"And I want a night with the Olsen Twins. But I already made a deal that says I can't, and you've already made one too."

"A new one of course. And not a 10 years and done deal; I want a contract, I want to sign on the dotted line."

"What could you possibly offer me?"

"Besides tasty drinks you mean?"

"That remains to be seen."

"I'm pretty confident, it's a very well balanced drink."

"Well balanced is just another word for boring darling."

"Not if you can taste the flavors And the sum of their parts. But again, it all comes down to how accurate that depiction of you was. I know I'd throw in A LOT of fake weaknesses, while making the power you weild seem….finite but large, powerful, sexy...enticing. And then of course your persona outside the show. Which one is real-"

"You're rambling."

"My ADHD meds are wearing off and I'm nervous, sue me."

"Bring it back around darling, what do you need to know the accuracy of?" I take a breath and open the drawer next to me and rummage around.

"Lot's of things; your demeanor, wants and needs, if your demon army really is that incompetant and uncreative…" I pick up the razor blade in the drawer nearby and I hear a slight shift in the chair as he annoyedly prepares for a stab. Wasn't gonna happen. "If human blood really is a narcotic." I slice a line down my wrist, across the street as they say, just deep enough to weep and look at him for a reaction. There is none, except for the fact that for one moment his eyes break my gaze to look at my wrist.

"And why would I tell you that?" I sigh.

"Because I'd make it part of our deal. I get monthly B12 shots. Drawing a single syringe worth of blood during those, if you infiltrate the health care system, which you have to have done, would be a bonus for you."

"And why would you do that?" I'm on the verge of hyperventilating, talking fast trying not to think. If I think too much I'll just degenerate into cursing and paranoia and fear.

"Sweeten the pot, any way I can. I'm on the losing side here, nothing I do will bring me out on top. This is damage control, mitigation."

"Well I can't very well be the top to your bottom if you don't tell me what you want. Success, less pain, recognition for your art?" I snort.

"That's all temporary compared to what I'd get in Hell. No, my contract would be really mainly about what happens to me After I die." Crowley cocks his head and looks at me curiously. This was a rather odd contract request after all.

"Interesting, continue." He sips from his own drink that I hadn't even noticed appeared, and yet again I take a deep breath. Big sell time. I'd done elevator pitches, brochures, demos. I'd tried to sell before. It was hard, selling art, selling anything. I was trying to sell to the Best salesmen. I had to succeed, or I'd die.

"I might like to go to heaven, but that's not happening, is it?" His gaze doesn't break, he doesn't blink; it was a stupid fucking question, but I had to ask. "Well, I don't want to die prematurely, I don't want to be tortured, and I don't want to go into the line."

"No one does, but what use do I have for you then? In return for what? Your blood? I've smelled it, not a particularly good vintage even if I did want it."

"Yeah, I know. I'm offering my skills as an artist and a creator, now, and after. Most demons want one thing, to fill their vices. They get consumed by them. Most aren't creative, and if they are, it's to climb the ladder. Well, I'm already consumed by my vice, and it's completely in opposition to climbing a ladder. Turning me into a demon might change my vice, it's not really compatible." I turn to the grapefruits and pour the liquid from one into a tumbler and garnish it with a rind from the grapefruit. I take a deep breath and pick it up to hand it to the king in my kitchen, but with a snap it's gone. I turn and it's in his hand, the previous glass gone.

Moment of truth, never thought my life might hang on a string soaked in gin and grapefruit juice. He regards it curiously for a moment, then turns his gaze to me and continues the conversation; putting off the moment of truth. Perhaps he was trying to torment me, raise my anxiety, prolong the conversation; who knew, but it did all those things nonetheless.

"And what is your vice, that you say makes you... valuable and rare enough to not be used as a common demon?"

"It's really not an unusual one. I need and love to create, and I need what I create to uh...need to Know what I've created, has left an impression. Whether that is pride, amazement, fear, self discovery, interest, or that it's just plain been useful, I need to know that. I can't do that from the top of your ladder; also I have horrid anxiety and really don't want to be in charge of anything that fucking big. I don't want fame, except to the extent that it allows me to create and collaborate more, and have the art be appreciated."

"Rambling again. Overselling, you haven't actually gotten to the point where I'm impressed with your work enough to see why I need you." I take a breath as he swirls the pink liquid around in the glass and stares at me expectantly. Here came the test.

"Give me a problem."

"What?"

"Give me a problem you have right now, and I'll come up with at Least two possible solutions."

"And why should I tell you anything?"

"Because we're in a stalemate if you want my soul. You kill me, my soul goes to heaven since I haven't actually received anything from the deal yet. I don't want to die. The absolute Worst thing that happens is you lose one soul if I fail the test."

"And why should I even consider it? I could have a hound just drag you to Hell."

"Because you've already been here this long, which means you are interested. You like challenges, you want to play the game."

"You keep referring to a game...I'm not sure I quite understand." I highly doubted that. He was trying to pull information from me, understand the way I thought of this interaction. Use it against me.

"I'll show you the book I'm writing later, all from the 'villain's' perspective." I use air quotes around villain. I had seen his interviews and convention videos. He repeatedly said, when he was pretending to be Mark Sheppard, that Crowley wasn't a villain.

"Redeemable villian stories, I thought you said you were creative?" And he finally takes a sip. I look on with baited breath. He blinks, looks at me, and takes another sip. I sweat, lick my lips and talk, trying to be interesting.

"Nope. Not redeemable, don't die in the end, hero doesn't get the girl. There are no heroes, just people twisted by their experiences and lots in life."

"No one will buy it if the characters don't develop and change."

"That's the first book, second book will be all the horrific results of those changes, third will be bringing in another character and seeing how those horrific changes mold an innocent-"

"Blah-blah. Besides your drink recipe, which I now have, you have yet to impress me."

"Then give me a problem." He pauses and looks at me, then drains the drink in his hand before snapping his fingers to refill it with the liquid from the other half of the grapefruit. He takes a sip.

"Better, more bitter."

"You can get that more quickly if you add more tonic, but then the quinine kinda overpowers some of the other flavors."

"The more information you give me, the less useful you are later."

"Again, need my art to be appreciated. If you're enjoying the drink after I'm dead I'd like you to know all about it so it'll be at full potential. Now...problem?" He takes a sip and regards me. "It doesn't have to be a real one, or a current one."

"Obviously, but I need to find something suitably difficult. Something a demon wouldn't easily solve, or would take advantage of." He pauses and then looks me in the eye. "My addiction in the story. I didn't want to let go of it completely, but too much was...distracting. The writers let it go, I didn't. I'm a demon, vices, kinda my thing. So...how would you mitigate that? Two solutions, minimum." I don't hesitate, I talk till I run out of ideas, what I'm good at. Coming up with ideas.

"Mix it with vamp or demon blood to mitigate the human emotions. Try using the blood from someone who had been, or is, the host of an angel, most are particularly numb to human emotion and that could affect their blood, make it more palatable. There are machines that give constant low doses of medicine to patients who need it, fund a company to make a discreet portable one that will give you just enough to give you that tiny bit of feeling. Try primate blood, close relative, smart, but not as evolved. Other means ingesting it could also change the way it affects-"

"Enough." I stop mid breath and stand still, frozen as he regards me. "That was an easy one...what about… the coming, self inflicted, apocalypse?"

"Which one?" That gets a bit of a chuckle as he sips his drink.

"The one where the planet is dying. We need humans to work together long enough to fix this problem, but you see, we've worked very hard to get these schsims planted deeply in your various cultures."

"The two party system was you, wasn't it."

"Guilty as charged, it needed a bit of rewiring over the years, but it's working quite well right now. Too well."

"Uhm, find a sop who's willing to exchange their soul to fix it."

"You're not that naive. The cause needs to be stopped; we don't need a bandaid, we need Surgery." He wasn't wrong.

"You need to replace the heads of the companies that are causing pollution-" He interrupts me with a loud exhale, speaking of annoyance and mild regret.

"Most of them have contracts that won't expire for another 10 years of 'it's, too, late'."

"Then why not help an up and comer replace them, not directly give them a deal to become head, but perhaps give them enough money to buy all the shares in the company...or let them find some incriminating photo."

"And why would they be any different from the current Schmucks I have at the top?"

"Go young enough, and you have millennials or gen zs who want to help the environment."

"Yes but they aren't exactly the type to make deals. And most of those types also don't want to run a company."

"Hmmmm...Uh then you need an older person who wants to pass on the company for a long time, for it to stay powerful and in the family. Not their son, but their great grandson too."

"You mean the family values we worked so very hard to destroy and morph into 'family isn't blood, it's who you choose?'"

"Why would you...oh, more likely to kill an abusive father if 'blood isn't as important as the family you choose.'"

"Bingo darling. I keep saying you catch on quick. Acceptance everywhere; especially in your insular communities, where everyone outside them is wrong."

"Well, you managed to morph those values, but people still want their adopted daughter or friend's kids to succeed and have a world where they can live. You demons get to feel good when you damn a soul, humans generally feel good when they help each other."

"Again, not the type to make deals darling."

"Then don't." At this he stops swirling the drink around and looks up at me with sudden interest.

"What?"

"What's five… ten, catch free deals for an eternity of souls?" He stares at me as if I've gone insane.

"My demons would revolt if I asked them to do... pro-bono case work. I need to give them a steady supply of colorful souls to play with."

"Then don't ask them, do it yourself first."

"I don't do the boring dirty work any more. I'm King, I delegate." I shrug and point out the obvious.

"You're up here now. This is important and interesting, your demons Know it's important because You're doing it in person. They are paying attention to the results. If You do pro-bono it will impress upon them the direness of the situation. 'The KING is doing pro-bono, shit's fucked if the king is willing to do that. We need to do the same.' Also, it gives the benefit of rooting out the idiots who Don't understand and would revolt. If they are that shortsighted they shouldn't be out making deals in my opinion."

Crowley stares at me, takes the last sip of the drink, stands, and sets it down on the island. I take a breath and try not to back into the fridge and have a panic attack.

"You're right. A demon would Never have brought the idear of pro-bono work to me. It's ludicrous, it goes against all the rules, it absolutely disgusts me." He stands in front of me, towering over me with just a few inches as I gasp for air. "And it might actually work." His fingers snap and we are back at the office. I teeter a bit and he watches with amusement as I try not to puke. He sits down in the rolling chair he occupied before and temples his fingers before him, looking at me over them.

"And you, a HUMAN, would feel no guilt working beside a demon to bring souls to Hell?"

"Souls that belong in Hell, belong in Hell. Don't involve me in seducing innocents who would otherwise go to heaven and I'll be fine." I look at him for a moment. "Kill me and have my soul down there right now if you never go after innocents again... and help me publish my books posthumously." He chuckles darkly and spins himself around in the chair.

"Not happening darling. You're not worth that." I shrug. I had tried. "So...what's in the contract? Exactly?" He says with a mile long stare into my soul. I breathe a deep sigh of relief. I might actually survive this, against all odds.

"First. The current contract is voided as soon as I sign this. Second. You, or any of your demons, or allies, or hired whatevers, don't end my life prematurely. I don't tell anyone about you or that part is void."

"Obvs."

"Third: I create, advise, whatever, before and after my death. And after I die I never go in the line, I never go through torture, of any type, for any reason."

"Ah. What if I need to punish you?"

"For what? Failing? Yeah no. For disobeying? What if the outcome is to our mutual benefit? For attacking or mucking up your other plans? I'd have to be an idiot to do that."

"The last one. You do not want to interfere with any of the workings or deals of Hell."

"Or?"

"Punishment is at my discretion when you are in my domain." I pause.

"At your hands only, and I'll be healed after…I don't wanna be your broken down chew toy." He raises his brow.

"My Chew Toy...Ready to be intimate now, are we? Did you fancy me that much from the show?"

"Devil you know. I'd rather be finely and carefully sliced up and ministered to by one demon for a short time, because let's be honest, you have better things to do. I'd rather be tortured for a day by you than carelessly butchered for near eternity by hundreds of demons. Besides, physical torture is not scary. While I believe you could easily change this, inflicted pain has never been a big deal to me. With torture, I know where it's coming from Crowley, a known quantity is far less terrifying than an unknown one. Internal, not knowing where the pain is coming from? Far worse. Constant eternal pain? If any soul can find a way to go insane without turning into a demon, it'd be mine. I'm already close anyway."

"You're just giving me ammunition darling."

"Which you'll probably never have to load into your metaphorical gun. Now, is that a clause you won't barter on?"

"Nothing to hold over your head if you annoy me? If I buy something, I intend to use it. I like to actually play with my toys."

"So if I don't agree, I die?"

"Eventually." I take the veiled threat and agree.

"Fine. If I DISOBEY you and it doesn't have a beneficial outcome for you I'll be...uh punished, by Your hand only."

"You're making me a very happy man right now. A monogamous relationship, how traditional. Didn't peg you for the type at all." I smile a bit and shake my head.

"You're married."

"I never said anything about actually being faithful to you." I'm still breathing too quickly, choking a bit with fear and holding my weight on the table, but I had to appreciate the wit.

I needed a pause, a respite, before continuing with the contract or my heart would beat out of my chest. I grab onto somewhere I can lead the conversation that isn't about me.

"You said you're married, as in you. Not your vessel?" Crowley laughs. Something I had never seen in the show, and for good reasons. It is terrifying.

"Darling, Mark Sheppard has been pushed into the space of my pinky toe since he was 21."

"As soon as he could legally drink you mean." He points at me as he paces the room.

"Exactly. Well, more reasons than that, but why should I tell you?"

"So wait…you. Crowley the King of Hell, you're an actor? And a husband? And a father? Why?" He grins.

"I'm a demon. All the best crossroad demons are actors. As for family… I never got to experience that interesting happy family dynamic when I was alive, so why not. Lovely woman, lovely kids. I might actually make sure they never see the other half of daddy's job. Also, and most importantly actually, market research. If I want to corrupt today's families and youths I need to actually understand them." I stare. The King of Hell, juggling a family, a job, fans, And his job as king? I couldn't even imagine.

"Where do you get the time?"

"It helps when one doesn't sleep. Now, while I am flattered you want to know so much about me, and mildly insulted you think I would actually tell you anything of import, it is time to get back to the business at hand." I swallow and nod, continuing from where we left off, my heart a little bit calmer.

"Fourth. If you ever lose your position as king, this contract still stands and Does NOT pass to whomever rules. This is a contract with Crowley, not the King of Hell. I don't want some idiot who got a hold of some artefact that you need to spend some indeterminant amount of time figuring out how to regain your thrown from fucking with me." His eyes flash red and his face darkens.

"I won't. Ever. Lose. My. Throne. Again." His voice is hard. I had touched a nerve.

"Permanently? I doubt it. For a week while you figure out how to kill an asshat? Possibly. And I don't want to be owned by the asshat for that week. Contract with Crowley, not the King of Hell. Fifthly:"

"Getting bored."

"You're enjoying most of this, besides, one more major point and we get to the fine details you so enjoy. Fifthly. You ever die, my soul leaves Hell-"

"No."

"Fine. Then our first task is to figure out how to make you immortal, or prime your protege. Fifth point of business will be left currently open until we come to a resolution...unless…" I have an idea. It flits in my head. It could work, it might damn me further but…he's already halfway to true immortality, what could a bit more hurt? "Can a contract override other laws?"

"You need to ask a question clearly if you want me to answer."

"Like when a demon dies, they immediately go to the empty right? If we wrote a contract stating you were to say...come to me? Recuperate in my body? I'd need a meatsuit, or my body to be pretty resilient… Unless we, I dunno, share a soul for a bit, hide in mine? Would that make you effectively immortal?" Crowley blinks. Then looks at me. Then blinks again.

He thinks for a moment, going over rules, eyes flitting back and forth as if he is reading some invisible book. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at me, at his drink, at the wall. Finally, he just stares ahead for a moment before turning his full attention to me.

"Well I'll be damned. The little monkey found a loophole."