My old nemesis.

Finally coming back to haunt me, I see.

My old addiction.

The thing I once craved.

The thing I just might crave again.

Stronger than nicotine.

Stronger than booze.

The infamous cocaine.

I should've seen it coming. I should've known it would come back to give me nightmares, leaving me tossing and turning at night.

Should've known.

Should've known.

Because old habits die hard.

The last time I did crack, I told myself it would be the last. I made a vow to myself that I would never go near that stuff again. I told myself that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back then, I was an absolute train wreck. I was a mess. A hopeless crackhead. Snorting that stuff like nobody's business. The stuff was killing me slowly. I promised myself that I would never go back. Not once. Because one time is all it takes. Then you're hooked.

I snorted it for four months. Four months of my life were wasted on crack. I was so high, I never wanted to come down. And it was all thanks to Lucifer.

He was a notorious drug lord. Made me an offer. An offer I'd not soon forget. I was neck deep in it all. I was in so deep, I never thought I'd make it out.

Crack, pot, even a little heroine. One time, one time, I did meth. That was a bit too extreme.

And now, after all this time, my inner demons come back to haunt me. Worse than actual demons. Now I was starting to crave it again. While I was in a cop's house no less.

It was four years ago. I was somewhere in Indiana. Indiana of all places to get addicted to crack. It was late at night and I was walking through a shady looking neighborhood. I kept walking until I was pulled into an alley by a strange man.

I was about to scream, until he put his hand over my mouth, keeping me pinned to the brick wall. "Shh. Don't yell. It's okay. I won't hurt you unless you give me a reason to, alright?"

Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Very good. My name is Lucifer. I'd like to make you a very special offer."

My mind was racing. Who was this guy? What did he want?

"I'm going to remove my hand now. And when I do, you're not gonna scream, right?"

I shook my head, and he let go of me.

"What do you want with me?"

"First things first. What's your name?"

I paused, unsure if I should answer. "C-Castiel."

"Castiel? Really? Interesting."

"What do you want with me?" I repeated.

"I want to make you a very generous offer. Ever done drugs before?"

"No. And I'm not planning on it."

"Trust me, Castiel, I've got some of the best you can get. Can't get your hands on any like it."

"Why would I want to get high?"

"Trust me... the life of a junkie... is a glorious one. You haven't lived until you've given it a go. All your thoughts and worries just melt away."

"Really?"

"Oh fuck yeah. All that tension. All that stress. Gone just like-" He snapped his fingers. "-that."

I gave it some real thought. It seemed like the perfect getaway from all my problems. By this point, it had only been a year since... Dean. And my heart was still plenty broken.

"Isn't that a bit pricey?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, no. Keep your wallet in your pocket. You don't have to pay a single penny."

"No, there's gotta be a catch."

"No catch. Join me and my little gang, try a little weed, and it's hakuna matata from here on in, baby."

I nodded slowly. "Okay then. Where do I sign?"

"Well, firstly... we need a different name for you, man. I mean, Castiel? That's a bit of a mouthful."

"Just call me Cas."

He shook his head, screwing his mouth to the side. "Nah. Just... isn't working for me. How bout this? Z."

"Z?"

"Fuck yeah! It's pretty kickass."

"Why Z?"

"I dunno. It just... suits you. C'mon, Z. Let's get high."

When I fell asleep, I dreamt about that night. The night that changed my life. The night that ruined me. The night that killed Castiel Novak. The night Z was born.

I awoke in a cold sweat. I sat up on the sofa, hugging my knees to my chest. I needed it. I needed it again. I needed to get high.

I needed my monster. It was a monster, but it was my monster. I loved my monster. I loved it, and I hated it. I needed it. I just needed it.

How could I not see this coming? It was more than an addiction. It was an obsession. I had to have it. I could die by it, but I could die without it.

I rocked back and forth slightly, trying to calm my nerves. I was a druggie, there's no getting around that. I was a junkie, and I needed my medicine. Anything. Just a little bit of anything.

I was going insane.

Crack, pot, heroine, it could be fucking glue for all I cared. I. Needed. Something.

No. I needed to go back to sleep. I needed rest. This was just an ex-junkie phase, it would pass. Maybe.

I curled up on the couch, still hugging my knees to my chest, and closed my eyes. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw my monster. I missed my monster. I fucking needed it.

"I miss my fucking monster." I muttered to myself.

I just hoped Jody didn't walk in on me like this. If she found me mumbling to myself about my monster, I'd be a shoe in for a straight jacket.

I was nothing but a junkie who ran away from his problems at sixteen because he was too afraid to be hurt again. My life changed because of Dean fucking Winchester. Sometimes I wished he would just... burn in hell. But then I would remember that I still love him. Deep, deep down, I still loved my biggest mistake.

I trembled beneath the blanket, but not because I was cold. Because I was fucking insane. Drugs ruined me. They stole my innocence. Not that I had much to begin with. Once. That's all it takes to get hooked.

Now look at me. A shivering, sniveling mess. I just wanted to die. Just roll over and die. Was that so much to ask? To be put out of my misery? Because I was, indeed, miserable.

I leapt up from the sofa and made my way to Jody's kitchen. I looked through all the drawers until I found what I was looking for.

The steak knives.

I took one with a small, smooth edged blade and went into the small bathroom, locking the door behind me. It had been a few weeks since my last cutting.

I set the knife down on the sink and took off my jacket. I ran my hand over the barely visible scars on my wrists and forearms. And I started a new row.

I started along my left wrist, watching the blood flow down my arm in crimson streams. It stung, but no more than usual. I continued down my forearm until I had five cuts, then decided to go for one more. They each had a half inch of space between them.

I then started on my right wrist. Cut after cut after cut. After a while, I just sort of lost it. I ended up with eleven on my left arm and fourteen on my right. I was losing blood. And fast.

I just collapsed in a broken heap on the floor in a pool of my own blood. I was beginning to feel rather dizzy. It must've been the blood loss. I was fading in and out of consciousness, unable to move my own body.

I was dying. That's what was happening. I was dying. Cause of death: severe blood loss. This was the end. Well, at least I didn't have much to worry about. I had no one to miss me. No one to mourn at my funeral. Just an advantage to being isolated.

It didn't stop the sadness though.

I grabbed my jacket and reached into the pocket I knew it was in. I stared at the picture forever. I nearly cried a few times. The photo ended up with a few smudgy bloody fingerprints.

The blood gushed from my wounds like waterfalls. I would die today. And that's okay. I was ready for the spirit in the sky.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."

I began to choke out a song past my tightening throat.

"You make me happy when skies are grey.

You never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away."

My arms grew heavier and heavier, until I couldn't hold them properly anymore. But I continued to sing.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken.

So I hung my head, and I cried."

I almost cried at that line, but I didn't. I carried on.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away."

I was about ready to die. I could feel myself drifting, but I knew that I had to finish the song. I held the photo to my heart and kept singing.

"I'll always love you and make you happy.

If you will only say the same.

But if you leave me to love another,

You'll regret it all one day."

I kept growing weaker and weaker, but I kept singing, my voice becoming raspy.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Please don't take my sunshine away."

And I went completely limp. I allowed myself to fade away, ready for whatever came next. I was more than ready to rid myself of my pain. My grief. My life.

Because my sunshine was taken away.