A Demon Like Me

Here Be Thy End

A Demon like Me

A side story to my friend Ashley's stories "Girls Like You" and "Anchor" here on Wattpad

I don't own any Characters besides original Characters, and Gwen. Ashley Winchester purely belongs to my friend.

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                                                                                Here be thy End

She died so long ago she doesn't really remember her old life, or her old family. They were a mere blip in her life, and she forgot how old she was; time in Hell passes by so much faster than the Surface. She does remember the year she died, somewhere in the middle of the Victorian Era, oddly enough. And somehow she landed herself in Hell, must have done something wrong when she was still alive, and then she started belly crawling up the ranks until she was close enough to sit on that black shiny throne.

That's where she was, currently. The key was figuring out how to get rid of Crowley and steal the crown and throne for herself before lesser demons made a dash for the vacant throne. First, she needed ingredients: Angel feather, dragon tears, the sands of time, and a virgin soul. The last ingredient would be the hardest, since she needed enough of Crowley's blood to draw the sigil.

Gwendolyn was clever though, since she worked with the Winchester's enough to be in their good graces. And they had an entire bunker full of books and spells dating back centuries. Dean was easy enough to get close to, the Cross road demons always talked about him and how easy it was to press all the right buttons. Especially when she wore her shorter dresses, like cutting butter with a hot knife.

After that she could get into all the books she wanted, even Sam wasn't concerned about her. And the angel wasn't around enough to be of concern. So when she came across a powerful sleeping spell in an obscure enochian text that the boys wouldn't miss, well, she took her chance. Chamomile, valerian root, lavender, passion flower seeds, mixed with powdered angel feathers. They were easy enough to procure, since Crowley had an angel wing collection, he wouldn't notice a feather or two missing. So she hid away in her Chambers, shooing away the demons that laid on her bed, silk sheets and sheer bralettes barely keeping them modest.

They simpered and scattered when she shoved scrolls and ink pots off her desk, their skin bare for all to see as they sunk back into the shadows. The red head locked the door and cast a silencing spell over it before she started mixing the sleeping powder, chanting ancient Enochian as she stirred the powdered passion seeds and chopped flowers. "Powers ar noan dluga ol a gift c page", she muttered softly as the powder took a sickly pink color, she sprinkled in the pure feather powder, turning it a pearly pink. The powdered valerian root was added last and turned it a soft cream color. She whispered "Let page niis easy tonyht, let t dobix mirc ol prey."

There was a puff of shimmery smoke as she poured the powder into a vial, corking and tucking it into the false bottom of a desk drawer. "Now, we wait..." she smirked, sharp teeth peeking from behind red stained lips.

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It took a long time to actually get close enough to Crowley to use the powder, but Gwen was patient. Most of the time anyway, but she couldn't afford to fuck this up. If she made even the slightest fuck up then her ass would be on The Rack for the next two hundred earth years. Crowley liked to make points, and most importantly, he liked proving why he was King.

So she slunk around in the background and churned out souls for Hell. But she also found time to fool around with the Winchester's whenever she was Topside. She'd even met their estranged sister once, before Ashley was summoned back to wherever she was staying these days. And even though the Demon wasn't sticking with the Hunters for shits and giggles, she could admit she liked the youngest. The girl had spunk and was genuinely sweet, it was almost enough to make Gwendolyn regret the farce she was pulling them on. Almost.

For now she played nice, making exaggerated kissy faces and played with seductive innuendos to get herself a prime spot within the Winchester clan. She'd need them when she took the mantle of Queen of Hell. She'd have poisonous lower demons fighting within ranks to crawl up the ladder, and higher ranking demons trying to have her killed in the chaos. She was simply playing the game, and she wasn't ready to lose.

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Months after she had created the potion did she finally have a chance to use it. Crowley had been skittish, always off on the Topside to broker deals and fix any fuck-ups caused by others. So when he finally came back down he tucked himself into his study, drinking away at a salt laced 200 year old whiskey.

Salt had interesting effects on demons, too much and you get physically ill and are ejected from the body you inhabit. A little doesn't do much, nor can you really taste it. However if you get just the right amount, it makes demons, well, drunk. And Gwendolyn was clever enough to spike the King's whiskey with it, knowing full well that the taste would mask the salt.

An hour later Crowley called her in. And, like an obedient little demon, she answered. Head tucked down and neck bare, a primal show of submission. Crowley was younger than her, in demon years anyways, and she remembered when he appeared on her Rack. He barely managed twenty years before she put a knife in his hand. And she still hasn't the faintest clue how he managed to slip his slimy arse on the throne. However, that wouldn't be a problem for long, she thought, biting back a smirk.

The King tossed back half a glass of whiskey and gestured to the seat in front of his desk. She took her seat, back straight and the silk of her dress draped over her like crimson water. From there on it was strictly business, he wanted numbers. How many people stepped off the Racks, who climb positions, how many souls did her division add, and if any demons died. She kept her tone falt as she answered, not even flinching when his glass hot the wall.

"A hundred dead?! How the bloody hell did you lose a hundred demons?" The candle on his desk flared in the heat of his anger and burned a yellow so bright her eyes flickered black. Crowley pinched his nose and sunk into his chair, anger rolling off him in waves.

"We have securely gained almost four hundred souls, however. And the Crossroad demons have been making deals, last I counted there should be a hundred and fifty on your desk tomorrow." With a wave of her hand she fixed the glass, calmly trying to prevent him from throwing more glasses. She tipped a small amount of sleeping powder into the glass and drowned it in whiskey.

Crowley growled and snagged the glass, downing it in one gulp. The Demon General fought back a smirk and sat back down. "Only a few demons have climbed the ranks, Aestar and Yieger now watch over the Racks and Jekiel climbed into the right general's bed, he's no longer my problem. Over a hundred humans have been pulled off the Racks, I'll have an exact number for you tomorrow."

Crowley grunted and signed off some papers, the effects of the powder kicking in as he fought to stay awake. Once the powder fully kicked in he was slumped in his seat, she carefully stood up and pulled a bottle from the cabinet. She knelt near his chair and sliced a line over his palm, carefully squeezing his hand she forced the blood to pool and drip into the bottle. She watched him carefully as the bottled filled, carefully she healed the cut and tucked the bottle in her bag of scrolls.

She tucked his glass in her bag and hid it under some scrolls, replacing it and pouring a small amount of whiskey into it. She composed herself before frantically shaking his shoulders and acting like a concerned beta, forcing a low, pitiful whine from her throat.

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