Chapter Text
You may be broken but you weren’t fragile. You were no damsel in distress- you didn’t need to be saved, you didn’t want to be saved. Besides, it was just nightmares, everyone had those, and you could deal just fine. So, when for the first time, Dean came running at the sound of your agonized cries, you completely surprised yourself by letting him hold you and rock you back to sleep, as he shushed and murmured quiet comfort into your ear.
Three months earlier…
You were so close- you could feel it, the sweet release of revenge just out of reach. You had been tracking this bastard for a year now. A year since he had destroyed everything that was precious to you, since he had taken what innocence you had left and crushed it in his cruel hands before dumping you, broken, on the side of the road. You could still hear his laughter ringing in your mind as you had begged for death.
“No, Slut,” He said, face twisting maliciously as he spat on you, “See, it’s much more torture to let you live, to let you live with the reminder, day in and day out of how you were too weak to save them. Of how even when I used you as nothing more than a common whore, you were powerless to stop me- and in the dark corners of your soul, you liked it. Because deep down you know that all you are is a weak, ugly, broken, slut who deserves to be used and tossed aside like trash. No one will ever want you again.”
You shake your head, (E/C) eyes, squeezed shut, forcing the memory away. His words were ever present in your mind, but you could not let them distract you tonight. Not when you were this close. Taking in deep breaths of the cold night air, you refocus your thoughts on watching the quiet warehouse, waiting for your prey to arrive. Dressed in black t-shirt, jeans, and high top converse, you shivered a little inside your beat-up leather jacket- both from the cold and anticipation. Crouched behind the foul-smelling dumpster, you comb back over your plan, tightly clutching your salt caked iron blade.
You knew exactly what kind of creature you were dealing with. A couple of months of research after the incident had made you realize that what you were stalking was not a man, but a demon. Those inky black eyes haunted you every second of your life, waking and dreaming, and you planned to lure him into your devil’s trap, just to carve them out of his friggin’ face before sending him back to hell where he belonged.
Not much later, a dark figure appeared in the darkness, striding with confidence toward the warehouse door. You didn’t even need to see his face, the slight creak of his shoes sounding in time to his swagger told you this was the son of a bitch monster that you were waiting for. Steeling yourself, you stood up to your full height- which wasn’t much- and stepped out of the shadows, standing where the moonlight pooled the brightest, you shouted “Hey!”
Your breathing came faster, panic threatening to over whelm you as he paused his stride and turned toward your voice. The bastard still wore the same black suit he had on the day you met, the same sneering smile, and malicious glint. You struggled to stand firmly beneath his gaze, to stare him straight in his black beady eyes, to convince him that you were no longer afraid. He could no longer punish you for this act of defiance.
His dark chuckle oozed over you as his eyes flicked up and down your body, clinging to every detail, making you feel dirty. “Why, if it isn’t my little dirty whore. You were always my favorite, did you miss me?”
You answer with nothing other than a dark glare, waiting for him to take the bait, with panic rising in your chest. It clearly works, because in a moment he is stepping ominously toward you, a triumphant sneer smeared across his face. As he approaches, you take a deep breath, flashing your own cold smile in response. “Catch me, asshole.”
Spinning on your heel, you sprint toward the secondary warehouse and the safety of your devil’s trap. You slam through the double doors into the dark of the building, slipping quickly through the shelves in your memorized route, tucking your knife in your belt as you go. A crash and hurried creaking steps sound from behind as the demon follows you through the doors- Too close. You had forgotten how fast his long legs could propel him over the ground and he was gaining on you faster than you planned. No matter. One of you was not leaving this building alive tonight and you didn’t think you cared anymore which of you it was that stayed behind- as long as somebody died, as long as it ended.
Two steps from the safety of the sigils painted on the floor, a bruising, long fingered grip closed around your neck, slamming you back onto the floor. The air whooshed out of your lungs, bright lights erupting behind your eyes. You desperately scrambled backwards in the darkness to escape the looming shadow, to no avail. His shoes creak toward you, pausing only to land a bone crushing kick to your ribs. As you gasp, fighting to maintain consciousness, his chuckle oozes over you once again.
“Shall we shed some light on the situation?” At the sound of his voice, the room flairs with light, illuminating the dark-haired figure standing above you. “Ah, here we are! This is much better no? So much easier to see your pain this way!”
Clutching your screaming ribs, you continue your frantic attempt to put distance between you and your own personal nightmare. Striding forward with ease, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of your (H/C) hair, dragging you to your feet. You screamed, clawing at his arms, but unphased by your struggles, he continued, hauling you around the devil’s trap, and slamming you face first into a wall. You can feel his hot breath on your ear as he shoved his warmth up against your back, forcing you harder into the wall. Keeping his excruciating grip in your hair, his right hand roams your body freely, finding the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath it. You feel the nausea of memory rising in your stomach as his hand slides higher, cupping your right breast, gently at first before giving it a sudden vicious squeeze. Stifling the cry threatening to force past your lips, you swallow down all noise, refusing the sick bastard the pleasure of hearing your pain.
“Oh, come now, pet” he chides, “you aren’t playing the game properly.” He flips you around, this time slamming your back against the wall, causing your head to bounce painfully off the stone. Releasing your hair, he shoved his forearm across you wind pipe, holding you against the wall. The black of his eyes almost seemed to deepen as he spoke. “What to do next? I want to hear your pretty little mouth scream for mercy, just like old times.”
“Never!” You spat out as loudly as the arm over your throat would allow. Fury replaced his amusement and before you knew what was happening, he backhanded you so hard you fell to your knees. Somehow you still managed to suppress your pained cry, angering him further. Once again, you could feel his fingers wrapping into your hair, but this time you were ready. Standing with a fluid motion, surprising and over balancing him, you yank the knife from your belt and plunge it into the side of his neck, eliciting a feral roar of pain and rage from your attacker.
He released your hair, clawing at the knife, ripping if from his body and advancing on you as blood poured from his jugular. Why didn’t this phase him more? Even if it didn’t kill him, that move should at least have slowed him down! You began backing away from him, hands raised in what little defense they would bring from his on slot. Your reverse momentum was halted by something in your way, glancing back you realize your mistake too late, having literally backed yourself into a corner.
Turning back to face your demon and the triumph in his eyes, you quietly whisper, “Shit” as the blade slams down biting hilt deep into your right shoulder. This time you are unable to suppress the scream tearing at your throat.
The demon grins sadistically at your agony, and then without any warning begins to twist the still embedded blade, torturing yet another scream from you. Using his other hand to brace you and keep you standing, he slides the blade from your body and prepares to shove it into a new expanse of flesh. You clench your jaw, bracing yourself, but the pain never comes. Instead surprise spreads across his face as he looks down at a knife tip, blossoming from his chest. Then suddenly his eyes erupt with light, and he falls lifeless, dragging you to the floor, a knife in his back.
Looking up from your spot on the floor, all you can see is a pair of the most intense green eyes you have ever seen staring down at you in a strange mixture of concern and rage.