Drabble for sailorhathor

sailorhathor is one of my favourites out of all the people living in my computer, so when she asked for "Christian, before he was possessed", I promised to give it a try. I hope this cheers you up, hon!

Title: Good Soldier
Characters: Christian, Samuel, Crowley
Rating: G
Word Count 340



Christian took a deep breath and tried to fight down the wave of nausea swirling in his stomach. "I'm really not sure."

His grandfather gave an exasperated sigh. "Christian, we've talked about this."

They had. It had seemed like the perfect solution. Be stronger, faster, better. He'd shattered three fingers on a hunt last year and his grip had been off ever since. This would solve all that, and more. And a hunter needed to be prepared to make sacrifices.

Still, a demon? Talking was one thing, but going through with it...

Ice tinkled as Crowley stepped out of the shadows. "We're wasting time here, Samuel. And time is valuable. I feel it prudent to remind you, we're certainly not angels. We don't actually need his permission."

"He's family", Samuel hissed. "I don't want to do it unless he's willing."

"Yes, yes - family", the demon rolled his eyes. "But your little Mary, she's family too. She's this one's flesh and blood, and he's not even willing to loan out that flesh and blood temporarily to save her from... well... me. What does that tell you?"

Mary. Christian had never met her, but he'd heard his grandfather's stories so many times that he was beginning to feel like she was a part of him too. The photos all showed a lovely, delicate blonde, her eyes full of hope and strength.

He looked around the dirty, squalid room, stared at the hardened solider and corrupt creature in front of him. This was all he knew; demons and soldiers and filth. It was all he'd ever known, ever since he was a little boy and his father had shown him how to sharpen a blade.

If he could bring a bit of light and love into this desperate world, how could he not? He was a Campbell, after all. He knew about sacrifice.

He nodded jerkily and shut his eyes, inhaling sharply.

The air tasted acrid.