Disclaimer: I don't own, and I don't care anymore. Alright, that last part, that might be a lie.
Carrie plays with the uneven end of her ponytail. She has watched the hotel for hours, waiting for him to come, but Eve has made it first. It's a perfect way to deal with two problems at once. First, the Winchester boy, whom Azazel will pay handsomely for. And then little Eve, who has been such a problem lately.
Eve didn't used to be so bad, Carrie remembers the shy girl that first came into the business. She was lost, confused, and so easy to mold. But lately Eve's been stubborn, careless, annoying. Carrie needs to reiterate her rightful place over Eve. Over Eve.
She smiles at the hotel staff as she floats through the lobby and up the stairs. She sees Eve pick the lock to the room and mess with the lights that Carrie so cleverly jammed up. Silently, Carrie slips behind her, withdraws a small hypodermic from her pocket, and slides the needle into a vein on the side of Eve's neck. Two seconds flat and the girl's on the floor. Now where is the boy…
XXX
The back of your neck's stinging. You reach to rub the spot, but find you can't move your arm more than a few inches, and, when you open your eyes, you see why. "What the hell?" you question pulling against the knots that hold your wrists to the headboard of your hotel bed. "You've got to be kidding me."
"No joke, sweetheart." The bitch-blonde comes into view. "You and lover boy here gotta go, but I thought, haven't had fun in awhile. Might as well make it count."
"Carrie," you hiss through your teeth. Dean's unconscious and handcuffed to the heater that's mounted on the wall opposite the bed.
"Oh, Evie." She giggles, "This brings back old memories, doesn't it?"
"You're deranged."
Her smile falters and the killing glare you see in the mirror every morning is on you. "And you don't think you're a little twisted." She smiles again. "Remember your first job? That delightful little blonde that was two-timing her husband?" She rubs her red lips together. "He gave us a good deal. A million for a little torture. Remember? You had fun."
"What are you doing?" You pull at the ropes, but the knot only tightens.
"Don't worry, babe. I'm not going to hurt you. Just him. You're putting a bullet through your head. Just couldn't handle the pressure. All those murders, finally catching up with you." She sighs. "But back to your question. I had a nice little chat with that demon," she laughs, "demon. Anyway, he let me in on a secret. Dean here, he's not really in the way of anything. Wouldn't really matter if he lived or died. Point is, Azazel wants his brother broken. Apparently, the kid's putting up a little resistance. I don't know why. I'd kill for that kind of power. Oh wait." She grins.
"Untie me, Carrie." You can't let her get to you. You have to do something!
"No. You've become a weak link. Running to tell him the second you're off the job." She nudges Dean's unresponsive form. "You've got to go, too." Carrie sits on the end of the bed. "I remember when Brianna brought you in. You remember her; she was hired to kill your parents."
You didn't remember that.
"Oh yeah. Good money, too. Point is, she said you let her right in and pointed her in the direction of their room."
"I was seven. She told me she was their friend. I didn't know any better," you growl.
"The raised you crazy naïve, didn't they." She shrugs. "Guess that's what you get with country hicks."
You're going to kill her. Slowly. And painfully. "My parents raised me to see the best in people."
"Yeah. Right. Oh," her attention wavers from you as Dean starts moving. "Morning, Sunshine," Carrie all but chirps. "Have a good sleep?"
"I've had better." Dean is immediately on guard. "Eve?" The wrinkles in his forehead deepen.
"It's basically a party," You mutter as you glare at Carrie.
"Didn't think you were one for parties, Eve." Carrie smiles at you like she's just spilt some big joke. "Working alone and all that." She turns away from the hate on your face to address Dean. "Well, Mr. Winchester. Shall we start the fun? I'm on a very strict time table, here." She turns back to you. "I've got a guy in Kentucky that wants his mistress gone. Apparently, she's going to go to his wife if he doesn't pay her off," she explains conspiratorially.
"How do you know my name?" Dean asks, getting Carrie's attention off of you. You meet his eyes behind her back. He inclines his head ever so slightly toward the pillows. You pull yourself up into a sit and feel under them with your foot. There's a gun. You start working on the knots holding you in place.
"I know a lot more than that." She bends over him to check the ties that hold him.
"That doesn't seem fair. I mean, you know about me, and I don't even remember you name."
"Carrie. Pleasure to meet you."
"Wish I could say the same." Dean pulls against the ropes.
"I don't blame you. I wouldn't be too happy if I were the next victim of a serial killer."
"Of a what?" Dean asks incredulously.
Carrie nods. "Yeah. A serial killer. How many is it now, Eve? Thirty? Forty? You have been doing this for about seventeen years with an average of two a year." She thinks for a moment.
"I'm obviously missing something here," Dean interrupts.
"Oh, I plan to check." Carrie reaches into a tan messenger bag and pulls out a thin knife. You've seen that knife before. You know what she does with it. "But you mean within the situation. Let's catch you up."
"Carrie," you warn.
"Relax. It's not like he'll live long enough to go to anyone who can stop us. Or rather me, once you're out of the picture." She pulls a second chair next to Dean's and perches on the edge of it. Using the knife, she cuts the sleeve off his shirt.
"Yeah, I hate this shirt anyway," he says sarcastically.
"I see why you agreed to play with him, Eve." Carrie eyes the muscles of Dean's arm. Using the smooth side of the knife, she traces a pattern you can't see.
Dean flinches at the touch.
You start to work harder. Part of the knot is coming loose.
"So how'd your last night living go, Dean?"
"You seriously think you're going to kill me, don't you?" Dean asks. It is obvious this is news to him.
"I am seriously going to kill you. But, if anyone asks, Eve did it. She gets her just deserts though."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like I said. She got about forty murders under her proverbial belt. Yours pushes her over the edge. Her last murder is her own. Very poetic."
"You're crazy."
"Why makes you say that?" She eyes his arm once more before turning the knife to its tip. You watch her actions in horror. She flashes a grin at you before sinking the blade into his skin.
Dean groans as the blade eats through his flesh. "Well, there's that."
"Barely a nip." Carrie continues to carve out whatever vision she has in her head.
"And you call yourself a serial killer. And you call Eve a serial killer. Mother fucker!" He hisses as Carrie once again digs under his skin.
You've almost got yourself untied. Your heart is racing with every sharp breath Dean takes. Carrie's laughing a little under her breath. You seriously wonder how you ever got off on this.
"Eve is a killer. I used to be. I just orchestrate things now. Why don't you explain how that works, Eve." She looks over to the bed. "Eve?"
You're off of it, standing beside it with Dean's gun in your hands. "Stop it, Carrie."
"Oh, please. Put that down. You're not going to do anything." She continues her work.
You look over her shoulder. She's slicing an apple in his arm. It's red with his blood. Almost real enough to eat.
Carrie notices you staring. "I thought it would be appropriate. He could be the Adam to your Eve. It was the apple that did them in, you know."
"Actually," you release the safety on the gun, "I believe it was the snake." You press the cold barrel to her temple and pull the trigger. The knife clatters to the ground after her.
