A/N Cameron's nightmare. Rated M for naughty language and disturbing subject matter. Complete deviation from reality intended.

Please leave a review and enjoy!

"I'm not Lucifer, you can call me Gregory, but I hold my title with pride all the same."

He unfurled his arms, the tendons and veins sticking out in his strong forearms, his grin feral. He stood impossibly tall, his back arched and he seemed to sway to some internal music and she felt intimidated. The devil could fall and swoop down at her at any moment.

"Allison…"

He placed a kiss on her shoulder, that left an angry mark, her skin scraped raw and bloody from the soft contact. She hissed in pain and she could see him inhale the hiss, drinking it in through his regal nose, as if he were sipping wine. The curls of his hair lifted upwards into a semblance of horns and as he circled her, she felt cold, straining prickles race across her muscles in beat with his gait.

"You know, to me, deep in my mind…"

He whispers, no, hisses in her ear, obviously delighting in every word he utters, looking at her face having already calculated the maximum damage he can cause with an individual syllable.

"…you're nothing but a cunt."

Allison feels her head jerk back and the words slice across her eyebrow. The blood dribbles into her eye and she needs to shed no tears, for the blood drips down their paths for them.

"You're nothing but some silly girl I humor because of your passing attractiveness."

A slice across her soft belly, her hands flutter down to try and stem the flow. Something pulls from behind her navel and she sees the devil standing behind her, his fingers pressed into the small of her back.

"Do you think I could ever respect you? Honestly, truly respect you?"

His ice-blue eyes dance with white fire and he laughs, truly laughs because he is in genuine hysterics and she feels blood beginning to trickle out of her ears.

"You're so young, and that's all I see you as. A gawky, young girl who doesn't amount to anything I could give any sort of real attention to."

His hand folds flat against the small of her back now, palm smooth and fingers demanding. He steers her carefully through his domain of black, black hatred and presents it like a showman.

"But come, come here and see what I have to offer. The seven deadly sins can dance in your bed like spitfire and leave you trembling to your knees for addictive release after release."

They dance around him, flicking shadows, flirting, flitting, some bold enough to skate across her skin. He marvels in them as they dance around his form as well, clothing him in their dark translucency.

"I could too of course, but only a heart like yours could construe it as something so insipid as love."

He smiles again, eyes closed and his fingers conducting an invisible orchestra, enjoying his internal music.

"Allison, Allison, Allison…"

He places his hands against each side of her face, it is still not her turn to speak and he's trying to ensure she won't be able to even when it becomes time. One supple hand comes to rest where her womb would be and it squeezes gently. A phantom conception and she feels her womb swell with child.

"Anything we create together shall only end in pain."

The phantom child now drips out of her, flowing between her legs with the finality of red, adding an exclamation to his point.

"Is this what you truly want?"

He stands before her, the deadly sins cloaking him along with flames, but flickering, always flickering and often revealing him in his full glory. Unearthly, beautiful and damning. His fingers leave her side and come up to his chest. They sink in and with a suction noise they pull out his heart beating within the cage of fingers.

"Then here, as broken and rotting as you could ever want it."

He threw it and it hit her across the face, leaving sloppy, rude kisses as it slid down to fall to the floor. He looks at her, hard now, daring her to try.

Allison wipes the blood from her face with as much dignity as she can, and absentmindedly places her hand over her lost womb. She felt the sting of his words as she always has, and she has even bled in front of him to show for it. But she looks at him now and her voice is quiet and still.

"Lucifer's better at this than you, you know."

"What?"

"He used to be an angel. He knew what joy was. It made him better at it."

"Better at what?"

"Torture."

Gregory showed real passion and emotion now, he had been cruel and taunting but when true fury and rage pushed through, it made Allison start a little. A fire seemed to light behind his eyes and the blue flashed something dangerous, he yelled something terrible.

"I fucking knew joy once!"

Allison is quiet and still and doesn't look at him.

"Did you really feel joy with Stacey?"

This incenses Gregory even more and he looks as if he will strike her, and when she looks up at him he does, surprising her and leaving an angry red mark across her cheek.

"Why the fuck are you bringing up Stacey?"

He whirls away from her, the horned curls of his hair swishing and staccato-ing his fury.

"Don't talk about Stacey!"

He slams his fist down, falling to a squat at his ankles and abusing his already cast away heart on the ground. Allison doesn't wince now and looks at him with the same quiet and still.

"No."

"What?"

"I should talk about her more often in front of you."

"Why Allison? Why would you do that?"

Allison lowers herself to her knees and she plants a kiss on his throat. The devil's skin blisters and scrapes raw from the soft contact and he shivers when he hears her whisper in his ear.

"Because it hurts you. How many people get a chance to hurt the devil?"