Six months and nine days, and every night you still went back to the same bar, hoping to see her. She had left so abruptly, leaving a giant hole in your heart and you didn't want her absence to be true. But Nat was gone and even though you didn't want the truth to be true, it was. So like every other night you went back to the bar, sat in the same seat, ordering the same beer. You looked up at the tv behind the bar, crime was on the rise and all anybody could think about was sports.
  "Is this seat taken?" A gravely voice asked, you looked over your left shoulder at the man that owned it. His blondish hair was short and pale blue eyes looked back at you. You shook your head and he slid in next to you. "I'm Clint."
  "I'm not interested." You replied with fake smile, pulling the beer bottle to your lips.
  "Oh, slow down there. I was just introducing myself." He chuckled holding up his hands in defense.
  "And ninety percent of the time when men do that the next thing that happens are bad pick up lines, so let's save us both time." You replied, looking over at him without a trace of humor on your face.
  "Wasn't going to hit on you actually. You come here every night, always by yourself so I thought maybe you would want someone to talk to. And it'll keep the creepy guys from hitting on you." He smirked back.
  "And if I don't want to talk? Maybe I just like coming here to have a beer." You shot back, turning your body slightly to get a better look at him. He was wearing dirty torn up jeans, his slate grey shirt was clean. Clint's calloused hands drummed on the bar top, muscles in his forearms bunching as he did.
  "It would be cheaper to go buy a six pack and go home." He shot right back.
   "And you could mind your own business." You rolled your eyes, looking back forward.
  "So who you keep hoping to run into?" He asked after a beat of silence. If weren't for the fact you really weren't in the mood to talk with him you would give him credit.
  "What makes you think I'm hoping to run into someone?" You snipped, taking a long sip off of your beer, debating whether to leave or not after you were done.
  "The way you scan the room when you come in, the look of disappointment that crosses your face as you walk up to the counter." You could see him shrug, taking a sip from his tumbler, the amber liquid sloshing around gently.
  "Well aren't you observant." You sighed, grabbing your purse to grab money for the bar tender as you pulled your coat on.
"Don't worry, I got you covered tonight." He said, pushing the money in your hand back to your purse.
"Why?" You asked him suspiciously.
"Cause, I know what it's like to hope to see a familiar face." He replied, looking up at you.
You left the bar without so much as another word to Clint, the snow was crisp and white as you pulled your coat around you tighter.
The month rolled on, and with it your nightly meeting at the bar with Clint. At first you were more stand offish, but slowly began to open up to him. You found yourself looking forward to him, he had an easy nature about him, and a trusting smile.
When people would talk about demons the first imagery used was men clad in crimsons and blood reds. Horns and devil tail, pitchforks. Evil smirks and lies, what they don't talk about is sweet faces. Or soft laughter, and trusting smiles.
You could feel yourself slipping farther and farther becoming used to your new routine, the way Clint would talk. His animated hands, his facial expressions. Everything about him seemed genuine, and just like every night he would walk you to your car.
  "So what, this woman you fell for, she just up and left after confessing her love for you?" He scoffed as he leaned against your drivers side door.
  "Yeah, it.. she.. it's difficult to explain." You sighed, bracing your forearms against the car frame.
  "Well, I know I wouldn't be able to leave you, that's for sure. They would have to pull you from my cold dead hands." He smirked as you looked over to him.
  "You.. you like me?" You asked in disbelief, he was attractive, that was for sure and guys like him never found you attractive.
  "Uh, Yeah, why do you think I kept talking to you after your tried to brush me off." He replied with a soft laugh, slowly running his hand through his hair.
  "Cause your a nice guy?" You responded suddenly feeling awkward, you weren't sure what to say, this is why you didn't approach people to begin with.
  "No, Sweetheart, I'm as far from nice as they get. Trust me." He winked, leaning forward and grasping the down at the handle that was partially under you. You cocked your head at him, biting your bottom lip trying to figure out what he meant by that.
  "Oh, really? I'm sorry Clint but all you've ever been to me is nice, Hell you walk me to my car every night and you don't have to." You stated, the was a flicker of something crossing his features.
  When he grinned this time it made your blood turn cold, the way it didn't reach his black eyes. Or the fact that the world suddenly seemed to stand still, nothing moved, not a sound was heard but in that moment you knew he hadn't been lying.
  "Maybe that's because I like you, and I don't want any harm coming to you." He said slowly, his eyes narrowing, you stared at the blackness the encompassed the entirety of his eyes.
  "Clint, you're scaring me." You whispered, feeling your pulse quicken.
  "You should be, beautiful." He whispered back.
   "What the hell?" You breathed, you gripped ahold of the car tightly.
  "I do have to go there for a bit, but I'll be back, so don't you go running on me. Okay? I always come back for what is mine." He told you as black smoke wisped around him, leaving you standing suddenly by yourself in the dead of night, and a slight surfer scent in the air.
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