Chapter Text
You're mad at Dean, and you don't even really remember why, something stupid probably, not that it matters. What matters is the fact that you're mad.
He's an insensitive jerk, so bad at playing pretend emotionless demon it'd be comical if it didn't drive you insane. He's slipping, and you've almost got it, but he pushed it too far and you snuck out while he was sleeping so you could just get some fucking space.
"Sam? Sam?" You say into the payphone, glancing around like anyone would be there, fifty miles out from the motel you're staying in, some country bumpkin town with one gas station and a hardware store in the middle of Idaho. "Are you there?"
"Y/N?" Sam's voice is filled with relief. You've kept him updated the best that you could the past months since the night Dean took you, but it's been a while since you've been able to get some space from Dean. He's clingier than usual, an annoying side affect of slowly turning him back to human.
"Hey Sam." You lean up against the dusty wooden shelter that's constructed by the side of the road to keep the phone box out of the weather.
"Where are you guys?"
"Uh somewhere in Idaho, I had to get out far to find a payphone with no one around. I'm staying with Dean in Pocatello."
"Are you okay?"
"Everything's fine, Dean's getting better. I stopped him from going with Crowley and he admitted he loved me."
You neglect to inform Sam on how exactly you managed that, because neither of you need that information repeated in the open.
"Good, that's good, that's progress." Sam's voice crackles through the receiver, and it hurts you a little, because he's so far away. "We're so close."
"Where are you?"
"Colorado, I had a lot of clean up to do in Tennessee."
Tennessee. Joey and Ben. The silence ticks between you as you swallow down the guilt.
"Everyone alright down there?"
"They're angry but, they're alive. I managed to convince them that he's still with Crowley so they're not too keen on going after him."
"And me?"
"An unwilling hostage, only half a lie."
You sigh heavily, and the shitty payphone clouds with ear splitting static before returning to normal. "You coming up to us?"
"Hopin' so, yeah. I got close back there, but fuck I-"
"You had two choices, and honestly Sam? He'd probably have killed you there as well."
"The two of us though-"
"He had me chained to a pole and smacked the crap out of me when I tried to stop him goin' after Joey. He's a demon, we can't stop him unless we trap him or kill him."
"Or fix him."
"Or fix him." You repeat. "Look, it's going to be tough to keep him here, he's getting paranoid. There's a few cases in the south of Nebraska, so if we head there, you can meet us."
"The vampire nest and the poltergeist?"
"Yeah, and who knows, maybe there's a few ghosts that I've dug up too, just to make it really exciting." You roll your eyes to yourself while you say it. Truthfully, you're exhausted, bone-deep. You're tired of loving a man so desperate to pretend he can't, and you just want Dean back. "I can't keep doing this Sam, we've been all over the fucking country and I just can't keep going."
"I know, I know, but this is the last time, okay? I know where the cases are, so go to Nebraska and I'll meet you there. We'll trap him and we'll finish this."
"Okay." You take a deep inhale, tapping your fingers nervously on the rotted wood. "Okay, okay, we'll either head off tonight, or today, and if you get there first, stay in the town over, in case there's demons there that warn him. I'll call when we get there."
"I'll start movin'" Sam says, and you almost move to hang up. "Hey Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
"Hang in there, we're so close."
"I'll try my best." You smile. "See ya' Sam."
"See you soon Y/N."
You put the phone back on the hook, rolling your shoulders out as you make your way back to the Impala. You know Dean's probably worked himself up into a state back in your motel, and you're definitely going to get an earful when you finally get back home.
Oh well.
You pull out of the dusty car park and swing back onto the road, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel in tune with the music.
"You- you-"
Dean's tomato red, spluttering incoherently.
"Took the Impala and went on a drive, yes." You finish for him dryly, crossing your arms and leaning against the body of the car.
"Where?"
You shrug. "Around."
"No, no, don't you fucking pull that with me, where did you go?"
"I don't know, I just wanted to go for a drive! I didn't goanywhere, I just went down the road and back."
"Jesus Y/N." Dean runs his hands through his hair angrily. "Don't fucking do that again."
"She's fine, I didn't damage your precious baby."
"It's not about her." He snaps, then pauses to do a once-over on his beloved car. "But if you had damaged her-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Me and her are both fine Dean, so you don't have to give yourself a premature heart attack."
"Fuckin' hell." You hear him mutter under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Promise me."
"Promise you what?"
"You know damn well-"
"Fine yes, I promise I won't do that again."
"You are the biggest pain in my ass, you know that? I woke up and you're gone and so is my car, and I have no idea where you are!"
"Well that's the only way I can get some fucking peace!" You throw your hands in the air. "If I let you know, you just follow me!"
"Because you're a dumbass who always gets herself into shit, and the moment I leave you alone-"
"Leave me alone?" You scoff loudly and with derision. "I'm a goddamn grown woman, not a five year old child."
Dean's lips flatten into a line, and his nostrils flare in and out so aggressively it makes him look like some kind of lizard.
"If I want to go out," you continue, taking a step forward so that you're almost toe to toe, "I'll go out, I don't need to ask your permission. Maybe, I'll do you the courtesy of letting you know, but I won't fucking ask."
"You want me to go back to tying you up?"
Rage bubbles in your blood, almost reaching a boiling point. "Try it, I'll fucking cut your hand off. Have fun trying to regrow that."
You don't have time to react as he lunges forward, gripping your arm painfully, and dragging you back with him to the motel room. You squirm in his grip, but the more you twist, the worse it hurts your arm. He yanks you into the room, and locks the door behind the both of you.
"What the fuck is up with you?"
"Me?" You don't back down, getting right into his face, hands on your hips. "You're the one who's decided to act like my fucking father."
Dean doesn't blink. "Calm down."
"Go to hell." You turn to go to the bathroom.
"Already been there baby!" Dean calls out behind you, and you whirl around to shoot him a dirty look, before slamming the door shut.
You shuck your clothes off and step into the shower. You watch the soapy suds twirl down the shower drain at your feet, the smell of fake lavender soap from the cheap little bottles permeating through the air. When you step out the droplets cling and freeze on your skin, and you wrap yourself firmly in a towel.
Dean's sitting on the bed when you step out, fidgeting with something from one of the duffel bags open on the duvet. He glances up when he hears the door open, and looks you up and down appreciatively, with a grin on his face.
"You're such a perv." You rifle in your bag for something clean to wear, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. You drop the towel, but resolutely refuse to pick your eyes up from the bed spread while you wiggle your clothes on. You can feel Dean's unyielding gaze, feel it burns holes into you.
When you're finally fully clothed, you turn around, narrowing your eyes in disdain. "Seriously?"
"Can you blame me?"
"Fucking gross." You mutter under your breath, untangling your hair with your fingers, sitting down next to him. "There's nothing around here, we should move pretty soon."
"Not a lot around anywhere." Dean points out. "Closest couple of cases is Nebraska, but they seem pretty tame."
"It's better than nothing." You shrug. "Better than a pit-stop in Pocatello."
"Aw c'mon it's got a little charm." Dean grins in that supermodel-handsome way, showing the perfect rows of teeth behind his plump lips. "Could get used to it."
"I would literally rather die."
"You settled down in Tennessee."
"And that worked out so well."
"You considered it once." Dean's little smile returns. "Just sayin'."
"You can't still be jealous about that."
"Nah not jealous." He puts down some contraption he was holding and pulls out a machete from the bag, tilting it so he can look down at the handle. "Just thinking."
"That's never good." You try to interject some humour, but your half-hearted joke falls flat in the suffocating tension that's slowly building between you two.
"I did it once, it was-"
You stiffen. "It didn't last."
"It wasn't with you."
"What's this about?" You arch an eyebrow.
He shrugs. "Crowley offered me a job, while you were out."
He catches your face changing instantly, yanking you down when you try to stand up abruptly. "Baby just hear me out-"
"The next words out of your mouth better be that you told him you're not interested." You snap, trying to tug your hand out of his.
"I told him no." Dean grabs your other arm, which was flailing around in your attempt to get him to let you go. "But it's good Y/N, it's not like hunting, finding one case on the other side of the country every other month, there's heaps of jobs to do, we could go anywhere, and we could stay there."
"Heaps of jobs for Crowley." You hiss. "I told you, there's no fucking way."
"I know you hate Crowley, but you can look past him, this could be good for us." Dean lets go of you, and you shoot to standing, marching over the bags on the floor.
"I'm not even talking about this with you." You start shoving your things into your bags. "We're going to Nebraska."
Dean slides up behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, and burying his face in you neck. Dean's hand has snaked over your forearm, but you're too distracted to properly notice.
"You know, Crowley and I talked about some other stuff too. We talked about you, why I wouldn't take it, what your plan was. He had some interesting information for me."
Dean's hand tightens painfully, so strong you can swear you almost hear the bones creaking in your forearm.
"Like about what you were doing when you snuck out on me."
You freeze, and then immediately turn to cover it. "What are you talking about?"
Oh baby." Dean smiles as he shakes his head. "Did you think someone wouldn't find out? You two are so sloppy."
His eyes flicker to black, pools staring straight through you. The icy terror is creeping its way down your spine.
You laugh, a little too high pitched, and you know Dean will clock it. "That's what he went for? If he was going to try and manipulate you into getting rid of me, he should come up with a better plan than that."
Dean's face contorts into something that could almost be described as excited if it didn't look so non-human. "You know, I was hoping you'd just tell me the truth, if I gave you a chance, that you and Sammy weren't going behind my back this whole time."
There's a pause, before Dean yanks you towards him, both large hands gripping your biceps, forcing your shoulders together. In an instant, you're on the defensive.
"Dean, Dean, baby, listen to me-"
"Y/N." He cuts you off, tugging you even closer so that there's barely a centimetre separating you. "Is it true?"
"No, no, I promise. I haven't been talking to Sam, I swear."
Dean smiles at you, almost lovingly, caressing the back of his fingers across your temple. "Aw baby, you gonna act all tough for me? Gonna make me get it out of you?"
"Stop. Stop it." You jerk your head away from his hand and try and push at his chest to get some space. "Let go of me."
"Naw, I think it's time you got another reminder, huh?" He grabs you, lifting you up so you're dangling over his shoulder, kicking and screaming.
"Put me down you son of bitch!" You shriek, slapping your hands as hard as you can into his back, hoping you can create enough noise to bring in a nosy neighbour, and annoyed manager, anyone who can break the terrifying focus Dean has right now.
He slams you down on the bed so hard the mattress makes you bounce, your wet hair splaying all over the sheets. You don't move, because you know you can't fight it, just stare up at him, standing at the foot of the bed.
"I'm well aware of what you're capable of, why do you think I haven't bothered to contact Sam!" You argue frantically.
"Really?" He hums, rounding the bed so he's next to your head. "I don't think so."
"I'm not lying." You're looking up at him, wide-eyed. "Dean, I promise, I'm not lying."
Without warning his arm whips out, snatching your wrist and pinning it to the mattress. You kick up, writhing out of his hold, punching him squarely in the face with your free hand. He lets out a guttural grunt as his head snaps back violently, eyes flicking straight to black empty pools. It's not even enough to get him to let go, and he springs on top of you, dragging you up to the headboard of the bed.
"Just tell me the truth Y/N, and I promise I won't hurt you." He coos, clamping one of his hands down on the lower half of your face, so you can't move or speak, wriggling feebly underneath him. The other has both of your wrists pinned into the pillows. His face breaks into a small smile, amused at his own words. "At least nothing too bad."
You kick your legs out, trying to force your hips up to buck him off you and the bed, and the smile is instantly wiped off his face. The hand slips down, pressure pressing into your throat, not enough to cut off the air, but enough to make you feel the blood pound in your face.
"Stop fucking fighting me." He hisses while you turn red. "Just tell me what you and Sammy have been up to."
"Nothing." You manage to gasp out once he lessens his grip, but the hand is still closed around your neck. "Dean, get off me!"
"Not until you stop fucking lying to me." His voice is acidic, hot lips brushing your ear. "Don't make me force it out of you baby, come on."
You won't do it. You won't betray Sam, you won't put him in danger. You won't give up the final bit of hope you have at getting Dean back.
"I'm not!" You cry out, finally falling still, abandoning your feeble attempts at fighting him off. He's too strong, impervious to pain and injury. You have no hope. Against him? You've always had no hope. "Dean please."
"Hey, hey, hey-" He softens a little bit, finally releasing your throat, caressing your face instead. The pads of his fingers dance over your lips and you close your eyes. "I already know most of the truth sweetheart, you're not gonna betray Sam, I just need to hear the rest of it. I need to know what you were planning in Nebraska."
"No-"
"Y/N, Crowley is not gonna lie to me, not about this. You know it already, so just tell me."
You open your eyes to his, blurry with your tears. "Dean I can't."
He smiles in your face. "Well you can't say I didn't give you a chance."
"You gonna torture me, huh?" You spit, angry and hurt. He grins while he ties you hands to the headboard with a length of rope. "Carve me up? Burn me? What's it gonna be Dean?"
"Aw don't you worry." He taps you on the nose. "I'm gonna get the truth out of you and then I have a witch who can heal you up all pretty again."
"I love you." You can't stop the tears leaking out, spilling over your cheeks. "Don't start acting like this."
Dean's face softens as he cups yours in both of his hands, using his thumbs to wipe off your tears. "I love you too. It'll all be over soon."
His grip instantly switches from a loving caress too tight and controlling, and he manoeuvres your head from side to side, looking over it with some kind of sick pride and excitement. He presses a quick kiss to your lips, before pushing off the bed to go rifling through his bags on the other side of the room.
"No." You sob, watching him pull a heavy blade hunting knife from one of the duffles, and setting it down next to him. "No, please."
Your begging falls on deaf ears while he admires the weapons he pulls from the bags, lining them up the mattress opposite you. You eventually give up, dropping your head back onto the pillows and closing your stinging eyes again.
Maybe he'll be gentle. Maybe you'll break easy and it won't be so bad. You know you owe it too Sam to try.
"Hey." Dean taps his open palm against your cheek and you open your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at him. "Look at me."
You set your jaw, pressing your lips together, rolling your eyes further upwards at the yellowed plaster on the roof. He scoffs, and you find the point of a massive fucking knife angled straight at your eyeball. You freeze.
"Look at me." He demands, and you slowly look over at him, at his face. He's going to rip you apart you think horribly. He knows you so well and he's going to get what he wants. You know you're still going go through it all anyway, because you have owed that to them, these brothers. You have always loved them until the end.
"There's those pretty eyes." He hums, while you stare him down. You don't blink, you don't cry, not anymore. The man you love is a demon.
The man you love has become evil.
And you know this is going to be another sacrifice you're going to have to make to save him.
He leans in, one hand grasping the back of your head, pressing little kisses up your jaw. You can feel the smile in his lips against your cold skin. He gives the fingers at the base of your skull a squeeze, swaying into your ear. "I want you to watch this. I want you to watch what happens when you care too much."
"It's worth it." You snap, your final moments of pig-headed toughness on display. You can already sense how excited he is to break it out of you.
He doesn't even bother to respond, wordlessly stripping your leggings off and tying your feet to the end of the bed as you lie there limply. Dean roughly pushes your jumper up, bearing your stomach to the cool air, until the fabric bunches up underneath your breasts.
He traces the tip of his finger across your navel, and your heart sinks at how it makes shivers crawl across your skin. He smiles to himself.
"Whadd'ya think of my name right here?"
"You carve your name on me and I'll cut your fucking dick off." You spit, squirming away from his devilish touch. He knew it'd get to you.
You watch him slide the knife he'd threatened your eye with out of his belt, running the blunt edge up the inside of your thigh, and you can't help how something deep inside your gut tightens.
It's worse. It's so much worse than Crowley or some demon torturing you. It's Dean, who knows you, and knows your body, who's had a claim to it before.
The metal edge glides up over your hip, sliding over the skin of your stomach. He's teasing you. He's enjoying every shake, every tremble, the way the blood drains out of your faces as he pulls the knife over the base of your ribs.
He's definitely enjoying this, you note, when his hips are almost at your head and your eyes involuntarily flick over to the outline pressing against his jeans.
He lifts the knife up off of you, and you inhale sharply, watching him twirl the blade in his hands before bringing the point to the hollow of your throat. You don't even dare to swallow. You can feel the sting as it presses into your skin, the feeling of blood beading under the pressure of the blade.
A warm drop of blood rolls down your neck and chest, leaving a ruby trail in the dip of your collarbones, and only then does Dean lift it off. He absentmindedly smears it across your skin, his pupils blown so wide that the green has been reduced to slivers. You suddenly feel anger, and surging rush of rage that ignites something underneath the fear, and the disappointment and the resignation.
"After this, I am going to find that fucking knife that Ben had and I'm going to do to you whatever you do to me." You hiss, straining against the ropes. Dean licks your blood off his fingers, before he turns his attention back to you, raising his eyebrows.
"I won't have to do anything if you just tell me the truth."
You don't dignify him with a response.
He shrugs, reaching for something behind him. "Okay then."
The first thing you see is the bit of fabric in his hand, but you don't even have time to scream before he's wedged your jaw open painfully, shoving it inside your mouth. You choke and splutter, your shouts muffled, before he seals a piece of tape over your lips. Every bit of frustration you pour into screaming only comes out soft and useless.
"Now normally, I would love to hear you scream, and all those pretty noises you make, baby, but we can't have some nosy little bitch interrupting us, can we?" Dean picks up the knife again and sidles his way from beside your head to your legs, which are raised with goosebumps.
The anticipation makes you feel faint. Dean's hand closes around your knee so gently, so lovingly it makes you want to vomit. He gives you a squeeze.
"I'm gonna give you some time to think about it, hey baby? I gotta take a piss. I think you'll sweat it out for a bit and start making smart decisions."
He's stupid for thinking that, you think faintly, you've never made smart decisions, and certainly not in the face of him. Running into the gym, running away from him in that wheat field, staying with him, not forcing Joey to leave when he could. You've always been stupid, he's always made you stupid.
You're stupid for knowing you'll love him after this, even though you're so scared.
He closes the bathroom door, and you're assaulted with the sight of Crowley standing at the foot of your bed. Your shriek is of course muffled, but he places his finger to his lips tauntingly anyway, rounding the bed to lean down next to your head.
"I see Dean's little fact-finding mission is going well?" His eyes follow the blood-smears on your neck. You narrow your eyes, hurling every bit of colourful language you can into the tape over your mouth.
"You wanna know a secret?" Crowley nudges you conspiratorially. "I already know what you're doing with Sam, and you know what? I'm gonna keep that little tidbit to myself until Dean has taken quite a few chunks out of you."
He disappears when Dean opens the door again.
"Are you ready to talk now?" He hums, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. You close your eyes, sagging in your restraints. You don't want to believe Crowley.
You don't want to be the reason Sam is in danger.
You also don't want Dean to cross a line he might not be able to come back from.
You know Sam would tell you in an instant to give him up, for your's and Dean's sakes. You know you shouldn't.
But Crowley's probably not lying and you might not be able to forgive Dean.
"Are you ready to talk?" Dean's voice is in your head.
You nod.
He's got a phone, after he ripped the gag off, dialling Sam's number. You glare over at him, crouching in front of you.
"Aw don't give me that look, baby." He pouts.
"You were going to torture me." You hiss.
"I didn't want to." He rests his elbows on the bed. "I knew I just needed put some pressure and you'd crack, you just needed to believe it."
"You liked it."
"Guilty." He breathes out with a sinful smile. "In fact, since you're being so cooperative, after we get Sammy sorted I think I'm going to enjoy you like this."
Every muscle in your body locks up when he reaches over to trail a firm hand over your bare thigh.
"I'd have let you torture me." You snap at him. "But Crowley popped in for a visit while you were taking a piss and told me that he knew anyway. He just wanted you to hurt me before he keyed you into the information."
Dean shakes his head. "Damn, here I was thinking I could just sweat you out with some psychological bullshit but you'd actually take it. Don't worry, I'll kill him after this for trying to get me to hurt you."
"Go to hell."
"I'll take you back with me." He grins, tapping something on the phone, which starts ringing. "Showtime."
"Dean?" Sam's desperate voice crackles over the line, you bite down on your lip, almost unable to get the words together. You do though, after a second passes.
"It's me." You whisper.
"Y/N?"
"I stole Dean's phone, I didn't have time to get out to a payphone. He cracked it at me for going off earlier today."
"Wha- are you okay? Why are you calling?"
"I'm fine. We're gonna be at 23 Compound Road in Box Butte the day after tomorrow at three, it's an abandoned warehouse that's the site of some deaths I made up for a fake ghost. It's our best shot, Sam, can you get there in time?"
"I made up a lot of time on the road today, if I drive all day tomorrow I should be able to make it."
"I'll take care of the devils trap and keeping him contained, just bring the blood and all the other shit. You know I'm gonna need backup the closer we get to curing him."
"I'll be there. Stay safe Y/N."
"Stay safe Sammy." Your voice cracks before Dean hangs up the phone.
"Poor Sammy." Dean shakes his head. "He's gonna get the shock of his life when he finds you're all trussed up instead of me."
"What are you going to do to him?"
"I'm not gonna kill him." Dean rolls his eyes. "And that's for you, by the way, because I don't want to see you all upset over him. I'm just gonna make him realise that I'm too far gone."
"I hope that doesn't involve torturing me." You narrow your eyes. "Because it seems to be shaping up to be your plan."
"Nah." He says with a little laugh. "I'm gonna torture some other innocent idiot, I'm just gonna make you watch it."
"Don't". You plead. "Let me talk to him, let me make him see reason."
Dean tuts at you. "I don't trust you that much, not after this little stunt."
"I will make him see that letting you go is the best solution right now, no one has to get hurt Dean, please."
"Well if you're gonna beg so nicely." His white teeth flash another appearance as his lidded eyes crawl up and down your body like a predator. "Maybe I can let you try."
"I'm not gonna fuck you after what you just did."
"Really? Because I know I wasn't imagining those little shakes back there, and I'd wager you were enjoying it."
You scoff, sending a pointed look at below his belt. "I think you're just projecting."
"Oh I did enjoy it." He leans forward so you can feel his breath fan out over your face. "And I know you well enough to know that a little part of you did too."
"You just almost tortured me so I can help you set up your brother, who I love, for god-knows-what. I'm not having sex with you, you fucking asshole, untie me."
Dean tilts his head a little to observe you. "I don't think so, you're all riled up, and we both know how you get when I haven't fucked all that fight out of you."
"Get me some goddamn pants and untie me." You spit, tugging against the ropes that bite into your wrists and ankles. You're like an animal trapped in the cage, ready to lunge the moment you get a hint of freedom. Dean just smirks.
"See, you're in no position to be making demands Y/N. I think you're smart enough to understand leverage and just how fucked you are." He leans in even further for the last three words, so they're hissed straight into your ear. You don't miss the insinuation, and neither does your body, your chest flushing warm, delightful electricity running down your spine.
"You're crumbling." He sings, dragging out the g. "You know you want it."
"Untie me." You grit out through clenched teeth, refusing it, him, how he makes you feel.
"Don't think about how fucked up it is." Dean rolls his eyes. "Think about how good I'll make you feel."
You can't give in, because what kind of person does this? What kind of person stays with something like who Dean is right now, who shares a bed with him, who has sex with him after he murders innocent people, after he sets his own brother up?
You're a hunter, so you've always been fucked up.
And you love Dean, so you've always been able to turn a blind eye to fucked up shit.
You could be a bad person, why else do you dedicate your whole life to saving people, trying to do something that matters? Maybe it's because you know you're never going to be able to stop who you are. Maybe it's because you know what you're capable of. Maybe it's because there is no other option to make up for your mistakes. Maybe because you don't want to face them.
You want to crumble. You want to hurt him.
Anger or defeat?
You've always had your choice.
That's why you've always, always picked the fight over him drinking rather than ignore it, always up in his face over his self-sabotaging bullshit rather than curling up and crying, always throwing fuel into the fire rather than just suffocating in the smoke.
Maybe it's made it worse, but it's made you feel better.
"Fuck you Dean."
At least he'll make you come so hard you'll forget most of it.