Demonic // phan

Sixteen

"Satan is not my father." Dan said, rolling his eyes at Phil's unconvinced expression. They were sitting outside the school for lunch, and for the last ten minutes or so, they'd been arguing for no real reason.

"Well, he has to be." Phil said. "I mean, isn't he technically the one who made all of you?"

"The devil had no part in the creation of my kind." Dan said, leaning back on his elbows on the concrete, and Phil can't stop the small glance at the strip is tan skin exposed between his shirt and low jeans. "We are the offspring of humans and fairies."

"I've done research, and that is damn well not the only way demons can be made." Phil retorted. "Witchcraft, and cross roads, and even being in Hell too long, it's all possible."

"But it's rare." Dan said with a smirk. "You really think people would use a cross road to become a demon?"

Phil shrugged. "People are crazy, man. You never know."

"Seriously, Phil-"

"And another thing, too." Phil interrupted. Mostly so he couldn't be made to look like even more of an uneducated idiot. "Are you, like, possessing some poor bastard or something? Cause I know you guys have true forms sometimes, but from what I've come across, it's mostly you using vessels."

Dan actually laughed at that, sitting up again with a sigh. He looked down at his lap for a moment, and Phil wondered why he was hesitating now. He never usually held back with telling Phil some new information, no matter how strange or personal it was.

"No, this body isn't mine." He said lowly, running his fingers through his hair. It was curly today, he'd apparently forgotten to straighten it this morning, and the unruly mess of it made Phil clench his hands so he wouldn't reach out and grab it himself. Honestly, it looked like pure sex hair. "It was... he was convenient. He was all by himself, broken and lonely, and I needed a solid, uh, residence, I guess? I like to think I might have... helped a bit. If I hadn't, he probably wouldn't even be alive right now."

Phil stared at him, letting all of that sink in. It was horrible, he knew, the fact that Dan had just taken over this boy's body, for his own needs. But in the long run, it probably was the best choice. For both of them, in different ways.

And the selfish part of him also knew that if it hadn't happened, him and Phil would never have met.

"Is that, his name?" Phil asked. "Dan, or is it yours?"

"It's his." Dan answered. "I'm pretty much borrowing everything." He said it sarcastically, but neither of them laughed.

The mood had instantly gone from light and playful to morbid. They didn't say anything to each other for a while, and Phil wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees.

Had he gone insane? In his long life of seventeen years, had some trauma or personal experience made him lose the logical part of his brain structure? What was he doing with his life? Here he was, having casual conversation with a demon, who he also sometimes made out with. If he ever said that out loud to any regular person, he'd be cast out instantly and probably checked into a mental institute. So why the hell was he enjoying it so much?

Well, he halfway knew the answer to that. Because Dan made him whole. Dan was the other half to his already marginally not-so-normal life, the piece that pretty much made this whole thing stable, if not a bit shaky. Dan was the part of him that understood and wouldn't disregard his stupid thoughts and actions. Dan listened to him; his crazy stories and theories and one-in-the-morning thoughts, and he agreed. Dan was exceptional, and Phil wished he'd had someone like that in his life sooner.