Dis to the Claim to the Er

This has been bouncing around in my head for a bit. It came out a little different than I had planned, though. Oh, well. I accept the fact that I can't control my character. (And Jenna/Demon is mine)

When he opened his eyes he was met with darkness so thorough that the space behind his eyelids could blind him. He tried to stand, but a set of expertly tied knots held him in place, and he knew better than to struggle against their hold.

It was cold in the room, and he could hear dripping pipes as well as the sound of an air vent kicking on and off. Where ever she had dragged him, it was insanely clichéd. That was just like her, she loved the overplayed. Maybe since she's overused herself. Suddenly, the was movement to his right.

"Who's there?" he demanded. His muscles involuntarily tensed, ready for a fight even though he couldn't move.

"Dean?" Sam's tortured voice carried from the darkness.

"Sammy! Are you okay?" He frantically tried to pull out of the knots, but they only tightened more.

"Yeah…I think so." There was a gasp, "A couple broken ribs maybe. How about you?"

"Fine." His body slumped against the chair's back. They were trapped until she decided to give up this charade.

"What happened?"

A deep sigh emitted from Dean's chest. "I don't know." And that was the truth. He had no clue how he got here. The last thing he remembered was her on top of him…him on top of her…a red bra falling to the floor…and all those damn blankets on the already too soft bed…

The slamming of a heavy door brought him back to the present. "I've been waiting for you to wake up."

Her voice was so passionate, so seductive, so representative of her overall self that it made Dean realize why he had been so willing to comply with whatever she wanted.

"It's no fun with you just sitting there all unconscious. I bet Sam didn't even feel that nice little meeting with the wall. Well, until now anyway." She laughed under her breath, "You okay there, Sam?"

"Exceptional," Sam replied tightly, "Never been better."

"Good to hear."

He heard her footsteps, so light, approach him. "What about you, Sugar? Feeling alright?" She was mocking him, and he wondered why the hell she wasn't turning on any lights.

"You should know." He replied evenly. The number two Winchester rule: never let the big bads know they've got you scared.

"Oh I do," she whispered in his ear.

He felt her settle on top of him. She barely weighed ten pounds, typical for a dancer, but she was so damn warm.

"You know this is gonna hurt me a lot more than it hurts you, don't cha?" Her lips were right next to his, tempting him, teasing him, making him so crazy he almost forgot what she was.

"Somehow I can't believe that."

She laughed again, and as her hands ran in smooth lines across his stomach she continued, "That's why she liked you. That charm and wit. A girl could fall in love with it. Doesn't hurt that you're a nice little piece of eye candy either." Her fingers centralized on the spot where his necklace rested. "Ouch," she said before digging her nails in his skin.

Dean withered in agony. What the hell was she doing? He could barely breathe, and was sure the scorching pain was going to kill him. Knock out his heart just like a previous hunt had. And then, as suddenly as the pain had started, it vanished, leaving him completely drained and shaking.

"Poor baby," she soothed, running her fingers through his spiked hair, "Did it hurt?"

He couldn't answer. He wouldn't answer. She wanted an answer.

"I said: Did. It. Hurt." Her fingers made crevices in his skin. Breaks filled with tortuous heat. What was going on?

"Bite…me," he managed to spit out. He bit his tongue when her nails stopped in the middle of his stomach.

"Don't tempt me, honey." She stood up, and Dean heard her walk away. "Sorry about this Sam," she said just loud enough so Dean could hear, "But this isn't really about you."

A small moan filled Deans ears, and then she was standing behind him.

"I didn't kill him," she assured, "Just gave him a chance to catch up on a little sleep."

Her hands massaged the back of his neck, slowly bringing a medium-sized room into his view. It was a ballet studio. The hardwood floor was polished enough to mirror his reflection along with the mirrors that ran all around the room. A golden bar cut the mirrors in half, and that was where she perched, dressed for the place in her back leotard, white tights, black ballet flats, and that little skirt he loved.

"Practicing?" he asked lightly.

"Earlier, recital and all, I decided to take a quick break, though."

She shook out her auburn hair. It was the only thing drilling the dangerous fact home for him- this wasn't the girl he had spent the last two weeks with. That girl would never let her hair down in the studio, she was as serious about her dancing as he was about his hunting. The girl in front of him didn't seem to care.

"Care to clue me in on why you dragged me here?" he asked. The longer she talked, the longer he had to come up with a plan.

An evil grin crept across her full, pink lips. "Because, love, you didn't have the guts to kill me while you had the chance." She sighed, "Daddy's little soldier is such a disappointment."

"You really expect me to put a bullet through her after everything that happened?" he scoffed, "You're more sick and twisted than I give you credit for."

"Oh, right. You did invest a lot of time in her. It's a shame she'll end up dying anyway." Her laughter echoed around the room. "Poor little Dean. Sentenced to die with the knowledge that he couldn't save the one he loves. But, on the other hand, she'll join you soon after."

"What do you want?" he growled.

She pushed off the bar and started walking lazily around the room. Her long legs quickly matching the length of the mirrors. "I've got what I wanted."

"And that is?"

"Your pretty little Jenna. She's a treat, Dean. You should hear her screaming." She paused at the far end of the room, "Oh wait, I forgot. You have." The girl ignored his struggle to move. "She's quite loud, really. Yelling at me to let you and your brother go. But I just can't do that, now can I?" She glanced over at Sam, "My master will be so thrilled when he hears I've killed the infamous Winchesters as well as this meddling bitch. There's a decent pay on your heads down under."

"You let her go, or I swear I'll-"

"Ah, ah, ah. Watch you anger, Mister Winchester." She came to a stop in front of him. "That was going to be your downfall, you know. It killed her when you were so emotional. You don't know it, but after the sex she would cry. Lucky you left before you saw it."

"You're lying!"

"Not in the least. You should have known to be more careful with her. She is an empath after all. A bringer of pleasure and pain. As good as immortal. Damn if you gave her emotions a thought, though. I don't know why she tolerated it. Oh wait," she settled her body on his lap again, "I do."

Dean glared her, but she just laughed and leaned into him.

"Why don't we have a little fun before I kill- oops, I mean before you shoot yourself?"

"Fuck off!"

"Not yet," She pressed her lips to his.

Dean didn't respond at first, but Jenna was so good, and this demon knew what buttons to push, that within seconds he was tasting her tongue and craving more.

"Wanna play?" she asked moving her hands to the knots around his wrist. She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she cut the rope and guided Dean's hands to her back. "It's still Jenna. She still knows exactly what you want." The girl's hands lingered on the small of his back before running under his shirt.

Shivers played off the familiar touch, and, like clockwork, his hands were under her flimsy skirt.

"Let's take this somewhere else," the soft as ash voice burned through his brain. Still holding her mouth on his, she grabbed the front of his shirt and led him though a set of doors into the lobby, and then through another door into her apartment.

Perk of living in the studio; I can dance anytime I want. And I do.

Jenna. He wanted her, he wanted Jenna. Not some sex crazed demon.

"Kill me," he managed to say.

"What?" she pulled back confused.

"Go ahead and kill me because this is not going to happen."

There was that damn grin again, "You're wrong." With a nod of her head he was pinned against the wall. "Nice little trick, isn't it?" she mused before kissing him again.

Dean groaned. He may not want it this way, but he wasn't denying how her hands felt on his skin. "No…" he said, but he was weak, and she knew it.

"No, what, sugar?" she murmured. She pulled his shirt off.

The cold air hit his skin and a shudder made her pause. A moment passed, and he was free from the wall.

"Don't fight." She seemed to be begging.

He knew he wouldn't. Jenna was asking him not to. He was hers. The sheets were cool, but that didn't last long. It was just another rainy day when the studio was filled to capacity with too many emotions, and Jenna couldn't face the world. When he couldn't face the world.

X

Their heavy breathing was too loud for the tiny room. She rolled off the bed taking a sheet with her, and pulled something out of the drawer of Jenna's bedside table.

"Go on, baby," she said pressing a gun into his hand, "make your daddy proud."