Darkness. That's all he can see as his lids slowly lift. Dean's head pounds along with the rhythm of his heartbeat and the crushing pain radiating from the right side of his skull is nauseating. His brain is working overtime to kick start itself and a sudden flash of panic hits when he comes to the realization that he has no idea where he is, the blackness keeping him in question. Shit, how did he get here? Where is here? Come on, think, Dean demands of himself as he breaks out in a cold sweat.
"You awake yet?" he hears Lizzy's muffled voice call to him, impatient and rude. She's possessed! It all comes flooding back; the odd behavior, the heavy makeup she was wearing, the empty way she kissed him, the wall he flew into, and the other wall he flew into. Oh, this is bad. Really bad. Like screwed-to-high-hell-and-back kind of bad.
"Uh," Dean mumbles as he slowly struggles into a seated position, the movement making him even more disoriented and ill. That last wall must have done a number on him considering how sure he is that this concussion is a considerable one. He blows out a breath forcefully before deeply inhaling through his nose, willing the urge to vomit away as he can't see anything and has nowhere to do so. "Where the fuck am I?"
"Storage," Lizzy's voice answers all too simply. "It's where your girlfriend usually hides away her weapons and what not. Of course I took the liberty of removing anything that would be helpful to you so don't bother searching. It'll just waste your time."
Dean sits with his back against the far wall of what he now knows is the hallway closet, trying to ignore the crushing pain and searching his pockets for a lighter. Nothing, great. He then outstretches his arms and feels around, his hand coming in contact with what feels like a flashlight on the floor. Oddly convenient, he thinks as he flicks the switch on.
"Mm," Dean groans with the pain of the bright light hitting his unprepared eyes. The burning onslaught makes the back of his eyes ache tremendously, but he determinedly keeps them open in order to adjust. "What the fuck…" he drawls out as his heart drops with what he sees once his eyes are able to properly see.
"Ah, you found the flashlight, huh?" she smirks from the other side of the door separating them.
The rush of anxiety punches him all at once when he beholds the several pictures posted all around the inside door and walls of the closet; photos of all the women from Dean's past. All the females he's come across and, for the most part, has long left behind.
"What is this?" Dean blinks rapidly, trying to focus enough to process what is going on.
"Dean Winchester, this is your life!" her voice cheerfully announces from the other side of the door. "Or rather your romantic life, if it can actually be considered romantic. A bit more like bang and ditch if you ask me."
He closes his eyes for a moment, willing away the ache in his head in order to deal with the absurd situation he finds himself in. Clearly this demon has an angle, one that has to do with his personal life for whatever reason, and he needs to figure it out before any more harm comes to Lizzy.
"Fuck me," Dean laments while pressing his palms into his eye sockets, the stress and frustration momentarily overcoming him and making the physical pain he's in that much worse.
"Hey, I tried sweetie," she comments. "You weren't having it. Your loss, too. I am a blast in bed."
"I'm sure you are," Dean caustically quips. "Sorry to disappoint, honey, but I'm not really into screwing evil pieces of shit."
"Right, I forgot which Winchester I was dealing with," she laughs hardily with her own joke.
"Shut the fuck up," Dean spits with the dig on his brother. She may have had a point, but no one talks about his brother that way. No one!
"Well, either way the invitation is always there," she quickly returns. "I'm sure Sam would vouch for me when I say that evil chicks are a hell of a lot more fun."
Dean stops trying to talk to her, knowing the demon will have an answer to everything he says anyways. He shines the light onto the pictures, wincing with the pain the light still causes him, and really looks at each one. There were the obvious ones; Cassie, Lisa, Lizzy. There were also an unexpected one of Jo and some oldies like Rachel and Amanda. He focuses on the last picture he's yet to take in and freezes. This one, though very familiar, didn't fit the obvious pattern at all.
"So, you haven't said yet. You like my collage work?" Lizzy voice asks. "Pretty good, right? I really feel I've captured the essence of your dick's life work."
"Uh, my dick definitely didn't get to meet everyone posted here," Dean observes.
"Pretty damn close though," she tells him. "And yes, there are a few you may not have had sex with, but that certainly isn't the only barometer of a person's love for another."
"What is the point to all of this?" Dean asks, not understanding why this is happening. "What flying fuck do you give about my love life?"
"It's my job," she informs him. "Love is my life, or rather the analyzing, deconstructing, and absolute demolishing of it is."
"What!?"
"The name's Laraje," she introduces, her grin apparent in her voice even from the other side of the wooden door. "It's so very nice to finally meet you, Dean."
"You too," Dean cracks before taking a deep breath and focusing on his memory. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spi… ah…gah…." He's choking. Voice cut off, his throat is being crushed invisibly.
"I'll only let you breathe again if you promise not to finish that exorcism," she says in a sweet tone of voice before letting his airway open again. Dean coughs and sputters as he takes in oxygen in huge gulps.
"Shit," he says through his roughed up airway.
"So are you done trying to be a hero? Because I think it's time we had a chat."
His left foot tapping quickly along with Led Zeppelin, Sam keeps at it, the threat to his brother turning him into a machine like it always does. Lizzy's life is most certainly being turned upside-down as he sits in the car and it makes him desperate to reach her. He knows what being possessed can do to a person. He's been there before and remembers everything about it with vivid recollection as that kind of experience is one that no person who's been through it forgets.
A few years back, when Meg decided that she wanted to take Sam for a spin, it had been the worst week of his life up until that point. She had a personal vendetta against the Winchesters, having been sent back into the pit by them. Hell sucks for almost all in creation, including demons themselves apparently. Meg was pissed and determined to make them pay.
How she figured out everything he'll never know, but once she was aware of Sam's supposed path in life and Dean's burden to keep him in line or do the unthinkable, she pounced with pure glee. Sam could feel her rage, her absolute hatred she held onto with a fierce grip for the two of them the second she took over. It was burning and strong, just like her satisfaction every time she brought Dean to near tears with Sam's insane, out of character, and purely evil actions.
Sam remembers the feeling of helplessness, especially when he attacked that hunter. He'd never met the guy but Meg knew how to hurt him the most. He remembers cutting off the alarm system and breaking one of the front windows all while screaming inside himself, begging Meg to stop. It was over soon after and Sam can still feel his fists coming in contact with the unknown hunter's face and feel the sensation on the blade handle as he ran that knife cleanly, expertly through the man's neck… unforgettable. There is no amount of time, alcohol, or therapy that could ever wash something like that away. Lizzy can't experience this too, not if Sam could help it.
The one thought that has haunted him the whole trip, however, wasn't that Lizzy would possibly have to live with killing someone innocent if Sam couldn't get to her in time. She may have to live with killing Dean. The human mind can play some quite horrific games on a person when not preoccupied enough and his was doing just that. The repetitive scenery and music he's heard a million times over just can't keep him busy.
The aftermath of such a thing would be beyond comprehension. Lizzy would never, never forgive herself, he knows that. Their bond was too immense for her to move past doing such a thing, whether it is her fault or not. Then he'd fear for her life. If the demon kills Dean using Lizzy's body, it better kill Lizzy too, or else she'll do it herself. He's certain of that. And even if she can stay strong after that, Sam could never look at her the same. He'd have to get out of her life completely, the pain of knowing what she did, whether it be under her control or not, being too much to overcome.
Then where would that leave him? No Dean, no Lizzy to help him muddle through. He already practically drowned in the experience of losing Dean before. Without Lizzy to help, he wouldn't get by. Not again. The fear and gripping anxiety fills him once more and Sam is compelled try again.
"Castiel," he says, eyes trained on the road. "I'm desperate here, man. If you can hear me, you have to help. Please." His choked up voice gets nothing in return except the sound of Robert Plant's voice telling him he's gonna leave him softly filling the car.
"Come on, Castiel," he begs out. "Please, Dean could be dead. You have to help. I am begging you to help us. Please!" He blinks away his ever growing blurry vision and inhales deeply to keep his emotions in check. The powerlessness quickly morphs into ire, the anger he holds inside spilling forth and making him lash out at the unseen angel.
"Then fuck you," he says with absolute disdain and a hint of exhaustion. "You tell us how important Dean is, how he's in trouble, and then fucking disappear. Some angel you are. You know what? I don't need you fucking help. I'll deal with this my own way, whether you approve or not." He reaches for his phone again, prepared to call Ruby and set up a meeting place. "This is your fault, Castiel. I didn't want to do this, but you left me no choice." He listens to the line ring. "Hope you're fucking happy."