A/n I'm back! New chapter. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so much. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. You guys rock.

Ch. 4

Misunderstood

"Doubt me? I'll just prove you wrong. You just wait." –Unknown

"What was the deal you made with Crowley?" Dean repeated, but the girl in the chair made no move to answer.

In fact, she hadn't moved to even acknowledge that she had heard anything at all. Her eyes were dull and fixed to a point in space, unseeing, unrelenting. Her face was tear stained and flushed, her wrists, a raw bloody mess, bruised and blistered.

Dean slammed his fist against the metal table and the sound reverberated throughout the concrete chamber, but the girl did not flinch. Avery did not flinch at his third demand for compliance, to his third promise of torture if she didn't comply.

Well, third time's the charm.

In rolled a dolly covered in torture implements, clean and shining; a pitcher of holy water with a rosary suspended in it. Funny how not long ago she had taken solace in praying that same rosary before she went to sleep, just as her father had taught her so many years ago. Now it was going to be used as an instrument of her pain.

One stray tear rolled down her emotionless countenance, betraying her true feelings. The girl was afraid, but ready for the pain to come. In fact, she almost relished in it. The more pain Dean inflicted the more quickly she would approach her demise.

His mistake about her identity, her status as a human would ultimately lead him to go too far and he would kill her.

Sam and Castiel wanted no part in the proceedings. Sam because he couldn't get past the niggling doubt at the back of his head and Cas because he was too busy searching deep in his memory banks for information on the fabled divine vessel.

Since his transformation as a human thousands upon thousands of years of memory had become lost and muddled within his skull. He knew faintly the importance of such a being but couldn't remember if it was benevolent or malevolent, if it was female or male, he couldn't even remember what it would look like if he saw it despite knowing deep down that he had seen them before.

Castiel paused in his examination of his memories. Them? Was there more than one? But his bearings on the memory were lost in the tumult and he shrugged the thought off.

Avery, still a child in many ways and yet an adult in others, braced herself for the first longitudinal cut down her upper arm. The serrated blade did not cut deep but its edges caught on her flesh and tore like the canines of some hound. The magical properties of the blade wove pure pain into the torn flesh of her arm and she screamed in agony.

The scream reverberated throughout the entire bunker, through every home in a twenty-mile radius. The scream laced with the purest of agonies and uninhibited despair struck the hearts of every mother and father, sister and brother as the deepest sadness they had ever felt in their entire lives hit them.

For a moment everyone wept for that nameless being trapped deep in the earth with nothing but her own pain to keep her company. And then just as soon as it began it was over. Everyone struck by the emotion was silent for a moment looking at their companions as if to ask, what was that? But when no answer was procured they moved on and held their loved ones praying to never feel such despair again in their lives.

Back at the source of the despair, her screams continued. Dean though slightly hindered by the wave of emotion pushed it aside and continued, blinded by his own fear as many who do terrible things are.

The screams that followed were never laced with as much despair as the first, in fact no one felt the true pain the girl suffered like they did the first time. The empathic response was never repeated again during the entirety of her torture.

But the first one served its purpose. Deep in Dean's subconscious, doubt began to take hold. His aggressions turned less and less cruel until he could no longer lift a finger to harm the girl in front of him. Sickening guilt began to pool deep in his gut but he refused to succumb to it, convinced that the creature in front of him was bent on destroying anything he ever loved, for it was working with Crowley, wasn't it?

He had heard her confirm with her own voice the existence of a deal and yet no matter what he did to her she never relented in her steadfast innocence. She had refrained from answering any of his questions.

Dean with trembling fingers went to lift the next torture implement in his arsenal but paused when the girl flinched under the heavy bruising and cuts he had inflicted.

This tiny show of weakness struck him like nothing he'd ever felt before and he dropped the tool of pain. He dropped it and retreated, stunned, from the room. The door closed again after three hours of torture and the girl slumped in her chair.

It was over, for now.

After several minutes the girl stiffened and looked around the room. She was alone and yet if anyone had asked her she would have sworn she could hear voices, more specifically a voice.

It was kind and soft and whispered to her, it told her to stay strong. It told her that in time, it would tell her everything she needed to know. It would teach her how to be strong if she couldn't do it herself.

For the next week she would find solace in that voice when she could find none. It was her companion. But to her, it wasn't a solution. Despite the promises of strength and a better life she would not, could not be comforted and so she waited. Waited for death.

There was a hesitant knock at the door of my prison but I didn't even turn to look at my visitor.

"Hey," Sam said trying to draw my attention. "I brought you some food."

I wasn't going to eat it and he knew that. For the past twenty-four meals I just drank the water and left the rest. Every day it was the same. Sam placed the tray in front of me and then took a step back. I wouldn't drink until he left. I didn't want him to see me move.

They hadn't tortured me in days, not since Dean had the first time. I didn't know why it stopped so my only choice now was to try and starve myself to death. I think they knew that that's what I was trying to do because Sam stepped forward again when I refused to eat.

"You have to eat, or you're going to die." Sam said. I turned away from him and the food. He sighed and I heard him leave the room. It was interesting that he thought that. Demons couldn't die from starvation so if they thought I was a demon then why were the trying to feed me?

I turned back to the tray and reached for the plastic cup of water. They had stopped giving me glass cups after I tried to commit suicide.

I hissed when the shackles rubbed against the bruised skin around my wrists. They were stained a hideous purple and crusted over with dried blood. My entire body was like that. I was covered with cuts and bruises. My left eye was swollen, my lip was busted, and everything was sore. I'd been sleeping half upright in that metal chair for the past several days.

I didn't think they knew what to do with me anymore. They hadn't tried to get more information from me but they also hadn't let me go. What were they waiting for?

I nearly dropped my cup when a short man materialized in front of me, his back facing me.

"You didn't think I would go back on my deal did you—" Crowley gasped when he saw me for the first time. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" I found his concern interesting. Then again, he was a little more human after the blood ritual to redeem his soul.

I spoke for the first time in days. "Dean happened." My voice was hoarse and dry from disuse.

"Well, I'll be damned." He muttered. I didn't laugh. "Very well then, we'll cut right to the chase." Crowley pulled up an empty chair and straddled it, his arms resting on the back of the chair. I placed the plastic cup down gently and looked at him.

"I'm listening."

Crowley looked at me and then started. "Sometime right after the fall of Lucifer and the creation of the first demon, God supposedly created a recipe to make a vessel for himself; One that would be able to blend in within any part of his creation. It is said that the union between the offspring of a nephilim and a cambion would create such a being."

"What's a cambion?" I asked.

"The offspring of demon and a human." Crowley explained.

"So you're saying," I looked at him, "That my parents were a cambion and a nephilim. I'm part demon and part angel?"

"Your mother was a cambion, yes. " Crowley nodded. My mother was part demon? That didn't make sense. She was such a kind person.

"You knew her." I realized.

"I knew you as well, once upon a time. I saw you grow up." Crowley smirked.

"That's impossible." I shook my head, I definitely would have remembered if Crowley was around while I was growing up.

"Is it?" Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "From what I gather, you don't remember a whole lot of things."

"Like what?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well, you think you're schizophrenic, for one." Crowley scoffed like it was one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard in his life.

"And I'm not?" I looked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Of course you're not."

"Then what were all those hallucinations, the voices that I hear?" I asked getting more and more agitated by the second.

Crowley pursed his lips. "It is rumored that there are other worlds, universes that all sit next to each other, like Russian nesting dolls. Since God created all of these planes he needed a vessel that could transcend these…" He paused to find the right word. "Dimensions."

"What does that have to do with my hallucinations?" I frowned.

"It is said that when the vessel was created, God gave it the ability to exist in all of these universes, at the same time, with all of its memories intact, with all of its consciousness intact. But you…" Crowley frowned at me. "You're fractured. You don't have all your memories. My guess—and this is just a theory—is that you are only getting snippets of whatever else is going on in every other universe."

I was reeling; my mom had lied to me all these years. She had me convinced that I was insane, that there was something wrong with me, something that needed to be fixed. I thought I was insane for all my life. I went through hell with those goddamned pills, they screwed with my head, made me angry and sad and scared for no reason.

I was alone for so long. I was ostracized for being that freak girl with the mental problems.

"Why would she lie to me?" My voice was a broken whisper.

"To protect you, perhaps." Crowley offered. "You're guess is as good as mine really."

"Why did the holy water hurt me, the demon blade, why did it hurt me?" I asked.

"You know the answer to that, love." Crowley smirked.

"I'm part demon." I said. It made sense. Holy water would burn me because I was demon, even if only partly. But there was one more thing that didn't make sense. "I still don't understand, why did I change? Why am I older now that I'm here?"

Crowley stood and slid the chair back where he found it. "Think of it like this," He started buttoning his coat. "No universe is exactly the same, so why should you be?"

"Where are you going?" I asked pulling at the chains reflexively. "Get me out of these." I begged.

He smirked. "Not part of the deal, darling." And with that and a snap of his fingers he was gone. I sighed and glanced around the room for the first time since I'd arrived there. I stopped when something caught my eye, there hidden among the shelves was a blinking red light attached to what could only be,

"A camera…" I whispered peering at it closely. Yes, there was no mistake. It was a camera. They had been watching me the entire time. No wonder they found me before I could successfully commit suicide.

And that meant that they had seen and, no doubt, heard everything that had just transpired between Crowley and I. They had been waiting for Crowley to return.

The door opened loudly, startling me. I shrunk away from the person who walked through the door.

Dean.

He took three steps forward and then paused. His features were pinched with discomfort and…guilt?

"I am…so…sorry." Dean whispered earnestly. I kept my face blank; I didn't know what to say to him. His apologies didn't take away the pain or the memory of what he did to me.

Dean closed the distance between us and reached for my hands. I couldn't help but flinch, the memory of what his hands were capable of was never too far away.

His eyes filled with guilt and hurt, I scoffed to myself, he had the nerve to feel hurt after he hurt me.

"It's alright," He said sadly, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Anymore.

Dean, much gentler now, reached for my hands and undid the shackles, which surprised me. I didn't expect I would ever leave my cell ever again. After completely freeing me he stepped back and gently pulled me up by my elbow.

"Come on, it's okay." Dean reassured me in a soft voice. Where was he taking me?

I let him lead me out of the room and into the hallway. We stopped at a room labeled 7C and he opened the door. Inside was a small but well equipped infirmary of sorts. Castiel was there dressed in a flannel, sweatshirt, and jeans, waiting.

"Cas will take care of you, I figured you'd be more comfortable with him rather than—"

"You?" I offered in a harsh whisper. Dean bit his lip and looked away, I could almost feel his shame, not that it mattered. "What do you mean by take care of me?" I asked.

Dean's eyes widened. "Not kill you." He reassured me hurriedly, "No, he's just going to patch you up because you're in such rough shape—" He stopped when he remembered why I was in such 'rough shape'.

I looked at him and he lingered awkwardly by the door. "Okay, I'm just going to be—" He gestured to the door and nodded. "Okay."

Dean left and I turned to look at Cas. "It's alright." He said in his deep baritone. "I won't hurt you." Cas looked down at the bottle of antiseptic. "Although this might."

Dean poured himself a whiskey, drank it, and then poured himself another.

"Dean," Sam said from behind him. He turned and shook his head.

"I don't want to hear it, Sam. I know. I'm an awful person. If I wasn't going to hell before, I am now." Dean drank his second glass of whiskey, hoping to drown the guilt with a good buzz.

"That's not what I was going to say." His brother shook his head.

"Then what were you going to say, Sam?" Dean growled angrily. "That its not my fault? That I thought she was dangerous and that makes what I did okay? Because it doesn't, Sam, it doesn't make it okay!" Dean slammed the glass down.

"I tortured an innocent girl! A fifteen-year-old girl! And for what?" Dean challenged disdainfully.

"Dean," Sam said softly hoping to get through to his brother. "She could have been dangerous, she still might be."

Dean scoffed bitterly and poured himself another whiskey.

"We thought she was a demon, Dean!" Sam argued. "Her eyes turned black and she reacted to the holy water. How were we supposed to know any different?"

Dean shook his head and drank his whiskey.

Sam sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, it was a mistake. I don't deny that. And yes we should be sorry it happened and apologize. But we can't let this distract us from what we know."

"And what's that, Sam?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Abaddon is on the loose, so is Crowley." Sam said. "The angels have fallen, Metatron is in heaven, and we have God's vessel in the bunker."

Dean pursed his lips.

"We can't afford to wallow in guilt and—" Sam ripped the glass out of Dean's hand much to Dean's annoyance. "Drink for a couple of weeks 'till we feel all better. Not when all of this has happened. Not when innocent people could die, Dean."

Sam sighed and looked away. "Listen, what we did is— wrong. And we need to fix it, all of it."

"I don't even know where to start, Sam." Dean laughed bitterly. "You should have seen her. She can't even look at me without flinching." Dean picked up his glass of whiskey. "A 'sorry' isn't going to cut it." Dean shook his head and drank. "Not this time." Dean picked up the decanter and left to find solace in the solitude of his room.

Sam knew that Dean was right. 'Sorry' wouldn't cut it. But then, what would? How do you obtain forgiveness from a person who has no reason to give it? How do you ask for forgiveness when you don't even deserve it?

P/N Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, I hope you guys liked the sneak peek. For those who review, you get a excerpt of the next chapter before it gets posted. Until next time.

-Lucy