THE HELL HOLE

I arrive in a small corridor, near the Purgatory entrance. I quickly walk away, that is not where I want to be. There is a chance Crowley would be talking to Dragoness.

I hurry along the winding maze of red stone and screams until I find a cell block. Empty for now. No one was using it for a checked out soul from the library. I walk through them, looking for one that is particularly spacious. Most of these are dry, clean of blood and guts but not dust. Souls are in the line now. Any special cases for Crowley...I shake the thoughts from my head. I need to focus, not be thinking of food now. This ceaseless hunger is annoying, I'll have to get in the practice of ignoring it, like I did pain.

I find a big cell and enter, quickly looking out before I close the door behind me. I drop the bag and take a breath, and pause.

He wouldn't think to look for me here. I should be safe for at least a bit. I sigh and look around, and feel. Hell feels a bit different, drier, warmer. It's not bad but it's not pleasant either. The stone floor is warm beneath my bare feet, but not as warm as when I was just a soul. I take a breath again, bracing myself for yet another discovery, and exhale into the room. I fly around as red smoke a moment before looking at the body I just left. It's still alive, and freaking out in rage. I needed to deal with it, I should have killed it while I was inside. I focus on solidity, on being able to rip and tear and feel, and draw with my own hands.

I start to feel heavy, like I'm weighted down with sand, and suddenly I'm on the ground… but I don't seem to do ...or know anything. I have no shape! Something… something is wrong! It has to be! I try to move, but can't. I'm in the dark, I can sense everything around me but I can't see or smell or hear. It's terrifying, this lack of anything except the feeling of hot stone and the subtle sense of where the walls and Janice's body are. I don't want to live like this! I don't want to live like this! This prison that very well could be my mind. I don't want to be in Johnny Got His Gun. I need arms, legs, eyes! Something! Anything else to let me interact with the world!

I'm about to return to smoke to get away from this confusing state when I can suddenly feel a hand. Not a hand on me, but a hand that is mine. I slowly start to move, form. Is this Hell deciding what my true self is? Is this me deciding? Do all demons start like this, or is my true form just a blob of moldable clay? All of these make sense. I quickly focus on what I want to be, and feel myself begin to move upward. I feel bones and muscle organizing and forming. I rise as a spine holds me up slowly. I feel dizzy as my head forms and when my eyes open everything is far too bright for a moment. I try to cover my eyes and everything goes dark. I draw my hands away from my face… all six of them. Their spindly fingers long and dexterous. I blink. So many. I don't need that many h-

There is a pain in my thighs and I look down. Janice's body has taken advantage of my new form and attacked. Her pedicured pink nails gouging into the flesh of my leg. She is small, not as small as a person is to Crowley, but still small. She rakes her nails down my side and I wince, wishing I could crush her with more than my flimsy hands. My legs ache and burn as my flesh melts together in the middle. I nearly fall forward onto my attacker as my legs meld together and my toes ache and stretch. My skin itches as scales form, blood red and shining they deflect the nails coming at them easily.

Oh. This is wonderful. Of course my true form would be malleable, I spent half my life drawing on my skin. All of my life creating. Of course this would be what I am. I look down at my attacker with glee. Oh, let's test this out.

….

Half an hour later I slither around the cell, completely a snake from head to toe. Or fang to tail. I'm 16 feet long in this form, and the cell is constraining. But I have one more meal, a bitter pill to swallow, before I leave. I eye the bag of bone dust and move my jaw from side to side. I slither up to it and unhinge it as I did but fifteen minutes ago. It had taken some doing the first time, I didn't quite get it right. The bag goes down much easier.

I am less cruel than Crowley, at the moment. The body died quickly of asphyxiation, I have no wish to prolong its torture for my own pleasure or secondary meal of sin. It was foolish of me to eat it in the first place. I am finding what Crowley said to be very true, urges are much harder to control in this form. I need to get out of it. I also need to stay here until I can digest the bone dust however. I can't stay right here though. If someone sees me they will ask questions. A giant snake is not a normal demon form. Nor is a blob. I relax, and think natural, what I would think normal would be. Unnoticeable. Boring.

I feel my upper body changing, growing shoulder blades and arms. The sensation is queer and I wonder how far I can press this ability. I imagine small, four feet, and I begin to shrink a bit, maybe three inches, but stop there. I can't change my size category it seems.

I push myself to extremes for another twenty minutes to learn the limits of my abilities. No more than six arms, no more than two legs, no more than one head, no taller than 16 feet, no more than two mouths, three eyes, two ears. The restrictions of maximization are huge, but I can have nothing if I want. A sphere rolling across the floor with one eye could be me, propelled by my will alone. I feel like an avatar in a Shin Megami Tensei game. Or Persona.

I settle for a naga with four arms and a mouth that near splits the head in half. I need to finish digesting this bone and then get the hell out of Hell. I can imagine every demon is registered and listed and organized in Crowley's hell. I need to find somewhere to lay low. And I think I know where, if I can find it.

It feels like days that I slither around the corridors of hell. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it's been hours. The corridors twist and turn. Red and black stone blending together. Lightning flashes overhead in some parts while in others a cathedral like ceiling looms. I see a few other demons but they pay me little mind except a few looks and whistles at my top less half. It is monotonous, but I can feel the weight of the bone dust in the pit of my stomach still. I need more time. This is horribly boring.

I turn a corner and nearly run into a three foot tall scraggly demon. His face is round and he has one eye and a very long tongue. I almost apologize before remembering where I am. I hiss and continue on my way. The little demon has other ideas. I feel a slap on my tail and turn to see him grinning. I have no time for this.

"Little demon, I will eat you alive. Leave me, I have placessss to be."

"Darling, you can eat me anytime." I hiss again at this, near lunging. I don't have time for this, to figure out if I might be noticed or if he could escape.

"Don't tempt me." I turn and begin to slither away.

"Hey, you-" I snarl, I had warned him. I turn and wind around him. I squeeze.

"Should I take an arm, or just go for your head?" I lean over the tiny demon and open my mouth, two rows of teeth shining far too visibley for a human mouth. The demon panics and puffs away in a line of black smoke. I hiss again, not sure if I'm satisfied or disappointed, and continue on my way.

Two hours later I'm still turned around. I cannot find my way to the cage, the one place I doubt anyone visits with any regularity. I sigh and relent my search for it, deciding my next best bet is to keep moving. I slither into a corner somewhere and breathe. I listen for sound, look for prying eyes, check for anything that might pop up suddenly. After I'm completely sure I'm alone I begin to split my tail in two. Best to change forms, just in case I attracted attention. I move my mouth downward, change the shape of my eyes, remove my hair and elongate my fingers. When I'm confident I look completely different, I step out of the corner and begin to walk.

I spend another hour wandering without running into anyone. That reprieve is cut short by a familiar voice.

"-so hot."

"You're going to get yourself killed if you keep flirting with chicks bigger than you Danto."

"Well, I'll die in a very happy place."

"She was going to eat you." I round the corner and see the tiny demon talking to a demon twice his size seemingly completely made of tentacles. The now named Danto sighs wistfully.

"Yeah. Now if I just knew she'd let me out again."

I shake my head and keep walking. He's gonna get himself killed. There's not a demon out there that would let him out again.

"Just smoke out you idiot."

"I mean… yeah. But where's the fun in that?"

"Dude, did you not learn from-"

The voices fade as I walk down a hallway. The wall to the left vanishes and I find myself to the right of the pits. I know where I am. That's bad. If I know where I am, it's a place Crowley frequents. I'm about to turn away when a familiar voice calls out.

Ranni.

Shit.

"Hey. You. Come here." I turn and look around wildly then point to myself. "Yes, you, gut mouth."

I swallow, and as I walk quickly melt my tongue back into my flesh. If I can't talk, I can't betray myself as easily. Ranni holds a digital clipboard and is tapping a stylus on it as she looks at me. I stop in front of her and hold my hands behind my back.

"I don't recognize you. Are you new?" I nod. "How new?" I shrug. "So not new." I shrug again. "What are you doing?" I make a walking motion with my fingers. She glares. "Why aren't you talking?" I open my mouth and she looks in. "Ah. One of those. Goddammit." I nod as if in agreement. "We may need to get you a meat suit." Shit. I shake my head quickly, without thinking. She stares. "You...don't want a meat suit?" I shake my head again and shiver. I rub my stomach and then make motions of things coming out of my mouth. "It makes you nauseous." I nod. Ranni narrows her eyes. "What's your name...shit." I shake my head and hold my arms in an x. "You don't like your name?" Man, I haven't played charades in ages. Maybe I could annoy her into letting me go...or just delegating me to some worthless position. I look at Ranni, no. She wouldn't do that if it could cause problems, she is prideful of her work. I make the x again then shake my head while air writing.

"You...have no name?" I nod. "What about your torturer?" I scratch my head as if confused. She sighs. Fortunately I seem to have retained my storytelling and ability and quickness when it comes to creating. I have a backstory already. "How did you become a demon?" I made a writing motion and she raises a brow. "Contract. And the contract holder who should have named you when you came down," I make a gun with my hands and make as if to shoot Ranni. I mock the recoil then hold my arms to my side and freeze. This is going to be a long charade, but Ranni is patient. I make a stabbing motion and then do an over the top fake death before pointing to myself and running. She stares.

"Devil's trap bullets and a demon killing knife?" I shrug and scratch my head as if I have no clue what those are. "Hunters got him, and you ran." At this I nod and give a thumbs up. Ranni makes a note. "I'll need to talk about intake in clerical if they are missing lost contracts this easily." She sighs and looks up at me. "Alright. Well do intake the old fashioned way. Why did you want to be a demon?" Shit. I had not thought of that. Uh uh. I make muscles and then point at myself, then make a gun again and point it at myself. I hold up and shake my hands in a panic. Ranni stares. I slump over, tired. Charades is hard.

"You were being hunted?" I straighten and jump up, nodding quickly. I actually get a smile from her. I almost feel sorry that Crowley will kill her when he finds out she failed. "Alright. So do you want revenge?" I nod. No demon would do otherwise. "Do you know what they looked like, or why they were after you?" I shake my head. Wouldn't do to have fake backstories for other people. People that could be researched. "Ok, we can work on that later. What was your job?" I make a eating motion with my mouth and a writing motion with my hand. "Food writer?" I nod. "Any renown?" I shake my head. Wouldn't do to have anything traceable. "So, vice?" I make the eating motion again. It's the only thing I can think of. When I was alive I didn't really care for food, or drink, not excessively. I cared for nothing excessively enough to consider it a vice or a sin, besides art anyway. Now, whatever would have manifested is replaced by Crowley's fucking curse. I'm hungry, all the fucking time. I can see why Crowley preferred being in a meat suit unless he was actively doing something to ameliorate the situation, it's fucking distracting.

Ranni nods. "Makes sense. Ok, let's get you situated in the kitchen, you can meet the king later. He's going over all new intakes right now." Shit. Fuck. Balls. Ranni sees my sudden nervousness and smiles. "He doesn't bite unless you're an idiot or piss him off, don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine." I shake my hands in front of me and draw my foot in circles as if embarrassed, hands behind my back. Ranni chuckles. "So you've seen him already?" I nod and hold my hand about his meat suit's height and then up as high as I can. I pretend to swoon and back away raising my hands again. "You'll be fine. Either way you have a few hours to prepare, he's out organizing some things right now. Trouble in the ranks." Oh? I wonder if I can get her to tell me anything of the happenings. I make a motion of shock, hands on either side of my mouthless face and motion for her to continue. "Nothing for you to worry about. Now, name." I shake my head, if they gave me a name they could look it up and see I wasn't there. "Sorry, everyone has to have a name. So, Allara." Fuck it. Fine. I nod. "I'm Ranni, now let's get you to the kitchens." Fuck. "And we'll have to do a smoke check." I scratch my head, actually confused. "Check that you can smoke, just standard procedure." Shit, no she's checking color. Fuck. Sorry Crowley, but I have only one idea to get out of this. I hold out my arms and indicate for Ranni to lead the way. I thank...something that she is stupid enough to do so.

She leads me through hall after hall, turn after turn until I am thoroughly lost. I have a feeling she is not leading me to the kitchen. However she is chattering all the way in an attempt to distract, educate, or calm me. She is not glancing back often, relying on her ears to tell her I am still following. That's good, because I am changing shape. Ranni is by no means large, but I need to be bigger. She can't escape. I can only hope this works.

I plan on changing my feet last, not wanting to alter the meter of my steps and tip her off. It's difficult, I have a set mass and I need to either be long or tall for this to work. I go with tall, thankful that this part of Hell has no ceiling. I'm thin, the mouth from before five times as long now, basically a slit down the entire front of my body from which I have removed all other features except an eye at the top. I have four long writhing tentacle like arms, that have sharp hooks at the end, just in case. I look like a fucking mutated roper from D&D. Finally I shrink my legs so I'm level with her, my gate changes and Ranni pauses, steps faltering. I continue towards her.

My arms wrap around her as she turns and I pull her back toward me. The clipboard falls to the floor as I literally throw her back into my open mouth, an Iron Maiden made of flesh. Perhaps mouth is the wrong word, it's more like my body just opens in the front. I slam shut before she can scream or breathe or think. I would have liked to be dramatic, tell her who I am, have a flair for the situation like Crowley did. I don't have the time or the luxury of failure right now. I can feel her fighting but I don't have time or assuredness in myself to savor it. I squeeze, the myriad of teeth crushing her stolen body. Her smoke tries to escape but I immediately grab at it with my red mist and pull it down to my other prison, the one that Crowley had that no other demon did. No other demon except me. I pull her down there, and wait, ready to tear her apart if she tries to leave, if she can leave.

"What the fuck?!" Ranni crashes around the infinite red prison, my infinite red prison, and I near cry out with joy. She's trapped, just like I was for hundreds of years. Just like I would be again assuredly. For now though, I can be on the other side. I am sad I don't have time to relish it right now. Later perhaps. I quickly start once again to change shape, not wanting to be caught in a form that will literally spew chunks of meat out if I tried to talk. I go for a very lithe form again, with three eyes, one vertical between the other two. I sprout four arms, two long legs, and many many horns instead of hair.

"Who the fuck are you!?" Oh joy, I get my moment of over the top drama after all.

"Oh, you know who I am Ranni, hi." I have no qualms about mentally talking to my prisoners, pride in myself is not one of my sins and I have no one to horrify or torture with such an act. Ranni is silent a moment, then a myriad of curses fill my mind as I continue to take on my new form. I chuckle as I bend down to pick up the clipboard.

"He will find you! He will send his hounds after you!"

"He will eventually Ranni, but thanks for reminding me, my previous sigil has probably disintegrated by now." I lift up the bottom of my foot and with a long nail carve the hellhound protection sigil there, where no one can see it. It hurts, and it bleeds a lot. Shit, noticeably a lot. I can't afford to mess up right now. I look around, but don't see a single goddamn flammable thing to cauterize the wound with.

It's then that the clipboard flashes in my other hand.

"He's on his way." Shit. I look at the alert.

"Heading over now with Growley, keep her occupied till I can confirm it isn't Chew Toy." Shit. I look down at my chest and quickly flatten it, then sharpen my face even more, completely androgenous. No longer a her, something Crowley wouldn't expect from me after I had voiced my discontent at being shoved into control of a male body repeatedly.

"How are you doing that?"

"My true form is literally a blob of clay. Now, where is he coming from? How close by?" Ranni clamps down immediately, but I have been with the King of Hell for hundreds of years, I've had information torn out of me repeatedly. I know exactly what to do. I reach down into my own well of anger and memories of pain and shoot it at her like an arrow with a string attached. She screams, and her pain sends ripples of satisfaction through me. Was this why demons tortured humans? Is this what it was like for Crowley? Jeez. I ignore it, not now. Not my cup of tea anyway. I pull out the arrow and tear at the crack in her being, pulling out the information I want.

I get nothing. This is not as easy with a demon, or perhaps I'm just not good at it.

"Column A, column B. You need training."

"Probably. But for now…" I continue my search for something flammable. I walk, and am about to drop the clipboard before I leave when I realize my scent is on it. I can't leave it, I certainly can't take it with me, it probably could be tracked. Shit. Second time I've fucked up.

"You will fail and-"

"And either way, you will die. Shut the fuck up." I concentrate and grow out some long hair, brown, because it's the first color I think of. I take a nail and start to slice it off, ready to use it to burn the bottom of my foot. I don't get that far; as soon as I start cutting I feel pain, this hair is not dead, it's part of me. I pause and breathe, startled, and feel a lurch from my stomach, and keel forward from the sudden shift in weight. I feel lighter, pounds lighter. I think my meal has just been stolen….perhaps. I pull at my hair again, cutting it with a sharp claw once more.

No pain. Growing something that… isn't part of my clay takes energy, material. I wonder if I ate enough I could change sizes… I shake my head. Another time. I cut off the hair and light it on fire with a snap. The smell is as awful as it was when I was alive, burning hair smells like death. I drop the burning mess and hold my foot over it, wincing at the stinging sensation, but relaxing at the warmth as the pain quickly becomes more than tolerable. It's not that it doesn't hurt per say…. It's so hard to describe. But it's nice.

I hear a sound from the left corridor and look up, quickly stomping out the hair and brushing it away. I look up just as my greatest fear walks into the corridor. My stomach drops in fear and anticipation.

He walks in with Growley by his side, sniffing the ground and living up to her name. Crowley looks at her and then at me, and then at the clipboard in my hand and raises a brow.

"That, is not yours."

"I, uh, found it on the ground here." True.

"How long ago?"

"Like a minute before you came sir." Also true.

I am trying very hard not to talk like myself, change some type of mannerism, it's a bit difficult with Ranni screaming in my head. I watch as Growley walks up and sniffs the clipboard, I hold it out, shivering. Not a difficult feat with how nervous I am. Growley sniffs it thoroughly and growls, looking at me, and then around the hall. I step out of the way, to the side and let the hellhound follow the path the few more feet to where Ranni took her last step. Her meat suit sits heavy in my stomach, proof of my crime. I can feel the sin manifest very slightly by the dead flesh, not fully because I wasn't really doing it out of anything other than an intent to survive. It feels warm, and very sweet.

Her demonized soul screams in my head, trying to distract me, but I manage to ignore it for now. The hellhound stops at my hair, sniffs and recoils, then continues their search elsewhere. I keep the clipboard close, needing it to explain Ranni's scent on me if Growley came back. Crowley however takes notice of my action and his hellhound's. He walks up to the pile and looks at it with a raised brow, then turns his gaze to me again.

"What is this?"

"I… I had just finished cutting my hair when I happened on the clipboard. I don't like leavin pieces of me around so I was burning it. Sire, can… can I help you?"

Crowley has been regarding me deeply, much to my dismay. He is immaculate as always, whereas I am naked, disheveled, and smell of burning hair. He is having trouble hiding his distaste. He looks me up and down, and when he reaches the floor notices the blood.

"Was this here when you arrived?"

"Uh, no. It's mine. A small cut, nothing to worry about." I shuffle my feet as if embarrassed, bringing attention to them, and not my second pair of arms going behind my back. I'm about to make a cut on my back to explain the blood when Growley returns, whining. Crowley frowns then looks at me, my fragile lithe form, and shakes his head. He holds out his hand for the clipboard and I tentatively hold it out, arm shaking still in fear and anticipation. This is nerve racking, and very exciting. Crowley grabs the clipboard, looks me up and down once more, and then turns to leave.

And everything goes to shit.

Growley sits and whines, and Crowley pauses and turns.

"What?" Growley turns and looks at me. "What do you mean they smell nice? It smells like burnt hair and I'm about to vomit if we don't get out of here." Growley turns and pads towards me, and I tense. Right, fuck, Crowley can speak with some animals… can all demons do that? Fuck. We both watch as the hellhound stops in front of me and sniffs again, long and hard, and flops on its side panting. The hound I had spent hours upon hours with, letting it guard me, slowly gaining its trust, given belly rubs, was asking for one.

Crowley turns slowly and looks at me. I think fast, as fast as I can.

"Uh… can I pet him?"

"Her. And yes, if you don't mind losing a hand, or three." I nod and swallow, but kneel down.

"Who's a good girl, yes, yes you are." I tentatively reach my hand out in a fist and let her sniff it. Her tail wags harder and I slowly pat her head, acutely aware of the gaze upon me.

"I wouldn't have thought of this form for you Chew Toy." I almost tense, I really do, but manage to keep my cool, Ranni yelling in my head actually helps, the distraction that she is. Keep the ploy, stay the course. I continue patting the dog and reach out another hand to rub under her chin.

"Yes who's a good girl? You a- Sorry sire. Who?" Crowley steps closer and I pause and look up, resulting in a discontented sound from the hellhound. I take another hand and begin to rub her belly, getting a kicking leg for my troubles.

"Growley only trusts a few people; myself, my mother, and a very close acquaintance of mine. You are not the annoyance I equate with my mother, and I am right here, so that leaves one person."

"Well, I hope Growley'd make an exception for a professional dog groomer and trainer. Would you? I think you would!" I begin scratching down her neck, both hands on either side of it scratching away. Crowley continues to walk forward slowly.

"No, I mean she has been Trained, to only accept people I tell her to, and even then They have to win her trust. So...Chew Toy-"

"Fuck, and I was almost finished my meal too." At this Crowley pauses, his slight smile gone.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I have another packed away, don't I Growley? And one right here in my hands, yes I do." I start to tighten my hands on the Hellhound's neck, not enough to make her whimper, or even cause discomfort, but enough for Crowley to see that my hands are in position to snap her neck. He pauses.

"Don't you dare."

"Walk the other way, give me a two minute head start, right here and now, and you'll get your hound back." He blinks.

"Two minutes, that's all you're asking for?"

"And the four little words that are music to your ears, even if the violin may be out of tune this time." His jaw sets as he looks at me.

"Leave your other meal, and we have-"

"Nope. Not gonna happen. I-" I stiffen at a particularly loud scream and exhale loudly. I send as much pain as I can muster through every fiber of my being. I tighten my grip on Growley's neck for insurance in my moment of distraction.

Crowley watches.

"Trouble?"

"Indigestion."

"Ranni always did have spirit. I'd really prefer both of my assets back alive."

"Well, she knows too much now." Crowley chuckles.

"You've been out three days, how many secrets could you possibly have? Also, thank you for confirming that it is in fact Ranni." I curse, but then grin.

"You have no idea what secrets I have. Crowley, you know how conniving I am, I know how manipulative you are, we know how the other thinks. I learned from the best, and I've been putting it to use. So, what's two minutes? A mere two minutes, one for each of your lovely assets? I can't get far. C'mon, play some chess with me again." His face is expressionless, I have no idea what is going on behind that human mask, it's absolutely wonderful to not know.

"Give up now and your punishment will be a lot less severe."

"No it fucking won't. Crowley, I already know exactly what you'll do when you catch me, don't even try to play it off."

"Really? Enlighten me."

"No. Deal, or I destroy Ranni right here and now alongside Growley. Four little words and we can have ourselves a merry little chase." The only sound in the hall is that of my hands on Growley's neck and belly. We stare at each other, a stalemate if Crowley actually wants his allies alive, or perhaps he's actually enjoying fighting an opponent whose goal isn't to overthrow him, unseat him. This was something he could take time with. Maybe the only reason he called the Winchester's was to put off the fight with them. After all, the longer I spend as a demon, the worse it will be when I return to human.

I have no intention of doing that at all. I'm hoping to lose him for a few decades, I don't know what I'll do during them, but it will be Me doing those things, not him. I'll lose this battle eventually, I'm hoping for a spectacular end to this story arc. I could 'win' right now by going to the Empty, but how boring would that be? And it sounded horrible there, just regrets and possible successes played over and over? Ugh. Besides, he'd get me out eventually, if only to kill me. I have no doubt; he's a vindictive man, revenge is one of the highest things on his list of vices, and he likes a slow slow burn.

So we stare, and think, and wait. Too long.

"Choose and perish Crowley, I'm not waiting another second for your backup to come. Deal or no deal?" I raise my free hand, ready to snap Ranni into oblivion, I'm not sure if it would work that way, but hey, I had already destroyed two souls manually, I had seen Crowley do this thousands upon thousands of times. Either way I pull my prisoner into a smokey grasp, ready to do it more hands on if the snap doesn't work. Crowley stands still, hands in pockets, raising the tension as I give belly rubs to his favorite pup. "Three...Two...On-"

"We have a deal." I grin.

"Oh no we don't. We have a start. I need to explicitly state what I am asking for before you agree to it, Sire. You are agreeing to give me a two minute head start at this moment in time, to run away from you, and all your constituents and allies. With no one blocking my way, impeding me, or attacking me while I move, not on your order at least. Do we have a deal on That?" Crowley huffs, in annoyance, respect, amusement, something, but he nods.

"You've come a long way since I met you."

"As far as you?"

"Not quite."

"Of course not, can't compete with the King of the Crossroads."

"Then why are you trying?"

"Why, because I have the chance to make something again. Even if it's the story of my own demise, it'll be one I have a hand in writing."

"You really think you have a chance at choosing how this ends?"

"No, but I can write a chapter or two, I've been told by someone pretty high up that I'm not bad at coming up with ideas." Crowley huffs again, a laugh this time, and nods.

"We have a deal."

"We have a deal." I stand and pat Growley on the head. "You wouldn't happen to know the way to the exit now would you girl?" Growly whines at the cessation of my pets and growls unhappily at being torn between the person who gives her belly rubs and her master who gives her fresh meat and souls.

"One minute 40 seconds." I look at Crowley, curse, turn tail and run.

"Coward."

"I prefer the term strategist Ranni, now shut the fuck up." As I run and turn corner after corner, I change shape, my only recourse at this time. I need a form that will smell different, skew my scent with how different it is from mine. But first, I need a distraction, a red herring, and to shed some dead weight.

I grab at one arm with the other three and pull, forcing another arm to grow beneath it. It hurts, a lot, and I stumble from the lurch in my gut but I can feel the last bit of bone dissolve as it's turned into 'clay'. Half of Ranni's body is gone too. I pull the arm off with a crunching of bone as another more scaley arm bursts out from beneath it. The ratio of molding material I get from my meal is greatly disproportionate. Half a body and a bit of bone for an arm. I'd have to eat a lot to grow a few inches. I hope things like cake work too. I miss cake.

I continue my mad dash as I grow scales, change the shape of my face to a more reptilian guise, crocodilian in fact. I wince and stumble again as I use the last bit of my meal to grow a tail, a short one, but still a tail, new flesh I didn't have a moment before. As odd as it may be, I need to be able to be injured right now, anything else might give me away. I'm not sure if this skill could be used to heal, in fact I doubted I could heal anything unless I changed form, but that was still not the norm. I suppose I might be powerful for a demon, but I am most definitely not the most powerful out there, by far. I have few skills except my creativity and ingenuity. I can't fight, I'm not particularly strong, I have had no time to practice with a demon's abilities at all. I do have a boat load of knowledge from my time with Crowley though. Doesn't help me if I'm lost.

I can hear footsteps behind me, gaining fast. I finish most of my transformation as quickly as I can, even changing gender again, and rake my claws across my only bit of unscaled skin, a bit on my side. I run, letting the blood drip a ways, dip my fingers in the wound even, and throw it in front of me. I quickly run back, allowing scales to grow over the last bit of red skin. For a final touch I claw my own stomach again, deeply, with eagle like talons. I am a sight when Crowley's red smoke rounds the corner on Growley's tail. Crocodile head on a serpentine body with avian talons and digitigrade legs I am bent over panting, holding an arm that looks nothing like my own, blood everywhere..

The trisected pointed feet slam to the ground in front of me and I am knocked over by the now 27 foot tall King of Hell, definitely taller at least. I wonder if Cas is still alive, or if that's the meal that gave him a growth spurt. He leans over me as Growley sniffs the area, and me. The arm is taken by a hand far bigger than my head by many times over, and I am picked up by two others.

"What happened here?" Crowley has no face right now, his voice coming out in that razor filled gravelly sound. I swallow in fear and look back and forth for a second before allowing anger to cloud my features. I am angry after all, mainly at myself for my mistakes back there, but still.

"Fucker attacked me! I was walking down the hall and they barrelled into me, I grabbed their arm and they fucking raked their claws down into my side. I got a few good hits in before they fucking… I'm gonna fucking kill-"

I am choked and thrust into the wall, the blank face staring at me.

"They are mine. Touch them, and I touch you, intimately, from the inside."

"Y-yessir. Of course Sire." I'm dropped unceremoniously in a heap and I start to scramble away, rightly afraid. "Wait." I freeze, I slowly turn around. "What Growley? ….Of course she smells like Chew Toy, their blood is all over her. ...Well get their scent and Move. She can't have gotten far, and her body had decidedly too few holes for my liking… Of any kind my darling Cas, you can take it as-" The voices fade and I swallow. I needed to change form again, fast. I quickly run in the other direction, looking around for any demon who might spot my metamorphosis. I had been lucky so far, that might not last or-

I turn the corner and trip over something small and red.

"Ow, hey motherfucker! You- oh heeeey." I turn over to see a familiar face, Danto. He is tangled in my tail and legs, his one eye looking at me, certain parts of me, until they see the red leaking from my side. "Oh hey! Fuck. What happened?" He looks back and forth, worried he might be in danger. "Did hunters get down here?"

"No, no. Just a fight. One I have clearly not done well in, I need to get out of here." I sit up and hold my side, which does in fact ache.

"Well the halls end-"

"No, I need to get out of Hell."

"Woah. Woah. I ain't dealin in nothing that goes against the king's orders."

"I just need help to the door. I'm kinda dizzy from blood loss, I'm a crossroads demon, I'm allowed out." I think I'm a crossroads demon, or at least that my eyes will flash red. I doubt I'm any type of normal demon, this is going to fuck me over so badly. "Look, I'll do…" I don't even finish the sentence before his eyes light up. Right, this pervert. I could use this, but could I control myself enough to get this done? Maybe I could be a cheap whore and not swallow… maybe he'll accept that. I sigh.

"I want you to eat-"

"Right. I've heard of you, you're the guy who wants to be eaten alive and somehow survive it. Yeah, well, not happening."

"Then no-"

"But I'll hold you in my mouth… maybe once we get to know each other better we can go farther. Or perhaps we could just-"

"Sex got boring 200 years ago."

"You're doing it wrong if it got boring."

"Besides, if you're a crossroads demon, can't you teleport out?" I blink. I hadn't thought to try, hell is meant to keep things in after all. And the more I think on it the less I believe I'm a crossroads demon, I don't have the right stomachs.

"Too weak, too tired, also kinda need a body to do that once I'm there, would rather be smoke from the get go-"

"Then smoke here too." I glare, this is quickly becoming a fustercluck.

"Can't get directions from you if I'm smoke."

"You can just follo-" Nope I'm done.

"You know what, fine. I don't have time for this." I grab Danto by the head and stand, other arm covering my stomach wound. I need to change shape, stop the blood. I'll probably still be injured beneath the new layer but at least I won't be leaving a trail. I can't smoke here, the red is too noticeable. I start to run, Danto in my talons.

"Which way out of the maze?"

"That way but-"

"And to a door?"

"Same way hanging right but-"

"Thanks. Here's your reward." I toss him in front of me and snap the crocodillian jaws over him. It's so much easier to catch popcorn in your mouth when your mouth is so big. He squirms, and I have to resist the urge to chew and break his disgusting little neck. I just swallow. He gets stuck of course, this body is not meant for this. Luckily, breathing is optional. However now that he has no eyes on me I start once again to change form. I'm becoming tired, this is definitely draining my energy. I doubt I could change again if I tried.

I go for speed again. Long long legs with paws meant for running, a tail for balance, arms lower to the ground, thick short neck. Before I change anything about my face though I have to deal with idiot pervert here. I briefly wonder if he was online enough to even know what his kink is called. I suppose it doesn't matter. I swallow and it hurts. I am nowhere near big enough or elastic enough for this. He gets stuck in a disturbing parody of Crowley's fight with Castiel's mere days ago. I don't have time to deal with this right now!

It's at this point that I come to the end of the maze and see the pits again, from the opposite side. I skid to a halt and back up, quickly rounding the corner and changing my head. Soon enough I have completed my transformation into a strange distortion of a human hellhound that can run on all fours as well as stand, a fur less classical werewolf. I straighten and force myself through one last small change. I add a pelican's throat. I feel the skin stretch and loosen, as I concentrate.

Pelicans are fucking Terrifying. They will eat other birds whole and you can literally see them swallow while the other bird flails inside the transparent gullet. It is Highly disturbing. Still, it's what I need right now, I can feel Danto squirming and freaking out. He is deeply regretting his afterlife choices right now. The idiot. He's barely the size of an imp and-

The corridors behind me echo with a howl and a yell of frustration.

"Chew Toy!"

Oop. Time to go.

I quickly swallow one last time as I turn left and feel a thud. Ugh. This form is not meant for this and it feels so wrong. Snakes are meant to eat this way. Some birds are meant to eat this way. Godzilla is meant to eat this way. I am none of those things right now. Of course demon physiology doesn't make sense, the curse doesn't make sense, so maybe there's space for seconds… If he fucking takes a shit I will turn myself inside out and then rip him the fuck apart before gluing him back together with cum from his oversized fucking balls.

I continue to walk along the railed edge of the pit, looking down as I pass by. It's filled with demons of all shapes and sizes wielding torture implements of all shapes and sizes. The souls are in many states of 'decay'. Some are very fresh, just starting out, still screaming at every poke and prod. They twist and turn, pleading and trying to escape from the talons, knives and worse being used to slowly push them toward a new state of being.

Some are going numb like I did, flipping between that either normal or insane. The ones that are just starting are silent, withdrawn as they are sliced, cut, fucked, and toyed with. They are in their own minds only, an object most of the time except for brief moments of screaming and tears as they realize that these are the last moments they shall be themselves. They savor them, grip onto them no matter what is being done to them. Hoping they will remember who they are. They will, they just won't care.

The other numb ones are jumping between catatonic and a strange state of glee, their edges tinged with black. A very few are at the tail end, egging their torturers on, soul near oozing black smoke.

One or two are the strange ones, the ones that wanted to be there since the beginning. The shining grey edges of their pure souls hiding their corruption beneath, their centers are a swirl of white. I blink, and all of them just look like humans again, no energy to be seen except the black smoke leaking from those about to change into demons.

The floor is wet down there, perpetually slick with blood and other fluids, but mainly blood. Drains are spread throughout the floor, blood dripping to lower levels. Stairs lead down in one corner, it takes years upon years upon years to change a soul and new ones come in every day. One floor was not going to fit all of them.

"Pretty sight isn't it." I jump at the voice and turn around. There is no one there. "Thanks for the acid bath by the way." I blink. Right. Danto. I sigh. So gross. Hell is so weird. I feel like throwing up, despite being hungry.

"Why…. would you even want...Is this a fucking kink?" I feel him pause.

"It's Hell, of course it's a kink." I shudder again. I tell myself I'm growing used to this. I'm not. I want him dead.

"Just kill him. He's been an annoying gnat in my soup for years."

"After he shows me the door, Ranni." But maybe I can get him into a different prison. A more intangible one.

"Which way to the exit. I'm still dizzy from blood loss."

"No. You aren't a crossroads demon, you're green." I can feel him, relaxing, splashing. The fact that he's comfortable there unnerves me. I need this to end. Besides, I'm hungry. I want him out so I can put something I can actually Eat in. Like blue cheese and an apple. Crowley didn't like blue cheese, and I loved it. I can see Danto, like a parasite, stealing everything I eat, and it makes me furious. Every mental route I try to take away from him brings me back around.

"What's it to you if I get myself killed?" C'mon, get scared, flee.

"I'll have helped and I'll be blamed, and decimated! You don't want to get in trouble down here. You're new, so I'll tell you right off; the King doesn't just kill you if you misbehave, he eats you. And you don't go to the Empty after." Don't I fuckin know it, but I need to pretend to be alarmed.

"You're not a great actress." I ignore my critic and make an attempt anyway. She's not wrong though. I'll play to that.

"Yeah, well maybe I'd rather die like that than go to the Empty."

"I don't!"

"Yeah, well it's a bit too late for that." The splashing in my gut stops. Good.

"What?"

"The fight I'm running from is with the King you idiot. So either we escape together or-"

I feel Danto immediately turn into red smoke and I stop walking so I can focus on the problem at hand, or stomach. Whatever. I grab at the smoke with my own and pull. He fights, frantic, as my form dissolves slightly to wrestle with the fleeing demon. I hold my hands on my mouth and nose, like that will actually help. If he escapes, he'll tell people. I fly, and circle, and wrestle him into the other prison, right beside Ranni. I take a breath and keep walking as my two prisoners get acquainted. I sigh as I feel him leave my main stomach, thank god...the devil...Fuck I can't thank anyone! ...Thank Gaia. Sure, why not.

"I know the little dick already."

"Hey, there is one thing that isn't small about me and - ...Ranni?"

I gotta get rid of these two, this is unnerving. I have no need for torturing them, as long as I can get to the exit.

"Where is the exit?" I pull at Danto, hoping he is less resilient than Ranni. I'm wrong.

"No, you're just bad at this." I twitch. I'm done. Done being told I'm bad at this. I fucking know I'm bad at this. I've always been on the receiving end of these interrogations, Crowley prefers to pull info out of people more physically, he rarely puts them into a prison for interrogation alone.

"Oh like you know what the king likes and doesn't like."

"She knows better than anyone Danto. She's his pet, who escaped."

"Wait, the Chew Toy is real?" The Chew Toy? I...I'm a rumor?

"And she's an assassin demon."

"What? No. Those are just legends."

"Pardon, I'm what?"

"A shape changer demon. They are usually killed as soon as they come into being. After the knights disbanded and they had no captains they just made other demons nervous."

"Yeah, and why haven't I heard of them being about! Seen one come into being in the pits!"

"Because they are rare! Too many spies is never a good thing and Crowley especially doesn't like them."

"Can't you just find them with their name?"

"Doesn't make them any less dangerous. It's why there is only one other."

"Let me guess, his name is Smoke."

"How-" Ranni stops but it's too late, she confirmed my suspicion. The head of Hell's thieves guild is an assassin demon like me. Now I just have to find him. And about him. Is he a loyalist?

"Ha! Smokey ain't loyal to n-"

"Shut up Danto!" Hmmm, maybe I won't just kill him.

"Wait, what!?" Shit, you can hear me think? "Yeah! Sometimes! What the fuck do you mean kill me!" Fuck, I'll have to work on that.

"She inherited a bit more than just red smoke from the king Danto, or did you not stop to think why you're Stuck Here!"

"No! I was kinda fucking distracted Ranni!"

"The more useful you are to me, the longer you live Danto. Which way is the exit?"

"Don't fucking tell her Danto! I swear to-"

Ok, I am so fucking done with Ranni's interference, and my disguise needs work.

"What?"

"Well, one soul doesn't exactly match the luster the King has anymore, now does it Ranni?"

I grin and snap my fingers, putting all my will into the gesture. All my want for this bitch to shut the fuck up. All my desire for revenge on her for her taunts and how she looked down on me. I snap, and she explodes into sparkling ash inside that small prison.

And it feels amazing, and painful. A tiny nuclear explosion inside me just like before, except I feel two small bursts of white light from her as she dies. Her own prisoners. They go up in the small explosion with her. I shudder as the small sparkling remains are swept away into my red smoke. I know her now.

I know she had a crush, lust for Crowley. I know she wore that outfit not to please him but because it was an insult in her mind to the Catholic school she was sent to. I know she was greatly afraid not of dying but of failure. I know she watched many geeky things that she had thrust down into the back of her mind to put on a face of decorum and not 'fangirl' out in front of any one down here, because near everyone else was and she needed to stand out. I know she missed the feeling of excitement she got from being a fan. I know she had a box set of Firefly hidden away in her room.

I know that Crowley had sent her to do smoke checks on every new demon not registered. That means I either need to leave, or take on someone's form. I'd prefer the former.

I know her two prisoners. A preppy young woman who used to be a cheerleader at her college, and that cheerleader's ex boyfriend. They both bullied her. Ranni is...was fond of revenge. … There's another one here too. I coulda sworn Ranni only had two but perhaps this one was hiding. Kinda familiar but really faded. Ron… There is so much information, I can't go through it all. Three whole lives plus and a demon, that's a lot of memory and emotion to go through. I try to parse through it, think about what I want, but it's just too much; I can't find anything on the exit, so much for that plan.

I continue looking inward at the souls I have collected, destroyed, and realize I am one short. There is no hint of Robert Singer anywhere. Did I...just absorb him completely before I turned? Shouldn't I still have knowledge of him? Perhaps because it was before I became a demon it was different? Maybe-

"Shit shit shit shit-" I sigh at my passenger's panic.

"Shut up. Be useful, or be dinner." Danto shudders, as best smoke can, and I can feel him decide to comply. I could hear his thoughts if I wanted, I have no interest in them right now though, if ever.

"Exit's that way, straight ahead then right, then through-"

I start walking. It's not like he's going anywhere. I walk down the hall next to pits, the x's and t's holding the living toys of so many demons. They would be on the other side eventually. Circle of death blah blah. My thoughts are broken by Danto's mental query.

"So how old are you?"

"Enough, and not old enough. Also I don't know anymore. At least 500 hundred I suppose."

"And you said Sex is still interesting for you? I'm just turning two hundred and it's boring." I sigh as I glance around a corner before continuing on.

"Danto, I haven't had sex myself, with someone I chose, since I died. I have no idea if it's still good or not, but when Crowley does anything, it's never boring. If it is, he either doesn't do it, or finds a way to make it interesting."

"You must be the most interesting soul in existence if he kept-" I have to swallow my own laughter.

"Hardly. I'm well trained, or I was until he broke his toy. He also just knows how to manipulate me."

"And he's not doing that now because…"

"Because he has nothing to hold over me any more. He was using my empathy to control me, and torture me. That's fucking gone. God damn it feels nice."

"Why not use your fears?"

"Too easy, gross, crass. He'd have to live with my memories and ptsd of the events cropping up and causing panic attacks. Also using fears or physical torture breaks the mind, what he does breaks the spirit. A mind can be fixed, spirit...much harder. Leaves your toy sane so they can be played with. Besides, holding the threat of fear over me, the knowledge that he Could, was enough. I became resigned to my fate quickly, I'm not a match for him in the long run, but I could make things difficult. He kept me in check with threats of what he'd do to others, make me participate in what he'd do." Danto is silent and I chuckle. "What, you really didn't think the King of Hell wouldn't be the most manipulative evil bastard in here?"

"He really is the strongest-"

"Not always, he got rid of them, or his…. Frenemies did. He's not the strongest… wasn't. He's been the smartest for a long time though. If he wasn't so strong Now I could actually pose a threat. Now, I'm just a fly. Can't do what he's doing without contracts, can't do contracts without them going right to him. All custom contracts get sent to him for approval. Brilliant really, find out if anyone tries to copy him in no time flat. And I've been next to that level of evil brilliance for like 400 years. Don't. Fuck. With. Me."

There is silence as we turn a corner, two demons in meat suits walking past eye me but continue on my way. I try not to look at them. I have no idea how powerful they are, who they are, anything about them. That doesn't stop my stomach from reminding me it's empty now. It's so odd, it doesn't ache like hunger, the more I think on it, the more it's just like a constant reminder. God I hope cake or steak or something works for this. Man I could go for a burger.

"Why, no, how are you hungry?"

"Inherited the King's curse."

"You...what?"

"The crown's curse."

"Oh. Oh no. No, no food on earth will help that. You need sin-"

"Wait you aren't hungry all the time?"

"No! Demon's don't get hungry unless we are In a meatsuit, and even then we Barely feel it. Eating is a-"

"Pleasureable kinky sin. So...cake won't help?"

"...NO!"

"Dammit. I need souls. Fuck it. I may not need it but I WANT cake. Get you're fucking taste outta my mouth."

"Hey."

"Shut up. If I need sin I'll steal some fucking cake, or kill you if you piss me off enough. So shut up and tell me which way to go."
"...Left."

"And how much farther?"

"One more turn and-" I freeze, ok. If it was just one more turn, then I needed to start now.

"Start what?"

"Sorry Danto."

"Wait! Wait!" I sigh and pause, my fingers ready to snap.

"Yes?"

"Don't kill me." I sigh.

"I'm about to turn into smoke, I can't take the risk you'll try to leave-"

"If Crowley finds out I was part of this, he'll kill me Right away."

"You're not wrong, and I should trust you not to leave because of this, why?"

"Uhm…."

"That's what I thought."

"Wait! Wait! I'll…. I'll keep you in the know about other demons!" That could actually be helpful…"Right!" Fuck! I hate it when he can hear my thoughts! "Sorry, sorry!"

"The moment you try to run, I will destroy you."

"Right. Sure. Of course."

"I'm fucking serious. I don't need thumbs to do it in smoke form." At least Crowley doesn't, I shouldn't either. Fuck, I hope he can't hear this. I take a breath and grab onto Danto with my smoke, and take a running leap into the air. I continue moving, dissolving into an angry red miasma. Danto struggles for a hot second, confused, but then lets himself be pulled along. Good little pervert.

I rush around the corner, a pillar of red smoke with bits of black and white. For anyone paying attention, I am far too small to be the king. I cover Danto as best as I can, but even with his smoke covered thinly by mine, we are still too small. I'll have to be quick.

Two guards stand in front of an iron door. They stand on either side like pillars, the armor on their human meat suits is modern but tastefully tan, lending to the vision of their immovable state. They are neither tall, nor squat. They have lithe muscles and are ready to stop anyone in their tracks not with force, but by throwing them around with years of training. However, they are armed with blades that will be useless against smoke.

The hot air whistles through me as I fly, buffeting pockets of smoke and throwing bits of soul around me like leaves. I am impossible to miss. I look like Crowley 300 years ago, hopefully the guards are stupid or unobservant... otherwise I am screwed.

They look at me, and stand at attention, one opening the door quickly as red smoke barrels through. Thank… fuck it, thank god for the red smoke. I rush toward the 12 foot tall iron door and as it creaks open in the heat the fresh air rushes in to meet me. The other side is bright, very bright, and leads to a pale cream hall right now. I'm almost there when a shadow fills it.

A familiar shadow.

Crowley.

He stands in the doorway, hands on hips, just waiting as I barrel toward him.

"Hello Chew Toy." He opens his mouth and his own red smoke just starts to leave its home. His open mouth is cruel and red, a doorway to yet another hell. One I don't want to return to.

So I do it with barely a thought, but apparently enough for my passenger to hear.

"No! NO!"

I fly up, toward the top of the door, and Fling Danto at Crowley. The black smoke hits the red storm and I slip above them in the tumbling mass of confusion as Crowley grabs the demon he thought would be me. I feel the last of Danto's smoke being pulled away as he is sucked back into Crowley's body.

I rush out the door above the familiar face and the confused guards. The space on the other side is a rather nice room that is covered in tan and gold with fluer de lis everywhere. The room is large, definitely large enough to echo the irate bark of a yell from behind me.

"Danto! You idi- She's… Why should I even consider keeping you alive you little slut?! You couldn't suck me off if you tri.."

It's only then that I remember Danto knows about my shapeshifting abilities. I can only hope Crowley kills him quickly out of frustration and doesn't parse Danto's soul too much. If just 3 souls are hard to go through I can't imagine what 20 or 40 must be like.

But I doubt it'll pose a problem for him. So it's time to leave.

"After her you morons!"

Definitely time to go. I rush through the halls, near barreling people over, all demons, I can tell. They emit an aura through whoever they are wearing, one I can feel. They can feel, and see me, too. Many look up, confused, a few are afraid, some just stand aside, there are a lot of demons here. This is a hub, I bet one of the courts I've been in is here. I have no time to think on it or explore however, so I look for a window or vent or chimney.

I feel a breeze behind me, a displacement of air. Crowley. He's following me, only he is big enough to change air currents like that. I turn a sharp corner, then another. I can feel him getting closer. His rage and glee radiate like heat from the red storm of smoke. The Immortal Storm is coming. But like any storm, he moves slowly. Slow for a demon at least.

I turn one more corner and finally spy a vent and rush through it, not caring where it goes. The twists and turns are sharp and I know I dent the metal, a few times. I travel for what must be minutes in the maze, and the pressure behind me decreases. Crowley isn't following me. This is not the time to slow down though. I'm scorched by the laser cleaning system, diced by a fan, and if I had a body I'd piss myself when the shaft behind me is clean torn off.

"Hello again Chew Toy."

Fuck, he'd went and gotten his meat suit. Piece by piece the ventilation system is torn away behind me as I rush through it, each rip preceded by a snap.

"Those two minutes didn't do much good, did they? Just got you into more trouble."

On the contrary, it gave us this merry chase. One that is leading me ever closer to freedom. I see a vent, one with light coming toward it and rush forward, eager to reach my freedom. I'm feet away when I slow down as a thought occurs. If I was Crowley, every vent to the outside would have a devil's trap. The only reason he wouldn't follow me in here to see which way I went out would be because he could herd me to a prison. It's what I would do. I turn left at the last minute and hear a curse from the floor below.

My joy at being right doesn't last long.

"Good to know we understand each other so we'll Chew Toy. I know you even better now, with what Danto's told me. Every choice imaginable and you didn't even give yourself an ass or tits worth looking at. I'll meet you at the front door." He waves with a smirk and turns away, completely confident in his situation.

It's my turn to curse. His new knowledge aside, that is where I was headed next. It's the only place he wouldn't ward, demons have to enter and exit somehow. And I hadn't seen any windows. I circle the vents in anger. So close. So close to freedom. Goddamnit!

I could go back to hell, but he'd be checking smoke there, checking any new demons thoroughly. And although killing Ranni was very satisfying, it was risky. I could try to wrest control of a meat suit from another demon, but the fight would be obvious and he'd come down on me faster than I could make the demon a snack. I could try to find a rat, but I somehow doubt there will be any.

And then I hear it, running water. There is one other place Crowley wouldn't ward. Couldn't ward, just in case a demon decided to actually eat in their suit. A place he had to include to make the building not stand out to humans who wandered in. A bathroom.

I rush toward the sound of running water and burst out the vent to a very concerned and surprised demon who is washing their hands, and another at a urinal. I'd stay to admire, or perhaps make them uncomfortable, but I don't have the luxury, I rush down a sink drain and into the sewers.

I suppose once this would have disgusted me; the pipes, the slime, the refuse. I had lost all fear of it after 200 years being around the filth of Hell. Also, being intangible helps a bit, I can only hit things in this form, not take anything with me. I rush down the thin pipe and into ever wider ones. I carefully stay above the water. I doubt the chemicals and bacteria used break down the refuse and purify it will hurt me, but the glowing color does not tempt me to try.

Despite my surroundings I rejoice, I'm free. I rush through tunnel after tunnel, turn corner after corner, fly until I find what I'm looking for. Light. A manhole cover. The single hole sends a pillar of light down into the sewer. It's like a key hole and an apt metaphor right now as I slide through. Freedom.

The sky is bright above, windy as usual, and clouds race each other towards some nameless goal. The streets are filled with people, and I hover low to the ground, streaking between cars until I find the curb. I lay close to it, in the gutter, and watch as my choices walk by like models on a runway. I don't want someone noticeable, because I want to show off, and if I do I will have to kill them so I can't be recognized by any facial recognition software, or DNA tagging. They need to not be missed. Of course I can't know if the bum on the corner will be missed by the people who walk by every day, but there's a lower chance of it being investigated.

I finally decide on an older lady with grey hair and a pudgy face. She's wearing worn down clothes and a shawl, one with holes. Hopefully that's indicative of her being abandoned or alone. I snake through some feet, and paws, and quickly rush up her clothing, hiding my bright color from the world as I make an inhale far longer than she expected. I settle and after a few blinks Agnes, that's her name, continues on her way.

She knows the city, lived here for years, very lucky for me. She does however have a family, a poor family, but a family. However, one less mouth to feed will do them good, so, whatever. I follow her memories to the office of Holton, Eckerton, and Mr. and Mrs. Langley Esq, real subtle Crowley, and look in the bay windows.

Crowley stands inside, pointing, and angry. It's been too long, something has happened. I look to make sure no one is coming, smile, and tap on the window. He turns around and rolls his eyes, then looks away. I look like a little old lady, unassuming, boring. I tap again, this time with one hand raised in a familiar position. He turns around once again, angry and ready to storm out at the interruption. He freezes as he sees my hands, ready to snap. I wink, and his face turns cold.

He's beside me suddenly, outside with a thought, but we both freeze as the tap of footsteps echoes through the alley. I look past Crowley, and he turns. Two humans are walking, hand in hand, laughing. Normally, he'd just kill them, but they have hoverboards and a phone out in front of them, live streaming. I turn tail and run around the corner as he takes this in, trying to decide how much damage control it would take if he just made them explode.

"Che-Aunty!" His voice echoes and footsteps follow me quickly. The dead end I've turned into is brick, with a side door into the office. A dead end, and apt name, but it means nothing to someone who can teleport. I spin and raise my hand again just as Crowley skids into view. His face is a mixture of fury and anticipation as he walks forward.

"Don't you dare."

"Why not?"

"Because I have your bones."

"Do you now? Don't care. Remember, you do that, I get what I want. Away from you." He blinks and curses.

"The Winchesters-"

"Are after me, of course they are-" I hunch over a bit as more footsteps get closer. Feuds didn't matter, never mattered, as much as making sure average humans don't know about demons. It's almost automatic to try and hide. "Of course they are trying to find me, honey. They're worried about their friend, but I want a little me time son. Tell the girls that for me, dearie." Crowley pauses and then does a quick look behind him as the two boys pass on their boards, phone still in front and recording. They look down the alley as they pass, but continue on their way. Crowley fumes as he returns his gaze to me.

"You-"

"Yes yes, I know, but I'm still leaving. Come catch me...Fergus." And I raise my hand.

"My name-"

"Whatever. I saw your true face right before I turned into this. I'm gonna go paint it. Send your red hairy head out to all the world. So send your demons after me, I'm hungry again. Ranni didn't last very long." His eye twitches at this, the demon he had been teaching for hundreds of years, dead by my hands. His demon, one he liked enough to not want dead, or at least kill himself if she disappointed.

"Marbhaidh mi thu! Nighean na galla! Thu-"

I snap as the Scottish Gaelic, probably curses, reverberate off the brick.

And I'm gone.

THE LANDS OF THE FREE

Cake. Fuck. I missed eating what I wanted. I'm not really hungry…. I mean I am...but it's more of a reminder of emptiness than hunger. Of the insatiable curse I have. It's annoying, but handleable. Another reason to stay in a meat suit.

However, cake. And steak. The little old lady will not quite fit anymore, not with what I want to do. I wish I could change my form in a human host, it would make things so much easier. I needed to be younger, more ...attractive or maybe strong. Something that wouldn't stand out eating cake, or steak, or tea.

Wait tea… he took my love of coffee and tea, but tea sounds delicious. Did all my parts come back to me? Well except for the ones he destroyed accidentally. I do a quick inventory, it'll be hard to know if anything is missing, but I feel fairly complete. Interesting. I once again say, magic is fucking weird.

I walk through the streets of Russia. It's a place I know little to nothing about, because Crowley never came here. The hardy boys rarely leave the states, so I should be safer here from them. I have some time for once, to just admire the world again.

The buildings here are steel and stone, with clay or porcelain tops that are reminiscent of the old round designs. Places have tried to hold onto their culture, but it was difficult with the climate and economic change. The tops glow now, or shine, solar absorbers made of gel mimicking photosynthesis causing many of the tops to have a green tint. The weather is warmer here than when I was alive; winter here was still a thing to be reckoned with, but the rest of the year is... nice.

I have no clue where I'm going. The maze of buildings gets taller, and more modern, the closer to the Earth Embassy Center and Capital. It's a maze, I never know if I'm turning into an alley, or a bustling street. I stand in a lonely alley, pausing to look at my reflection.

I sigh at the old lady staring back at me. Agnes would have to go, soon. I need a body that wouldn't get stared at for eating obscene amounts of cake. ….Shit. I have no currency of Any type.

I roll my eyes at the whispered attempts to comfort me by the old woman. She's really comforting herself though. I can feel her feelings, very strongly in fact. I hadn't noticed, but unless something was really intense...everything felt like a calm grey ocean. I kinda like it, I could see how after a few hundred years it might be boring. For me, after a few hundred years of Providing the intense emotions to someone, being pushed to limits so He could feel, grey is nice. Calm is nice. Even when I was angry at Danto, it was more… a fact than a feeling. I knew I would kill him, the disgusting little imp, it wasn't really … I understand it I think. For humans, emotions are a journey where you arrive at a conclusion about an experience. For demons, you just get the conclusion. Now, if the conclusion made you angry you might feel something, but the journey… gone.

Agnes is listening, feeling pity for my loss, treating me like a naive little thing. I'm older than you by a couple hundred years lady and you can't help me in this part of the world. Well, you can help in one way.

I snap my fingers and she explodes. It's a wonderful feeling, like the sky raining soft bits of tasty cloud. I'll probably regret this when Crowley catches me and turns me human again… oh well.

A thought strikes me and I realize I need to carve the hellhound blocking symbol into my flesh again. Well, someone's flesh. And soon. I look once more in the window, what a waste of flesh, just changing bodies and leaving the old empty one for some cop or zombie, if I could just change it like I did in Hell, it'd be so much easier. I sigh, wishing for tighter skin and thicker muscles, looking at a face in a mirror that could be mine, could be anyones-

And pain wracks me. A very old, very familiar pain. Growing pains, aches that feel like you haven't had enough water, that keep you awake when you try to sleep. I hold myself tightly and look around for anyone who might be watching, and luckily find I am alone. No one had seen my sudden lurch. I sigh, and look in the window, wondering what that was about, and stare.

My face stares back at me. My face. Mine. From when I was alive. I look down and all the clothes are far too tight, short, squat. The wrinkles gone, the grey hair, brown. I turn my hands over and look at them, they are my own. This is amazing, this is why assassin demons are feared. I was wondering why they were, it didn't make sense. In Hell you could change into whatever, but you could still be killed with a well placed knife in that form. And why would you want recon on other demons? Well, I mean why would whoever created assassin demons want recon on other demons, they were in an army. Now, on Earth, changing to look like any human, get a little magic to hide the fact that you're a demon. Bam. Spy on the angels. Spy on factions of demons with a bit more protection, look like their leader without killing anyone. After all, just killing your enemy, pffft. Destroy them from the inside out and eat them alive.

This is awesome, I can look like-shit I look like me. Crowley knows what I look like, I need to look like someone else. I look around and quickly cover my face, dashing to a corner to look at passersby. I take a look at faces, at bone structure, hair color, and make the most nondescript female I can, while holding the shawl over my face. I keep the brown hair, and the height, and my hands. I'll always keep my hands, I know how to draw with these hands. And boy do I have some things to share with the world.

First however. Food. Steak, cake, cheese. Blue cheese and pears.

Stealing is far too easy as a demon. It's boring really. I sit in a little one bedroom apartment of some...whoever's dead next to me. Their soul in my hand feels warm, frantic, sweet. Far sweeter than any of the other foods I've snapped into here after scouting the stores.

The man was a gentleman; let me in out of the cold, given me some clothes that fit, satisfied all my needs, I don't know how Danto thought sex got boring. He had asked me what I wanted to eat and I had pondered for a moment, a good moment, before realizing I really wanted him on the menu. So he sits in my hand, no good deed going unpunished, with me wondering how Crowley got used to swallowing light. If it burned going down, if it could try to fly away. I'd like to find out, but can I risk his escape? Do I want to keep this one alive a bit longer? He had a nice voice.

I've been just holding him in my hand for a good five minutes, pondering these things. It's odd, but relaxing to be able to ponder without someone-

There is growling outside the door, familiar growling. Shit. I knew I forgot something. The sigil. I look at the soul in my hand, no time for questions now, and just snap him into the prison. Then I look sadly at the food I had gathered, wondering what I wanted to pair the boy with, fava beans chianti, blah blah, and sigh. I was looking forward to the ice wine and cheese and crackers. The door creaks and and it cracks I snap and vanish.

Paris. Paris has good cheese. I could go to Belgium. Belgian chocolate man. I sigh. I wasn't this obsessed with food when I was alive. Fucking curse. I need to refocus. Sigil. I concentrate and pain covers my back, scars rising in the pattern of the hellhound protection sigil. Scars, not cuts, can't bleed all over my new shirt.

I look around at the buildings, the shiny metal, the stone streets, the glowing lights. Still the same and so different. Wait, Paris. The city of art.

It takes me not five minutes to find an art supply shop, and but a few more for a bench in the park. Man, I missed this. I open the sketchbook and smile at the blank page. Oh Crowley, Mark Sheppard, King of Hell, let's spread your faces all over world again. All of them.

I put pencil to paper, and the rest of the world fades.

It's dark when I look up again. I'm not satisfied with what I've made yet. Two sketches, then a bigger piece. I may want to take this digital. Either way, I can't be out here at night drawing, in the dark, like I don't need light to see. I need another place to stay. Ugh. At least I didn't have to think about this shit while I was with Crowley. Wait, I can teleport. Duh. I need ambience, I stand and take a step, and snap, and step into Romania… It's still dark. Shit. Right. Time Zones. Wait. No. There's a friend of Crowley's here. I'm about to bamf again when I realize I have no clue where this place is. I snap and… I look inward, Antony, I took Antony's phone from his corpse back in Russia. I look up a map then break the phone in half in case Crowley could trace it. Shit I shouldn't have taken it after the fact at all. Oh well. Likelihood Crowley'd catch me in time, not great. If he even set something up. Time to fuck up some ...let's just fuck up some old plans.

I bamf away to the castle of lore, Borgo Pass. Crowley hadn't named the vampire directly, but there's really only one famous one in Europe. Dracula. And I'm gonna fucking meet him. Dream of mine. Also, Crowley said he had an arrangement with the vampire. I'm not having luck creating right now, so let's break something.

I look at the crumbling building, the ramparts with moonlight streaming from behind, the old road leading up to it, and smile. Hundreds of years later, people still cared about heritage, or still feared this place. Superstition doesn't die easily. I however, am not similarly fearful as I walk toward the looming gate.

As I make my way toward a legend I ponder another. Crowley. Our similarities, our differences, what he has made me into. For so long we wandered blindly into the future, his abilities unknown. The capabilities of the deal, foggy. We had finally reached a mountaintop, a vantage point, where we could see a bit more clearly. At least, I could.

The fact that I could destroy pure souls, and he couldn't still, meant only one thing. Robert's deal with Dragoness, went a bit farther than just her not being able to destroy souls, it meant Crowley couldn't. With or without her, he was unable to change a pure undamaged soul. Of course, that meant little, damaging, changing a soul, is not that difficult. One vampire bite, one werewolf scratch, a few years as a witch, torture, sharing a body with an angel or demon. There are so many things that can scar a person, natural things too. War, depression, PTSD, loss. The human mind, the human experience, is fragile, but were they enough to scar a soul?

I suppose it depended on the person.

Either way, it wouldn't take much for Crowley to make a soul 'edible', but it felt amazing that I could do something he couldn't. Made me all tingly inside. And he had lost his primary safety net, me. Of course as soon as he had figured out that the multiple pieces of soul he kept of mine applied to other full souls, multiple contracts were on the table. He still didn't often keep more than one or two, too many was too noticeable. Besides, it's not like anyone could do anything to them without him knowing. Kill them, they go to him. Try to steal their soul, he can move it where he wants, it's his. The main problem was the body, but whoever he had a contract with was either completely anonymous and remote, or heavily guarded. Both types were always checked in on regularly. In the rare event one of them got killed, well that's what I was for. But heh, not anymore. I wonder if he'd replaced me? What he'll do with that replacement when I got back. If. Eh. Let's be honest, when. Still, I was that last line of protection from the Empty. The last in a myriad of souls that kept him tethered to this plane.

Maybe he didn't even need them anymore. Sure, to hide behind, use their souls to mitigate his demony traits, hide, whatever. But to be immortal? He might be that on his own now. No way he'd test it though. Oh well.

I stare up at the oak door and rub my hands together, happily, and knock. Louder than any sound a human could cause the wood reverberates with the force I put behind it. Sad and hollow. I regret it immediately. I'm not sure I want whoever is inside to know I'm not human. I look around and pick up a rock, and use that to knock once more. The effect is similar to the force I exerted. I smile, and wait.

And wait. I'm pretty sure this is the place.

And grow quickly bored. I have less patience than Crowley when it comes to being disregarded or ignored. Fuck surprising them, I'm going in. I look up and with a thought am on the ramparts. I walk and take in the sight of the mountains and rolling trees beneath them. The moonlight hits the green sea beautifully, adding a froth of white foam or false snow to the tips of branches and tops of leaves. It's wonderful. Crowley paused rarely to look at these things. He does on occasion, but mainly because he knew the unnamable overwhelming feeling of awe and lack of understanding would flood him through me. Of course, with the places he could go, it was easy to bring that sensation up. Now I can go to these places. I could photo… no. People would wonder how I got to some of these impossible places. Well, I could photograph them for me.

I look to my right and start a bit. Beside me is a man in shorts, standing and looking out at the same green sea. His hair is short and black, cut in a widows peak. His face is angular and old, wrinkled but wise and imposing. His hands are in the pockets of khaki shorts and a polo top. I find my hands itch for pencil and paper again, and an idea springs to mind.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

"Yes… And you are?"

"That's not important. What's important is who you are, to be alone in such a place. Who are you out there, who are you in here? Are they different people? Was there a journey that gave you a reason to be here? Who are you to me?"

"If you say dinner I will punch you in the face. Besides, demon. Also, I'm… here to draw you, or your castle. May I?" The man shrugs and I snap my drawing materials into my hands and begin to sketch.

"Demon blood tastes more bitter than human, but is no worse. It has more power though." I look at him, this farce next to me. Calm. Sure. Eloquent, yes. Maybe even silver tongued. But he has no menace. No darkness to him, or not nearly enough. I find myself highly disappointed.

"So… you are?"

"Samual."

"Dracula? Vlad Tepesh?" The man chuckles and I frown as he moves, changing the angle. I erase the mouth and start again.

"I've portrayed them, played a part for many a year, but no. The story is a story, and the hero of a nation remains only that."

"Then where are his bones?"

"Stolen, to perpetuate a myth. I see you know a great deal. Were you a fan in life?"

"I'm a fan now." The man looks at me, up and down, his face blank and unreadable. Then a smile graces it; conniving, cruel, and I can suddenly believe this vampire did indeed play this part for centuries.

"Fan enough to join me for dinner?"

"How about we fight for it? Winner gets to eat." The man throws back his head and laughs.

"No. I know better than to fight a demon, let alone enter into a deal with one."

I frown again as he moves, erasing the ears this time. It's a rough sketch, almost done.

"Why the fuck are you wearing khakis? Not only does it not match your persona, but they went out of fashion over 400 years ago."

"They have pockets. And it confuses people. If I don't expect someone, don't have someone I'm trying to make an impression on, the confusion gives a very good opening. Besides, it's not October. It's off season. I am very hungry."

"Same." At this he looks at me.

"Demons… don't get-"

"Cursed."

"That'd do it. Any chance of a cure?"

"Nope. It was literally put into my being as I was created."

"Well, I know what I want to eat. You?"

"Everything, with a side of souls." He blinks and sighs, returning his gaze to the sea.

"I suppose now's as good a time to die as any."

"I- you're fucking Dracula! Fight!" He shrugs.

"Over 1,000 years old, I'm bored." I look at him. He looks relaxed, but I can tell something is off. He is unmoving, unbreathing, unperturbed. I reach out as fast as I can towards his neck and my hand closes on empty air. I grin. A lie. He still wanted to live.

"It's a good thing I have no interest in eating your soul then."

"Really? Then why did you reach for my neck?" I turn and look to my left where the vampire stands, same as before, looking out over the green ocean.

"Had a feeling you were lying, wanted to see if I was right. So what do you do to keep the boredom at bay, if you don't leave here?" I sit back down and start to add shading, pointedly making big motions with the pencil and hiding the piece from view.

"The world is a large place, the internet doubly so. So many books, lives, and thoughts crammed into there. It's fascinating. I've been reading scans of Sumerian tablets for the past few months."

"You can read cuneiform?"

"It took a bit to learn, but yes."

"I...why?"

"Why not?"

"I suppose that's as good an answer as any? When was your last meal?"

"Two weeks ago. I-"

"How long can vampires last without food."

"Depends on the vampire, depends on their age."

"And you?"

"Have no inclination to tell you, lest I cheat myself out of a free meal."

"So a long time then."

"Not necessarily. Should I quote too short a period, you may think me weak, and undeserving. Too long, your assistance unneeded. Far too long, and I may be a liar."

"Attempting to sow doubt in my mind?" I lean over the piece more, hiding it from view, scribbling furiously at the bottom, words that mean nothing, except that it looks important. I can feel his eyes on me, but he isn't taking the bait.

"What would you do, were you hungry and offered the opportunity of a meal that could kill you but seemed at the moment full of good will?"

"Trick and eat them. Trick and treat."

"Not an option for me, I believe."

"Unless you have a phone or two in your myriad of pockets. Called Crowley yet?"

"Not at all. Or maybe Minutes ago."

"Is this who you are? This scheming articulate man, is this who you are when you're alone? Or the face you wear when you hunt big game?"

"The face mainly, but I've worn it long enough for it to be a second skin, a facet more than a face or mask."

"Then who are you?"

"A vampire who plays a role, and reads cuneiform tablets and watches football." I roll my eyes and sign my name and rip the paper from the sketch book to hold it up to the vampire.

"Would you even take a drink from me if I offered it? It'd put you in a vulnerable position." He blinks as he takes the sketch from me, ignoring the x-acto knife in my hand. A good way to get flat sides or pointier tips on pencils, it now glides over the top of my arm leaving the slightest trail of red. His eyes stop regarding the drawing and watch the red line appear. I hold it up and he shakes his head. He pauses and looks back at the drawing before dropping it to the ground.

"Passable, as is that cut. No, the neck or nothing." I smirk at the comment and shake my head.

"And what do I get?"

"You've already gained your gift, the chance to draw me." He's fast. Faster than I can raise my hand to snap, but I expected this and don't resist as teeth flash out and hands grab mine to pin fingers to my side unable to snap. There is no pre-amble after the pounce, no prideful boast or gloating. I'll give him that, he's smart enough not to waste time, he knows I'll fight back within seconds to throw him off me.

It's painful, the teeth are not sensual, not pleasing, not slow. They rip into the flesh but I don't mind at all, I'm barely there.

Red and slow, unlike his frenzy above, I've slipped from the body. It's fighting now, weak but alive and soulless. Far sweeter without me there, and he can taste it. He reels back to look around, and that's when I force him to continue to imbibe in red, though I feel it's a meal he'd rather not have.

I laugh as I continue to hold strong the body that was mine a moment ago, I wasn't ready to leave it just yet, and with a meal, I could probably heal it a bit. Lucky me, I have one here.

"Oh, you fall far short of my expectations. So easily outwitted. Still, I don't have much time. You did call Crowley a good three minutes ago." I pull at the vampire's twisted soul and soon bathe in the shower of gray light. "Well, at least one of us got a meal I suppose."

I hear growling once again and grin. I quickly turn the vampire's neck, and am rewarded with a satisfying crack. It won't kill him, but it will cause him pause for a moment. I rush back to the empty husk of the woman, her body starting to fail, her face starting to sag with age. As the vampire heals I pull my hands from his and finish the job with another twist. I drop the sketch on the dead vampire's body watch as the paper floats down to land on his chest. The face on the paper pristine, and far more inviting than the actuality on the ground beside it, detached and staring.

"Chew Toy!"

The voice echoes in the courtyard, far too close. Time to go. One deed done, goal achieved, one thorn laid out for him to step on. I snap my art supplies, and an arm, into my grasp and then bamf away.

Africa. A big place. One I know far too little about, to my shame. I know far too little about too many places. Too many cultures. Too many peoples. Time to change that. I have no clue where I have landed, just that I thought of the southernmost tip, warmth, and ocean. I look around at the beautiful scenery and people. Chocolate skin and smiling faces, hustle and bustle. The houses are colorful, many shades of brown and tan. Packed earth in hundreds of patterns showcasing the rammed earth style of housing that grew popular because of ready eco friendly materials and the jobs it created. However, the houses are still curved, rounded, and often shiny. Resin, metal, sometimes slip clay coated houses closer to the coast, protecting them from salt and high winds. There are no tall buildings here, not strictly. If it's tall, it's also big, always round, the circumference equal to the height.

I walk, hair being blown in warm sun, neck quickly healing from the meat of the arm I'm eating in the shade away from any people, and once again find a bench and begin to sketch.

I curse at the paper. I curse at Crowley. I curse at my hands. I am out of practice. I can't draw without reference anymore! Perhaps I am impatient. Either way, I am wholly unsatisfied with what I have created. I stand, angry and ready for distraction. As always now, I am hungry. I ignore it, and curse.

I have no goal other than creativity and satiating the curse. I cannot tempt souls to Hell, I have no ability to do contracts or send the tempted to those who do, lest I be found. I cannot assist Hell, I don't know if I want to. I suppose I could travel, see things, bask in the glory that is nature. But it feels… empty with no one to share it with, brag to about it… I grin. I know what I want to do suddenly.

Chaos. I want to create chaos. Subtle, beautiful, chaos with occasional bright flashes. I want to tear at his smallest corners or normalism and tear the certainty away from him. I set my supplies down with a rock on top, and walk. I walk for hours inland, enjoying the sun, thinking of the future, looking at locals, bamfing food into my hand from the occasional window, and a scarf to cover the blood on my neck.

I walk until I find an alley with abundant trash cans. I look toward the recycling, full of more glass than ever now that plastic is gone, and grab a bottle. I sit down, break it and the sharp edges glint as I hold it up.

And I slit my throat.

It doesn't matter for a demon, well the body is dead but I'm fine. I definitely don't look it though. Front stained with red, eyes open, head tilted to a side, I wait. It takes barely a minute.

"Heilige kak! Kak, kak! Fuck!" Heh, that one's near universal.

The young man stands over me, jeans and a micromesh shirt made for construction jobs. His face is round and his hair short, skin a dark shade made darker by the bulbous alley. The two houses on either side are two stories but with rounded edges, acceptable farther inland than the near perfect spheres near the coast.

The young man kneels over me, hands hovering, eyes wide, mouth agape. And I fly into my new home. I push the soul aside immediately and take over, watching with mild interest as the body I inhabited warps and ages back to almost its original form. I ponder, does it draw constant energy from me to keep a shape? I suppose if I don't eat, I'll find out. However… I find that unlikely to happen. I snap and sigh, the feeling of warm rain falling on and through me as the soul explodes. Barely out of school and entering his first week of construction work. Oh well. He was secondary to what I wanted. I parse his memories and find what I want.

They had survived. Libraries had survived.

I walk through the streets of his town, listening to a language I now understand better thanks to him. It's a pretty language, some words I can almost hear ringing faint hints of other languages. Goed, good, dankte, danke… and well. Fuck.

"Fuck! Lethabo! Fucking hell! Lethabo wait!" Shit...That's my body. I turn and see another younger man skid to a halt, hands on his knees and panting. "Leth, man. What the hell!? You were supposed to be back from… you look like hell." I struggle not to smile at the apt wording and frown, then swallow.

"I...I saw. Just. Dead. She was dead."

"What!? Did you… call the police?"

"I...I don't know."

"Dude!"

"I can't remember! I saw it, and now I'm walking here and you came and…"

"Ok. Ok. Did you touch anything?"

"Fuck no!"

"Ok… Ok. Let me go take a look and-"

"Meet me at the library."

"What? You… Why? You, have you ever even been to the library?"

"Exactly. Quiet place to talk, decide what to do. No one will be looking for us there."

"...Right. Ok… Ok. Where was it?"

"Alley...Next to Zinna's."

"Shit. Shit. Ok, fifteen minutes."

"Thanks Chris..." I pause ...Of course that's his fucking name. Of course that's a fucking South Afrikaans name.

"Dude. You know I hate people shortening my name. Christo dude." I flinch, of course. He stares at me. I flinch again, and then shudder and shake my head.

"Yeah, I know. Just… anything to distract, y'know?" Christo stares, but nods and takes the bait.

"Yeah. I'll be back in fifteen."

"Thanks man." I nod as he slaps my shoulder and turns to run. I smile, I can't help it. I have a getaway car now. Lunch too.

I turn and make my way to the library. It's a round building, of course, but inlaid with beautiful colored glass windows. The inside is full, but not of books, books are expensive, space wise. Metal rods containing full series, anthologies, or even all the works by one author, line shelves. There are of course a few hundred books, classics mainly. I sigh. I'm not here for them, I may be someday, but now. I grin.

Chaos. But good chaos requires planning ironically. I sit down at one of the computers and begin with a basic google search.

"Today's biggest artists." I follow that with "Newest artist makes a splash." Then "Big art sales." I go on, and on, and on. Who today is selling the most, who is most widely known, whose works are being circulated, who is being looked at? Who is just starting out and has a wide enough range of mediums and styles to start with?

I don't recognize some mediums, that excites me more than anything. What had humans invented to make creating easier? ….Shit how expensive are oil paints now? Goddammit Crowley, I needed to know this shit and you didn't care about it at all!

I'm looking at a Pantarko Wang who is using a cranial insert to put his mind on papers when Christo returns. Ironically both will be dead shortly, one far sooner and due to highly demonic means, the other… well, you shouldn't insert shit into your brain. But hey, suffer for your art.

"Leth...Shit. We gotta call the cops man." I nod and stand. He leans over and looks at the computer. "The hell...Wang? I didn't know you were into art. His shit is expensive."

"Just distracting my mind until you returned my friend." He looks at me strangely and I quickly put a somber expression on my face and sigh then nod. "Let's go, we'll call when we get there."

"Why not now?"

"Because… if they find us via our phones it will be less suspicious than if we are there and call."

"I… Yeah. Ok."

We walk, in silence, for a good while. Christo now the one in shock, meanwhile I am trying to figure out the best way to dispose of the body I currently wear and obtain the new one I wish to wear.

"So…. how did you find her?" I blink myself out of my thoughts and walk a moment silent.

"Just… lying there. Red and pale. Glass bottle in her hand."

"Do you think she did it herself?"

"No clue… didn't stay to really look."

"Well there's blood on the glass, so she either did it herself, or the person who did has a rather bad wound. If they got hit there should be blood drops and shit, but there aren't." I blink, and search the soul bits of Leth. So, Christo liked cop dramas. Well then.

"Who would have thought watching all those old cop dramas would come in handy, eh?" Christo chuckles.

"Yeah. I wish they hadn't. Not like this I mean." I nod in agreement and we once again fall into silence.

We turn down the alley about seven minutes later and stand in front of the corpse. It has grown paler in the last half hour or so, blood still dripping from its throat sluggishly. I look at it, unfeeling, at Christo shudders.

"That… is not cool. Ok, who… who is calling them?"

"Who?" Christo stares at me… at Leth, incredulously, and then with concern.

"The police man. Are you ok?"

"No really. I'm… super hungry."

"What? That… What? Not the time!" I just look at Christo and shake my head.

"It's always the time, it really sucks that it feels this way."

"What?"

"I'm tired of it."

"You're-" And with a concealed snap Leth's neck makes a cruel imitation of the sound his thumb just made against his palm. And we fall. And Christo freezes.

"The… What. The fuck?! WHAT! FUCK!" I rush as red smoke into the screaming mouth and down into his every atom. I shake my new head, wiggle my new fingers, and with a thought I'm off to Hong Kong.

Hong Kong has changed the most, and the least, in the past centuries. It still had tall buildings, made of silicon and glass and metal, but every one looked like a giant nondescript, pole with windows. Winds are very high here, next to the ocean, and after one half of the city burned during the wildfires that literally ate the fumes in the air, well, they changed. They had to.

No cars here, just bikes, pedal or electronic. I walk, surrounded by people, getting a few looks for my dark complection. I'd change it soon enough. I take out Christo's phone and get a twinge in the back of my mind.

"Hey! Who the fuck are you?!"

"The demon who killed the woman, your friend, and now you. Shush." I snap and my entire body is wracked with delicious pain, it feels warm and makes my body tingle as if nails were being drawn down my back. Christo screams, I forget that others don't have my tolerance, not when I was a soul, and certainly not now as a demon. I stop the pain. "I said quiet. Make a peep and I'll tear you apart. You're lucky I'm keeping you around, unlike anyone else. And before you ask why, because I fucking feel like it. So, quiet. We can talk later. But first." I reach into him, and think on what I want, phone password. I search, and demand, and moments later pull out a word.

'Sir3n.' I enter it and open the GPS to Pantarko Wang studios. It's a good walk, but I don't mind. Many demons would just teleport, but I haven't gotten to walk anywhere under my own free will or want for hundreds of years, so I savor each step. I think about what I'll create with this new tech, if I'll like it. I'd always been frustrated by inability to put what is in my head on paper, I'm just not quite good enough. Needed more practice.

I, we, reach the building not too long after. The door at the bottom is gold, inlaid with the name Wang and ugly ugly patterns of mouths. It does however, open with ease. The entire first floor is a gallery, filled with photo realistic….garbage. Everything looks great, and has absolutely no good lighting, no… feeling to it. Like each piece is clinical. Sure, it's a style. I just happen to hate it.

I look around for the man in the picture. The gallery has many people… well many people for a gallery. So like… 10. Still, none are him. Crap.

"He's upstairs right now." I pause and look inward. Christo… How does he know this? "Interview went viral a few weeks ago. He drinks wine and paints every day at like… 1 pm."

"Well well, you might be useful. Perhaps I'll keep you… kinda like Crowley did me… Well, with less torture."

"Wha...what?"

"What, less torture doesn't sound good?" I chuckle inwardly at the sudden frantic backtracking. I look around for a door, and then stop. Duh. I think, and bamf upstairs, right next to the artist. He doesn't see me, he doesn't see anything. The contraption on his head covers it completely. The screen it's attached to is what catches my attention. Wang is searching for images of the serengeti. It seems he's been looking at hundred of thousands of them, very quickly, but every once in a while he pauses, and regards one closely. I wait, and watch. Finally, the screen goes white and stays white for a good few moments.

Then I watch in absolute disgust as images, or his distorted memories of them, fill the screen. A wildebeest, flat and boring, stands under a tree, also flat and boring, from another image, amid wildly waving grass from yet a third. It looks super realistic, and flat.

I'm furious. All he's doing is using this amazing tech to do a hopped up edition of Photoshop! Well, I can fucking do that too. And I can do it better. I take the phone out of Christo's pocket, and throw it across the room onto the very white boring couch.

"Move from this spot, and I kill you far more painfully than I was going to. Do we have an accord?"

"Ye-yes."

"Good boy." I flow from the body and into the nose of this other false artist. He jerks as I do, and I laugh mentally. Twitchy little thing. I settle and look at his canvas through my mind, ignoring him completely. He's a disgusting imp, not worth my time. Less than Danto, he's a charlatan, using other's hard made art and photography to make his own, and Not letting people know that he is using other people's images, in fact encouraging the lie that everything is from his own mind and his alone.

The job of an artist is to lie, that's what art half is, beautiful lies. But not like this. Not without purpose. I look at his art and wipe it clean, feeling the slightest bit of protest. I curse, and snap my fingers. I had forgotten, in my anger, my preventative measures. Christo freezes behind me, I can hear the muffled cry from his startled form. Whether he had started to move, and deserved punishment, well, I'd see when I left this body.

I know demons seem to prefer one body, but I cannot afford that luxury. I'm on the run. Even changing its form means little when DNA registry is near universal. I just wish they didn't go to waste so easily… I never thought to ask what Crowley did with his left over bodies, I know he didn't eat them...all. A question for the next time I see him I suppose.

I return my attention to the screen, and with a thought a myriad of lines appear, the simplest thing you can do in photoshop. I add some realistic drops of blood, some shading, which all of his art sorely lacked, and I'm done. If he had even been taking full pieces and removing the shading, I'd have been impressed, but no. I can feel it in his head, the lack of shading is just the mental degradation, the lack of memory when he 'copied' an image. Completely unintentional, and then it became a known aspect of his style.

That's something you tell people in an interview, not hide. It's a quirk, it's fun, it makes you relatable. This guy had the latest equipment, bought from a simple lottery win in the stock market, and he was using it for this. And lying about it and his methods. I hate him with a passion.

I look at the screen, think print, and then I tear out of the body with his soul in tow screaming and whining. I barely listen as I slam back into Christo. He hadn't moved, the smart lad.

I throw Wang into the tumultuous red prison and snap my fingers, destroying him with a thought and sweeping the fragments aside, not wanting to think or feel anything from this amateur with no aspirations of self betterment.

I watch as the body squirms in anger, tears at the apparatus on its head, and grin. You know what, I'll leave him alive, let him destroy his own reputation. Sure, it'll leave a bit of a trail for Crowley, but hey, where's the fun if you do everything perfectly. I am the model of the stupid super villain, leaving clues for the hero. Only there is no hero here, just a hunter and the hunted.

This will be fun.

And I bamf away to the next artist. To more chaos.