Abby tensed and gripped at her pistol with two sets of white knuckles, but didn't move, only cast her eyes down at her feet. They were good, she had to admit that. Didn't even hear their footsteps.
The voice paused for a moment, as if it were choosing its words carefully. "Hey, Abby," it said, slowly, "you see any angels around here lately? Black hair, blue tie, trenchcoat?"
"Dean," said a second voice, apparently silent until now, "come on. Just kill it and-"
"Why else do you think we're here?" Abby's voice rang out suddenly, shaking with rage and fear. "In friggin' Sedona. If I spend one more day in this goddamn town I'm gonna start puking healing crystals."
The voices seemed to falter for a moment, so she carried on, aware that the sound of her father packing could no longer be heard through the open door.
"That asshat has been hunting us down for a week now," she continued, trying her best to sound derisive, the whole laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing that seemed to work out so well for the pair of them. "Us and all of our kin. He's already killed two of our cousins this month, so we figured we'd enforce a little social justice ourselves."
"You were hunting Cas?" the voice that belonged to Dean was riddled with animosity. "You were trying to kill an angel? You?"
Abby stuttered a laugh, as if he had asked a stupid question. "We wouldn't have needed to." She adjusted her cap so that it shadowed her eyes and slowly turned her neck to the source of the voices, slightly surprised as she felt the knife ease a little as she did.
Jesus.
She remembered when she was young, just a child, before she reached the Ageless Period, her mother would tuck her into bed in their council flat in Georgia, and tell her stories. Stories about vicious monsters who were born in destruction and would die in destruction, who mutilated everything in their path first and asked questions later.
"Be good," her mother used to tell her. "Cover up your tracks, and don't stay in one place for more than two weeks at a time. Or the Winchesters will find you. "
And there they were. The monsters that kept the little ones up at night. The stuff of nightmares, with a couple of .44 Magnums and some serious unresolved childhood issues. They didn't really look like the fear-inducing type– two plaid-wearing pretty boys in serious need of a haircut – but they sure as hell were.
"Alright, what's that supposed to-"
Abby felt like crying with relief as she heard her father stepping out onto the sidewalk, gun poised, a guttural sound in the back of his throat.
"Get that glorified toothpick away from my daughter."
There wasn't even a second in between the form of her father's words and the monster that must've been Dean pouncing on him, dragging the knife away from Abby's throat as he did so and dragging out a line of blood in its place.
Sam stood behind her, gun out and alternating between her and her father, who was currently pinned to the ground with Dean straddling him and holding a knife to his throat, in case either made a sudden movement.
Dean glared down, his nose mere inches away from the guy's face. He saw what had triggered Sam – as he got pinned, the Viti's pupils diluted, practically took up the whole of the eye, like a demon, save for the startling ring of blue around the edges, the two bleeding into each other like watercolours. He smiled up at his captor. No fangs, but the face wasn't exactly one of chastity either way, not in Dean's eyes.
Eyes…
"What did we do to deserve this?" Abby shouted over to the hunter, fists clenched, but still not daring to move from where she stood. "We never hurt anybody!" she was getting scared now, really scared; unless she could get through that thick skull of his, there would be no chance of survival. Right now, persuasion was her only advantage. "We just wanted the killing to stop. We just wanted to-"
The hunter had made no acknowledgement to her words, but was staring intently into her father's eyes, soundless, motionless. And then as he started to sway on his hands and knees she realised what was happening.
"Dad, no! No!"
And suddenly Sam was there, tearing Dean away from his captive and letting him slump, lifeless, onto the road. He kicked the vamp in the head when he tried to haul himself up, ignoring the screams of the little girl, and pointed the gun straight at his eye on a hunch.
Stone cold dead, one second flat.
Abby felt strangely unattached, as if she were sitting on the road across from her body and watching somebody else control it. She was screaming, she knew that much, though she knew not what. The hunter that had not yet been incapacitated turned his gun on her with a steady hand but she was too far gone to care. She didn't care if she hurt someone. She didn't care if she killed someone.
Without knowing what she was doing, she thrust out a hand towards the hunter, and feeling a white-hot volt of energy burn through it. Without warning, the hunter flew backwards through the air with a panicked grunt, shortly airborne before slamming against the building opposite the motel. He crumpled onto the tarmac and did not move again.
Abby took in the three men, sprawled senseless across the breadth of the overcast street, and sank to her knees, hugging herself and shivering violently.
It was a funny feeling, having all the memories forcibly ripped from your head.
Dean fought so hard to keep those creepy-ass eyes out of his head. The Viti could feel it, too, feel his mind screaming and thrashing and pushing through all limits of exertion to keep itself intact. But nothing could tear Dean's gaze away from the gaping void of the vamp's pupils. He felt his own eyes widen in response, straining, badly wanting to blink but physically incapable to, and after what seemed like years but must have been the smallest fraction of time, things began to unravel. At first it was uncanny, watching the small details fade from his mind. The brand of his favourite hair gel. Sammy's birthdate. His first baseball tournament.
But soon enough he felt a strange sensation of bliss as he felt his mind slowly slip away, like smoke, like water down a stream. Most of his memories he was glad to see go. Hell? Purgatory? Watching his brother die-
No, he told himself, I won't have to think about that anymore. About anything. I won't have to think about…
And when the darkness finally took him, he surrendered willingly.