Falling For the Angels // Destiel & Samifer

Chapter Twenty Eight

~Lucifer~

In an almost-emptied bar, I glared at the mixologist who was combing his hair as if his life depended on it in the mirror. I didn't usually turn to alcohol but it did remind me of why humans always craved it so much.

Necking down the last of the whisky, I never averted my gaze from the idiotic man behind the bar- his stupid flashy smile, his never-ending need to whistle to himself when he made a drink, his eyes lighting up to speak to a customer. He just looked happy and it irritated me.

"Excuse me", I waved him over and he smiled as he approached me, "Are you particularly fond of your neck?"

He stifled a laugh. How cute. He thought I was joking.

"Uh, I've never really given it any thought", he rubbed the back of his neck and flashed his white teeth at me. I stared coldly at him.

"So, it's not your most prized possession?" I asked and my head was slightly spinning from the alcohol already.

"I wouldn't say so", the man replied, shrugging with another grin.

He laughed uncomfortably when my glare got even darker. I was already picturing snapping that oh-so-precious neck of his with my bare hands. I could imagine the sound of bones cracking under my grip, his terrified eyes pleading for mercy, all the last, happy hope being slowly and painfully drained out of his pathetic little-

Bad Satan. Time to go.

I kept scolding myself and I was eventually convinced to stand up and make my way out before I made a scene. I mean, yes, I could kill everyone in here quicker than a heartbeat. It was just the fact that every single ounce of pain I caused made me feel more and more hopeless. It was like having an addiction. With an addiction, you feel as if you need to keep doing something bad to make yourself feel good. And it does for a while. That is, until you're left alone with your thoughts in the middle of the night and you start to feel the guilt. It's the same effect of being drunk. It feels good at the time of intoxication but, when you're wanting to pass out in the morning, it never feels worth it. That was what killing was like for me.

But, then again, you've gotta live in the moment.

I didn't think twice about clicking my fingers and breaking the man's neck. I smiled satisfactorily when he collapsed to the ground.

Everyone in the bar (which was only four other people) stared with shock at what had just occurred.

"Why are you all pouting?" I asked them sarcastically, "It's an open bar now".

I laughed at their wide-eyed expressions and made my exit out of the doors.

I suddenly was aware of something in my hand that wasn't there before. I held my hand up to look. A piece of candy rested in the palm of my hand. I squinted at it with curiosity. I must have been more drunk than I thought. Looking down at the neatly wrapped candy, I felt some sort of desperation to eat it which was strange considering I was an angel and angels don't require food. I unwrapped it and threw it into my mouth, slightly wincing at how sour it was.

I swallowed it and my craving for food was suddenly gone. Weird.

Unwillingly, I started to think about Sam. I wasn't sure why I was worrying so much. Years ago, I would've been able to cut his heart out and not give a second thought about it. But now I was feeling slightly bad about hurting him. I was getting weak.

No, not because of that. I was really getting weak. As in now.

My legs started to feel numb and everything started going dark. With confusion, I staggered and grabbed on to a lamp post before failing miserably and falling to the cold pavement.

"Great", I muttered as the darkness took over my vision and I completely blacked out.

So, I had just murdered an innocent man in front of four people and now I was passed out in the middle of the street at midnight in the roughest area around here.

What could possibly go wrong?