Hell
She kept coming back over the course of the next five years during the time when Alistair left Dean to heal before more torture started up again. She hadn't spoken to him since the first time when he'd spat at her feet and cursed at her. Her expression stilled edged on the brink of curiousness, but for the most part she just looked like she was assessing him for something.
Once when he was being taken apart he'd seen her in the distance, weaving her way around other demons and souls on the rack. She'd glanced at him, but when her gaze had turned to Alistair she'd looked legitimately alarmed and run off.
Alistair hadn't bothered turning to see what Dean was looking at. Instead he'd picked up a different knife to start with.
Today, however, she approached him again, this time looking more interested than usual. The demon casually walked up to him, and had three hellhounds with her that were all manifested and he could see. He recognized the Rottweiler, but the other two looked more like German Shepherds.
Before she made it all the way in front of Dean, he watched as she looked down and softly said, "Shoo. I played with you all morning."
Instead of immediately moving, the three starting jumping up on her and wagging their tales in some freakish imitation of real dogs. Laughing and shoving playfully at them, Dean could almost mistake it as a normal scene on Earth. However, after the demon firmly insisted once again that they go away, the hellhounds all left. Dean couldn't stop the derisive snort he let out before saying in a scathing voice, "Playing around and tearing people apart."
She didn't respond and instead sat down a few feet in front of him, crossing her legs and looking far too relaxed for Dean's comfort. He was strung up still, so he towered above her, giving him the most miniscule sense of comfort.
The demon was drumming her fingers on her knees, but finally spoke in a relaxed, conversational tone as her eyes travelled over his body and she said, "Alistair likes spending time with you. He doesn't usually chill with one person for so long. And the new demons usually mess around with like, the souls who were actually damned sooooo…"
She trailed off and locked brown eyes with him, not covering their surface with the smoky black he'd seen most demons in the pit wear all the time.
"You made a deal. And it had to be a worthwhile one if Alistair wants you to pick up the knife so bad. He's got a kink for turning people dark, y'know."
Dean snarled at her, not willing to say anything about why he had made a deal. He would stay in the pit forever if it meant Sam was safe, and there was no fucking way he'd give a demon information about his brother to use against him. Deciding to go on the offensive, he opened his mouth and said in a very clearly fake tone, "And I'm sure you're here for something worthwhile."
The demon shrugged and remained nonchalant when she said, "Oh yeah, babe. Murder, sacrilege, chaos, and bloodshed. A naughty, no good, very bad soul before I turned into a demon."
To Dean's surprise she was – she seemed like she was lying. Not giving enough of a shit to question her further, he looked away and stayed silent, hoping she'd leave soon. Instead, she kept speaking.
"I'm Tracy, by the way. And my dogs don't tear people apart all the time. I train them to do their job and lend 'em out to the demons that collect, yeah, but there's usually a baby or two in the litter that can't handle Earth. Ringo and Paul are complete sweethearts."
"You – you named hellhounds after the Beatles?"
Looking down at her incredulously, he was taken aback by her delighted smile that didn't seem to be particularly threatening and actually looked genuine.
Shit – this was classic behavior. Send in someone nonthreatening and seemingly sympathetic in to a torture victim in between rounds to make the captive creates an emotional attachment. Just as he was about to tell her to fuck off, he saw her flinch at the same time he did when Alistair's voice rang out.
"If it isn't my old protégé. Jealous of my new favorite, Tracy? He's sure to turn out better than you did."
The demon stood up quickly and Dean saw her shift her expression of nervousness to one of sadistic amusement before she turned, cocking a hip and assuming a relaxed posture. When she spoke, it was a cruel, drawling tone.
"I'm offended. He seems so boring though, I don't get what you see in this one."
Dean watched their exchange with suspicion as Alistair let out a laugh and responded, "Oh he's big news topside. You wouldn't have heard of him though, Winchester here made a name for himself decades after your time. I want another round with him. Go back to your newest litter."
Tracy immediately followed Alistair's instruction, letting out a whistle that called the three hellhounds she'd arrived with to her side. Without looking back, she disappeared.
Sam was on edge and hadn't looked away from the demon since they'd started driving. Dean was tense, but still staring forward as the Impala cruised down the highway. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat but had completely twisted his torso around so he could watch Tracy the entire time she was at Dean's back.
The demon hadn't really done anything yet. In fact, she seemed more bored than anything else. She'd stopped braiding and un-braiding her hair after half an hour before she'd moved on to dramatically huffing, probably to get their attention. But now – four hours since they'd all left the gas station – she was simply lying down across the backseat, glancing out the window every few minutes and humming a song Sam didn't recognize.
Dean, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence. With gruffness that Sam had only ever heard directed at him – since it was a clear cover up to actually caring about something – he said, "What, too good for a seatbelt, Trace?"
The demon laughed and sat up in the middle of the back seat, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror before saying in what was clearly a falsely pleasant tone, "Aren't you a sweetheart. And since this body keeps healing at like a crazy fast rate, flying through the windshield probably wouldn't do anything." Narrowing her eyes, her voice became sharper when she said, "I was exorcised. Or at least, some hunter tried to exorcise me a week ago. But seeing as this is the meatsack I wore for twenty-six years on Earth, it seems like I can't fucking smoke out of it."
The car was silent for another moment and Sam had begun looking at Dean before Tracy cut in once again.
"Can we listen to music? Do you have – "
To Sam's surprise, Dean cut her off with a weirdly amused tone as he said, "The Beatles. Coming right up, blondie."
…Dean didn't listen to the Beatles. In fact, Sam had no idea when he would have gotten any kind of CD or tape in the last few weeks, so his answer was even more out of character. With suspicion quickly manifesting, Sam whipped his head to stare at the demon, trying to figure out if she was working some kind of illusion like a djinn would be able to pull off.
He was surprised to see that instead a forlorn expression had taken over her face, and her lips were pressed tightly together.
What the hell was she playing at?
Before Sam could voice his question out loud, Tracy spoke.
"The reason I get the best results is 'cause they're mine, ya know? I don't want some random demon to…"
The demon trailed off, and to Sam's surprise once more Dean responded in an out-of-character way. Without looking away from the road, he reached back and flicked her knee in a casual display of familiarity.
"Your monsters aren't going to forget you, blondie. You're their favorite hellspawn."
Tracy laughed with a somewhat cruel manner and flashed her eyes black, causing Sam to once more reach for a knife and holy water, only barely stopping himself. When the demon spoke it was in the conversational, sadistic tone that demons often used.
"Oh baby, tone down the compliments. There's no way you're getting in my pants. It would be a shame to slit your throat right after."
Sam could honestly say he never would have thought he'd see a demon wink with black eyes, and for his brother to respond with a derisive snort.
"Wouldn't touch a demon with a ten-foot pole."
Sam – he hated this. Ruby had done everything she could to help them. He knew they could trust her, especially when she'd been helping him develop his abilities when he'd thought Dean would never be coming back. Another demon showing up and claiming to be good or even useful to them? No goddamn way.
A second later Tracy's eyes receded into what Sam could now see was a dark brown and she once more started fiddling with her hair. Squaring her shoulders, Sam tracked her movements as she fixed what Sam could tell was clearly a falsely jovial expression on her face. With an air of casualness that made her words that much more shocking, she poked Dean's back and spoke.
"I don't recommend going through reverse-cremation, by the way. Getting all your little bits and pieces mashed back together after they've spread out the last twenty years really fucking hurts."
Dean slammed on the brakes.
