Are You There God? It's Me, Alex Gaskarth.

Alex looked at the palm of his hand as he calculated the years. It had been almost ten years to the day since he met that awful creature at that dusty, gravel drenched crossroad. He could still smell the cheap cologne radiating off of him. The man never told him what he was or why he was helping him- or what would happen when the ten years was up. But, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach expand as his imagination concocted an array of terrifying scenarios.

He had heard stories and read articles and passages about demons that wait at the crossroads to pray on hungry souls of the unhappy people who happened to stumble upon them. He also read that it was easy to summon said demons to make a deal. But, Alex didn’t summon anyone. All he did was lay in the grass next to the road; he drew pictures of himself onstage in the dusty ground and wrote lyrics of songs he had written around his drawings. Sure, he wished for someone to come and help make his dreams come true… But, he never summoned anything. Especially not a demon.
The time was running out and according to the stories he read, the most common way a demonic contract was fulfilled was the soul was given to over to the demons as hellhounds ripped them apart.

Alex hoped this wasn’t the case for him. All he wanted was to make it through the next few weeks without hearing the growls of the hellhounds following him.

“Hey, Alex! Someone is here to see you,” Alex heard his best friend and bandmate, Jack Barakat yell from the door of their tour bus. This tour had been going so well and as today was their only day off for a few weeks, he wanted to relax with his friends. But, looking at the way his mental state was holding on, he didn’t think that was going to happen.
He stood up and started making his way over to the door as he ran through his head all of the people it could be that were there to see him. There were a million possibilities. A fan, and old hookup, or someone they partied with the last time they were in the area. Who knows.

But, as he stepped down onto the concrete and into the heat from their nice, air conditioned tour home, he knew the answer was none of the above. The man that was standing next to Jack was an older, greasy looking fellow with an incredibly filthy baseball cap and a liquor and grease stained shirt.
The man looked at him like he was a complete idiot as he rolled his eyes and motioned for Alex to follow him.

Honestly, Alex didn’t want to follow him because in the back of his mind he knew why he was here. He read about men like him. Hunters. They protect their fellow humans from the evils of the supernatural world and considering what happened to him ten years ago was obviously more than just supernatural, he figured he was either here to help him or kill him.
And to be even more honest, Alex was kind of hoping he’d kill him. Better him than a hellhound.

Alex looked to Jack in confusion as his best friend just laughed and shrugged, turning away and leaving him to follow the stranger. The old man walked quickly ahead of him, his dirty plaid overshirt flowing behind him, and as they turned the corner into a dark alley Alex watched as the man quickly turned around, slapping the side of Alex’s head with his palm, earning a confused yelp. “What the fuck?!” He asked, grabbing the side of his head.

“I’m gettin’ too damn old to keep cleaning up little pansy boy’s messes,” he started as Alex opened his mouth to intercept, earning him another slap to the head. “Now, you listen here, idgit. I’m going to explain to you just how deep of a pile of shit you’ve dug yourself into and you’re going to listen. Try and interrupt me again and you’ll get a lot worse than that little slap to your head, kay?” The man stared at Alex, impatiently waiting an answer.

“Yes sir,” was all Alex’s vocal chords could muster. Either this stranger with an odd coating of grease and whiskey over his skin was going to start giving him answers, or bad news.
The man nodded as he began.

“Okay, look. I ain’t got no business coming down here tellin’ you about that dumbass deal you made ten years ago. You already know all about that. Now, I don’t know what the deal was or why you decided it was worth your damn soul—but, I do know that not only is Crowley coming for your soul, but he’s out for a lot more than that.”
As he finished, Alex was lost in his words as he responded.

“W-wait. Sir, I didn’t know I was selling my soul,” he defended himself. “I just wanted to get this band started more than anything in the world and I was willing to try anything. I-I don’t even know who Crowley is…” his voice was cracked and dry as the man rolled his eyes once again.

“Dammit, son. Alright, look. That person you kissed your soul away too wasn’t just some British crack pot in a nice suit. He was a demon,” Alex’s heart sank as his worst fear was suddenly realized. He sold his soul. And he was going to hell. “But now he isn’t just any ole crossroad geezer, he’s the frickin’ king of Hell. And, I don’t know why, but he wants your head on a stick next to his fire place.”

“WAIT, WHAT?” Alex started, his breath quickening as he proceeded. “Why me?! Out of all the fucking demons I’m the one that shacked up with the fucking king of hell?!” Alex watched as the alley they were standing in began getting smaller and smaller with each breath he took.

The man just rolled his eyes at this charade. He watched as Alex gripped the alley’s brick wall for support. “Get the hell up, ya damn idgit. We ain’t got any kind of time for you to play this self-pity card.” Alex didn’t know what he was supposed to do as the man grabbed him by his arm and lifted him up off of the wall.
“Okay, look. I came here to help you, and I can’t with you acting like a whiney school boy,” the man, who Alex had most definitely confirmed as a hunter, continued. “Me and my boys are gunna help you out, alright? We kind of, ya know, saved the world once or twice.” He winked as left Alex to support himself.

“What boys?” Alex breathed.

“I got two other hunters on my call list and an angel, too.” Alex choked back on his own spit at that.

“What hunters? A-And, an angel?” the amount of theology Alex was learning today was more than he ever received in any church he ever step foot in.

“Sam and Dean. And Cas is the angel. Er- Castiel. If you want heaven’s term for him,” the man said, gesturing for Alex to follow him.
Alex quickly turned and walked beside him, a million questions still boiling in his mind.
“We’ll get some of your stuff from your bus and head on out,” the man told him. Not making a lot of eye contact with him, or even looking in his direction.

“O-Okay,” Alex started. The man was walking faster than he really thought necessary as they approached the bus.
“W-what about you?” was the first question to pass Alex’s lips.

“What about me?” the man responded in a tone that suggested Alex shouldn’t be asking him any questions about his life.

“Well, who a-are you?”

The man, giving his already famous eye roll, answered reluctantly.

“Bobby. I’m Bobby Singer.”