I'd have started to doubt his existence over the years, if it hadn't been for getting my blood drawn monthly, without a bill, at the doctors office. He was probably checking salt content there, or the silver. I didn't know which actually hurt him, how much of the lore I knew could actually be taken as fact. I was guessing most of it, but everything would be twisted and wrong. Just enough to make people confident they could win, and then have them fuck it up and go down a Hellhound's throat. Like anything Cthulhu related. One sigil wrong? Dead. And not just dead.

Soul eaten dead.

That's what I was dealing with. One mistake...unknown consequences, but definitely painful.

So when five years later I'm midstroke with a pencil and I find myself somewhere I don't recognize, I try to be more cautious. I really do.

Still not great at going slow.

"Hello Chew Toy." He sits once again behind a desk. Metal this time. Empty warehouse chic.

"Crowley. What can I do for you?"

"I have a problem. Demon turned traitor. Can't find him anywhere. Thoughts?" I breathe. I was lucky. He actually wanted my ideas, not whatever amusement I could give him.

"With warding, can you look for the place you can't see? Like they did to find the black hole?"

"Not how the warding works. There isn't an absence, a hole, we just don't see him. Do you think I'd Be here if it were that simple?"

"No, but I had to rule it out in my own head. Uhm...the guy got vices?" He pauses, but is willing to roll with me.

"Raping young women. Then eating them." Yuck. Oh god. I swallow. Right, demons.

"I meant more like addictions."

"Demon, remember? That is an addiction, Chew Toy." I shudder.

"Got any contracts ending soon?"

"Of course."

"With young women?"

"Probably." I had an idea. I hated it, but it worked and it was an idea, therefore I had to share it.

"Offer to extend them if they look for him. ...No, find him and succeed in reporting to you. Arm them with...I dunno whatever works, but do what I did. They eat a shit ton of salt. Drink holy water. Silver supplements. I don't know what actually works but you get the idea. Arming them is to make them feel like you actually believe they could succeed, dosing them with drugs is what guarantees it. Have them check in every, I don't know, four hours or so? The one that doesn't? Well, they got eaten. Locate their gps, he should be twitching like a cunt on the ground nearby. I doubt anyone can actually withstand what I ingested as elegantly as you did." He frowns a bit and I move on quickly. "The Best case...for you I mean... You didn't break a contract, they just failed. Their soul is in Hell. Worst case? They succeed and they get another 10 years." He stares at me. Silently.

"Little whore selling out her fellow humans. Don't you care what they will go through? Some of the idiots with good intentions who signed?"

"They signed. I can't make anything better for them. Also, unfortunately, humans have a hard time really relating to or understanding something or someone far away. Hell, most of us can't relate to the bums on the street! I'm woefully empathetic, but still unable to grasp or empathize with things so distant or large… Maybe it will suck, but I can't do a goddamn thing… Guilt...it'll fade eventually, or haunt me forever. Won't know until it happens. ...But it's not like I have a choice either. I made a deal with you." I look at him and ponder something for a moment. "...pick carefully the demons you choose to protect me. If they are one of the ones I've fucked over…well I'd definitely die before my time." He smiles.

"See. I knew you'd come through. Now. Drink?" I sigh. I had a feeling I knew what he meant this time.

"I need vodka, a whole lemon, and a candy cane. Oh and a sharp knife. Oh, a syringe wouldn't hurt either. Hope you like sour." There's a snap and the ingredients are in front of me along with a glass. I swallow and take the knife and lemon and make an x slit in the side and jam the peppermint stick in. He sits and watches me with amusement. I try very hard to not shake, sweat, whatever. I'm succeeding so far. I take the vodka and take try to take a big fucking drink. "Ah Ah." Crowley shakes his head and I sigh before filling the syringe and injecting the lemon, twice after checking the proof of the vodka. I pour some vodka into the glass, toast him, and slide the lemon across the desk.

"Enjoy. Well wait a minute for the vodka to disseminate, then enjoy." He looks at the 'thing' I passed him then back at me.

"It's unique, but not a drink." I sigh, take the lemon back, pull out the peppermint stick, lick it, and shove it back in.

"Drink it like that, or shove more peppermint sticks in, and juice it in half an hour. It may not be as tasty." He shakes his head.

"I'll wait. Do it." I break the peppermint stick off, and then into quarters. I make more incisions and proceed to jam the broken bits into the holes.

"So, when did you first possess me?" I ask. He blinks, then takes my glass of vodka from me and sips it. I had tried to do some more research on him...his persona outside any roles he played. I found that he is tauntingly cruel and witty, while still encouraging good will and love from his fans. I also found a single comment on preferred drinks. "So much for sobriety." He nods, acknowledging my attempt at research then pushes it aside, unimpressed.

"Vessel's persona, not me darling. When I'm him, I'm sober. Now, when do you think I did? Possess you that is."

"First night we met...just don't know when."

"True. And why should I tell you?" I roll my eyes and grab the bottle to drink from since my cup got stolen.

"No reason to, no reason not to."

"Then I won't."

"Fair. I mean, if I were you I would've come in before you returned from the second crossroads deal, through a vent, then come back in your vessel as if you were just returning triumphant from the fight."

"Good theory. You would have made a good demon."

"No thanks. Don't wanna go to the empty. Alone with my own mind and dreams? For eternity? No thanks."

"Scared of your own thoughts? What do you think about at night?"

"Horrible things. Like where all my money went." I glare at him from across the table. "Therapy. It went to therapy Crowley."

"Not my problem." He says unaffected by my glare. I give up and go to take a sip and I'm back at my desk...bottle gone.

"Oh fuck you Crowley! Let me have a goddamn drink!"

I get a text a week later. Number I don't know. Although the 666 is pretty telling.

"Got him. Kudos to my Chew Toy. ?¬タン

I sigh, and text back.

"Good to hear. Now feed the bastard old corpses of the people he killed till he pops."

I don't hear from him again for 3 years. And when I do, I really wish I hadn't.

I should never have sent that text.