The Abomination

Summary:

Benny Lafitte wasn't the only person Dean Winchester brought out of Purgatory upon his return. What happens when the infamous Righteous Man pulls a creature out of Purgatory; a creature that has spent its entire existence trapped in Purgatory?

Author's Note:

My Original Character (Desha) does not speak much English, but as the story progresses she picks up various words and phrases. You can consider her practically a mute; mostly talking with facial expressions and hand gestures and broken English; think of her as a foreigner from another country learning English as a second language. Please understand while Sam has difficulty understanding Desha, Dean has spent the last year in Purgatory with her and understands her relatively easy. All of the chapter titles are song lyrics and I encourage my readers to guess what song and band/artist recorded it. Could be fun, no?

Also, this is NOT a Destiel (Dean/Cas) story. Nothing against the ship, but I, myself, can't write them in a romance relationship. I can see why people would put them together, but I have always viewed Cas as the 'missing Winchester' so to speak. The development of the Dean/Cas 'profound bond' in the series has been one of my favorite friendships in any series, because no matter how many times one falls, the other is there to pick up the pieces and help them stand on their own again. I haven't quite figured out whether or not this will be a Dean/OC, Cas/OC or just a family/friendship story, so I guess that will be for you guys to decide.

Chapter One
Guillotine Dreams
'Guillotine dreams yeah there guillotine gleams the blood of there enemies watching while they sentence me. '

The flash of light is blinding, but as his feet hit solid ground, the moss-green eyes of Dean Winchester quickly glances around the surrounding area with a hardened calculating gaze. His ears perk up at the sound of gently, calm breathing and his gaze turns on a figure hidden in the shadows of the trees. With a gentle hand motion, the hardened glint softens in his eyes as the tiny, lithe female steps out with an air of caution of the area around them, but those damn eyes of hers gleam with solid trust in his actions. Just like him, covered from head-to-toe in dirt, blood and other bits of grime he'd rather not think about, her tiny body hardened from time spent fighting an endless battle. Her dark blonde hair falls to the middle of her back, matted dreadlocks coated crimson and brown. The dirt caked on her cheeks causes her sapphire-blue eyes to appear brighter than usual, the starburst of gold around her pupils contrasting against the bold shade of her irises. Her clothes are torn and much of it appears to have been cut off; most likely to be used as bandages for injuries they obtained over the past few months.

"Come. We find a road and we can get to where we need to go," his gruff voice states slowly, even though he knows she doesn't understand most of the words, he is thankful when she nods curtly.

As the two break into a dead sprint through the woods, both of them jumping fallen lumber and ducking under low-hanging branches it isn't long before Dean raises a hand, signaling the woman to stop. Motioning for her to stay hidden, his ears catching the nearby sound of two people whispering, the Hunter peers into the clearing to see a young man in his early twenties step out of a tent. Moving silently as possible, Dean resists the tension and instinct to bury the hatchet in the kid's head as this boy turns around, the flashlight in his hands shining brightly on his face. Demanding to know where he is and where the road is, Dean doesn't bother saying thanks as he dips down and grabs the sack from the ground, darting into the darkness of the trees. Not wasting any time in pulling off his soiled clothing, he digs around in the bag and manages to find a pair of jeans and a button-down flannel. Hearing the familiar, soft footsteps approach, he motions for his silent companion to come closer as he pulls out a pair of jeans and a more feminine flannel t-shirt. Quickly pulling on the new clothing, Dean turns to see her gaze settled on the clothes in her hands, a glint of curiosity and confusion in her eyes.

"Change," he states, motioning toward his soiled clothing before bringing his hand to gesture toward the clean clothes on his person, "Take close off, put new one's on."

Once again trusting his call, he watches with a blank expression as she strips her torn and soiled clothing from her lithe body. After so long of watching her in action, he isn't surprised by the lean cords of muscle lining her limber body, remembering the feeling of being impressed as he watched her move without any resistance from her body. Literally, the girl could twist into a pretzel and still manage to kill something. As the tight-fitted, skinny jeans slide onto her legs and she pulls her unbuttoned flannel t-shirt over her bare shoulders, she glances down briefly before meeting his eyes. Her head tilt of confusion causes realization to flash in his mind before he steps forward, his fingers quickly fastening the zipper and button to her jeans. Slowly fastening the buttons of the flannel, her eyes watching every movement of his fingers, he isn't at all offended when her hands lift and begin fastening the bottom half.

"Let's go. A road means civilization, or cars. Either way, we can hitch our way to Louisiana."

The name of the state causes recognition to flash in her eyes, her hand moving to rest over her beating heart, "Benny."

A small smile tugs across his lips at the mere innocence of her voice as he nods, "Yeah. Benny."

"We did it, brother," the Southern accent taints the familiar voice of Benny Lefitte before Dean finds himself embracing the vampire.

Benny must have noticed the silent figure standing in the shadows of the graveyard before he pulls out of the embrace. Extending his hand to the quiet woman, neither of the men are surprised when she clasps her small hand in his own. A smile forms on Benny's face before he yanks the tiny woman into his arms, embracing her tense form. Pulling back, the vampire carefully grips her shoulders, his light blue eyes meeting her own startling sapphire blue.

"Now, you're gonna go with Dean. He's gonna take good care of ya, y'hear me, Cherie?"

Her head tilts slightly, only comprehending the message written between his words, "Benny come with. Benny family."

"I know that, Cherie, but there ain't much I can do to protect you. Dean can help you get settled in this life. It ain't gonna be forever. We'll see each other again, Cherie, y'hear me?"

The woman nods slowly, her eyes growing somber, "Benny be missed," Her palm moves to rest flat against his chest, "Benny has heart. Good in him."

"I may be good, but I ain't good enough for ya, Cherie. You take care of Dean. Keep watchin' his back. We may not be in Purgatory anymore, but Dean gets into trouble no matter where he goes."

Hearing Dean's protesting 'Hey!', she lets out a small giggle, eyes brightening briefly as she nods, "Desha watch Dean. Desha protect family."

"That's right, Cherie."

Stepping back from each other, Dean instinctively moves to stand at her side, his eyes sending a message to Benny. Dean's never turned his back on family. He wasn't about to start doing it now. Parting ways with the vampire, Dean leads Desha back toward the road.

He can't believe it. Although, some small part of him expected it, but to hear it from the lips of his own brother only drove the invisible knife deeper into his heart. A year in Purgatory and Sam didn't even try. All for a woman, yet again. The heavy sense of betrayal settled in his heart as he stares at his brother, the questions he's asking becoming too much to bear. Brushing off Sam's questions, Dean's ears perk up at the sound of a door opening and his eyes immediately peers over his brother's shoulder. Sam must have noticed the diversion of attention because the towering mass turns on point and hazel eyes watches with morbid curiosity as the woman pauses in the doorway, a single towel wrapped around her torso.

"What did you do to your hair?" Dean blurts out, his eyes taking in the new, short and choppy layers framing her pale face.

"Cut," Desha responds gently, even though her hand clenches around the towel, her head tilting as her gaze settled on Sam.

Dean ignores the curiosity as he takes a pair of loose sweat pants and one of his old t-shirts before approaching the woman. As if it is a normal, everyday occurrence, Sam watches his brother help her into the pants, pulling them up to her waist before tying off the drawstrings. It isn't until Dean pulls the t-shirt over her towel-clad chest that Sam muses over the close proximity his brother usually maintains seems to not exist as Dean runs his fingers through the girl's short, blonde hair.

"Looks weird," Dean murmurs, flashing Desha a small smile, "Good, but weird. C'mon. I want you to meet someone." Dean gently guides the woman closer to Sam by carefully gripping her elbow, "This is my brother, Sam," Sam isn't sure he likes the recognition that flashes through the woman's eyes, "Sam, this is Desha. She helped show me the way outta Purgatory."

"What is she?" Dean turns a glare on Sam at his question, but Sam raises his hands defensively, "No offense, but Purgatory is where monsters go after they die."

"Truth be told, we don't know," Dean replies curtly, "She's human for all we know. Hardly speaks any English; been in Purgatory for...ever?"

Sam's eyebrows shoot up, "And you don't think that there might be a reason she's been kept in Purgatory?"

"Damn it, Sam! I told you. Her heart beats, she bleeds red, not quite sure if she eats, seeing as how Purgatory kind of puts a person's hunger and thirst on ice. Trust me, Sam. Desha hasn't given me any reason not to trust her."

"Well, if you got her out, what happened to Cas?"

Dean's eyes shudder before closing off, but Sam sees somber recognition flash through the woman's eyes before her gaze drops to the floor, "Angel not make it."

Sam's eyes turn on Dean, "He died? I mean, you saw him die?"

Fingers curling into tight fists, Dean swallows back the bile of guilt, "I saw enough."

When Sam offers to make dinner, Dean refuses and as he turns to offer Desha some food, he feels his thoughts freeze. From the piercing gaze of hers, Sam knows she isn't human; there's no way a human can have such peculiar eyes. The short sleeves of her t-shirt reveals the black tribal markings wrapping around her forearms, running up the expanse of moon-kissed skin. This is a person that has never seen the light of day, has never stepped foot outside of Purgatory and while Sam knows there must be a reason for it, the air of blatant innocence around her is startling. She reminds him of Castiel after Lucifer broke free from his cage, when their angel friend rebelled. He had always been curious about random, everyday things and Desha didn't seem to show any knowledge of buildings, televisions, electricity or how anything works on Earth.

"Would you like to eat?" Sam asks, his words quick and pressed tightly together as he fights the urge to shift at her pointed staring.

Dean scoffs when Sam's question causes her brow to crinkle in confusion, "What part of not completely familiar with English don't you get?" Dean remarks before looking up from the box of phones and cards, "Hey, Desh," Sam isn't surprised by the nickname given to the woman, her own attention turning to his brother, "Eat?" Dean pantomimes eating, but her head shakes slowly, "Right. You've never had to eat. Stomach hurt?" Dean gestures to his own gut, his fingers curling tightly to signify the tightening feeling of hunger and the woman nods her head slowly, "Then you need to eat."

"How?" The lost tone in her voice causes Sam to swallow thickly, realizing just how otherworldly this woman is.

Dean saunters over to the table, filling a bowl with the stew Sam made, knowing that it will take awhile for her body to become accustomed to heavier foods. Setting it down on the table, across from Sam's own bowl, Dean gestures for Desha to come over, patting the chair next to him. Sam watches as Dean slowly shows her how to properly hold a spoon before he dips it into the soup, catching some on the rounded surface. Slowly opening his mouth, Dean takes the spoon in his mouth, pulling the empty silverware out of his mouth before swallowing pointedly. All the while, Desha watches his brother with calculating eyes as Dean performs the act two more times before handing her the spoon. Sam tries to look away, tries to fight back the distant memories of Dean always teaching him things as a child and wonders just what effect this woman has on Dean. Seeing the vacant, hardened and haunted gleam in his brother's eyes soften as she spoons the soup in her mouth slowly, a small smile tugs on Sam's lips.

It's been a long time since Dean's had someone to care for. Sam, himself, had grown into his adult life and while Dean's always jumped to protect him, Sam had grown out of needing to be taken care of. This, this was a side of Dean many rarely see. Musing over how Dean and Desha came across one another, Sam watches Dean grin when her eyes brighten in surprise at the taste, a small smile tugging at her pale-pink lips.

"Taste good?" Dean asks and as she bobs her head enthusiastically, the oldest Winchester brother chuckles and ruffles her short hair, "Good. Take it slow. Too much food too fast will make you sick."

Sam wonders if she really understand what they are saying, but seeing her nod, he surmises that maybe she just trusts Dean's judgment. What made Dean act like this with her? It takes a lot for a person to get in Dean's good graces; his brother is far to jaded to open up to people, and after a lifetime spent as a Hunter, Sam wonders how this innocent woman survived Purgatory her entire life.

Sam is surprised when Dean pulls into the parking lot of a department store; only to remember Desha doesn't own any clothing. As the trio enters the department store, an amused smile appears on Sam's lips at the sight of their female companion gazing around with an awestruck expression on her face. Dean says nothing, an affectionate gleam in his eyes as he takes her hand in his own and leads her toward the Ladies' Department. As Dean and Sam pile jeans and various shirts into the cart, both realize Desha had somehow wandered off. Thankfully, she didn't go too far, and both brothers freeze at the sight of the small woman running a finger along a black, thin-leather duster jacket; the Winchesters both realizing that if it had been tan, the coat would have resembled Castiel's.

"Do you want it?" Sam asks, earning a curt nod, and he steps forward, his taller form allowing him to grab it off the raised display hook. "I take it you were close to Cas?"

Sam flinches at the warning glare Dean shoots him as Desha's blue eyes darken, her fingers carefully gripping the leather fabric, "Cas family. Cas understand. Being...um...not same. Like others."

"You mean different."

Desha nods, tapping the left side of her chest, "Cas is angel, with heart of Man. Good intent. Bad choice. Pure heart. Cas family."

"Yeah, yeah, his feathered ass is good," Dean grunts out, his voice hardened as he nudges Desha gently for her to follow, "Let's go. We have a prophet to find."

Sam knows Dean is just as upset as Desha when it comes to Cas and Purgatory. If Cas had been close with Desha, then she must not be evil.

Then again, Cas has tampered with demons before all of this.

After buying Desha's new wardrobe; which Desha is quick to pull on a pair of jeans, a black and blue button-down flannel, a pair of sturdy boots and the jacket, the trio pile into the Impala. Catching sight of Desha's gaze trained on the passing scenary in the rear-view mirror, Dean muses over how different she looks.

Especially when compared to their first meeting.

Unsure of the vampire in front of him, Dean finds them at a stand-off. Dean wants out of Purgatory and so does this Benny-guy. Dean won't leave without Cas and Benny only smiles at him in return. The Hunter doesn't like the smile; it's a smile that belies the gesture of kindness. As if Benny knows something he doesn't. Dean opens his mouth, hoping to get an answer, when the vampire suddenly turns his gaze in a different direction, head cocked slightly as if listening for something.

"If you're comin', let's go," Benny states, his accent reminding Dean of a case he took in New Orleans.

Cautiously following Benny through the woods, Dean freezes as they break into another clearing, his eyes landing on the lone woman fighting off two Leviathan, four headless Leviathan laying at her feet. The bladed weapon in her grasp sings as it splits through the air, her long blonde hair darkened with the blackened blood of the creatures. Her movements are swift and accurate, the signs of someone born to fight and kill. A natural born killer, as it were. As the last head rolls along the forest ground, her tense body turns toward him and Benny. Seeing her shoulders relax briefly, Dean notices her eyes settle on Benny for a brief moment, her head bobbing in a mute greeting before she turns her gaze on him. Wincing at the sight of the gold burst of color in her sapphire-colored irises, Dean has only come across a few people who make him uncomfortable by they're blatant staring; i.e. his father, John Winchester, and Castiel.

"Who?"

The soft voice is not what he expected, but Dean remains silent as Benny motions toward him, "He's human," Her eyes spark with surprise, "His name is Dean Winchester. Winchester, this is Desha," The woman bows her head respectfully, "Not sure what she is, but she's damn good at what she does."

"She a friend of yours?"

Benny nods, "Yeah. She's comin' with us, too."

"First we find my friend, then we'll get to whatever hole you're talkin' about," Dean comments, seeing the crinkle in the girl's brow as her head tilts, he is reminded of Castiel, "My friend is an angel. I'm not leavin' here without him."

"We save angel," the girl responds gently, nodding her head in agreement.

As the girl turns toward the woods and treks past the line of the clearing, Dean turns a cocked eyebrow to Benny, "She doesn't speak much English. Couldn't understand a word she was saying in the beginning."

Nodding slowly, Dean pauses as he watches Desha step back into the clearing, motioning with her hand for them to follow. Benny doesn't hesitate in trailing after the odd woman and after a moment of indecision, Dean lets out a huff of annoyance before he follows after the duo.

Shaking himself from his memories, Dean blinks only to see startling blue eyes staring back at him. Offering her a soft, quick smile, Desha nods mutely before turning her gaze back out the window. Does she have nightmares? Does she even sleep? Dean remembers her always keeping watch so Dean could catch a few minutes of rest. Even though Purgatory seemed to put nearly everything, even time, on pause, his human need for a moments rest never seemed to fail. Smiling internally at the memory of the small woman's vigilance, Dean hopes this new life on Earth treats her better than her life in Purgatory did. Maybe, just maybe, he can help her experience real joy and give her a reason to smile.

For now though, they need to find a certain prophet.