A/N: Hey everyone! Just a short drabble for you all. I may expand on this later, but if you want to do so you can let me know. I would love to see someone turn this into something great. Hope you enjoy!
"Do you like the taste of your own blood?"
The livid female demon angrily grasped Dean's chin in her hands and moved to face him.
"You waltzed in here guns blazing without any idea of what I'm capable of. I can list thousands I've put into a world of hurt," she snarled tightening her hold on his jaw. "And you your name in going to be etched into that list tenfold." Dean looked up past her black orbs and into the sky, now painted crimson since the rain let up. Clouds parted to reveal the sun slowly setting, giving Dean a false sense of peace.
"I look forward to it," Dean countered coming back to reality. She finally released her death grip on his face, but not before she felt tremors of cold jolt his entire body. Hours of cascading rain had fallen on him, while the demon wearing an innocent meat suit kept dry under a polyester black umbrella. Now the breeze was making the hunter feel like he was locked in a deep freezer.
She righted herself and shook out the remaining raindrops from her umbrella before gently laying it on the ground. Once she was a safe distance away, Dean allowed himself to slump forward. Giving in to the rest his body had been screaming for. As much rest as he could achieve while being tied to a tree would allow.
Dusk was starting to settle in the deserted field, far away from any human disturbance and it was getting colder. Beaten and near hypothermia, all Dean could do was bide time. Hoping he could stay awake or alive, whichever situation presented itself first, long enough to hatch an escape plan. You can't fight back when you can faintly hear your heart beat. So sullenly he sat on the wet, cold earth, trying to use his remaining energy to circulate some blood in his limbs he almost couldn't feel anymore. Having his arms stretched behind him did not agree with his shoulders.
"Just tell me where you stashed your brother and all of this agony can end here and now Dean," She somehow managed to slither her way back over to him without him noticing and sat crossed legged in front of him, twirling a large hunting knife in her hands. The light of the fire she lit before the sun set a couple feet away made the blade appear even more menacing. Using what little strength he had, he spit some of the blood that had pooled in his mouth in her face.
"I'll never tell you where Sammy is. Do your worst bitch." Before he could blink he was almost struck blind by her demonic mitts. The earth spun and it took him a second to make it stop.
"Even on your best day, Dean Winchester, you could never handle my worst." She was becoming more and more agitated as she wiped the spattered blood off of her borrowed face. The fire reflecting off of her black eyes made them seem to be glowing.
Dean painfully tilted his head to the side and spit out the warm, red fluid that had once again gathered in his mouth. "You've had me out here for hours, on and on with the threats. How about you just bring it bitch? I've got stuff to do." Exhaustion was evident in his voice, having gone through this grind over and over for the last few hours. But Dean refused to waver, never revealing the location of his protected comatose baby brother.
Somewhere outside of Charleston, in the deep covered woods, Bobby was keeping a close eye on Sam, in a straight back chair, shotgun in hand. Protective symbols and writing covered the ceiling above the bed. The symbols were keeping the demons from finding him and shielding him from demon radar until Dean could find a cure for Sam. Just thinking about how this thing was keeping him from his task fueled Dean's endurance even more.
Then she was on her feet again, towering above him in a show of dominance. Dean licked his lips and closed his eyes in anticipation of the onslaught. The only sound was her deep intake of breath and the fire sizzling out. Then it came swiftly and without remorse. It felt like daggers were prodding his insides, slicing any organ they came in contact with. It made him sick. The power she had over him just by turning on a switch in her mind. The pain intensified as he writhed and convulsed, digging the rope into his already bloody wrists with every movement he made. Finally everything stopped; the daggers, the pain, everything. He struggled to catch his breath. Had he forgotten to breathe the whole time?
All she could do was smile, relishing the sight before her eyes. Crouching down to see how her handiwork played out, she was proud of the results. Beads of sweat mixed with the blood running from his nose and mouth, he could hardly breath.
"This is very noble, you know? You are willing to take mind-numbing pain in the name of loyalty. Hell, I can even respect that. But I can only waste so much time with you. And I see you are teetering on the brink of unconsciousness so I'm going to wrap this up," once again she was down to his level, running her fingers through his moist hair. "I've been given strict orders by the higher ups to leave you alive but listen to me Dean Winchester, I will find Sam. And there's nothing you can do about it."
"Don't bet on it whore," Darkness crept up on him faster then he realized. Lines began to blur together as the scenery in front of him began to fade. Consciousness was leaving him as he watched the demon gather her prized umbrella and walk towards the dirt road far ahead, leaving him there alone and in need of medical attention. The pit of his stomach danced with queasiness at the thought of being incapacitated with Sam's life in danger. Despite struggling, his body finally gave in to the stress and Dean drifted from a conscious existence.