(Ok, so here we get into some dark stuff, just a warning.)

It happens two days later. Just two. I walk out of my bathroom, and not into my hall.

It's dark, an ambience of trepidation dark. Able to see enough to make you worried, and keep enough hidden to make you scared, dark. What I could see... Metal chair, metal cuffs, metal something digging into my neck.

"Darling, honeybunch... Chew Toy." The metal digs into my neck deeper and begins to pierce skin as his furious voice echoes. I bite my tongue, make my own pain to distract from whatever would happen, prevent screams. I had no idea what he wanted from me right now. I had an inkling as to why I was here, but not how he wanted me to act.

"I...just came back from THE worst trip I have ever had!" The metal is pulled from my neck and slammed into a tray nearby. Crowley walks out from behind me and leans over, hands on the shackles attached to the chair. "Care to know where I went?"

"I think I can hazard a guess." I look up at him; eyes blazing, covered in sweat, face furious. I was in trouble, but hopefully it'd be worth it.

"What...did you do...to your blood."

"Never did read my book did you? I mean, the memory should be in there-"

"Tell Me!" My body slams back into the chair and for a moment I can't breathe, or think, or talk. I do as soon as I can however, not good to keep him waiting.

"Ate a Shit ton of salt, and silver supplements." He snarls and caresses my face before roughly pulling it close.

"Darling, you have No Idea Who you're Messing With!"

"NO, I know EXACTLY who I'm messing with! I'M messing with someone that I NEED TO IMPRESS ON A REGULAR BASIS OR HE WILL GET BORED OF ME AND MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL JUST FOR FUNSIES! I'll happily take an hour of PUNISHMENT to prove that, yes, I can play this game!" He stares at me, grip consistent and painful. I can't tell if he is studying me, or is genuinely surprised. I highly doubted the latter. "Happy Honeymoon, here's your gift. Two flavors, normal and spicy. Which would you like for the next FORTY YEARS!" He glares, lets go of my face, and walks away. He stares at the wall I can barely see, his back to me. He's tense, angry, but soon I see his shoulders relax. I breathe a sigh of relief.

And that's when his fist connects with my face.

I wake up, still in the chair, quite sore everywhere. I shake my head, groggily.

"So sorry, but I started without you." His voice is rough, and echoes not just in the room but in my head. I blink and look at my arms. Miniscule cuts, deep but short, everywhere. I shake my head again and try to look around. My head is ringing, but I can move it. My jaw definitely aches. I'd taken punches before, but not many, and not like this. Still, it was just pain, I knew what caused it, and I could move my jaw. I look at the demon I was bound to, for...probably forever. He is immaculate again, but his outfit has a new addition. Black rubber gloves and a butcher's smock.

"And now. The fun part." He picks up an ordinary glass salt shaker and wiggles it in front of me. "Salt, for salt. Enjoy." I can't help it, I try not to smile, I really do, but obviously my face changes and it's not the expression he wants. "What? You find this funny?" And he starts shaking the salt over my arms as if I were his next meal. It burns, far sharper than fire, but no worse than the hydrogen peroxide I use on cuts, frequently. Although this doesn't fade, and it's everywhere...which kind of helps. I grow used to it, I'm wincing and blinking through painful tears that only make the cuts on my face sting more, but I'm still thinking clearly.

"Quote I like. Tell you later. Just….need more time to adjust." I bite out the words, and focus on the pain. It had reached peak, it wasn't getting worse, I could deal with it now. At least I tell myself that.

I hear footsteps, my eyes are closed tight to help with the pain but I can hear him circling me.

"No, please. Share with the class."

"What class? I think...you're more of a teacher." My whole body screams in pain as he snaps his fingers. Nope, never felt this before. I can't think, can't breathe, can't tell time.

Until it stops.

"You're right, I'm here to teach you quite a bit. Like why you Shouldn't Cross Me! How Dare You! You can't come CLOSE to my level! I've been doing this for longer than you can imagine! You can't even hope to get on my level! Most Demons Balk at trying to go up against me one on one and You, a Mortal, have the audacity, the Stupidity, to try?!"

The wind is knocked out of me as the chair and I slam into the wall. My head cracks against it and that last thing I hear is-

"Bollocks!"

I'm out for only a couple of seconds because when I'm aware again the chair is still on the ground and I hear the tail echo of a snapping sound. I cough again, spit out what is definitely blood, and shake my head.

"Yeah, no. I can't hope to match you. Didn't think I could. But I can try. Wouldn't be much fun for you if I didn't." I turn my head, craning it so I can see my torturer standing across the room. "Well, do I impress?" I hear a shuffle of expensive shoes on stone and I flinch as they get louder. "Like I said… You get bored? I get the pointy end of a very dangerous stick. I bet you can think of a hundred ways to make my life Hell. I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing. However, you've been in here, you know I have anxiety. Well that problem, that Thing that already makes shit hard cause I can imagine all the ways my life could go? Well, it also let's me imagine a fucking hundred and One ways you could torture me with that stick." I'm suddenly upright and he's staring into my face.

"Confidant, cocky." He kneels down and looks me in the eye. "Hate it." A scalpel, something pointy, is slammed into my right hand, and I scream. The pain ends quickly, but starts again when he pulls it out. My whole arm aches, throbs from that one point of entry, still in pain from all the salt. All I can think is 'thank god it's not my drawing hand.'

"I don't want a confident, cocky, petulant child who throws tantrums and betrays me! I want someone who listens to what I want them to do!"

"And I want a modicum of respect!"

"You don't deserve my respect!"

"That's what I'm trying to do! Earn your respect! Show you I'm prepared! I took a precaution as soon as I met you just in case this was real, and it was one you didn't anticipate! My life is gonna be Hell if I can't earn your respect!" I shake my head, the pain starting to overwhelm me again. The adrenaline from the knife is wearing off, I'm less groggy after being knocked out and healed by him. It is just gonna get worse. Had to talk fast. I don't know where the Hell I am going anymore, I can't remember. I can remember the points I wanted to say...just not where they are supposed to lead. I can only hope it was somewhere good. "I can play the game. Not as well as you, not as powerful as you, But I can play it!" There's a pause.

"Are you really sure you want to play? With ME?"

"Hell no! But if I don't, I'm gonna be your 'Chew Toy' for the next…40 years! Jesus fucking christ get... salt out... or do... something worse! It's fucking distracting!"

"Try leading an infernal court session with your veins on fire and fucking bipolar disorder rushing through you!" He stands up and takes off the gloves, throwing them on the table. "Stew a bit darling, I'll be back for another play date." As the door opens I remember something, random, but important. I can barely think through the pain that's getting worse somehow, but my mind refuses to stop making connections and jumping around.

"Second... wanted to...thanks before you go." The door stops squeaking and I take that as a possible good sign. "Noticed... waited til...done with...bathroom before... bringin..." I can't get out any more words. I thought I could withstand it...I did for a bit...but now...My body burns, my arm aches, and...and...pain. Hurts. So much. Much….Pain...

And the door closes.

(Pushes reader off cliff. 'Hang there for a sec, why don't you.')