WARNING: Contains graphic imagery, gore and rape...if it's not your thing skip it. PM me and I'll give you the basics. Oh yeah, and lots of angst in here too...
Logan cleaned the blood from the floor in the room, tears mixing with the warm water and shampoo she mixed in the ice bucket. Her thoughts many miles and years from Colorado. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how exposed and helpless the memories made her. It forced her to remember that her practiced bravado was just an act, one she'd managed to perfect over the past nine years, but an act nonetheless.
She wrung the washcloth out a final time and then used a bath towel to dry the floorboards, some of the blood had stained, and she shrugged, because there wasn't much she could do about it. She emptied and rinsed the ice bucket and then hung the towels on the towel bar in the bathroom. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn't see the bold, sexy twenty-three year-old hunter she portrayed herself as, but rather the broken and terrified fourteen-year-old she'd been when her world fell apart.
Logan splashed cold water on her face, and dried with a hand towel before grabbing her makeup and attempting to cover the bruises that showed above her collar. She was so lost in her thoughts and her task that she didn't hear Sam call her from the living room. When he pushed the bathroom door gently open she jumped, and pulled a knife from her boot.
She immediately lowered it when she realized it was Sam, and breathing a sigh of relief she smiled, "You coulda knocked. What if I was attending to business?"
Sam laughed, "Uh-ha, and last I knew you seemed to think walking in on Dean or me was fine…and you never shut the door anymore, so you must not care too damn much. Not to mention the times you've paraded you naked ass through the bedrooms we've all shared."
"Point taken." Logan feigned interest in screwing the cap back onto her foundation bottle and rifling through her makeup in an attempt to avoid leaving the safety of the small bathroom. "You find Dean?" She asked, hoping he hadn't and she could stall a bit longer.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, "Yea, he's pretty upset with himself over the whole thing and you two need to sit down and have a serious talk." Sam paused and caught Logan's eyes in the mirror. He saw the strain in her eyes which prompted him to ask, "Hey, are sure you want to tell me whatever it is you have to tell?"
Sam watched as Logan's eyes filled with tears, but she sniffed and nodded. "It's not something I want to tell more than once and…" she paused and looked around a little panicked, "…well, I'm not sure I can get it out if I don't feel reasonably safe. My emotions are all off and you tend to be able to ground your brother and me." She reached out, grabbed one of Sam's hands, and gave it a desperate squeeze, "so yes. I want you here."
Sam nodded, "Okay, whenever you're ready, then." Sam left and went out to the living room, where Dean was pacing by the fireplace.
Dean stopped when Sam slumped into the recliner by the window. "She doing okay?" Dean asked, taking a seat on the hearth, across from the couch.
Sam shrugged, "I think so, she'll be out in a minute. I think she's trying to pull herself together." Sam gave his brother a sad smile, "Shit, man I'm not sure we really want to know whatever it is she has to tell us."
Dean was about to say something when he noticed Logan standing behind the couch. He stood and not wanting to startle her, he moved slowly to stand behind the couch with her. He offered her a smile and held out his hand, waiting. She grabbed his hand hesitantly, and tried unsuccessfully not to jump when he pulled her closer. Her panicked eyes found Sam's and he nodded reassuringly to her. By the time Dean wrapped her in his arms she was able to relax somewhat.
Dean buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled her scent like a man half-starved, but when she didn't hug him back he dropped his arms and stepped away, "I'm sorry, Logan…I just needed to reassure myself you were okay." Dean gently grasped her hand and led her around the couch. When she sat, he tried to pull his hand from hers and take his seat back on the hearth, but she shook her head and patted the cushion beside her.
Dean sat on at the other end of the couch, their clasped hands resting awkwardly on the cushion between them. Logan fidgeted nervously and glanced from Sam to Dean and back again.
Sam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, concern in his eyes, "Logan, if you're not ready you don't have to do this now."
Logan gave him a half-smile and nodded, "I know, but it's something you both should know." She paused and looked at Dean when he gently tugged her hand.
He smiled. "You know, whatever it is it won't change anything."
Tears clouded her vision and she pulled her hand from Dean's to wipe at her face in frustration, "Shit, I hate crying all the damn time." Logan took a deep breath and raised her head, "Okay, so you know that Bobby is the only family I have left, right?" When both boys nodded she continued, "Right, he told you my parents were killed during a hunt when I was fourteen, and that's true."
Sam shifted, "Bobby told us that your parents knew our father, and that they sometimes hunted together." His voiced softened, "He said that your parents and brother were killed on a hunt, and then you went to live with your father's mother. She sent you to college but after she died, I think he said a couple of years ago, you tracked Bobby down and asked him to help you start hunting."
Dean nodded his agreement, "Bobby told us you had good instincts, but you were stubborn and he thought you might do better hunting with hunters closer to your age…said Dad owed you're parents for something they never had a chance to collect on and well we figured we should honor debt and take you on."
Logan smiled, they were both attempting to make her feel more comfortable, and it was working…so far. She nodded, "What I wouldn't let Bobby tell you is what happened on that hunt, how my parent's died, or that I was on the hunt with them."
"Shit…" came from both boys, almost at the same exact time.
Logan's voice quaked and she swallowed the lump in her throat, "It…damn, this is harder than I thought…" Logan stopped, unable to continue for a few minutes. She grabbed Dean's hand and held it tightly, forcing the panic down.
Sam's voice came quiet from across the room, "Just start at the beginning and take your time."
Logan nodded slowly, glancing at Sam and then back to Dean, who smiled and gripped her fingers. He whispered, "It's gonna be alright, just breathe and let it out."
Logan took a breath and closed her eyes, letting everything around her fade into the background. She rolled her shoulders and focused on her breathing. She opened her eyes a minute or so later, and her voice was a bit slower when she spoke, "I was in therapy for years and well it helps if I focus while I'm talking…so don't freak out."
She closed her eyes and began breathing again, slow and deep. She let her shoulders droop and she relaxed back into the couch, but her right hand still gripped Deans. She nodded once then started talking:
It was January and it was cold. My parents always travelled in an old RV. It really was a piece of crap, but it got the job done. Not to mention my father had all kinds of hidey-holes and we flushed the often broken toilet with holy water. I was fourteen, and this was my third hunt. My brother was seventeen and he was driving ahead of us in my dad's old Ford pickup. Logan smiled, He really thought he was cool driving that old piece of crap, but he'd just gotten his license, not that he hadn't driven before, but now dad was letting him do it all the time…hell, our parents taught us to drive as soon as we were old enough to see over the wheel and touch the pedals. Dad always said it was a useful skill.
Anyway, both of my previous hunts had been pretty basic "salt and burns", you know run of the mill hauntings, nothing big. This was supposed to be a haunted highway, though we weren't sure who was haunting or why, only that motorists were showing up dead and it looked a bit ritualistic. Logan rolled her eyes and cleared her still hoarse throat. Dad had a theory that it was a recently departed member of some witch coven that had held power in the area, with the last member killed accidentally by another hunter.
My brother, Finley (we called him Finn) had driven ahead to find somewhere to pull off and park the RV or better yet a motel for the night. He called back on the radio that there were some stranded motorists, three twenty-somethings, two boys and a girl, their car was stuck in ditch and the snow was coming down fast. He said they didn't look good, that they'd been stuck half the day and being winter in upstate New York, the wind-chill had been single digits and it had been snowing all day.
Logan shivered and her eyes popped open in a panic. She held Dean's hand and glanced between the brothers, Sam smiled and when Dean caressed his thumb over her knuckles, she looked back to him. He raised his eyebrows, "Hey, you're okay…Shh, you're doing great. Take your time." Logan took a couple more breaths and relaxed again, allowing her eyes to drift closed.
Finn told my parents he was taking them to the motel he'd already scouted out. They told him we'd meet him there…we were about fifteen minutes behind him. We passed the stranded car a few minutes later and then true to my parent's estimation, about ten minutes later we pulled up to one of those motels that has individual cabin like rooms.
The truck was parked in front of number 12. Dad slid the RV in next to the truck. The door was locked, so dad knocked and eventually Finn came out. He smiled and introduced us to the two boys; Brice and Allen and told us that Kara was in the shower. We said our hellos, they offered their thanks and we went and got our own room.
Logan stopped and began to breath deeper, and her words had been all but flying out. Dean could feel the tension in her grasp and he glanced at Sam, who shrugged. Dean whispered softly to her, "Shh, baby…you're safe, remember that." He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss above her knuckles and when her breathing slowed, she nodded.
It was two, I know because my brother's damn watch was set for two am. I woke to it ringing by my head. I couldn't move and with my face pressed into the mattress, I couldn't see very well. My head was lifted by my hair and I remember crying, because it hurt and I was scared.
My brother twisted my head and lowered his face to mine, but it wasn't my brother…Logan screwed her eyes shut and wiped at tears. She caught a sob, swallowed and began to rock back and forth. His eyes, they looked right through me. He turned my face so I could see my parents. My father was tied to a chair, gagged and he stared in horror as my mother was being raped by Brice and Allen. She was crying, but…
"Oh, god…I don't think I can do this..." Logan cried in a panic.
Sam moved from his chair and knelt beside the couch. One glance at the black look on Dean's face and he knew he couldn't sit by and not do anything. Sam grabbed Dean's arm and squeezed hard to get his attention. When Dean's eyes met, his he shook his head and then gently placed Dean's hand onto Logan's shoulder.
Sam spoke softly, "Hey, Logan. Open your eyes look, Shh." When she did open her eyes, he smiled.
Dean's voice caused Logan to look wildly at him. "Logan, you don't need to tell us anymore, please, it's hurting you." Dean didn't care about the tears in his own eyes and he let them run down his face. When she shook her head, his eyes drifted shut and he groaned.
She sniffed, "No, I need to finish."
Dean knew where this was going and it broke his heart. He didn't want to hear it, but knew she needed to tell it. He hated it already. "Hey, baby. Deep breath, in and then out." Dean said softly before he took a breath, encouraging her to breathe with him.
Logan focused on her breathing and closed her eyes.
My father turned his head away from my mother, but Finn threatened to do the same to me if he didn't watch. I watched it break my father's heart as those…those, things tore apart my mother's spirit and body. Finn kept whispering things in my ears, things I didn't understand, things that at fourteen I didn't know about. He made me watch as my mother stopped fighting. Eventually they got bored, and they pushed her to the floor. My god, there was blood everywhere, and…she never moved again... Logan panted, forcing her self back under control and then continued.
The three of them laughed and beat my father, trying to get him to respond. When he didn't they turned to me. The Finn-thing pulled me in front of my father, then he took a knife, and…Logan began to hyperventilate in earnest. Her panic was a physical presence in the room; she all but vibrated with it.
Dean pulled her into his arms, and crushed her to his chest. He held her and rocked her while he kissed her hair and ground out, "Dammit Logan! That's enough…enough. No more, we understand, we know. Those pieces of shit tortured your family, used you to hurt each other."
Logan didn't fight Dean, she held onto him as if he was a lifeline. Sam stood beside them, not knowing whether to stay or to go, but feeling like throwing up where he stood. He wished he had left as Logan wept softly against Dean's shoulder. Her words filled with pain, loss, anger and remorse.
They raped me, for hours…one at a time and together…I begged them to kill me, but they just laughed and did it again and again. I thought the worst part was my father; they made him watch and then made me watch as they killed him, slowly…he lasted for hours as they bled him.
Sam hadn't realized how hard he had fisted his hands until he felt sharp pain as his nails formed little crescent shaped cuts in his palms. He'd also bit his cheek and the coppery taste of his own blood filled his mouth, adding to his nausea.
Dean pulled back and held Logan by the shoulders at arms length. "I'm sure it was the worse part…" but when Logan's blank eyes found Deans. When she shook her head Dean closed his eyes, "…shit, please, baby no."
Logan looked up at Sam and nodded. "They couldn't have left it at that. Eight months later…even though I tried to kill it everyway possible, eight months later that damn thing clawed its way out of me. My grandmother arranged for her to be adopted. I don't know where she is, but they named her Lilith."
Sam covered his mouth and ran for the bathroom. Dean stood, paced and feeling the need to destroy something, punched his fist through the closet door.
OK, so what do you think...this has been stuck in my head and well as usual, things stuck in my head end up written into a story. I hope it goes over well, anyway let me know...whether good or bad.
crossing fingers and hoping for good