Chapter 5: Our Little Monster

One month later…

It was a sweltering August in Massachusetts – a rarity if there has ever been one.

Crowley teleported to his hidden cabin, mainly to check if everything was okay. Gabriel hasn't contacted him in any way for the last few days, and this worried the demon. The angel couldn't go a day without at least calling him and - with the advent of the smartphone - texting as an alternative. Granted, he was playing nurse for Harry, but he sincerely doubted it could be that difficult.

Crowley found them in one of the bedrooms on the second floor. They were all empty except for a single bed and a closet, out of conformity then necessity – demons and angels didn't need sleep. Crowley just made the rooms as a precaution in case anything came up in the future.

Harry's bedroom – in the short time that it was made his – was transformed into a full-blown hospital room. There was an EKG monitor, multiple drips, a breathing mask, everything that could possibly be seen in a top notch hospital critical care ward. Harry was laying under a few sheets, arms on top, looking…different. Crowley didn't get a good lock before spotting Gabriel on the side of the bed, reading a book of all things, while maintaining two fingers on the boy's forehead.

Crowley was speechless.

Gabriel looked up from the book. "Oh, hey Crowley. Has it been a month already?"

"Just…what…how…" Crowley was speechless – this event could be counted on one hand for the number of times it has happened.

Gabriel checked what the demon was looking at, "Yeah…the situation was MUCH worse than anticipated, but it's been taken care of. I had to go statewide to get all the supplies, but I don't think anyone actually noticed a few missing machines."

Crowley clutched his forehead, "Gabriel, before I lose my bleeding mind trying to understand how this escalated so badly, you mind explaining to me slowly how it got to this point?"

Crowley was already at his limits patience wise. He had just finished sorting out the mess of all the demons killed out of Elizabethville, Ohio. Ever since it became Sin City, a few too many crossroads demons got killed off by the Winchesters in their crossfire with the "Seven Deadly Sins." (1)

"Right…you may want to sit down…this will take a while."

Crowley, not seeing another chair in the room, sat on Harry's bed, making sure not to touch the boy. Gabriel put down the book – which Crowley finally noticed was a reference book on raising troubled kids – and took his fingers off Harry before facing Crowley.

"Crowley, you are aware how we demons and angels are just essence? No physical bodies of use and such? Kind of why we search for vessels…"

"This is kid stuff Gabriel, get to the point."

Gabriel didn't like getting interrupted, and it showed, "Okay, fine! Where did you find your vessel, the one you are using now? What is he, a litigator or something."

Crowley just shrugged, "He is a moderately successful literary agent from New York but what does that have to do with…" (2)

"Is he your perfect vessel?"

Crowley thought about it for a second, "He is…very close. I use others from time to time but this one…is pretty darn close to how I used to look. It just gives me the greatest access to my powers..."

Gabriel interrupted, "Because it feels natural to you. It is the same for my body - I found it all the way back in Scandinavia during the IRON AGE. It had the best synch compared to all the other bodies I ever used, so I kept him youthful and immortal with my powers. And before you ask, his mind died long ago – what was left of it anyway…"

Crowley got freaked out at this, "Wait, you've used the same meat suit for over…"

Gabriel didn't want to bring to the age of his host, "ANYWAY…Harry still has a physical body, but he now has demon essence and blood, as well as angel juice in his veins. Generally, as a spirit, he would just search the world for a suitable vessel. But since he has a body to work with… the magic's got to work."

It dawned on Crowley what the angel was implying, "So the energies are actively changing him into his 'perfect form'?"

Gabriel got a slightly panicked look in his eyes, "'Perfect' may be too strong of a word. It is better to say that the process used your blood to make him look similar to you since I already strengthened the material to work with. Unfortunately, the process was arduous on the boy, too taxing for his meager energy resources. His first week was just me shoving supplements down his throat by the bucket full and treating his heart-attacks. It calmed down during the second week, so I got down to business and started uploading the English language into his brain. I finished quickly, got bored, and started adding other stuff as well. THAT'S when I found the real problem caused by his transformation."

Crowley was just befuddled, "So, ignoring the fact that you basically made him Neo from the freaking 'Matrix' movies…What could be worse than undergoing the Kafka experience?"

Gabriel slowly realized he was screwed either way, "You remember when I said I tinkered with his mind? Re-arranged it so to speak? All I did was simply organize it a bit more, made it more functional and such. You would be surprised how inefficient the human brain is… The point is, the transformation deep cleaned his mind. Don't know if that was due to some oversight on our part in the spell or the boy wanted it but…"

Crowly basically rushed Gabriel to the wall at this point, "But what? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HIM?"

"We may have technically given him alexithymia."

At this point, Crowley dropped the angel, "We what?"

Dusting himself off, Gabriel continued his explanation, "Alexithymia is defined clinically as 'the inability to identify and describe emotions in the self.' Long story short, he can't recognize or feel his feelings and the bodily sensations of emotional arousal. Thankfully, it's not so bad for him."

"NOT SO BAD?! I WANTED A SON, NOT THE FREAKING TERMINATOR!"

Gabriel had to calm the prospective grieving parent quickly before things got out of hand, "I said 'technically.' He doesn't really have alexithymia – he just no longer has any emotional experiences to fall back on anymore. Maybe his subconscious wanted a clean slate, but he personally didn't want to forget what had happened to him in that house. The ritual must have compromised between the two extremes and just…muted the experiences."

Crowley finally calmed down and steadily asked, "So…what is the difference?"

Gabriel got as technical as he could to appease Crowley, "He will know and understand what emotions are and how to respond to them. It's just that he has no emotional context for his memories. This means that all his recollections are intact – now sharper than ever because of it - but instead of color, they are in black and white."

"I don't get it – why is this such a big deal?" Crowley was no expert of the human mind – just human greed.

Gabriel sighed, "If you bothered reading any psychology book in all your years, you would figure out that while our past makes us what we are, it is the subtext behind the events of our lives that give the impact behind them. Consider an African-American robbing a store and being caught by the police. With emotions, the African-American had to rob the place to survive due to the lifelong persecution he has undergone from the bigoted police force that made his social-economic status very low. No emotions, a robber stole supplies to survive and had no feelings one way or the other regarding the cops he killed – they were just in the way. It is a small distinction, but it makes a world of difference. Look, it's too complicated to explain properly to you, but basically, the kid is a robot now…more so then he initially was."

Crowley just looked back at the boy in the hospital bed, "That could be a problem. Is there a way around it? I mean, we could just…raise him from this point on as normal…"

Gabriel just shook his head, "No, that won't work; it would be like watering dead-land – nothing will grow. Medically, we have no choices. Magically, though, we have options."

Crowley gave the angel a judging look, "What do you have in mind?"

"You ever hear of 'psychic vampires'? You know, beings like wraiths, succubi, maenads, phobophages, and nogitsunes, that feed on aspects of human emotions? Well, basically, we need to find some saps and drain them dry."

Crowley started to weight the options, "How many are we talking about here?"

Gabriel began to pace, "Probably some subset of eight."

Crowley got confused, "So how many – eight, sixteen twenty-four, thirty-six?"

"I DON'T KNOW YET!"

Gabriel didn't show it, but he was equally worried about Harry as well. Crowley now realized this and decided to calm him down, "Why eight, though? Is it for some mystical significance?"

Gabriel calmed himself down before explaining, "Psychologist Pia Mellody and others agree that human beings have eight basic emotions which break down further and mix into each other to create the vast spectrum of feelings available to us. The basic emotions are anger, fear, pain, joy, passion, love, shame, and guilt."

Crowley nodded, "Seems about right."

"So… we need to gather a few people, because even if we get the basic emotions, there are shades to them. If we are lucky, we may not need more than a dozen. Otherwise, it can go on for a while. Also, there is one snafu to this whole thing…"

Crowly started to rub the bridge of his nose, "What else can possibly be wrong?"

Gabriel pointed at Harry. "He has to drain them."

This is what officially caught Crowly off-guard. "Wait, are you saying he has to go all vampire on them?"

Gabriel got solemn at this point, "When he finally wakes up, he will be savage – not cold-blooded, but animalistic. We need to find a place for him to hunt while we or one of us monitors from a distance. As he consumes more and more emotional essences, his humanity will slowly return to him, which will make it easier to proceed. Eventually, we should be properly be able to see his essence when he gets his fill. Afterward, we go black-ops and get him out of the area and back to the cabin."

Crowley looked at the child in bed. Now that he got a good look at him, he indeed has changed. On the mystical spectrum, Crowley noted that Harry's soul – which was once blindingly white with a black shade in it - now had a dark red hue to it with a black orb orbiting it with a white haze around it all. Physically, while he was still six years old – wait, seven, he just had his birthday – he looked older now. His hair – once untidy and dark – was now long, sleek, and onyx black. His eyes, if Crowley could see them, would also be a darker shade of green as well – probably shamrock green. His body – while still scared and burned – was now filled out, somewhat muscularly defined. His arms and legs were longer – not freakishly, but enough to note the advantages in the future. Basically, he went from malnourished and broken all the way to seeming like a somewhat tall kid who regularly engaged in intensive sports and exercise with injuries to show for it.

Crowley was weighing the pros and cons, "How is he going to get it?"

"Think of it like sucking out their souls through their mouths, like the Facehuggers from the 'Alien' franchise. He won't kill any of them – his humanity is still in there – but he will injure them. Some, very badly. Others, not so much. If we play our cards rights, no one will die, and you still get the souls in the end if they are in your ledger."

Crowley looked back upon Harry. "Well, I didn't think I would introduce Harry to the supernatural world in such a way, but hopefully he won't remember draining them."

Gabriel nodded, agreeing with the demon's statement, "I'll get him dressed up and prepped. The final question, though… do you know a place that has people with such emotional peaks, and that won't notice so many people being attacked in such a way or even becoming missing?"

Crowley thought about it for a second and smiled, "Actually, I know a perfect place for him to drain some unsuspecting shmucks."

Early September…

"So, Bobby, anything weird on the spook-radar this week?"

The Winchester boys were currently outside Rowlins, Wyoming, having just gotten through a run-of-the-mill exorcism. They were outside their motel, eating burgers and pies while leaning on their Impala. Despite what happened with the Devil's Gate a few months back, Wyoming seemed no worse for wear.

Sam just looked at his brother in incredulity after taking a sip of his soda, "Dean, are you seriously asking Bobby for work? Dude, the craziness has just died down, and you want to look for trouble? You have less than a year left…"

Dean looked up from the phone at his younger sibling, "And I plan to make sure I to live every moment of it, Sammy. Now talk to me, Bobby."

Bobby answered the boys – he was on speaker – before the argument started up again, "Sorry Dean. It seems like everything is quite in your neck of the woods. I am with Sammy on this one – go and find a way to get out of your deal. Although…"

Dean picked up on the old man's wariness, "What, Bobby? Come on, don't hold out on me."

Noises which sounded like papers rustling were heard on the other end of the line, "Well… there was some strange stuff happening in Las Vegas…"

Sammy just laughed, "Bobby, this is Vegas we're talking about here - the place where crazy is the norm."

"Yeah, I know, but this is weird even for them. Hospitals there have been getting people admitted with comas."

Dean just shrugged while eating his pie, "So – what's so weird? People probably got mugged and beaten to near-death – it is the real 'Sin City.'"

Bobby just replied, "Nope. They were mugged but there were no significant injuries. The weird thing is what happened when the people woke up…"

Dean stopped mid-bite, "Wait, what do you mean 'woke up'? I thought a coma was like, a long time deal."

Bobby was getting annoyed, "Not all cases are like that, you idjit. Some comas are short, like in these cases. They are admitted comatose, and a day or two later they wake up. But the issue is that when they wake up, they have no emotions."

Sam got a worried look on his face, "You mean, they are emotionless?"

"No, I mean, they have no emotions whatsoever – their noggins have all the files in place, but it seems like all the wires have been cut. They still have their memories and know how the world works, but the folks are like freaking zombies now – dead on the inside. Officially, the examiner is diagnosing them with sudden extreme alexithymia. The problem is, you can't get this condition even with a possible head injury; you got to be born with it."

Dean finished his pie before asking, "Who are the victims?"

"Let me check here… it seems like we have a pimp, a guy who owned a bookie a lot of money, a girl with a broken arm, a kid on a winning streak, a couple on their honeymoon, a group of guys from a bachelor party, and a few more."

Dean noticed that he was evasive, "Damn it, Bobby, give me a number."

Only a sigh was heard on the other end, "As far as I can tell, there was two dozen."

The boys nearly did spit-takes, "TWENTY-FOUR PEOPLE HAD THEIR EMOTIONS STOLEN? How in all that is good in the world of hard-rock are we only hearing about this now?"

"Cus' it happened last month, and it has stopped since last week."

Sam got a worried look on his face, "What do you mean it stopped?"

"I mean, ever since last week, there have been no more victims – that, or the casinos got involved and are starting to cover it up."

"Don't you mean the local government?"

Bobby quickly corrected Sam, "Nope – casinos run that town. Anyway, since no one has been attacked, the case has been put on the backburner seeing as we have been, you know, busy dealing with the escaped demons and all."

Dean quickly asked, "Did another Hunter get involved?"

"Nope, sorry Dean. We old–timers share everything – easier to notice patterns and the like. Nobody claimed a kill in the area or send anyone out there. A rogue Hunter is also unlikely."

Dean was starting to get pissed, "Damn it, Bobby, you should have told us sooner. Look, we are about a day or two out of Nevada. Let me and Sammy check it out."

There was nothing Bobby could do at this point, "Alright, but listen up boys: you are simply doing recon. I haven't got the foggiest clue just what the hell could have possibly done this, so don't go doing anything crazy."

Dean just laughed, "Bobby, it's Las Vegas – things are gonna get crazy."

Meanwhile…

Crowley and Gabriel were sitting in the study, trying their best to ignore the guttural screams of Harry in the corner, all chained up - again.

Harry kept thrashing back and forth trying to escape. If it weren't for his momentary lapses of clarity getting progressively more frequent, the guys would have drugged him to prevent further harm.

"I thought you said he would get better after taking the emotional essences."

"Give it time, Crowley. Let his mind organize and take them all in – it's not something you can rush. If I could, don't you think I would have used my angel mojo to heal him by now?"

Crowley was shaking, but he understood, "Sorry, I am just nervous. I can't watch this anymore…he has been at it for a week. Can't we do anything to help."

"Can you help an addict detox faster? You leave him alone, and suffer watching him be in pain. Consider this your first lesson as a parent – watching and being unable to do anything to help your kid because it is outside your control."

Crowley put his head down in shame, but Gabriel approached him, putting his hand on Crowley's shoulder. "Look, Crowley, he is stronger than you give him credit. Yes, he went a little 'monstery' because of what he how to do to get the essence – seriously reminded me of the face huggers from the 'Alien' movie – but it was necessary. Besides, all the victims are still alive and kicking. Trust me; it will be better."

Crowley just sat there quietly looking at the fireplace, "I believe you, Gabriel…So much longer to you think this will go on?"

Gabriel looked back at Harry, who was now on the floor twisting himself in chains, digging at the air. "Hopefully, this will end by new moon – lack of moonlight usually kills some magics."

"So…we agonize ourselves for three more days."

"Yes, but in three days, he will finally be whole. Then the real work and joy starts."

"Oh, goody," stated Crowley sarcastically.

The pair sat in silence while Harry continued to thrash around. About five minutes later, panic suddenly appeared on Gabriel's face.

"What now?" noticed Crowley.

"Nothing, it's just…" spoke the angel while rubbing his neck.

"Well… spit it out…"

"Well… these are Harry's formative years and we have been chaining him up a little too often for my liking… I am honestly just hoping that this doesn't come back to bite as in the ass if he becomes a sadomasochist with a fetish for being chained up."