Sixteen hours. Benny and I have been on this hunt for sixteen hours and the grunts keep coming. It's not like we're overpowered or anything, no. We're moving like there's no end to it. It's like muscle memory – flashes of Purgatory returning every few kills – and, damn it, does it feel good to be back.
I'm getting used to body and essence mixing together once again. After all this time, it's still so foreign to me but I like it. Reminds me how powerful I am. Reminds me that I'm in control.
Benny can tell by the look on my face that I'm back to the old me. We're slashing monsters and dodging hits like we were made for this. But we get tired, as we did back then. Our lungs feel on the verge of collapse and our muscles ache in ways they never had before. Just when we feel like we can't take any more, a large surge of demons and monsters – a few angels – catch us by surprise. The few demons Crowley let us borrow are even fewer now. One is ready to take off, pure fear coursing through him, and we let him go. It's just Benny and I back-to-back fighting for our lives once again.
This is my life now. No amount of power can make up for this Hell. Angels want me badly enough, they should send solely their men to bring me in. Instead, they're rubbing salt in the wound and recruiting more of Crowley's men. I can tell our King is tired. I can tell it still surprises him that I'm ready to go out on the battlefield instead of letting our small armies take care of the issues. And every battle, I feel more powerful. Every battle I feel the human taking less space inside. I am becoming more me than I've been in centuries.
But sixteen hours is a long time and it's not getting any easier to cope. I can tell the human in me is on the verge of a frustrated breakdown and I use that emotion to level the field and kill every last demon and angel in this place.
Benny and I don't speak as we take our leave. He's spitting blood from the knocks he took to the face and I'm wiping blood from my blade. Crowley was taking care of another Winchester issue, last we spoke, but I'm sure it's settled by now.
For once in a long while, I have the urge to sleep.
Our guards are down and maybe that's an issue, but the bigger issue is the angel that's stabbed me right through the chest. How we missed him is a wonder. My reflexes aren't what they should be and all I can see is Benny taking the brunt of the next few hits.
"You filthy pest," the angel spits, staring right at the vampire. "You've chosen the wrong side."
I pull the blade from my chest, watch as the angel attempts a beheading of my friend, and finally kill the heavenly fuck. And I don't stop. I tear every feather out of his wings, rip skin from bone, break limbs, snap his neck, watch my blood coating him in a filthy sopping sheath.
And Benny pulls me from him; pulls me up and searches for something in my eyes. I'm lightheaded and breathless and before I know it I'm weaker than ever. The humanity seeping through, I can feel myself fading.
"Sash?" he asks, but it's not me who answers – not really. His eyes narrow and he shifts. "s'not you. You're not her."
A nod leaves me stiffly. The human has won – for now. "It's not the Sasha you know." And the human goes into an explanation of demonic possession. It's pathetic. "I've been awake in here this whole time. She's just not been weak enough to let me take control lately."
I can sense that Benny is aware of how possessions work and I don't know how much time I have left, but he sits down and stares at me. I glance at the body of the angel – completely torn to shreds.
"Is this what you wanted when you agreed on possession?"
I swallow hard, blinking back tears. The pain from the wound isn't completely unbearable right now. "Crowley and I aren't the same," I acknowledge. "I thought we'd be happier."
He nods and I remember the conversation he had about Andrea, the love he had for her. "You're a monster now. There's no changing that."
A monster…
I let this thought sink in but before long everything goes black again.
I'm on my back with Crowley hovering over me and I'm almost wondering if he's stroking himself while I lay half-dead on the bed. Alas, no such luck.
His features hold so much concern and it's then that I realize how absolutely in love he is with her.
"Sash…" he raises his hand to my cheek but takes one look in my eyes and sees the smirk on my face. "Oh." He straightens instantly, clears his throat. "Benny told me that…"
"Aw, did they have a moment?" I ease myself into a sitting position, noting the bandages on my chest and thinking of the glimpses of Benny and the human's conversation before I blacked out.
Crowley narrows his eyes. "I thought you'd plateaued. I thought this wasn't the normal way you'd be."
So this again. For the last few months Crowley has been down my throat about how disturbingly I'm behaving.
"Demon, remember," is always my go-to answer. This was me in Purgatory too. Angry, pissed off. "The Sasha you once knew in Hell has been carved into this." I motion toward myself. "Stop grieving, it's unbecoming."
Another two months go by of Crowley and I not speaking. He's plotting something, I can tell. And I haven't seen Benny in a week, since the last tiny uprising of demons. When I go hunting for him, I'm met with another demon who puts me in cuffs before I can kill him. He's dragging me to Crowley's office when the King himself steps in and takes me there himself.
"Are the cuffs really necessary?" I spit.
"Your little friend is dead." He speaks clearly, slowly, arrogant.
"You didn't-" I'm enraged, pushing him away and fighting with the cuffs before I realize they're sealed to keep my powers at bay. There's no use fighting.
"I didn't, no. You have your old friend Dean Winchester to thank for that. Beheaded him to get someone back into Purgatory to save little ol' Sammy. Precious." Crowley slams his hands on his desk. "Now, we need to have a little chat, you and I." There's a long silence between the two of us and I realize my mind is drifting to mourning my friend. "This irrational rage is getting out of hand. I need you silent beside me. I need a Queen. I need someone willing to stand up at the right moments, not cut throat every hour."
"This is Hell, Crowley," I speak slowly. "Do you not remember what they did to us? Are you not angry?"
He stills, crosses his arms and he honestly looks so regal it's delicious. "They've given me this," he motions around the room. "Power. Superiority. That's how I cope. Move on, Sasha, they have." His eyes travel upwards in the mention of Heaven. "We're winning, Sasha. They want you, but I won't let them take you back."
There's a look in his eyes that's screaming and I stand at full height, stumble toward him. "You won't let them have me because you're still convinced you can cure this." I nod downward. "This is what you signed up for, my dear King. Do you not remember who I am? Was this a fantasy the whole time?"
His eyes glance between mine and for a moment, I feel a stirring in my stomach. Human emotions seem to come and go for me, but she's winning this time. And when he whispers my name, I go weak and lose.
Blinking, the demon eyes are gone and I see Crowley in a new light – in a human light – where she gets all giddy over his touch and his facial hair.
We're kissing before I even register what's happening and Crowley pulls back after a moment.
"Sash…?"
A nod – a weak one – but she's kissing him again and sighing that she didn't know and she's sorry and she wants to help. Pathetic, really.
"I shouldn't have agreed to this," she cries. "I should have known better."
Crowley merely grunts, unsure if he should believe it's really her or me playing tricks. Sadly, it's the human but he won't spill any secret plans if he's got 'em. He can still feel me pulling at the edge of her subconscious.
I feel him press into my wound and there's a loud cry that doesn't sound like mine, but before long I've blacked out.
"Sasha," Crowley whispers, not apologizing for the pain he's caused me. "You need to fight this." My eyes are wide open now. "Been reading up on it and I've learned that you can fight the demon. She's strong, yes, but all we need is time. We just need more time."
"Crowley…" I hum, reaching for him then feeling his face near mine. I run my fingertips along his facial hair. "She's weak right now." And so am I, I almost say. "Can we exorcise her?"
"No!" Crowley blurts instantly. "No. She's…taken some damage. You…you've taken some damage. It'd be a fool's errand to attempt something like that." But I can tell by the look on his face he's considering it. But I read the reason instantly.
"I'd die."
He's silent. Staring. Not breathing. "There have to be other ways."
"You hate this."
"She wasn't like this. Not when I knew her. Even before…even in Hell. Purgatory must have made her jaded. She's changed, Sash. She's rougher."
"She's a demon."
"Yes, I know." He stops, stares at me. "I liked you better. You, I could live with. This…" he holds his head. "This is so much more. I think she's going to dethrone me."
And then my anger rises and I'm sitting up despite my injuries. "No. Crowley, I won't let her."
"And what'll you do?" he narrows his eyes.
I pause for a long while, staring at him and holding my breath. "If I'm desperate…"
And he knows where I'm going because he's suddenly uncomfortable and shifty and oh so ready to leave the room. "Rest. You just need rest."
It's like Jekyll and Hyde – I swear. One minute it's a demon-show, the next I'm too weak to function and the human is taking over. Crowley's been sending kamikaze demons in to take me out and weaken me so he has more time with the human side of me. Weakened, she can take over. Otherwise, I run the show. And, my, with my Fergus no longer working with me, I run quite the show.
On this particular night, Fergus is out. And it's been a month for the month since he was last seen. As Queen, I am making the orders and calling the shots. Killing who I see fit to kill and taking orders from no one. The Winchesters have him, I am sure. And the human in me is screaming often that we need to do something, but there is no way in Hell that I am ruining this reign. The stirrings of human fear in my gut are humorous to me and I spend the current evening making her more paranoid.
"He's here." Grayson emerges from the hall, eyes focused and unblinking.
And I'm suddenly running, the human easily taking over for us. Down a flight of stairs, toward the foyer, listening to the heavy door slam shut. He's bloody, barely standing, but he looks up and I stop dead for a mere moment. Something's different. But I let that human emotion in and continue on my path, hurdling over the stair rail and into his arms. He wraps them around me and presses a single kiss to the top of my head. He's gotten good at sensing who's in control at any given moment.
I straighten as demons pass us on their way inside, staring oddly.
"Let's get you cleaned up." Back to business. We don't touch, just walk down the hall in silence until we reach the bathroom. There, I start the water for him as he leans against the doorframe. I'm reminded of his hands and chains in Hell – how he reached for me. How I let him. How raw the skin was and how deep my feelings for him are.
"Good to be home." He mutters. I don't speak, in fear that my anger will upset him and ruin this odd moment between us. I coat a washcloth in alcohol to clean his wounds. So much has happened. So many demons have been killed by Abaddon and her minions. There have been too many wars I've fought, too many times the demon has taken over and won. Does he know this?
"You've been gone for quite some time." Is what I manage. He saunters over to me, looks me dead in the eyes, then brushes past. He's stripping off his coat when I raise my voice at him. "You gave me orders not to go after you. Do you know how difficult that was? And to keep it hidden from the demon inside me? After all this time, I know where you are, and I'm not supposed to send anyone your way?"
"Here we go…" he mumbles, rolling his eyes.
"Don't want to hear it? Tough. We were in an all-out war with Abaddon and her cronies while you were bunking with the Winchesters." He takes the cloth from my hands and begins on his facial wounds. "Did you have fun down there? Beers, babes, and bedtime stories, huh?" I want him to look at me, to see all of the scars from battle, the cuts that haven't healed completely beneath my clothes, the things this demon has done to me. When I was here, worried about him, was he worried about me? Crowley sighs, tossing the cloth in the sink and stripping completely for his shower. Before he steps in, I speak through clenched teeth, "When we agreed to getting my essence back in this vessel, I did not expect anything to become like this." Now he's watching me wide-eyed. So I grab his filthy clothes and leave.
Storming down the hall to the laundry room, I don't speak a word to the few demons he lets in this wing. As I'm preparing to throw the clothes in the laundry bin, I notice how heavy his suit jacket is. Turning it in my hands, I find the inner pocket and pull out a leather case. Opening it, I am greeted by four syringes filled with blood. My eyes narrow, I throw the jacket down, and rush my way back to the bathroom I left Crowley in. I close the door then sit against it.
Twenty minutes pass. Then a half hour. I'm finally on my feet, throwing the curtain back only to find him standing with his head resting on his arm below the spigot. The water has just begun to pump cold. He barely notices me until I turn off the water. When he stands straight, he almost topples over. My hands are already on him before I realize what I'm doing. I steady him and feel his skin burning up.
"M'not feeling my best." He admits in a weak voice. Inwardly, I sigh. I'm supposed to be mad at him. I'm supposed to keep yelling and act like a careless demon. But I've always been weak for him. That's nothing new.
After I help him out of the shower, he dries himself slowly and begins dressing until he sees the leather case on the edge of the sink. He's standing there – shirtless, warm, and weak – when I ask him, "Crowley, what is that?"
It takes him a moment to right himself. An inner struggle is wreaking havoc on him, I can tell, but I don't bother asking anything else. Just before he leaves the room, he whispers, "Medicine."