*Hello, everyone! This is a another story revolving around my OC. This takes place sometime during Season 8 and after my story, "It's Amazing What a Year Can Do." It can be read as a stand alone, but please check out my other stories. Enjoy!*
A weak moan slips from my lips as I push through the fuzzy darkness clouding my mind.
"Aria, talk to me, are you all right?" I shake my head, regretting it immediately as the edge of my vision goes blurry and a sharp pain shoots through the back of my head. "A, shake it off. I need you to talk to me."
"Sam?"
I blink several times, forcing my surroundings to become clearer. A single soft light bulb illuminates the dark room, pipes running up and down the walls, their gauges resting on zero forever.
"Hey, look at me, Aria," Sam orders.
My gaze drifts away from the walls, squinting against the light as I follow his voice. The youngest Winchester is tied up, wrists bound to the arms of a wooden chair, his legs tied in similar fashion.
"Where are we?" I question, my words slurring slightly.
"Shit, Sam, they hit her hard."
I turn to my right suddenly, starting another round of dizziness. I tuck my chin to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. "Fuck," I mutter as the pain passes.
"Easy, A, you got clocked pretty good. Just hang in there, Sammy and I will get us out of here." The spinning fades and I look to Dean slowly, finding him bound just like Sam.
"Any idea on who snatched us?" I question, ignoring his comment. We aren't getting out of here any time soon. The brothers would have already done so if it was possible. The only other option is to figure out what we're dealing with and see how we can buy us some time until God knows what.
"Demons, most likely," Sam answers.
"Fantastic," I sigh, taking a glance around the room. The room isn't very big, maybe the size of two motel rooms. It reeks of mildew and rusted metal, the heavy smell hanging heavily in the air. Wherever we are, the place has obviously been abandoned for a few years.
"How's your head?"
"Hurts. Are you two okay?"
"Took our hits, nothing too terrible," Dean reassures.
I try stretching my stiff muscles, testing my restraints at the same time. The ropes dig into my skin with the small movement.
Great.
"How long was I out?"
"Hard to tell, at least an hour, but Dean and I woke up here too. So, I'm not sure," Sam explains.
The situation only gets dimmer with every piece of knowledge I gain. We have no idea who took us or how long we've been knocked out, not to mention neither of us knows where we are. This situation was fucked from the moment those four guys broke into the motel room. They got us with our guard down and now we're screwed.
"Basically, we got nothing," I sigh with defeated aggravation. Neither brother responds.
Time ticks on, the three of us silent, working away at a plan of escape. Occasionally, the brother's grunts sound softly in frustration as they try fighting their restraints. I don't bother telling them it's useless. They need to keep hope somehow. Personally, six months of rope burn made me realize you're better off not trying. I shudder at the memory, those six months of torture easily making their way to the front of my mind.
It's not the same and you know that.
The movement doesn't go unnoticed by the oldest brother, "Hey, how are you holding up?"
"My head still hurts, but otherwise I'm good. Why?"
"Just asking, I mean this is kind of familiar…"
"I'm trying to not to think about that, Dean."
"We're not going to let anything happen to you," Sam promises determination in his words.
"Famous Winchester words," a voice cackles from a dark corner.
My spine goes rigid, every sense going on high alert as my heart picks up in speed. A figure steps out into the light, revealing a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her slim form is dressed in high heels, tight black jeans, and a simple, sheer, burgundy blouse with gold buttons.
"Oh, great a fan," I mutter, rolling my eyes. The woman clenches her fist and I gasp, stabbing pain piercing my gut. A long ten seconds pass, leaving me completely breathless.
"What the hell do you want?" Dean barks anxiously as he pulls on his ropes, his gaze flickering to me in concern. I catch his matching green eyes nodding my reassurance with quick gasps.
"To see all three of your heads on a silver platter," her words casual, an eager grin spread over her cherry red lips, her pink tongue darting over them, "But in all honesty, what I have planned will be so much better."
Panic swells in my veins because a demon saying they got plans is never a good thing. Plans mean pain, pain means torture, and I've had enough to last me a lifetime.
Stop being a baby and start working on a way out.
Jet black heels click across the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the acoustic room as she struts around us, running the backs of her manicured nails down Dean's cheek, playing with the ends of my hair, and running a hand over Sam's shoulders.
"Who are you?" Sam growls, lip twitching as she comes back to the center of the room
"Nobody important, I'm just a loyal follower who was told to have a little fun. Try and break you three."
I snort, swallowing down my fear, "I doubt a demon of your caliber can do that. There's a reason why the big guys go after us."
Her grin widens to a full blown smile as she walks towards me, planting a hand on each of my arm's, those black nails biting into my skin, "Well, most demons don't have the training I have, Redford."
"Yeah, and who made you their bitch?"
My muscles tighten as she leans in, her lips brushing the shell of my ear with a soft whisper, "The same demon that made you his bitch." Fear floods my veins; my skin going cold like a gallon of ice water has just been poured over my head. The demon backs away with a wicked smile, "He sends his love by the way. He'll be happy to hear you're all healed up."
With that she vanishes, leaving us in a silence that is broken by my ragged breaths. But I'm not in the room anymore. I'm in that old warehouse with the damp walls and that icy chill that settles deep in my bones like his words.
No, no, no.
I can't breathe and the room spins, my heart pounds violently in my chest, threatening to burst through my rib cage. All the air has been sucked from the room, and I'm choking. My lungs are filled with concrete and I'm going to die.
"Mommy's little sunshine, Daddy's little girl, and my pet." His hands slide over my ripped skin, fingers digging into the slices he made. Blood trickles from my bit lip, my scream muffled against my clenched teeth. "Such a disobedient pet though. Guess you haven't learned yet." He grips the knife, forcing the dull tip into my side as he drags it down the length of my torso, a howling cry ripping from me.
"Aria!" I jump as Sam's voice echoes in the space, meeting those desperate hazel eyes. "Look at me and breathe. You have got to calm down. Just look at me and listen, okay?" All I can manage is a quick nod, gasping for air while I try to focus on him. "Good, in and out, in and out," he repeats soothingly.
Each breath sucked into my lungs makes my chest tighter, but that loosens up with Sam's coaching. Watching his chest rise and fall calmly, I mimic his pattern, feeling the waves of anxiety settle and calm my fear stricken body.
"That's it, Aria. You're all right."
I ignore his reassurance because I'm not okay. The monster from my dreams is back and not only does he have me, but the two people who I love the most. Oriax, the demon who slaughtered my family, has Sam and Dean Winchester, the last shred of family I've got in this world. None of this was supposed to ever happen again. He was never meant to find me, not this soon especially. I just finished healing physically from his work, just started winging off the antidepressant medication. I'm on my way to getting over this whole nightmare and now I'm right back to square one. I can't do this, not again, not another six months of his torture.
"Dean, we need a way out," Sam growls urgently.
"Yeah, I know," he snaps, jerking his arms, trying to loosen the knots and give him some advantage.
"Don't bother boys. There's only one way out of here and that's through me," the woman replies appearing before us again. "You play my game and I let you walk free. Don't and there will be deadly consequences," she threatens, dark brown eyes sweeping over each of us with a threat hidden in those dark depths.
Of course there's a game. It's Oriax and all he wants is obedience. Play by his rules, say what he wants and he'll end the pain quick. Either way we don't stand a chance of escaping unless we listen to the bitch.
"What do we need to do?"
Sam and Dean both look to me surprised. I'm the least likely to ever listen to what a demon says. I've got more sass than both brothers combined when it comes to these pit dwelling suckers. I hate them with every fiber of my being, and doing what this demon says goes against every bone in my body, but the bonds are tight, knotted expertly. There is no slipping out and I can't let anything happen to Sam and Dean.
The demon possessed woman walks over to me slowly, grabbing a lock of my hair and twirling it in her fingers before sitting herself down in my lap. I squirm as she looks me over, jerking away when her slender fingers grip my jaw.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
I glare in answer, and she smirks, wrapping her hand in my hair and yanking my head back, exposing my neck. Her wet tongue trails up my throat, a satisfied groan leaving her. I buck against her, snarling when she lets me go, my skin tingling with disgust. A bright, proud smile pulls at her red lips as she stands,
"He was right. The taste of fear on you is intoxicating."
I want to puke, scrub at my skin until it's raw, and scream. But I push all those feelings down, putting up my well-crafted mask,
"Just answer my damn question, bimbo."
"It's simple, the game. You three will do what I say with no questions asked. Don't and someone gets hurt."
"What makes you think we'll actually listen to you?" Dean barks, fists clenched tight with a fire in those emerald eyes.
That wicked curve of her mouth makes my stomach clench tight. "Well, Winchester, it's simple," she pulls a gun out from behind her back, aiming it point blank at his face. The hammer is cocked back, her finger lying on the trigger when Sam and I's voice ring out,
"No!"
"Look, we'll play, okay? We'll play your stupid game," I breathe out desperate to get that gun off Dean.
"Aria…"
"Shut up, Dean. Just do what she fucking says." Those dark brown eyes watch me, gun still levelled with the oldest brother as I glare daggers into her head. None of us want to listen to her. It goes against everything we've ever been told, but damn it, we don't have a choice. This is Oriax's protégé or apprentice, whatever she is, and that man doesn't fuck around.
"Rules are simple, Aria. If they are followed, life runs smoothly. If not, well, that's when the real fun begins."
A shiver runs down my spine with the memory of his voice, and the demon lowers her arm, hiding the gun in the waistband of her jeans, "Good."
With a snap of her fingers, four men step out of the darkness of the room, eyes glossy black. They're built guys with broad shoulders that match Sam and Dean's strength. The four make their way towards me and my breathing quickens. The air is thick with anticipation as they crowd around me, a dark skinned demon standing in front of me, blank faced. He frees a knife from his pocket, my heart skipping a beat. It snaps open and then my arms are cut free, the ropes falling to the floor.
My relief is short lived as the two behind me, grip me under the arms, lifting me out of the chair effortlessly. I struggle, but it's completely useless. They drag me to the wall that sat behind me, pinning my arms behind my back, and handcuff me to the pipes there. The metal cuffs bite into my skin, my anxiety increasing as the rest of this game plays out.
It's the only way out. You have to protect them.
"Sam Winchester," the demon starts, running her hands through his hair with a pout. He tries to lean away from her but there's nowhere to go. Sam grunts uncomfortably, his bound hands forming tight fists. "Sweet, sweet, Sam, tell me. Were you ever honest with Aria?"
"About what?" he questions, jaw clenched as she settles down in his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck while she plays with the collar of his button up.
"Come on, Winchester. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Did you ever tell the lovely Aria Redford how you really feel about her? Huh? Did you tell her what you dream about at night?"
"She's like a sister to me."
A dark laugh tumbles from her, those black painted nails trailing down the front of his shirt, "No, she isn't. Don't lie to me, Sam."
I roll my eyes, "He isn't lying, bitch."
These two are the closest thing I've got to family. John was as much as a father figure to me as Bobby or my step-father. Sure, in the beginning when the boys were getting to know me we all flirted, but those times were long gone. They consider me to be a Winchester, the little sister they never thought they would have.
The demon, which cut me free, drives a hard fist into my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Coughs rack through my chest as I gasp for air. Sam jolts in his seat, fists balled so tight his knuckles go white.
"Did I say you could speak?" The demon woman hissed. I grimace through the pain, shooting deadly looks her way that she ignores. A playful smile pulls at her cherry lips, her finger circling the tiny white button of his shirt. "Come on, Sam, you can't tell me you haven't thought about it. Thinking about her soft skin pressed against yours…" she grips his chin, forcing him to look at me. "Imagining those full lips whimpering in your ear, begging…"
Another blow comes, making my knees give way. I yelp; my shoulders twisting painfully behind my back, my wrists protesting against the metal as the cuffs catch on the elbow of the pipe pulling me back. The demon's fist knocks into my face, pooling blood in my mouth.
"Stop it!" Sam yells.
"I'll stop once you're honest," the woman taunts.
I spit red, pushing myself back up to relieve the pain in my arms. My face throbs, the pain in my side leaving me short of breath.
"Fine, yes," he answers reluctantly, eyeing me worriedly.
A proud smirk graces the demon's lips as she hops off his lap, stalking towards me. I bite back my comments, knowing that this is only the beginning of her game. There's worse to come and I've got to save my energy. Her glossy obsidian nails trace the seam of my scoop neck t-shirt. I keep my face blank as she looks to me expectantly before shrugging her shoulders and tearing my shirt open down the middle. The sleeves are ripped next, the fabric falling off of me, leaving me exposed in a simple white bra and my jeans. Her eyes travel across my bare skin admiring all the scars her teacher left.
"Enjoying the view?" I quip, raising my brow to hide the fear that's coursing through me.
She traces the scar across my hip, the one that runs over the tattoo of my three sibling's names. "In our world, this is art. Each one symbolizes the pain we caused our victims, and this one…I know caused you a considerable amount of suffering."
My chest rises and falls quickly with her words, pushing back Oriax's voice that slithers in my mind. No matter how hard I try to deny it, this is too much like him. She turns away, silently strutting her way towards Dean.
"You must be taking this the hardest, Dean. The two people closest to you in danger and there's nothing you can do. Well, except listen to me of course, which I know you just absolutely hate. The great Dean Winchester taking orders from a demon," she taunts.
"Why don't you get on with your stupid game so I can kill you," he retorts calmly with a fake smirk, his green eyes aflame with disgust.
The woman shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, "Fair enough."
Two of the demons walk over to Dean, freeing a knife as they cut him loose. They grip him under his arms, and I watch the eldest consider his options. But he doesn't stand a chance. The knife the demons carry won't do any damage. It would be like poking a bear with a stick.
Casually, blondie struts over to Sam, pulling the silver handgun from the back of her jeans. Dean's shoulders tense and every muscle in my body clenches at the threat. The barrel is level with the side of Sam' head, the youngest sitting motionless, his eyes trained on his older brother as his sharp breaths come through his flared nostrils.
"Now, this is just insurance should you try to pull something sneaky," she explains, fixing her dark gaze on Dean. "I know what you did in Hell, Winchester. Oriax saw some of your work. He was impressed to a degree."
One of the bulky demons holding Dean frees a knife, flipping it open. Bile climbs its way up my throat, threatening to spew. It's his knife, Oriax's. The top is rounded, the blade straight with a minor tip. It's a sheepsfoot blade, designed to slice without the tip accidentally doing damage. The demon forces it into Dean's hand while the woman goes on,
"I want you to carve your friend up until I say enough."
My lungs still, Sam's eyes widening in sheer panic, and the color drains from Dean's face. The woman presses the barrel into Sam's head emphasizing her point. The game is do as she says or else.
"Dean, you can't do this," Sam grinds out, hazel eyes fixated on his brother. The gun fires next to his ear. I pull on my restraints, ignoring the burn on my wrists, my heart halting for a fraction of a second. Sam's groans bounce off the concrete walls while Dean fights the demons, trying to get at the woman.
"You fucking bitch!" he hollers, twisting in the men's hold.
"The rules are simple, do as I say without question and there is no punishment," she spits. But the older brother isn't having any of it, lurching in the two demons hold.
"Dean!"
It physically makes me sick to say what I'm going to, but my job is to protect these two. There is no way out. This demon will not hesitate and we have no weapons. I don't want this anymore than they do. What Dean did in hell still haunts him to the day, asking him to do this is too much. But it's too much to ask of me too. I can barely handle this situation as it is. Just hearing the name Oriax is enough to put me in a tailspin. But I survived once, if it means getting the boys out of here alive, I can survive it again.
"Just do it," I order roughly, hiding the tremor in my voice.
Dean's face falls, eyes pleading with me, "No."
"God damn it, untuck that tail from between your legs and do it!"
"Dean!"
"Sam, shut up," I growl, turning to face the younger of us with a watery glare.
He looks to me stunned, ready to protest, but shuts his mouth, hanging his head in defeated submission. I'm barely keeping my shit together right now and he sees that. Tears brim my eyes and it's getting harder to hide the tremble in my lips.
"Well, you heard the girl," the woman pulls the hammer of the gun back once again, "Do it," she commands.
Dean's gaze remains fixed to the ground as the demons force him forward. I can't hide the rapid rise and fall of my chest as my lungs pump themselves full of fear. The knife quakes in his trembling hands as he stops in front of me.
"There's got to be another way," he whispers in desperation. I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut.
Come on, Aria. You have to be strong for him. You can't let him do this alone.
I suck in a deep, shaky breath, "Dean, look at me." Bright green eyes meet my dark ones; unshed tears brimming his, silently pleading for a miracle. "Everything's going to be okay."
"I can't, Aria, I can't do this." His voice cracks, gaze trained down at his feet in shame.
"Please, Dean? I'm asking you." A single tear slips down his cheek as he nods solemnly.
"We don't have all day, Dean. Let's get this show on the road," her heeled foot, tapping against the concrete floor in impatience.
He brings the knife up to my shoulder, hesitating, pained eyes flickering to me. "It's okay," I murmur, sucking in a harsh breath.
A shaky breath follows on his next exhale, "I'm so sorry."
He turns his face away, lips trembling before the knife meets my skin, gliding across it and tearing it open to reveal red. I bite the inside of my cheeks drawing blood, focusing my gaze upwards to the dark ceiling, pretending that it's Oriax. Tears slip down my cheeks with every slice, Dean trying to make it as painless as possible, but every slice stings, sending fire through my body. I grind my teeth together, choking down my cries. Dean can't know how much pain I'm in. He can't. He'll never forgive himself and I need him too. A pained whimper slips past my lips at the next slice, the cut deeper than the others.
"Not really living up to the stories everyone tells in the pit, Dean. She's barely made a peep." The knife falls to his side. "Go deeper. Get in touch with your evil side," the demon orders.
Dean shakes his head, his cheeks stained with tears. The silence is shattered with a piercing ring as the gun goes off.
"NO!" I scream, tugging on my cuffs as Dean spins around in panic. My knees buckle under me when I see Sam still breathing, his face scrunched up in pain as he gasps. She shot his shoulder. I nearly weep with relief. Dean almost collapses too until he sees her bring the cocked gun to his forehead.
"Final warning, Dean. Next bullet is sending baby brother into the great unknown."
The demons pull me back to my feet, their hands gripping at my torn flesh, drawing a quiet whimper. I don't dare sneak a look at myself knowing that I'll break the thin line of control I've managed to keep my emotions behind. I'm a mess, blood slipping down my body like beads of water, leaving trails of red in their wake.
Dean's tears fall freely now as he turns back to face me. "It's all right, Dean. I can handle it," I whisper, meeting his drowning eyes. He presses his forehead to mine, his hand tangling in my hair, holding me to gruff voice is low, choked up with emotion,
"Always, right?"
I manage a weak smile. That single word is our way of saying everything that we don't have time to say or don't know how. No matter what, always means we stick together. We are family and you go through hell and back for them, no matter what, any time.
"Always," I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my bottom lip preparing for the worst because Sam's life is on the line here. No more bearable pain, no more keeping it under wraps for Dean. It's time to play the game by their rules.
His fingers tighten in my hair like somehow the closer we are he can take away some of the pain. My skin gives way to the sharpened metal, tearing the muscles underneath, lighting my nerves on fire. A loud groan sounds from my sealed lips, white dots dancing behind my tightly shut eyelids. The knife comes out quick, a gasp flying from my torn lips.
"Breathe, Aria, please," Dean begs as he tries to aim for a less dangerous place. Blood slips down my torso soaking into my jeans and dripping to the floor. The blunt tip of the knife sits on my outer thigh and I suck in a deep breath as he punctures through the denim to my skin. A whimper escapes; my teeth sinking into my lip, drawing more blood. I glance over Dean's shoulder, seeing the demon very unimpressed.
Shit.
"Twist it," I ground out in a whisper.
"What?"
"Twist the knife, damn it," I growl through clenched teeth. A moment of hesitation and then he twists his wrist, a scream tearing from my throat. The knife slips out quickly and I push my face into his neck, "Again."
"No," he says brokenly, his entire body shaking as he holds me close.
"She will kill Sam if you don't do this. Now twist the damn knife."
And he does, tears streaming down his face as he twists the blade again, driving it into the hilt. A mangled, choked scream rips from my throat, leaving me gasping for air, Dean's constant stream of apologies sounding in my ear.
"One more time Dean," the woman orders. He brings the knife lower on my thigh. "Not there."
"Where?" he asks, his eyes screwed shut as another tear falls.
"You see that scar over her hip? The one on the tattoo? Go right there."
"You need something to remember me by, pet."
It was Oriax's parting gift before Kevin saved me. I nearly died because of that wound. Dean shakes his head, "I'm so sorry, A."
"I know," I whisper, closing my eyes as I gasp for air, trying to steady my rapid breaths.
He goes quick, trying to end this show as soon as he can. Blinding pain sears through my abdomen, stealing my breath. I cry out, falling into him, the cuffs pulling on my bruising wrists. The knife clatters to the ground and Dean's arms wrap around me, pressing my face to his neck, the other wrapped around my bleeding torso to keep me upright.
"It's over. I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry, please keep breathing. You have to make it out of here, God, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers desperately like a prayer. "
"It's...okay. I'm still...fighting," I reassure him trying to catch my breath.
The demons grab Dean pulling him away, and my legs give out without his support. I drop to the floor, sitting in my own blood, the pain in my twisted arms nothing compared to the other agony pulsating throughout me. Dean wrestles with the men, managing a few good blows before they lay into him. The sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes in the room with his grunts. But the hits don't stop him. They force him down into his chair, retying his arms and legs. The chair almost falls with his struggling.
"What now? What's the next fucking game?" he yells, panic underlying his words.
Her red lips curl up slowly as she undoes one of the knots of Sam's binds, keeping the gun aimed on him. "I'm assuming you can do the rest?" His eyes are red, cheeks tear stained from watching what happened, but he manages a menacing glare, wincing as he twists to undo his shot arm and legs. The ropes fall free and he stands wearily, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. The demon keeps the gun aimed, watching the youngest brother cautiously.
"How are you doing over there, Redford?" She asks with a sadistic grin.
"Planning on how I'm going to rip your throat out and feed it to a fucking hellhound," I manage with bared teeth.
She rolls her eyes, unconcerned with my threat. "Sam, your friend there seems to be more than willing to do anything for you two. So, I want you to fuck her." My head falls to my chest in exhaustion.
"You're a sick fucking bitch," he snarls, jaw clenched tight with a furious fire in his hazel eyes.
"Maybe, but you're not opposed to this idea. I mean I think I'm being quite generous, I could make you kill her."
A heavy silence sits in wake of the threat. She could. Her job is to try and break us. No easier way to break a group of people than to make them kill one of their own.
"Is this the last one?"
Both brother's look my way worriedly, hearing my breathless voice. I'm bleeding out and have one hell of a concussion from earlier. It won't be much longer until I'm going to be in some deep shit.
"Yes."
"How can we trust you?" Dean questions venomously.
She snaps her fingers and the cuffs open up. I fall forward, elbows crashing into the concrete, stopping me from face planting. "When Sam is done, the door is over there," she points to a dark corner on the left. "There will be a car outside. The hospital is about a twenty minute drive from here."
"Why are you telling us this?" I question suspiciously, trying to staunch the flow of blood from my gut with my hand.
A wide, sick grin graces her lips, "I told you this was just for fun, a chance to break the most notorious hunters."
Her brown eyes turn to the youngest expectantly, waiting for him to get on with the next command. Sam shoots daggers at the woman before coming towards me.
"I swear, when this is over, I'm going to find you and when I do I'm going to make you wish you were in hell," Dean threatens.
"Looking forward to it," she grins, aiming the gun on him, leverage in case Sam doesn't do as he is told.
I'm still on my elbows and knees when he reaches me. Gently, his arm curls around my chest, pulling me to my feet. A sharp gasp escapes me from the pressure on my leg. My fingers dig into his biceps, holding me upright as I look up into those puppy eyes. "
Sam, I know you want to be gentle, but this has to be quick."
His hazel eyes peer into me, a vast sea of emotions swimming there. He's not like his brother. Both boys are capable of being loving and rough, but for each one, one of those qualities are stronger. Sam's the gentle giant, Dean's the rough and tough. But now isn't the time to pull out all the stops. The lightheadedness has already set in. There's no telling what Dean may have hit when he cut into my stomach, which only makes the stakes higher.
He nods, "All right."
His lips catch mine softly, pressing me to the wall in support. I try blocking out the pain, ignoring the pipes digging into my back or the way every movement sends a wave of agony throughout me. I focus on the way Sam's pressed against me, his tongue swirling with mine, and his firm hands roving over my body. Each move he makes is calculated, avoiding the damage already done.
He unbuttons my jeans, pulling my zipper down.
"Do you trust me?" His voice is low and husky, his breathing starting to quicken.
"Yes."
His lips capture mine as his hand slips inside my jeans, rubbing his palm in tight circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves. A soft moan hums through our locked lips as he trails his lips tenderly over my neck, tugging my jeans and underwear down gingerly. I dig my fingers into his biceps when the material catches on the wound, a whimper stuttering from me.
"I know, I know," he mumbles, trying to ease them down without me having to put too much effort in. Those large hands curl under my thighs, hiking me up to his level.
"Fuck," I grind out as the torn muscles contract in my leg and stomach. Sam's hazel eyes drown in a thousand apologies, his own pain twisted on his face from the strain on the bullet in his shoulder. "It's okay," I fake, trying to keep him focused, pressing kisses down his jaw and over his pounding pulse, fighting off the light headedness.
My fingers trail over his toned stomach to his jeans, popping the button of his jeans, and pushing the zipper down so I can reach him. His fingers tighten on my legs, hips jerking forward with a sharp breath as I wrap a hand around him.
"Aria...you want this right? I need the truth," he asks breathless, pressing our foreheads together, needing the reassurance. This isn't some random fuck. This is Sam, my best friend, my family. What's about to happen could change everything between the three of us, but I won't let it. These monsters don't get to win. They don't get to drive something like this between us.
"Wouldn't want it to be anybody else," I answer truthfully, pressing a chaste kiss to his soft lips.
"Just relax," he murmurs, dropping his pants to his ankles as he grips himself. I press my nose into his neck, gasping from the size as he stretches me, filling me completely. His fingers dig into my thighs, short pants washing over my torn skin. "Are you okay?"
I nod against his neck, managing a few quick words, "Yeah, just move."
I'm barely breathing with all the different feelings flooding my body, trying to focus on how Sam fills me and not how my blood trickles down my thigh to the floor. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he sets a steady rhythm, his hand dipping between us to circle my clit. I roll my hips thoughtlessly with his thrusts, craving a faster pace to help tighten the warm knot in my stomach. A pained whimper falls from me along with a tear from the movement.
"Breathe, babe….I got you," he soothes, kissing my neck and over some of the wounds along my shoulder.
"Sam, please," I beg out of breath, tightening my arms around his neck. The spot on his plaid button up grows darker from the bullet, his hips slamming into me as his hot breath pants in my ear, teeth nibbling at my jaw.
"Let go," he breathes out, and I do. My nails dig into his back, a slew of moans and whimpers fallling from me, ecstasy taking me away for a few short seconds of pleasure. Sam's muscles lock up as he comes with a harsh grunt, head falling to the spot between my neck and shoulder with a strained groan.
His arms shake, chest thundering as he looks behind him. I follow his gaze with heavy eyes, shocked to see Dean free. The demon woman holds him at gunpoint, the other four henchmen standing guard.
"Get what you wanted, black-eyed bitch?" Sam spits with venom.
"Yes. Oriax sends his regards, Aria. I'm sure you'll meet again soon," the woman parts with a smile and then vanishes. The other demons disappear with her and Dean rushes to us.
"Take her," Sam urges, setting me down on my feet. Dean grabs me, holding me upright as my left leg throbs unbearably. The endorphins wear off along with any adrenaline that's left, the pain threatening to drown me. Sam dresses himself in a second, grabbing my jeans and panties. "Here, help me get her in these."
Dean doesn't argue as Sam redresses me. My mind is too clouded with my suffering. Sam presses the remains of my torn shirt to my stomach, and I come through the fog with a jolt and gasp, grinding my teeth together.
"You're doing great, Aria. Hang in a little longer, okay?" Dean brushes my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my pierced ears.
"Fucking hurts," I moan, balling my hand up in Dean's plaid shirt, trying to bury my face in his chest because it's really hitting me now. The pain is threatening to swallow me whole and I need an anchor. Sam wraps part of the fabric around my leg pulling it tight, a loud cry flying from my torn lips.
"I know, I know, sweetheart."
Each breath I manage is shallow. The room is only getting fuzzier, and I shut my eyes leaning heavily into Dean. Sleep would be good. I know I can't. I'm not supposed to sleep because I won't wake up, but that darkness is so comforting.
"Sam, we got to go now." Calloused fingers brush over my cheek, pulling my sleepy eyes open.
"Keep your eyes open, A," Sam commands, his soft hazel eyes drowning in a sea of emotions.
"I'll try," I mumble, managing a half smirk. He pats my cheek turning to his brother,
"You got her?"
"Yeah, let's go."
Dean sweeps my legs up, carrying me bridal style and I wrap an arm around his neck, keeping the other pressed to the rapidly coloring shirt over my wound. We move fast, sprinting towards the first exit sign we see. Sam slams into the door, bursting into the outside. Purple sky stares down at me, big billowy clouds hanging down low with shades of pink and purple. The cold air hits me like a slap in the face and a hard shiver runs through me.
An old black truck is parked right in front of us just like the demon said. Sam grabs the door for us, rushing over to the driver's side as Dean slides me in first, tucking me in the middle of them. The keys sit on the dash and Sam starts the car, throwing it into drive. My head lolls back, resting on the bench seat. Another shiver runs through my body sounding alarms in my head.
That's not from the cold.
The pain in my abdomen grows, the muscles going ridged on my lower left side. It's like a balloon; too much air and it's going to explode. I groan, squeezing my eyes closed, and curling into my torn side. A warm hand brushes over my forehead quickly pulling away.
"Shit, Sam, go faster," Dean snaps panicked, but I can't focus on that because I'm in the middle of trying to make the spinning behind my eyelids stop. Rustling beside me forces my eyes open, and Dean helps me forward, wrapping me in his button up. His hand grips my hand pressed to the shirt, lifting it up to glimpse at my wound. The lines in his forehead grow deeper.
Sam slams on the horn, turning the wheel abruptly slamming me into Dean. He glares half-heartedly at his brother knowing that he's just doing his best to get us to the hospital. I rest my head on Dean's shoulder as a violent shiver runs up my spine.
"You're going to be fine, Aria. Hang in there," he soothes tugging me close in an attempt to keep my body temperature from dropping.
You can't die. You can't do that to them.
"Aria, stay awake," Sam calls out and Dean gives me a quick shake, my eyes fluttering open.
Shit, I don't remember closing them.
The car comes to a sudden halt, tires screeching as Sam flies out of the cab, racing around the car to rip our door open. Dean shifts me over him and Sam scoops me up. My mind screams in excruciating pain, but I only manage a small whimper.
"I need help!" Sam yells as the automatic doors to the ER slide open. The nurses pause in shock before someone's calling a code out and they descend on us. A bed is strolled over immediately, a whole team of people in different colored scrubs with it, as Sam lays me down. Dozens of hands wash over me, sticking things to my chest, stabbing needles in my arm.
I reach out for one of the brothers, but I'm wheeled away, the guys held back by a nurse. A burning light is shined into my eyes, a blur of voices barking out orders around me. My heart beat beeps weakly in the background, that darkness creeping through my mind, its tender voice promising peace.
"BP is dropping!"
"We need blood!"
"Crash cart!"
My eyes slip shut, the darkness welcoming me with open arms.