Disclaimer: This is a snippet I wrote that was loosely based off of a fanfiction I wrote but took on a life of its own. It was just an idea that got away from me a bit but I love it anyway. I'm not sure if I'll write more to it but for now here it is. This is a character I created myself that Dick Roman speaks to. Their relationship is up to interpretation.

I own nothing.

"Ah welcome."
Dick smiled with the same smirk that always only pulled at one side of his lips and never touched his eyes.
"Thank you, that'll be all."
The Levitations dropped their grip from my arms and my legs gave out beneath me and I hit the floor in a collision of flesh against marble that almost made me retch.

"Would you like some help?"
I barely raised my head and his smirk widened somewhat with an edge of humour to his lips that hardened in his eyes. I stared back at him, sick heated in my stomach and on my tongue but it was a pointless threat. There was nothing for me to vomit.
"Please. Sit."
He gestured to the table with the clean white cloth tucked over its edges and silver dishes standing out on the cover. My insides trembled and I sank what remained of my fingernails into my leg with their almost bite dull against the numbed shreds of my skin. He stared at me for a moment before walking over to one of the chairs and pulling it out from the table with a rasp with a silent message for me to sit. I pressed my hands against the marble and cautiously stood, a biting sensation gripping at my knees and threatening to force me to them again. I stumbled over to the seat opposite from the one he gestured to and fell into the cushioned surface of its seat, my fingers clawed into the sides of it to keep myself upright. He sat down in the seat across from me and started to pour himself a glass of water from a crystallized jug.
"You must be thirsty." He leaned over to set the glass in front of me and fell back into his seat with an expected look. I stared at the glass and my mouth went even dryer like ash had coated it and chipped away its insides.
"Drink." I reached out for the glass and the coldness of it burned against my blood stained palm. My fingers shook on the weight and anticipation as I raised it to my lips before turning my wrist and letting the glass fall and shatter on the floor. Water doused my pant leg and I nearly choked on the dryness of my tongue. He grinned.
"Well that was a waste." I stared back at him, not dropping my gaze and his person almost hazy under the thirst and hunger that had gradually begun to dull my senses.
"Well if you're not going to drink you might as well eat."
He gestured to the plates with his fork but I refused to drop my gaze.
"I'm not hungry."
The words were barely audible and broke raw inside my throat. He laughed and my stomach twisted with a nausea that made me dizzy.
"It's been nearly four days since we fed you. And even then it was … well …"
He trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence as I already knew the conditions of the food they had feed me.
"So please … I encourage you. Eat."
He cut his own fork and knife into the slab of meat on his plate and my tongue nearly scarred itself on the hunger that assaulted it. He ate in near silence with the only sounds of his knife and fork against his plate and the nauseating sound of him chewing.
"You're really not doing yourself any favours." He poured himself a glass of water and drank deeply from it, his Adam's apple swollen in the move.
"I offer you food, the least you can do is accept it."
I nearly laughed. After all this time, after all the months of letting me hang by my bloody wrists in a pitch black wound with my wounds coated in salt and he expected kindness from me.
"Your hatred for me is so severe that you would rather starve to death then accept this token of kindness?"
Yes.
"Why?"
A laugh managed to escape from my lips, almost inhuman as if I had long ago forgotten what it felt like to laugh. To smile. To know what could cause either of them.
"You've tortured me for months. Starved me. Cut me. Watched me bleed. You killed me. You killed Cas …" I froze on the name and whatever bubble of strength broke the words from my lips crackled and died.
"But you were brought back."
He picked up on the fragile flaw with smugness and smirked back at me as if daring me to question his logic.
"It's the thought that counts."
The words broke over my cracked lips and he shook his head in amused disbelief before digging back into his platter. I twisted my fingers in the table cloth, my dirtied skin in contrast against the white sheet and licked my lips as dizziness softened the edges of my head with the threat of me passing out.
"Your food is getting cold."
He gestured to the plate before me, the meat oozed against the glass of it and the vegetables my head wasn't clear enough to name steaming with a scent that tore my throat apart in hunger.
"I have to ask."
He paused from eating, waiting patiently for me to continue.
"Why the change in scenery? Frozen dungeon for months on end now a fancy dinner? Your tactics don't make sense."
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and carefully folded it so that the edges carefully met.
"I thought a change in pace might do us good. Clearly torturing you was not doing any good so I thought I'd tried a new approach. A person can only endure so much before it starts to effect their mind. Their body. As it so clearly has done to you."
He grinned at his own joke. As if it had an effect on me. As if it could.
"Clearly flattery was not included." He laughed and again pressed his napkin to his lips before refolding it back to its original set.
"Your sense of humour remains. Along with your stupidity."
He raised his eyes back to mine, waiting for me to react to his words.
"My stupidity?" I fell to his bait, my curiosity peaked.
"You think that you can win this. That by sheer force of will you can somehow achieve something. Hold out for something that isn't there."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hardened in his own self importance.
"That you can beat me. But you can't. And you won't."
He sat back in his chair, snapping his napkin open and spreading it across his lap like the last moment hadn't happened. Like it was in the past and thus didn't exist. He dug into one of the platters and scooped a steaming vegetable onto his plate and dug his fork into the dishevelled shape.
"How can you be so sure?" My words were stronger somehow. Louder in the room and frozen like they made an impact in the air. "What?" He raised his eyes to me, his eyebrows raised as if he heard me incorrectly. "How can you be so sure that I won't beat you? You've tortured me for months … and I haven't broken. You took everything from me. Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby … my son. My life. And I haven't given up. We took down Lucifer. Lilith. The Mother. The apocalypse. Hundreds of Demons and thousands of monsters with more worth then you scrounge up with your stupid little smirk. Even if you kill me. Even if I don't beat you. You can't break me. And you won't."
I swallowed hard, suddenly exhausted and my pulse tense in my temple. He stared back at me, at a sudden loss for words and a flicker of something beneath the coldness of his eyes that looked like anger broken with doubt. He forced a smile that in a different way didn't meet his eyes and pushed his chair back from the table. He stepped around it with his footsteps loud on the marble and I sat frozen in my seat with uncertainty of what he was going to do next. I kept my gaze lowered so I could only see him there from the corner of my vision as he stopped next to my chair. He carefully reached out and his finger brushed against a strand of hair over my shoulder and jostled it back against my ear. I resisted the urge to pull away in revulsion and he dropped his hand so the hair fell back against my collar. Fingers suddenly clenched around my throat and I was shoved back and from the chair stumbled under my feet until I felt glass shatter against my head. My vision screamed red and I felt the shards back against my spine as my fingers weakly tried to pry his from my neck and my boots poorly tried to find grip against the broken glass for some support. His nails hardened into my skin and my head began to grow dizzy under the lack of air.
"You're wrong. You think I've taken everything but you have so much more to lose. So much more to break and bleed. You can hide behind your jokes and your lies and your stupidity. But I will break you and I will kill you."
His fingers ripped themselves from my neck and I collapsed onto the floor, gasping and retching at the bitter sick broken in my throat. I swallowed trembling and panted so my head spun and everything felt uneven and out of place. His shoes crunched on the glass and he nudged me with the tip in the ribs until I rocked onto my back, still gasping and choking on sick. He stared down at me, no smirk to his lips and no emotion to his eyes but a cold hard look to his face. He turned and started to walk away, the glass still crackled and shattered under his shoes.
"Kill me!"
He froze and I continued to gasp, the words still burning in my throat in my effort to say them and their feel heavy in the air. He turned back to me, taking me in as if I had suddenly taken on a new shape he couldn't name.
"Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I won't give it to you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not never. So you might as well kill me."
I gasped around the words, my legs unevenly splayed over the broken glass and my shirt tangled over my breasts.
"Not yet."
His words had their own sense of humour to them again. A joke he made up that only he understood.
"I'm not done with you yet."
He nodded back over at the table where the food still lay and the chair lay fallen over the tile. "Your food is getting cold."
He turned his back to me and crunched over the glass and to the door which he jerked open and closed behind him with a sense of an forbidding click.