Chapter 6: Neither goods nor treasure

She needed a distraction from her life.

The past three days had been consumed with only one thing: reading. She'd ventured to the local library to check out books pertaining to emotional upheavals, though carefully avoiding any with the term "rape" in their contents. It was much easier to deal with the situation if she allowed herself to believe the arrangement was completely consensual. However, she felt she needed some back up; something to turn to after leaving the bedroom. She soon realised, however, that the support of a book was in no way a replacement for the support of a fellow human being. She needed friends, family. She needed her mother.

Though something caught her eye as she was leaving the library; a recent translation of Goethe's Faust was on display in the window. It was too much of a coincidence that this book would be just sitting, waiting for her as she left. She checked it out immediately and started reading.

She'd always found with books such as these that despite it being difficult to understand the almost alien use of the written word to begin with, after a while you become so immersed in its world you barely notice the differences you had at first. She had always loved this tale; it was so relevant to the lives of a hunter it should be prescribed reading.

It was the first time she had read it since she was in elementary school. Her mother always kept a copy around the house for lore reference, and she happened to pick it up one day out of boredom. Much of it she didn't understand, but she could comprehend enough to understand the overall gist of the story. Though she could never understand Goethe's second part, however she suspected it had more to do with his eventual senility than her lack of intelligence.

The book meant more to her now than before for obvious reasons. She was Faust; Crowley was Mephistopheles. Although she was sure Mephisto was not quite so sadistic.

There was something she did not understand though; if demons are created from the remnants of tortured human souls, what was Crowley's story? Was he once as human as she? And if so, how long ago? She could venture to guess that it had been a very long while since he had walked the earth as an actual human being rather than the sick, perfidious version of one given his status in the underworld. However, she would also guess that any information she would come to know about Crowley would be pure speculation; his "plausible deniability" rule would not permit her insight into his past, nor should she really want it. It makes it easier to know as little as possible about the man she has given her life to.

Given her life to. It sounds so romantic when you put it that way, like he had married her and whisked her away from a terrible life. Rather, it seems he had chained her to live her life from within a cage, one she could never get out of. She could never escape, he'd find her in an instant. All she could hope for is for him to crack a window; perhaps let a little light and fresh air into her prison. Those who live in darkness eventually find themselves consumed by it.

Gretchen's salvation in the fable indicated the conclusion of the story, and she placed the book down on her coffee table gently, contemplating the story's end. Faust had just abandoned her in the dungeon after she was granted salvation from heaven despite having killed her mother and child. He did not love her, he pitied her, despite knocking her up out of wedlock. The story centres on the title character so intently that she is often overlooked. But she is the real victim in this story; she had no business with the quarrels and wagers of heaven and hell, and yet she was ultimately a victim of it. Jo might be the Faust of her story but she vowed she would never find herself a Gretchen to sacrifice.

And like clockwork, there he was. He looked terrible.

'Well don't you look like a sack of crap?' She jested.

He looked thoroughly unamused as he replied, 'business is strong. Usually happens when the entire financial system is a hair from shiteing itself.' She looked shocked. 'What's with the look Harvelle?'

She shook her head. 'It's just.. you never share anything about your work with me.'

'Don't get too excited. I just had a particularly rubbish day.' he said. Sometimes he had his moments.

'Did you want a seat?' she offered, scooting over.

'...No,' he replied with a contemptuous look. Moment gone. 'I have a job for you.'

'Fantastic,' she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

'Mind the attitude will you?' she said nothing, but she through him a hateful glare. 'Don't worry, no pious figures this time. It's a crossroads demon. Here,' he threw her a card tin. She opened it, recognising its contents as the ingredients to summoning the demon.

'I already have one of these.'

'Yes, I expect you do. But this one is better. It's for summoning a ... specific ... demon.'

'And what, can I ask, did this demon do?'

'No, you can't ask.' He wasn't angry, and neither was she; she'd expected that response.

Her voice was diplomatic as she replied, 'come on Crowley. If you expect me to trust you-'

'I expect you to trust that there is good reason for it.' His tone did not share her diplomacy. 'Be done in an hour'.

It did not take her long to summon the demon, nor did it take long to kill it. She'd hoped it would take longer; any time away from the cavalier bastard is time thoroughly savoured.

He wasn't waiting for her when she returned, but she knew he wouldn't be far off. And she knew that when he did appear, it would be to drag her to the bedroom again. Again again again. She wished he was a one night stand kind of demon. Once and that's it. But no, she got the one who had an appreciation for ingemination.

She had a longing to talk with her mother. She hadn't heard her voice since before Crowley came into her life, and nostalgia had made living alone unbearable. She's seen more of her goddamn demonic boss than of anyone in her old life.

Still, she didn't trust herself to talk to her mother over the phone; there was a huge possibility she'd slip up, or Crowley would show up, or some other disaster would occur to give her away. She was really not ready to let her mother in on the recent developments of her life. No, a letter would be her best option. Out of character, but safe.

She went to her dresser in her room and pulled out a sheet of paper and pen. Sitting cross legged on the bed, she began to write:

Mum,

I have no control over my life.

Wait. What? Dammnit. Scrunching the paper up, she threw it across the room.

'You quite right there?' Came Crowley's voice from next to the bed. Clearly he had materialised right in the path of the hurtling paper.

'You should mind where you land.' He did not retaliate.

'Well then. Quite ready?' He asked, holding out his hand. She was definitely not ready for this. Her only hope was to stall him, but how? He did not allow her to ask questions, and of most things she had no desire to be enlightened anyway. But she needed to try.

'Wait.'

'Darling, I don't wait for anyone.' Her mind was racing. What would he be interested in? She found herself blurting out the freshest topic in her mind.

'Have you ever read Faust?' he looked thoroughly taken aback.

'Yes', he answered skeptically. 'I found it a riveting read. Now come on.'

'-No. I have to ask. I uh... can't help but notice the similarities between our situation and the one Goethe illustrated.'

'Are you daft woman?' Good. He was getting annoyed; this conversation could prove very effective.

'No. I must ask though, which came first? Goethe, or the story he tells?'

'I cannot work out if your are being deliberately stupid or suffering from a serious lapse in your mother's education. The story, of course. We don't exist because of the story, it exists because of us'. She knew as such, but very suddenly something clicked in her head.

'I recently checked the book out from the local library. I've made the clear connection between myself and Faust in the fable. But I wonder,' she left the room, returning with the book open in her hands, 'have you always been Mephisto,' she handed the book to him, 'or were you once Faust as well?'

She'd gone too far and she knew it.

'You insolent little child. You don't have the right to ask such a thing.' Her desire to avoid coital contact had been overrun by curiosity.

'Calm down. I was only curious.' She decided it better not to press the matter. The pair stood, staring at each other, the book still in Crowley's hand. He began to tap it against his other free hand, contemplating whether or not to satiate her curiosity.

'Lucifer did not create demons from nothing, he doesn't have the mojo. He, instead tempted mankind, and gave their souls houseroom to fester into almost unrecognisable beings. Only God has the ability to make something out of squat.'

Jo smirked. 'Lucifer? God? Really Crowley? You believe in such fairytales?' He faltered, looking at her with a quizzical expression.

'Really? You understand there is a hell but you don't believe in Lucifer or God? That's a touch ironic.'

'I suppose it's ironic. But I also find cruel irony in the fact that God first gave man free will then proceeded to punish him for it. One of the many hypocrisies of the bible if you ask me.'

'Well I admit it's a tad facetious at times, but you know the whole "hell is for those who doubt that hell exists" idea. You don't have faith in hell, then you cant have faith in heaven.'

'A "tad facetious"? It's downright flawed logic. And here we are expected to be born with pious faith. Being a hunter has taught me that nothing in life should be taken on faith alone'.

'I'm impressed. What a stark view of the world you hold'.

'There are no gifts in life. I'm pretty sure this situation is living proof.' He seemed speechless at her entirely flawless logic. 'I see that we cannot know anything,' she quoted.

He clicked his tongue. 'Indeed.'

'But wait, you were talking about demons?'

'Yes. I was saying that Lucifer only moulds man into demons. So,' he sighed, 'yes, I was once human.'

'Could have fooled me,' she bit back.

'Mind your snippiness. I'm not human anymore; demons are emotionless souls. So just because I'm not a sappy bag of pus now, doesn't mean I never was.'

'So how did you wind up in hell?' She asked, quite sure he wouldn't answer.

'I made a deal.' He said simply.

'Not going to elaborate?'

'No. And on that note, its our cue to leave.' Well, she'd stalled him for a good 20 minutes. It was more than she'd hoped for.

'Fine. But you remember the rules?'

''Course.'

Again she found herself in their sex bedroom. But this time it felt different. She knew more about him now; though he hadn't changed in any respect, she felt just ... differently ... towards him. Perhaps it was mild curiosity, perhaps not. She wasn't any closer to liking him than she was an hour ago, but the level of intrigue increased substantially.

But, if the conversation had taught her anything, it's that although she had no control over her life, perhaps on some level, she had some power over him. She had never thought of that possibility before, and had only considered herself a decent looking stand-in-woman for his needs.

With these thoughts running through her mind, she felt slightly less sick being led to the bed by her less-then gentlemanly caller.

A/N: Weooo for fast updates! BTW; I wrote this on my iPad, and I think I got all the spelling/grammatical errors out, but mind if I haven't. Apologies, but for some reason I really loved writing this chapter and wanted to get it up as fast as possible.

Okay, I feel as though there's a shite ton of explaining to do. All to do with the philosophy of the chapter.

First, to those who are religious reading this; sorry about my the complete lack of faith (religious) in the chapter. I thought it would be an interesting juxtaposition of the two characters to have one with faith and one without. I decided to swap them around (have Jo without faith, and Crowley with) purely to mess with you. Jks. I doubt any Hunter would believe in the existence of Angels/God/Lucifer until they are given proof (just look at Dean when he first met Cas).

Second: Yes, Faust was officially brought out into open in the story. Mostly because I REALLY EFFING LOVE FAUST! but also because it introduces a different dynamic between the characters.

Third: If anyone is a major Faust nerd like me I'M SORRY! about the line "I see that we cannot know anything"; it is not in the official translation of the fable, but it is a direct translation of the German phrase "und sehe dass wir nichts wissen Konnen" (or so I have been informed). I just really liked the line.

Fourth: "Hell is for those who doubts that hell exists" is, funnily enough, not a line from Faust. It is actually a line from a Gwen Harwood poem entitled "Night Thoughts". My interpretation is that you need to believe in hell to believe in heaven, as it is a yin/yang theory. So, basically, you need to be religious to get into heaven. BUT, this is just my interpretation. I'm pretty sure its a deliberate irony of Harwood's considering she was a deep believer in the ideals of Wittgenstein (who we all know is Agnostic). But that's not the point. Lets not get into it. SO not the place.

Fifth: This chapter is going to set the tone for the rest of the story. REMEMBER THIS IS A TRAGEDY! No comedic elements here (and I mean that in the Shakespearean sense, not the Adam Sandler sense). So yes, Jo's interpretation of their relationship dynamics have changed, but shit just goes downhill from here. It is just Jo's interpretation after all.

Sixth: THANKYOU! You are amazing for reading and putting up with my utter crazy ramblings.

-thesolitaryone-

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