Dean stood looking at Meg with his arms crossed over his chest. She was tied to a chair in Bobby Singers den right dab-smack in the middle of the Devil's trap painted on his ceiling. So to be honest they didn't even need the rope, the bitch wasn't going anywhere. At least not until she told them where they were keeping Dad. And then Dean was going to send her back to Hell where the fucking cunt belonged.
"Where's our father, Meg?" Dean demanded.
"You didn't ask very nice." She said with a smug little smile.
"Where's our father, bitch?" Dean corrected.
"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don't"
Dean lunged at her; he planted his hands on the arms of her chair and brought his nose to a millimeter of hers. He stared hatefully into her demon eyes.
"You think this is a fucking game?" He yelled. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"
"He died screaming. I killed him myself." She answered.
Dean felt his stomach turn at the visual her words conjured in his mind. He told himself that she was lying. That dad was fine and she was just trying to push his buttons. Well, his buttons were pushed. The constant worry over rather his father was dead or alive came to head right at that moment and he could hold in the rage no longer. He stood up, pulled his arm back, balled his fist and brought it down to land with a satisfying crunch right across the demons cheek bone.
He felt his knuckles crack with the force of the impact and her head whipped to the side. The sight of it gave him a moment of peace in his soul that he hadn't known since the day Dad had disappeared.
It only lasted a second though because when Meg brought her head back up he saw that smug smile spread across her face again.
"That kind of a turn on? You hitting a girl?" She asked
"You're no girl." Dean spat and turned his back on her.
Sam moved in to take his place in the interrogation as Dean leaned against the cabinet rubbing his now sore knuckles.
She was playing with him. Mocking him. The thought brought him back to the night that he'd first met her in a bar when he'd thought she was just a regular girl Sam knew. Rachel had been with him that night and seeing how rude Meg was Rachel had almost torn her face off.
Dean allowed himself to wish Rachel was here now. He told himself that he wished it because he, Sam and Bobby could use the help and that if Rachel could be that angry with her and want to kill her just for mouthing off to him then what would she do now? Knowing that it was actually a demon they were dealing with?
But the truth was that Dean wanted the comfort that he found in her presents. His father was missing, maybe dead, they had no idea where the yellow eyed demon was now and the only one that could lead them to Dad was this hateful bitch.
He wanted someone to tell him that it was all going to be ok. And when he imagined that happening, he also imagined slender arms wrapping around him and burying his face in soft, dark locks of hair.