Words: 4927166Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZbtj1IGfZi
Dean x Reader166Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC0i9ClC3kd
Warnings: language, some violence166Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5fzTF4prBb
Summary: Y/N and the boys recall the events of Las Cruces, NM.166Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBuppXJ92PO
166Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡquKXY88IYX
Three years earlier – somewhere near Las Cruces, NM
Your breathing was ragged as you and Sam edged towards the next corner, pressed tightly up against the wall. You looked over your shoulder at him and he gave you a stiff nod, which you returned. You halted for a moment and tried to take a few steadying breaths, before looking at Sam again.
”Did I mention how much I hate this plan?” you whispered.
”Yeah. A few times,” he whispered back.
”Well. I really hate this plan.” You wiped at the beads of sweat already forming on your brow, a result of both the adrenaline surging through your system and the blazing heat of the desert sun.
Sam tilted his head a little and turned the corners of his mouth down. “I’m not such a big fan of it either. But you know Dean…”
You sighed and leaned your head back against the wall for a brief moment, trying to clear your head. “Why do they always have to hole up in some godforsaken, falling-apart warehouse in the middle of nowhere? Of course, it’s in the middle of the fucking desert…”
Sam gave you a look. “Demons.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you stalling?” It was a rhetorical question.
You gave him a stern look. “Alright!” Give Dean the signal that we’re going in,” you said as you clutched your bottle of holy water more tightly.
It felt about twenty degrees cooler inside the building as you and Sam pressed forward through the door, shutting it as silently as you could behind you. So far so good; no demons immediately in the hallway, but you could hear voices drifting out from a room further in. You hoped Dean was having the same luck… Why had you and Sam agreed to let him go in alone? Because he had insisted that’s why. You caught Sam’s eye and tilted your chin upwards. He nodded and set to work on a Devil’s trap on the ceiling, just in case.
You clutched at the recorder in your hand, finger poised on the play button should you need to broadcast the exorcism at any moment. Your other hand was loosening the top of your holy water. Sam was also readying his holy water behind you, glancing back over his shoulder in paranoia.
You made it to a doorway much farther in and you could definitely hear jeering tones from the demons mixed with whimpering and fearful voices of the hostages. Anger brewed in your chest. You looked back at Sam, both of you making eye contact with wide eyes. You nodded stiffly and threw yourself into the room, Sam following immediately. You pounded your finger down on the play button and broadcasted the exorcism and sent holy water spraying over the demons lunging to get to you. You watched with satisfaction as they crumpled and wailed as the droplets burned like acid as they beaded up on their skin and the familiar Latin words penetrated their ears.
Things were going as planned.
You and Sam rushed to the group of people trapped in one corner, dodging through the writhing demons. You sprayed them all with holy water—better to be safe—and set about releasing them from their bonds and inspecting the injuries you could see.
All at once, the cacophony of wailing and pained howls rose in volume in unison and then ceased as black smoke poured from the ten or so bodies that had crumpled onto the ground under the spell of the recorded exorcism.
You looked at Sam, both of you are breathing heavily and grateful that so far the plan had gone over without a hitch. “You take care of them. I’m gonna check these people,” you said. You rushed over to the collapsed bodies on the floor. Most of them were not stirring and you shut your eyes as your fingers landed on the clammy, cold skin of someone long dead. No pulse was surging through the neck you pressed your fingers to. You moved onto the next person, trying to shove down and ignore the stabbing, sick feeling that was nagging at you… You couldn’t always save everyone.
The demons had put these poor people through the wringer. Only two out of the ten bodies that had crumpled to the floor after ejecting the plumes of dark, shifting smoke were conscious and moving. The rest were gone, beyond your help. As you were pulling one of the survivors to their feet you heard the echoing yell that carried through the whole building, shaking you to your core.
It had been Dean’s voice.
You and Sam both froze completely still. Your head snapped around to look at him. “You take care of these people, Sam!” you said, leaning the survivor you had been helping on the nearest wall and grabbing your jug of holy water again. “Get them out of here!”
Sam was almost done breaking the hostages out of their bonds. “No, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, hands working frantically now.
”I’m going to find Dean!” you tossed over your shoulder. “Just get them out of here! We’ll meet you outside!”
”Y/N! Wait!” Sam yelled after you. But he was supporting one of the severely injured victims and you were already gone through the doorway.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Dean had come in from the opposite side of the building. He was armed with his flask of holy water and, most importantly, the demon-killing knife, which he was clutching with white-knuckles. But his hands were steady. He moved swiftly from room to room, shifting from shadow to shadow. He began to feel uneasy the longer he went without meeting a single demon blocking his path.
What the hell? Was this hench-demon vacation day or something? It felt too easy. Now he was worried that you and Sam were being overwhelmed with the underlings… He was deeper into the warehouse now and he felt sure he should have met some resistance by this point. He paused near the next corner, pressed up against the wall, trying to get a grip on his pounding heartbeat. He didn’t have long to breathe.
”You know it’s rude to lurk in doorways,” came the suave voice from around the corner. “Come in, Dean.”
Dean’s lip curled in a sneer and he exhaled one last controlled breath before he stepped boldly around the corner. So much for the element of surprise; this demon was a powerful son of a bitch. The knife was held firmly in his hand down at his side and his other fingers were wrapped around the flask of holy water. “Luther.”
Luther looked at him with curiosity and only clucked his tongue at him as if he were scolding a child. “You shouldn’t have come to face me alone, Dean.” His eyes settled on the knife. “That’s a nice blade. I’m familiar with others of its kind.” He began to pace carelessly around the room. Dean was staring at him in disgust. “But I hate to tell you that it’s a little like bringing toenail clippers to a gunfight,” he said with a sneer. He stopped and stood to face Dean, his hand clasping his other wrist behind his back. He squared his shoulders and planted his feet. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish here?”
Dean’s lip curled again in loathing. “All those people,” he growled at him. “All those lives. How many? Hmm? How many poor souls?”
Luther waved his hand carelessly. “Humans. You’re all so touchy about life. Whining about your hardships, about how fragile it all is, about how precious it all is… blah blah,” he faked a yawn. “BORING!” he suddenly yelled viciously. Dean didn’t even flinch. He only took a few more steps bravely toward Luther, which elicited a chuckle from him.
”I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch,” Dean growled through his clenched teeth. Luther laughed harder.
”No. You’re not.” And then both of them made their move at the same time. Dean lunged further into the room, raising the knife. He engaged Luther in a struggle, stabbing sharply down at his chest, but Luther blocked his lunge easily and grappled with him, shoving him backward with a laugh. Dean lunged again, striking quickly but Luther again deflected the blow. Dean absorbed the misdirection and landed a fist into Luther’s face and another into his torso. Luther’s head snapped to the side but he was still un-phased and turned back to look at Dean with an unnerving smile.
Luther raised two of his fingers and twitched them carelessly from left to right.
Dean was hurled through the air and slammed into the concrete wall, where Luther let him crumple into a pile. As Dean fell, his vision blacked out temporarily and he lost his grip on both his flask of holy water and the knife. Shit.
As Dean was trying to shake himself back into complete consciousness, Luther lazily flicked his fingers again and the knife shot into his hand. He waltzed right up to Dean, kicking the flask out of the way, and grabbed him by the shirt with his free hand. He lifted him so his feet were off the ground, dangling just above the concrete. Dean struggled in his grasp, still disoriented from his collision with the wall. “ ‘And at that moment, Dean Winchester realized he had underestimated the demon,’ “ he mocked in a calm narration, chuckling to himself as he looked at Dean’s bewildered expression. He held the knife up in front of Dean’s disoriented face, right at the level of his eyes. “You know this still works on humans too,” he hissed. He flicked his wrist and swiped a clean cut across Dean’s cheek.
Dean gritted his teeth again the pain but refused to cry out. He immediately felt blood begin to flow in the wake of the stinging metal.
Luther laughed, still holding Dean up so he was dangling uncomfortably off the ground. Dean was starting to come to and Luther felt his struggling grow more insistent. He clutched more tightly and with a sweeping motion sent him hurling through the air as if he weighed nothing. Dean collided with a pile of old discarded machinery, landing with tremendous force.
This time he couldn’t stifle the pained yell as he plowed into the pile of rusty metal and his vision again went black as his head collided with something solid and he felt sharp edges cutting into him. This was the echoing yell that had reached you and Sam as you cleared the building of the victims.
Dean shook his head, attempting to clear the darkness that clouded his eyes, and registered how he felt half-numb in the wake of that crash. He tried to sit up, get his bearings, but he was wobbly as he stood and as soon as he rose he realized something else was rather wrong. Something hot and sticky was all over his side. He blinked blearily and looked down to see that he had a deep gash in his side and that his shirt and pants were stained crimson with blood. He groaned and gritted his teeth, trying to stay on his feet. He heard Luther laughing cruelly in the distance. Dean wondered why he was toying with him instead of just killing him… but he supposed demons were all just sick bastards. They liked to play with their prey before they devoured it.
Dean pressed a hand over the wound in his side and felt his knees going a little weak with the hot stab of pain that shot down through his lower body at the pressure of his palm. His knees finally gave out and he sunk down to the ground again. He looked up at Luther who was steadily approaching. Dean’s brain was whirring as he tried to think of a way out of this, some last Hail Mary play. He couldn’t think clearly through the fog that was a result of the strange cloudiness in his head and the pain rocketing through his torso and down into his legs.
Luther was twirling the knife in his hand. “Now you see it.” He snapped his fingers and Dean watched with shock as the knife disappeared. “Now you don’t.” He began to approach Dean casually again. “I knew it would be you and Sam who would come when I started this little operation down here. I was rather hoping actually. I like a challenge. But so far,” he clicked his tongue again, “I’m rather disappointed in your effort, Dean. I knew you would underestimate me but I wasn’t expecting this poorly contrived endeavor. Just you and a little pig-sticker?” He gave Dean a mock pitiful look.
It was at that moment when you rushed into the room. Dean’s head snapped to look at you as appeared. “Hey! Back off,” you yelled at Luther.
Luther froze where he was, looking at you with fascination.
You paced across the room, maintaining eye contact with Luther, and finally reached Dean, glancing at him on his knees and taking in his bloodstained clothes.
”Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Dean asked as you reached him, still trying to keep his eyes on Luther too. You were doing the same.
”Saving your ass,” you said, peeling his hand away from his side so you could see how bad the wound was, and glancing nervously back up at Luther again. You were relieved. The gash would need to be stitched up but it wasn’t life-threatening. You pulled off your button-up shirt and pressed it to the wound before placing Dean’s hand firmly back over it. Another glance at the demon showed him still standing frozen where he had stopped when you entered. Your heart was racing in your chest.
”This wasn’t in the plan,” Dean growled at you as you stepped in front of him so you were between him and Luther.
”Do you really want to argue this now?!” you tossed over your shoulder. “You bleeding on the ground wasn’t really in the plan either.”
Dean bit back a retort and ignored the empty feeling in his chest. He had lost the knife. You didn’t know that he had lost it. He had failed to kill the bastard and lost one of their best weapons in this war against hell.
Luther had been watching the exchange with amusement that made you uneasy. Why hadn’t he struck at you yet? He was just standing there…
”And who is this intriguing creature?” Luther asked, his eyes roving over you and making you feel violated under his gaze alone.
”Go to hell,” you said.
Luther laughed and raised his eyebrows at you. “Mm. Tasty.” He began to approach you and Dean slowly again.
”Dean, give me the knife,” you tossed over your shoulder, not tearing your eyes from Luther. When he made no answer you urged again. “Dean, where’s the knife?” you asked desperately.
Dean swallowed hard and had been about to choke out a response but Luther’s wry laughter sounded first. “The knife is gone. It’s mine now. I’ve added it to my collection of favorite things,” he said.
You swore under your breath and gulped. “I swear to God, we’re gonna give you what’s coming to you.” Luther was still approaching the two of you slowly and you had no choice but to help haul Dean up onto his feet, encouraging him under your breath.
Luther laughed again. “Likewise, sweetheart.” He was staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. “You’re like a viper, aren’t you? All full of fight and venom. Mm. I could use someone like you to accompany me.”
”Go to hell, you son of a bitch,” Dean growled, still clutching your shirt to the wound in his side. You hated to hear how strained his voice was. He was obviously in a lot of pain.
”Christo!” you yelled, watching with relish as Luther faltered and flinched. It only lasted a brief second before he laughed viciously again.
”That barely stings,” he said carelessly as he recovered.
”Yeah? Well, this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch,” you said. You pulled the recording from your pocket and pressed play, cranking the volume as loud as you could. The Latin echoed in the concrete chamber, reverberating and seeming to grow even louder. You began to pull Dean along with you towards the door.
Luther growled and yelled out in pain as the incantation echoed. But it wasn’t enough. He flicked his fingers again and the recorder shot out of your hand and smashed into pieces on the wall. You watched in horror as the pieces fell clattering to the ground. That had been the only move you had planned. Your eyes landed on the jug of holy water nearby and you made a lunge for it, registering vaguely that Dean was wavering where you left him unsupported. You weren’t fast enough. With another lazy flick of his fingers, Luther sent it skidding along the floor and it stopped at the very farthest wall away from you and Dean.
Your eyes stayed glued to it in desperation.
”I like you,” Luther said in a silky voice, his eyes roaming over you again.
”Go. To. Hell,” you said again firmly.
”Are you accompanying me?” he flashed a wicked smile at you. Dean took a shaky step forward, unable to contain his anger at Luther’s harassment of you any longer. But with another lazy flick of his fingers, Dean was sent flying up against the wall and remained pinned there, your shirt dropping from his hands, exposing the gash in his side.
”Dean!” you made a move to rush to him but suddenly you felt your body frozen, unable to pick up your feet. Luther had a hold on you too, keeping your feet rooted to the floor and your body froze.
”Uh uh uh…” he wagged a finger at you and walked straight up to you, circling you like a hyena does a lion’s kill. You clenched your jaw and followed his progress around you with your eyes. He stopped in front of you and as he raised a finger to touch his lips like he was thinking about some delicious dessert he was going to have later. “This is even better than I had hoped for. I get to kill Dean Winchester. And I get to take a prize home.”
You were about to retort when Sam appeared in the doorway. You saw him over Luther’s shoulder, and in his distraction, he didn’t notice. Sam acted while he had the chance. He rushed Luther from behind and doused him with holy water. You felt the spell lift and you hurried to Dean as he crumpled on the ground as he too was released from the demon’s hold. Luther howled and writhed, steam floating up in spirals from his raging form. Sam threw a punch hard into Luther’s face as you dragged Dean up on his feet. You again pressed your shirt to the wound in his side and pulled him toward the door.
Sam was spraying more holy water over Luther and keeping him distracted so you could at least get Dean to relative safety. As you got into the hallway, Dean gently pushed you off him.
”Leave me here! Go help Sam!”
”We should get you out,” you said, trying to support him again. He pushed you away.
”No! Go help Sam! I’m fine, dammit!” he said gruffly. “I screwed it up! It was my shitty plan and it didn’t work! I didn’t kill him and I lost the knife! Go help Sam fix it!” he growled as he slumped against the wall.
You looked at him in distress and swallowed hard. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that you had saved the hostages and that you would all be fine, which was what really mattered, but you had no time. You reluctantly left Dean in the hall and bolted back into the room.
Sam was trying to get the words of the exorcism ritual out but the only way he could do it was to keep Luther from sending him flying across the room by distracting him with douses of holy water.
You watched Sam grappling with him, sending wave after wave of water droplets raining down on him, followed by blow after blow to keep him disoriented.
You dug into your back pocket and withdrew the small can of spray paint Sam had used for the Devil’s trap inside the door. You hastily set to work, spraying out the pattern you had drawn numerous times. You knew all the sigils by heart. “Hold on, Sam!” you yelled to him while you rushed as fast as you could to finish the lines. You were running low on paint and you swore under your breath. You had to pause to shake the can vigorously and you glanced nervously over your shoulder at Sam furiously still keeping Luther at bay.
By some miracle, you had just enough paint. “SAM!” you called, moving out of the way.
Sam doused Luther with holy water again and threw a powerful punch into his face. He grabbed his shoulders while he was still writhing and shoved him backward into the Devil’s trap. And suddenly everything was quiet.
You and Sam stood there, both panting heavily, staring at Luther who was hanging his head in the middle of the circle, also breathing heavily. Sam wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth on the back of his hand and looked at him in disgust. Your heart was beating wildly. You looked at each other, some unspoken words of relief crossing between the two of you.
”Go get Dean out. He’s in the hall,” you said to Sam, turning back to stare at Luther, powerless in the Devil’s trap. “And get help for the other people. This will only take a few minutes.”
Sam furrowed his brow at you and looked uneasily at the demon. “Are you sure?”
”Yes.” You felt warm with the hot anger bubbling up in your chest. “I’ve got him.”
Sam gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Be careful,” he said. You nodded at him and watched him rush into the hall.
Dean looked up as Sam emerged. “Where’s Y/N?”
Sam bent and pulled Dean up to his feet. “She’s taking care of business,” he said.
”What? You left her alone with him?” Dean barked. “Get off me and get back in there!”
Sam’s unease grew at Dean’s response. ”He’s in a Devil’s trap,” he said.
”I don’t care. You shouldn’t have left her alone with him,” he struggled against Sam as he tried to guide him toward the exit.
”Dean you’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get you and the hostages out of here.”
”He took a special liking to her Sam!” Dean yelled gruffly. Sam’s stomach dropped.
”It’ll be okay,” Sam said, still feeling uneasy himself. But Dean had lost a lot of blood and they needed to get out. “Now are you gonna walk or do I have to carry you out of here?” he said firmly. Dean’s jaw clenched but he obliged and allowed Sam to help support him again. They hobbled to the exit and broke into the hot desert sun.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Back inside the cavernous room you stared at Luther and began to pace around him. “Get ready for a wild ride back to hell,” you spat at him.
He looked up at you with a wicked smile still.
”What are you still smirking about? You’re trapped. You’re completely powerless. And the only place you’re going is back to the pit.”
He only began to laugh wryly at you. You hated to admit that it was extremely unsettling. All of you had underestimated how powerful he was and you didn’t like the idea of him just being sent back to hell instead of gone into oblivion. But the knife was gone. You didn’t have any other option.
”We’ll see each other again,” he said through his smirk. “I’ve caught your scent now,” he closed his eyes and smiled like he was recalling something pleasant. “Mmm. And I never forget someone I’ve taken a special interest in.” You swallowed hard.
He continued. ”We’ll see each other again, Y/N. I know things about you that you haven’t even acknowledged to yourself. My power goes beyond being able to fling around you weak, lesser beings and snuffing out your weak, short, pathetic lives,” he whispered. Somehow it rang loud in your ears as if he had yelled it and your stomach turned. “I know your weak spots. I know just which buttons to push to torture you and the Winchesters. And since you’re the one who is sending me back to the pit, I’ll make sure that you pay for it. I’ll take something from you since you’re taking something from me. My freedom. I’ll take more than one thing. I’ll keep taking until you have nothing left.”
You tried to stand firm but you were suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding. ”Good luck with that. Have a nice trip,” you said. And you began the incantation.
_ _ _ _ _ _
You found Sam and Dean waiting at the Impala. Dean’s face was pale and he was resting in the back seat, lying down with his eyes closed, but his fingers were tapping endlessly on the seat in anxiety.
He sat partially up as he heard your approaching footsteps. “Y/N. Thank God,” he breathed.
Sam met you as you approached. “So?”
You nodded. “He’s back in the pit. Didn’t go easy though,” you said, wiping sweat from your brow.
Sam nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “We need to get out of here. Emergency services are on the way to help them,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the ragged-looking victims you had freed. “And we need to make scarce before they show up.”
You nodded. “How’s Dean?” you asked.
”He’s ok. He’s lost a decent amount of blood though. We need to get him stitched up.”
”I’m fine,” Dean said gruffly, grimacing as he tried to sit up straight.
”Easy, tiger,” you said to him over Sam’s shoulder. “You drive, Sam. I’ll sit in the back with Dean and keep the pressure on his side.”
You climbed into the back of the Impala next to Dean, who was still wincing as he tried to sit up fully. “Come here,” you said, slamming the door shut. “Lay down and gimme that,” you tugged on his sleeve a little and he reclined so his head was in your lap, knees bent with his feet up on the seat. You took your shirt from his hand, your fingers brushing his hand in the exchange and sending an unexpected shock up your arm. You pressed the shirt harder to the wound in his side. He winced again. “Sorry,” you said. You looked down at him and his eyes were staring right up into your face. They were pulling you to him like magnets and you found that you didn’t want to resist, but tore your eyes away anyway.
”So how did it go?” Dean asked quietly, gravel in his low voice.
You tilted your head and shrugged a little, using a finger to wipe some of the blood from under the cut on his cheek. His lips parted slightly as you did so and you cleared your throat, feeling suddenly warm as you looked down at him. “Fine. He’s back in the pit where he belongs.”
Dean nodded a little, finally tearing his eyes from your face and staring at the sky whizzing past outside the window by his feet. “I screwed up. He should be dead. I lost the knife…”
”It’s not your fault. He was way more powerful than any of us thought.”
”No. I don’t like how he—I’m worried about how he responded to you. It is my fault.”
You didn’t say anything but admitted inwardly that you were worried too.
”He should be dead. I should have killed him,” Dean said quietly. “What if he gets out of the pit again?”
You hesitated, the same thought has crossed your mind. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Present-day
The three of you sat in your room in silence, each of you having revisited that memory on your own terms, from your own perspectives. You glanced over at Dean, who was staring unseeingly at the floor. His face was pale. He felt your gaze and his eyes flicked up to your face. An expression of pain crinkled his brow as he again glared at the swelling and bruises, and the cuts, and at the staples and stitches holding you together.
”How do you know it’s him?” Dean asked quietly. “What did he say to you then and now?”
Sam looked up now too and watched you consider Dean’s words. You had never told them what Luther had said when you were alone with him before the exorcism.
”He said,” you hesitated, knowing this would not lessen Dean’s feeling of guilt, wondering if you should even tell him at all, “ ‘I’ll take something from you since you’re taking something from me. I’ll keep taking until there’s nothing left.’ ”
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