Warning: This chapter has scenes which might be upsetting for some. Proceed with caution.


Loss Of Loved Ones

Delilah screamed, her scalp felt like it was bleeding from the hold Jeremy had on her hair. He pulled her into the living room, where Richelle was tied to a chair.

"Dad! No! What are you doing?" Delilah cried, clutching at his hand, trying to make him loosen his grip.

"You'll see," He said, throwing her to the floor. "Don't move," He told her firmly, walking towards Richelle.

Delilah looked over at her Mother, who was watching her fearfully.

Richelle had a piece of cloth in her mouth, her hair messy and bloody, her eyes strained and red.

Jeremy ripped the cloth from her mouth, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her head towards Delilah. "Any last words?"

"Delilah run!" Richelle yelled. "Get the hell ou-" Her sentence was interrupted when a punch landed on her cheek.

Jeremy yanked her head back again, tutting. "Behave," He growled, bringing the knife to her cheek and putting pressure on it.

Richelle whimpered, a drop of blood trailing down her cheek. "Delilah," She sniffled. "I love you." She managed to croak.

"Mum!" Delilah cried, standing up. She went to run at Jeremy, hoping to tackle him when she was suddenly thrown back. She crashed into a glass cupboard, the air knocked out of her.

"Delilah, Delilah, Delilah," Jeremy tutted, his eyes turning black. "You can't stop me, honey," He smirked.


"Holy shit, he's a demon," Dean exclaimed, his eyes widening.


"You're a demon," Richelle stated, her eyes wide and full of fear.

Jeremy grinned. "That's right, my love." He leant down and kissed her hard on the lips. "Can you guess who I am though?"

Richelle gritted her teeth. "Sonneillon."


Dean frowned, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Sonneillon, Sonneillon," He muttered. "Doesn't sound familiar," After a second, he shook his head, returning his gaze back to the script.


"Aw, you remembered me." He grinned. "That isn't gonna' stop me from killing you though,"

Delilah groaned, pulling herself up on her knee's. She bit her lip, pain shooting through her side; she looked down. Swallowing back the urge to puke, she covered the glass that was embedded in her stomach and yanked it out. Ignoring the glass that was stuck in her hand, she pulled herself off the floor.


"Good girl," Dean smiled. "Don't let him beat you."


"Don't move," Sonneillon demanded, holding his hand up.

Delilah stopped, her hand holding her stomach. She panicked, not able to move her limbs.

"Good," He nodded and turned back to Richelle. "You know why I'm here." He stated.

Richelle nodded. "Revenge."

"Uh huh," Sonneillon nodded, his eyes hardening. "You and your Father killed my brother." He continued. "And now you're gonna' pay." He ran his finger along the blade of the knife.

Richelle sniffled. "What does this have to do with Delilah?" She asked weakly.

Sonneillon grinned. "It must kill you to know that your sweet, innocent daughter is about to witness your death."

Richelle shook her head. "Please don't, she's not a part of this!"

"She is because she's your daughter." He told her simply, holding the knife against her neck. "Now, say bye-bye."

"Delilah, I love you, honey," Richelle cried. "I'm so sorry you have to see this," She sobbed.

"Mum, please," Delilah begged, though she didn't know what for.

Sonneillon pressed the knife down, cutting along Richelle's throat.

"No!" Delilah cried, tears streaming down her face. "Mum!"

Richelle gasped, blood pouring down her neck and top.

"You bastard," Delilah cried, finding herself able to move her limbs. She ran over to the Mother, pressing her hands against the wound. "Mum, I love you," She cried. "You'll be OK, you have to be!"

In that second, Richelle stopped moving.

"No," Delilah whimpered. "Mummy," She laid her head against her Mothers leg.


Dean closed his eyes and swallowed. "She's too young to have seen that," He shook his head. "Too fuckin' young,"


"Wow, that was fun!" Sonneillon Grinned. "What'ta performance." He clapped.

Delilah lifted her head, her eyes wet and dead. Looking down at the floor next to her, she spotted the knife, dripping with blood. She quickly grabbed it and stood up, swinging round and stabbing him in the throat. "How do you like it? You sick bastard!" She screamed.

Sonneillon pulled the knife out, the blood pouring from his mouth. He simply looked at her and grinned before he threw his head back, black smoke flying out of his open mouth.


Dean almost smiled at her bravery but seeing the next couple of sentences, he stopped himself.


Delilah covered her ears, and sank down onto her knee's as her Fathers body fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Delilah looked up at the noise and slowly crawled towards the body, sniffling. Her eyes widened, seeing non-black eyes staring up at her. "Dad?" She asked, hesitantly.

He nodded and gasped for breath. "De...Delil..ah..." He croaked, blood flowing out of his mouth.

"Oh god," She cried. "I...I'm sorry!" She sobbed. "It wasn't you...I didn't think..." She cried, laying her head on his chest. "I love you, Daddy," She said. "It wasn't you before, I know that now. It was that...that demon, it must have been." She sobbed, lifting her head. "I love you-" She stopped, seeing him coughing.


"...Fuck."


He spat up more blood, the blood landing on her face and shirt before his body went limp.

Delilah took a shaky breath, looking around her and the bodies of her dead parents.

"Oh god..."

A big sob echoed through the house, as the young girl cried, holding onto both her parents hands.


Dean quickly wiped away the tear that trailed down his cheek and took a deep breath.


~*~*Delilah*~*~

A few seconds later, Delilah let go of their hands and stood up. "I gotta' get outta' here," She said to herself and backed away from the room, turning to run up the stairs. She quickly changed her clothes, hiding the bloody ones in her bag. She packed a load of clothes and grabbed her phone.

She walked into her parents room and grabbed a handbag before grabbing her Mother's savings pot on the top of the cupboard. She spilled the contents into the bag and walked over to the window seal, picking up the picture of her Mother and Father. She put that in the bag and spotted her Mother's favourite necklace on the side. She picked it up and put it on, kissing the heart that hung from it.

Grabbing the purse, she walked back to her own room and threw backpack over her shoulder.

She ran down the stairs and looked through her Mother's wallet that laid on the cabinet next to the door. "Sorry, Mum," She sniffled and shoved the wallet into the handbag.

She laid the backpack in front of the door and unzipped it, putting the handbag inside and zipping it back up.

Delilah walked into the kitchen and grabbed the lighter fluid from the cupboard. Slowly, she stepped into the bloody living room, where her dead parents laid. She felt the tears forming and a sob catch in her throat. Walking around the room, she spilled the lighter fluid over their bodies and furniture. Once it was empty, she laid the bottle on the floor and kissed her parents cheeks.

Grabbing the matches from a draw, she walked back to the front door, opening it. She put the backpack on and pulled out a match.

"I love you, guys," She said quietly and ran the match down the box. Staring at the flame, she let a tear fall and threw the match into the living room, watching the room ignite in flames. She shut the front down before running down the dark street.

Delilah sniffled, walking along the empty road. She hissed and looked down, feeling her top wet. She pressed her hand to it then brought her hand up to her face. "Shit," She muttered, sniffling, seeing the blood on her hand.

She pressed her hand firmly against it and sat on the side of the road. She took her back pack off and jacket. Pressing her jacket against the wound, she opened her bag, hoping she packed some bandages when a car came along the road, it's head lights brightening up the road.

Delilah barely noticed, she just continued to rummage through her bag, sniffling occasionally.

"You OK, ma'am?"

Delilah jumped, her head shooting up. A car had stopped in front of her, a older man with a baseball cap sat in the drivers seat, staring at her, concerned.

"I..I'm fine," She lied, her hands shaking as she continued to look through her back.

"I don't think you are," He replied. "You're bleedin'." He shook his head and got out his car. He looked over to her, kneeling in front of her. "Well, you gonna' let me see, you idjit?"

Delilah started at him cautiously. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out except a pathetic whimper. She looked down at her blood stained jacket, holding in her tears.

The man looked at her sympathetically. "How old are you?" He asked, curiously.

Delilah sniffled. "Eighteen." She answered.

The man shook his head. "And what's your name, honey?"

"Delilah," She told him quietly.

He looked at her kindly. "My name's Bobby Singer," He responded.


"Holy shit!" Dean exclaimed, suddenly sitting forward.


"You wanna' tell me what happened?" He asked.

Delilah sniffed, a tear falling from her eye as she frantically said, "I didn't mean to," She told him, almost begging. "My Dad was nice..Then he changed a-and today his e-eyes were b-black and h-he hurt my Mum." She explained, more tears falling, her breathing erratic. "He killed her a-and I stabbed him." She said quietly. "A-and, and he just smiled and this stuff came out of his mouth and then my D-dad was back," She let out a cry. "I killed him." She stared forward, her eyes full of tears. "Mum said it was a demon," She swallowed and looked up. "But that's not possible, right?"

He ignored the question. "OK, we need to get you stitched up." He told her. "We're not to far from my house,"

Delilah nodded and accepted his hand.


Dean shook his head and chuckled humourlessly. "Thank god for Bobby."