12
Beauty and the Beast
Thursday
Dean ran around the building and saw nothing. He frowned and waited a beat, seeing if Kat would come around. He ran when she didn't, sprinted to the other side, screaming:
"KITTY!"
No answer. And when he rounded the corner and saw nothing his heart jumped into his throat, squeezing and suffocating. He ran around back anyway, trying to think of some reason as to why she wasn't there.
She fell and twisted her ankle, he assured himself. She's done that before, that's all. She's just right back here, cussing and trying to stand up. No big deal. She's fine, she's fine, she's fine…
But the alley was empty.
"KITTY!"
Still nothing. A part of him, the Paranoia part, already knew that there wouldn't be. But he kept looking, kept wildly searching for that mess of dark curls.
She's alright. Maybe she took off after something…maybe she…she…oh God, Kitty!
"KITTY!"
She was gone, nowhere to be seen. He dug his phone from his pocket and called Sam ten times in a row before he finally answered.
"WHAT THE HELL? WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER?"
"Dean, I had it on silent, we are looking for a-"
"Is Kitty with you?" He bellowed.
"What?"
"IS SHE WITH YOU?"
"No, why would she be?"
Silence. He stood there, holding the phone, frozen in the dark, his last shred of false hope actually dying away to nothing. She was gone. And that monster had her, he knew it did. He could feel it and…and it was something he would do. He could predict what this son of a bitch wanted, and what he would do to her…
"Dean? Dean, you there?"
"He's got her, Sammy," He said, astonished that his voice was that steady. "He got Kitty." His heart twisted, rage boiled in his stomach, a thousand unpleasant pictures of what he was doing ran through his mind as he fought the urge to scream.
"Where are you?" He rattled off the address, wind rushing through his ears, drowning out most noise.
"We'll be there in a minute, don't move," Sam ordered. Dean nodded and closed the phone without realizing Sam couldn't see him. He took slow deep breaths, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
She's dead already, he wouldn't keep her alive long.
Don't say that! We don't know anything yet, we have to wait.
I won't believe any of this until I see it.
God, Kitty, I'm so sorry, why did I let this happen to you?
I'M GONNA RIP THAT SON OF A BITCH APART WITH MY BARE HANDS! I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL!
Kat…
"Here comes the sun…" Psycho sang softly, cleaning the knife in his hand.
"Is that…the only…song you know?" Kat forced, bleeding and sweating. The lunatic looked at her over his shoulder, grinning.
"Am I annoying you?" He asked. She sighed, glaring up at him.
"You're butchering George Harri-Harrison's good wo-work. It's…more than…annoying," she said, coughing a little. He knelt in front of her, still smiling.
"Well then I'll switch, just for you." He pinched her cheek. She scowled and jerked away, glowering at him. He chuckled and turned back to the table where his assortment of torture devices lay.
"Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play…"
She rolled her eyes, breath hitching slightly in her throat. He'd carved into her, wanting screams and tears. What he got was stifled roars that sounded more like anger than pain and fiery eyes wanting to beat the shit out of him. But her will was wearing, as anyone's would.
Don't kill me, she prayed. He'll never forgive himself if you kill me…
She twisted her wrists in the wire he'd bound them in, trying to get feeling back in them. She sighed, her vision clouded from her loss of blood, a massive headache pounding in her temples.
"…the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you," he pinched her cheek again. She snapped her jaws at him, angry and fed up with him. He laughed.
"Aw, trying to be brave, are we?" He challenged, grabbing her chin and forcing her face up. "Well, I'll just have to take that right out of you." He took a blunt metal rod from the table, holding the red-hot tip in front of her face. "By the time I'm finished with you, you won't want to be in the same state as Dean Winchester."
"That's…not gonna work," she grunted. He laughed, pushing it to her neck, grinning as she screamed into her lip.
"Wanna bet?" He said quietly. He took a handful of her hair and forced his lips on hers.
She gasped.
Black, nothing but awful darkness filled with red eyes and screams. She heard laughter and movement all around her, but no matter where she turned there was nothing but that awful black smoke. It billowed around her and went down her throat, suffocating her. It was cold and hot at the same time, fire and ice, in a word…evil.
He let her go, lip twitching as he sneered. She took shaking breaths, unbridled tears falling down her cheeks. "How are you going to look him in the face when you know that's inside of him? You knew about me before, but I think this makes it a little more real, doesn't it?"
She stared at him, horrified. "What are you?"
He grinned, bringing his mouth next to her ear. "Whether you like it or not," he was bringing the fire-poker close to her skin again. "I'm Dean."
Her scream echoed through the building.
Castiel was running through fog, unable to see six inches in front of his nose. He heard the snarling and the bloodthirsty yells behind him, seemingly getting closer all the time.
He hated that damn symbol. Every time it was used all angels present were sent to different dimensions, some good, some indifferent, and some were, well, Hell.
And that's where the angel was now, sprinting through a vast field of nothing, just fog and black, bare trees. He couldn't see the beings chasing him, but he could feel them. Felt their wet, hot breath on the back of his neck, felt jowls snapping at his heels. He dove into a thicket and kept running until the noises died away. He gasped for air, sweat on his face. He was angry and scared. He didn't know exactly how he was going to get out of here. He had to find the door to the dimension that only angels like himself could open or wait for all of his powers to return so he could leave then and there.
A low growl rumbled at his side. He looked down into the thick cloud, paling, and ran faster.
He hoped Dean was alright, but something in his stomach told him something was terribly wrong, not that he could really do anything about it. One thought kept running through his mind in his terror.
Father, don't let me trip.
