Hey guys! I heard Halloween was coming up! I don't normally do much for Halloween, but hey, what the heck.

Sorry I haven't been posting lately. Depression KICKED MY ASS. Yikes. I've got like a bajillion unfinished story skeletons in my closet (haha!) and none of them were complete. This one though. Yay!

Personal warning this might actually be far more suited for an 'M' rating, I'm unsure. I am a teenager that wrote it though so I figure I can stick it in here. People who watch supernatural deal with worse, yeah?

ENJOY!

It tastes bitter. It always has, and not just the tang of guilt at the back of his throat every time he does this. Clear, viscous liquid covering his hands, his face, as he shoves it down his throat.

Eat, something sharp and wicked-sounding in the back of his mind says. Eat, eat, eat. And so he does. He doesn't know why he can't stop himself, but every time he tries something pushes. Pushes, pushes, until green ectoplasm and red blood are pushing their way out of his stomach as vomit.

He's not hungry. He can't remember the last time he's been hungry. All he does is eat, how can he be hungry. Eat. Eat. Eat.

Gluttony, the sharp voice cackles. My name, my glory, my legacy. You are perfect. You can always eat.

His eyes are black in the mirror instead of green. All black, just like Vlad's are all red. Were all red. Sometimes he checks for fangs, but they're never there. The monster is internal. That's what makes it dangerous.

Whenever his stomach feels like it's about to burst, he turns intangible. Watches whatever he had eaten fall into the ground, half digested and all disgusting. He would vomit every time but there's nothing left in his stomach. He has to eat.

Haunted house attractions are not as haunted as you might think. The few that are, well, they aren't anymore. Danny tries to tell himself he's doing the world a favor.

No. The monster, the gluttony, tries to tell Danny that he's doing the world a favor. And that tiny pang of truth keeps Danny from ripping his own heart out of his chest every time.

He's pathetic.

Eat, eat, eat. When he can't find any ghosts, or whatever those clear, pale spirits really are, it's human food. You can always eat, you can always eat. But ghosts are more satisfying. Not to his taste buds, but to his hero complex.

The wicked voice inside him cackles every time he tears one apart.

Gluttony is a sin.

I am, it says. I am, I am, I am.

Apparently it has a thing for repetition.

Men, women, little boys and girls. Clear and violent and dead. They would be a challenge for anyone else but they can't lay a finger on Danny. He can touch them, though. He can force his fingers through their transparent flesh, rip their hearts out, and eat them like apples. Eat, it urges. Eat.

He's standing in a graveyard in one town or another, he's lost track by now, when they come up behind him. Two men, together, carrying shot guns and gasoline. When Danny's eyes—blue, in this form—catch sight of them, the voice cackles like it never has before. Loud, cruel, almost victorious. I've heard about them, it says. This will be fun.

"Hey, kid!" one of them yells. Danny isn't paying enough attention to notice which one of them it is. "Get out of here! It's dangerous! Haven't you ever heard of trespassing?"

The wicked voice cackles louder. So loud that Danny reaches up and puts his hands over his ears, clenching his eyes shut, as if that will help. It doesn't. He doesn't see or hear them move closer but next thing he knows there's a hand touching down on his shoulder, and he knows it belongs to one of them.

"Hey, kid?" they say again. "You alright."

"Go away," Danny says, voice pained. The thing has stopped laughing by now, and Danny has a sinking feeling that he knows what's coming next. Repetition. The voice has a thing for it.

"What? Why? Who are you?" Their voices are heavy, gruff, suspicious. They should be more so.

Change, the voice commands. Danny doesn't feel as if he as any control over it as he does. He looks up at the men, and smiles, and he knows his eyes are black.

Their eyes widen, and they scramble back, or they would've, if they had the time. Danny shoves his hand forward, intangible at first, and grabs one of their hearts out of their chest.

"Gluttony," his mouth says as he pulls his hand back. "Sin."

The heart is bright red, blood staining Danny's fingers. Eat, say the voice, and he brings the heart up to his lips.

Like an apple.

So if you guys couldn't tell that was my take on what would happen if Danny got possessed by a demon. The Sin Gluttony, specifically. It's scary for Halloween, though I'm not sure how I did, exactly. Until next time!