has. Stanford? Really? A lawyer? You've gotta be shiting me.

"Don't you understand Sam? It's not about your soul," I spell it out for him. "Dean's in Hell, right where we want him. We've got everything exactly the way we want it." My confidence and faith in my master shines through the pain and even though I know what awaits me the moment I finish my sentence, I know that I did right by him. The doe eyed dumb slack jawed look on the Winchester freak's face is all the evidence I need to ensure all this. If only I had a camera, because I knew it wasn't going to last long. "You wanna kill me, go ahead! I've made peace with my Lord." The mental mind shot I get of the freak is the last thing I see, well, before that look turns into rage and the knife is removed from my hand just to be slashed across my throat. Whatever kid, you think things are bad now, just wait till the Dark Lord rises. And he will.