Disclaimer: I only own my OC. The cast of Supernatural does not belong to me. I am merely creating this for entertainment purposes.
Kiss It All Better
I was eighteen years old and pissed at both Dad and Dean. They said it was too dangerous of a hunt for me to accompany them and besides someone had to watch Sammy. The kid was sixteen freaking years old! He was in high school! So I grabbed my jacket, slipped my feet into my heeled boots and took off, amidst protestations.
I ducked into the first bar I could find – Aces. Getting out my fake ID, I ordered a shot of tequila and a tab. Tequila would get me shit faced quickly. It would also make me forget most of the night for at least several hours.
"Shwweetheart," a man came and sat beside me. He was big, with muscles, bald, tattoos, and he reeked. He gave me the creeps as soon as he sat beside me.
"Hmmm?" I looked blearily at him. I had already had several shots by this time and the alcohol was starting to take effect.
"You want me to make it better for you?" I looked at him confused before the meaning sank in.
"Umm, no. I'm good thanks though," He got up from the bar stool.
"Alright. Let me know if you happen to change your mind though." He walked back to the other two men in the corner. Knocking back my seventh or eighth shot, I got up from my seat as well.
"How much do I owe you?" I asked the concerned bartender.
"Thirty-two dollars," I pulled two twenty's from my pocket.
"Here. I've got to get back. My brother and dad will be worried," I rolled my eyes and smiled at the bartender.
"Alright, darling. Stay safe," He gave me a pointed look. I just smirked.
"I always am. Don worry," Staggering away from the bar, I walked out into the cold, crisp night. I had barely made it ten feet before I was being pulled into the alley next to the bar. I remember every detail of what happened. I cried for Dean, Sammy, Daddy. Anyone. No one came.
When I awoke next, I could hear machines beeping. Everything was white, when I finally decidied to open my eyes.
"Turn it off," I mumbled, lifting a hand to shield my eyes.
"Isis! You're awake!" Sam grasped my left hand, that was still on the bed. "Dean! Dad!" Footsteps rushed into the room, stopping beside my bed.
"Isis! How you feeling, darling?" Dean anxiously moved hair out of my face.
"I'm s'tired," I managed to say. "And sore." Dad looked vaguely uncomfortable, standing by my feet with who I assumed was the doctor.
"Do you remember what happened?" Looking up at Dean, a barrage of images hit me. I nodded slowly, tears silently escaping.
"Don't cry Isis!" Sammy cried, distressed. He appeared ready for tears as well.
"Well we were able to five you emergency contraception and test you for any diseases that might have been transferred. Good news, you don't have any. Two less things for you to worry about," The doctor came to stand beside Dean.
"So it really happened then?" I asked, weakly. I pushed myself into a sitting position which hurt. My lower regions were sore, and when I aggravated them, it burned badly.
"Yes, Miss Pierre," the doctor replied kindly. "We could not tell if the damage you sustained – if you could ever have children."
"Oh," I took a few deep breaths. I kind of wasn't sure if I wanted any, but I knew that if later in my life if I did want to have kids and I couldn't I would be very upset.
"Any from the rape kit we were able to find the ones responsible. You are not required to testify. The police have enough evidence."
"Good. So, um, when am I able to go home?" I asked the doctor, feeling drained physically and emotionally.
"Probably tomorrow," the doctor flipped the sheet of my chart over.
"Hospitals kinda make me nervous," I flashed him a grin. He smiled back at me sadly.
"Let me see what I can do. I might be able to get the date pushed up." He exited the room leaving me alone with my family.
"Are you sure you want to leave so soon?" Dean was fussing.
"I would rather be with you three then by myself in an unprotected hospital," I sniffed. He just continued to stare at me.
"Darling," John enveloped me into a hug. I stiffened at the contact and pulled back. "Sorry," he let go of me.
"No. It's alright Daddy. Just not used to contact yet, so soon," I said. John smiled at me. I never called John, Daddy, unless something bad happened to me, John, Dean, or Sammy.
"Hey I'm sorry Isis. Really I am," John looked uncomfortable saying that. "But next time you need to come talk to me instead of running away. Can you do that for me kiddo?"
"Ok," I replied meekly.
"Good. I'm gonna go see if the doctor has procured the discharge papers. That way we can get you back home, where you belong." John exited the room.
"Please don't ever do that again! Do you know how we felt when we got the call?" Dean scolded me.
"I'm sorry Dean," my eyes filled with tears. Quickly I glanced down at the bedspread. "I was just so angry and hurt. I didn't think – I thought I was protected."
"Leave her alone!" Sammy rushed to my defense. "She won't do it again!"
"Sorry, Isis," Dean said, stroking my hand.
"S'alright. How – who found me?"
"The bartender. He called the cops and then they called us. Supposedly you were calling for us the whole time. The bartender said you were semi-conscious but you wanted us." Suddenly I felt worse.
Five hours later we were back at the hotel. I was curled up on the couch, on my side, so it didn't hurt as much. Dean was cleaning the arsenal, Sam was reading a schoolbook in the bedroom, and Dad was on the phone with Bobby. The hotel room was quiet except for the quiet murmurs of Dad.
"Hey, Isis?" Sammy appeared in the room, holding his book.
"Huh?" I shook myself out of my silent reverie and looked up at him. He was nearing Dean's height, I realized. One of these days he would be taller than Dean.
"You read the murders in the Rue Morgue right?"
"Yeah. Not too much of Poe I haven't read, why?" I was curious and moved into a near sitting position. Dean was still clicking the guns. It was almost comforting. We were such a strange family, cleaning guns could calm me down.
"Cause, I've got a paper due tomorrow. I really need your help." Smiling at him I began to tutor him.
"Poe was a Romantic period author. People in that era were especially captivated by the dark, disturbing stories, mainly because it became more acceptable - "
"Please! I beg you!" I was sobbing as the three men from the bar stalked me.
"Please baby you'll be screaming for more," I tried to get my phone out but it fell onto the ground. I was so scared. I knew that Dean and Dad would help me.
"My brother and father will kill you," I bargained them. My last attempt at bravery. They weren't coming, and the men seemed to sense that I was bluffing.
"Baby, they won't come." I was trapped, both by the truth and the brick wall behind me. "Grab her!" The other two held me while the man that approached me in the bar sized me up.
He put his hands underneath my jacket. Then he peeled off my jeans. Meanwhile I was trying to get fee. Though after the initial intrusion I went limp. All three of them had their fun with me. They were merciless.
"Been such a long time since we been with one such as yourself," bar guy leered at me. I was dirty and broken. All I wanted was Dean. He would know what to do with me.
"Darling!" the bartender ran up to me. "What happened?"
"Dean," I mumbled through my haze. He picked me up after throwing his jacket on my bare lower half. "NO! Put me down! Dean! DEAN! DEAN!"
With a scream I sat upright. Dean was kneeling beside my bed, trying to comfort me. I was shaking all over.
"Dean!" I flung myself into his arms. He held me tightly, banishing all my demons and fears. He banished my dirty feeling for the moment.
"Shhh. Isis, I'm right here, sweetheart." Dean half rocked me. "Shh. They aren't going to hurt you here."
"She all right?" John asked quietly from his position outside my room.
"She'll be fine. She's gonna need some time to recover." Dean assured his father. John nodded and left me to Dean's quiet and massive warmth.
"Dean, they all – I'd never - " Distraught I just sobbed into his chest.
"Shh, babe, I'm right here," He rubbed my back. Finally I quieted down as he continued to mutter reassurances to me.
"Sorry," as I pulled away I surveyed the tear stains in his shirt.
"Don't be," Dean squeezed me tighter."
"Dean, kiss it all better?" I asked him, hesitantly. He grinned at the old reference to our childhood.
"Yeah, Isis, I'll kiss it all better," he promised. With a smile I drifted off to an easier sleep. Dean sometimes had to stay with me all night, as my nightmares still plagued me. But with Dean's help I would heal from that ordeal – but it would take time and love. Over three years worth.