CHAPTER 30
Ruby stood with her arms folded across her chest, her hip jutted out so far to one side that it wasn't necessary to see the dark scowl on her face to know she was angry. "What do you mean she's not dead yet?" she hissed to the attractive dark-haired man sprawled casually in a chair at the huge, ornate dining table. "You said you'd need two days. It's been over three!"
"She's the last one," Diego defended with a shrug. "I was savoring the victory. Besides," he grinned. "She just refuses to expire. Most simply don't wake up after so many feeds. She wants to live. They're so much tastier when they want to live."
The demon gritted her teeth. "You were supposed to be gone and the bitch was supposed to be dead by the time they found her," she seethed.
The vampire rolled his eyes. "Look, do you want me to kill the hunter or not?"
"No, goddamnit! He's Dean Winchester for fuck's sake."
"Okay, I may not be up to date on this little Apocalypse thing you demons got going but I thought you all hated the Winchesters."
"Not all of us," Ruby snapped. "Listen, genius. Angels just brought him back from Hell and nobody, not even us, knows why. You really want to be the one to kill him and have angels on your ass?"
Diego laughed. "You demons are such cowards." He stood up from the table and took a swig of the beer in front of him. "Just make up your mind already," he told her, sounding impatient. "Coz I got a real drink waiting for me upstairs."
Ruby pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing at the vampire. "I tell you what," she said tersely. "Right now you owe me for hand delivering your last revenge-kill. Hell, I practically gift-wrapped her with a freakin' bow on top."
"I thought me keeping our little deal quiet was the only fee," he snorted.
"That was for two days," she fired back, shaking her head. "You took three." A malicious smirk spread slowly across her face. "But it could work out for the best. Kill her right in front of him and we'll call it even."
"I can do that," he chuckled with obvious amusement. "You really do hate him, don't you?"
"You have no idea how much trouble that asshole has caused me," she seethed, starting towards the door. "Do it, but do it quick," she barked back over her shoulder before leaving the dining room and disappearing into thin air.
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Sam looked down at his phone when the text alert sounded. "Oh shit, Bobby, turn around."
"That Dean?" Bobby asked, already slowing the van to make a U-turn.
"Yeah. He says the Huntington Avenue address is it and if I know Dean…"
"He's already charging in," Bobby finished the sentence for him.
"Yeah," Sam groaned. "Or else he would have called instead of texting."
"You worried about this Diego still bein' there?"
"Honestly, I'm more worried about him not still being there," Sam admitted, picturing Dean being alone when he found Tasha's bloody mess of a dead body. That blow might just push the elder Winchester past his already-precarious emotional threshold.
"Hmph," Bobby pursed his lips in apparent agreement. "Best hurry then."
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Dean tumbled back into consciousness suddenly, jerking his head up and blinking his eyes to clear his head and vision. As soon as he was fully alert, the memory of finding Tasha hurt but alive sprang to the forefront of his mind and he jumped to get up only to find his arms restrained. Assessing his situation quickly, he found he was sitting on the floor of the dance studio, his hands shackled together behind the steel post that was now digging into his back.
He ignored his throbbing headache and started tugging at the restraints, all the while looking around the room in desperate search of Tasha. He saw her still form slumped in the corner on the far side of the dimly lit room. "Tash!" he cried, unable to hide the panic from his voice and not caring who else might be around to hear him. "Tash!"
He saw her head move slightly and noticed her right arm was raised above her head and tied with rope to the handrail that ran the length of the mirror. Although she didn't answer him, at least she was still alive. He exhaled heavily with relief and returned his attention to freeing himself. He figured out quickly that he wasn't going to slip or break the shackles so he would have to pick the lock. The only trouble was that no matter how hard he tried, however much he twisted or stretched, he couldn't reach the emergency paperclip he kept stashed in the front waistband of his jeans.
"Tash?" he tried again, thinking she had a better chance of getting loose than he did if he could just wake her up. "Tash."
"The senorita's sleeping," came a mocking voice from the doorway just before the lights flickered on. Dean looked up, blinking in the sudden flood of light to see a dark-haired man enter the room. He recognized him instantly from the grainy video footage Roar had shown them. This was Diego, the bastard that had hunted and threatened Tasha since the day she was born and had clearly spent the last three days making her life a living Hell. Anger flooded through Dean and he curled his lip as he glared at the grinning man now walking towards him. Dean had never been driven by revenge but he wanted to kill this bastard as much as he had ever wanted to kill anything before, as much as he had wanted to kill Yellow Eyes. He reserved a special place inside for those that hurt or threatened the people he loved.
"Diego," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna enjoy ripping your head off," he spat, ignoring the absurdity of the threat.
Diego just laughed. "You might find that hard to do shackled to that post like a chump," he replied cheerily before he looked over at Tasha. "I kept that shackle for sweet, little Natasha over there," he goaded, "But it seems she's on her last legs so she really doesn't need it anymore."
Dean wanted to lunge at the vampire and kill him with his bare hands and it took everything he had to keep his outward cool. Somehow he was going to have to talk their way out of this one.
Diego sighed, still looking over at Tasha. "You humans are so frail," he said, shaking his head. He leaned down and picked something off the floor. Dean recognized it as his own flask of holy water and, even though that seemed harmless, his heart rate accelerated with fear when the vampire headed over towards the brunette with it.
"Hey!" Dean called, trying to draw their captor's attention back to him. "You wanna see how tough us humans can be?" he challenged desperately. "Come pick on someone your own size!"
Diego ignored him and squatted down in front of the girl, who had her eyes closed and was breathing the deep, even breaths of unconsciousness. He untied Tasha's bound hand and dropped it in her lap almost gently before unscrewing the cap of Dean's flask.
The splashes of the cold water in her face woke her up instantly and she sputtered and flailed in reaction. Dean saw the fear register in her eyes the instant they fell on Diego, only to turn to shock when they moved past the vampire and found him. She must have realized she was no longer restrained for she scampered sideways along the wall and out of reach of the vampire. As she made it to her feet, however, her mistake became evident for her legs buckled and she had to grab the handrail for support.
Diego reached her before she had come even close to steadying herself and wrapped a strong hand around her throat, pushing her back against the mirror as he clucked his disapproval in a condescending tone. "Where do you think you're going?" he jeered, gesturing towards Dean. "Can't you see we've got company?"
"Let her go!" Dean yelled, unable to help himself. He was working his shackles for all he was worth but they were solid and they were tight. He pushed himself up the post trying to get to his feet but had only made it to his knees before Diego fisted a hand in Tasha's hair and yanked her roughly across the room towards him.
The vampire forced her down on her knees also, her face now just a foot away from the hunter's, close enough for him to feel her raspy breath but just out of his reach. Diego's hand was still twisted in her hair and he sank down to his own knees next to her, grinning widely at Dean, whose insides knotted with dread at the evil intent he could read in the vampire's dark eyes.
Tasha's gaze locked on Dean's and he tried to give her an encouraging look but failed miserably when he finally got his first good look at the state she was in. Her once-white shirt was mostly the red-brown color of dried blood and was torn open at the front, exposing her bra and underwear, both also stained with blood. Every part of her bare skin was covered in jagged, messy bite marks, most with streaks of dried blood running from them but some still moist and raw. Her stomach, her arms, her sides, her thighs, her legs, her hips, her neck; there was barely a three-inch square area left untouched. As if that wasn't bad enough, there were a hundred straight knife cuts in all the most painful places and dark bruises colored her stomach and sides. There were no bites on her face but Diego had not been so sparing with the knife. A deep slash had been carved into each cheek, ensuring that even if by some miracle she survived this, she would always have a constant, visible reminder of the ordeal.
The sheer number of wounds and the despairing look in her eyes caused Dean's mind to flash to the countless souls he had tortured in the pit. For a split second he was back there, wielding the knife himself as yet another mangled, bloody, nameless soul was placed before him.
But this wasn't some nameless soul most likely in the pit for bad deeds done; this was Tasha. And although the Dean down there, Alistair's pet, had enjoyed inflicting the torture, he wasn't that thing anymore. The moment he had been shoved back into his body and woken up gasping the stale air of his coffin, he had regained his soul. It was torn and twisted and broken, but it was somehow his again. Right and wrong had suddenly become distinct and clear once more. And this was more than just wrong – this was Tash, his Tash.
"Let her go," he repeated firmly, fighting to control his emotions. "You've had your revenge."
Diego glared angrily at the hunter. "I'll have had my revenge when she's dead," he spat.
"You hate her family because her ancestor killed your girlfriend," Dean blurted, desperately trying to think of a way to deter the vampire because as much as he hated to admit it, he and Tasha were completely at his mercy. He needed to stall until Sam and Bobby got there. "You're angry because you were left behind and had to live on after she was killed," he continued, surprising himself by feeling a tiny sliver of understanding for the vampire's loss now that he could relate after living three days thinking Tasha might be dead. "You've killed her whole family. Don't you think a better revenge would be to let her live with that pain?"
Dean knew that would be the case for him. Meg had figured this out when she had tried to get him to kill Sam so that he would have to live with that loss rather than just killing him outright. Maybe he could convince Diego the same would hold for Tasha.
Tasha remained silent and still, her eyes fixed on Dean as he spoke. Diego shook her roughly. "I may have killed her family," he spat, looking back to Dean. "But it was more than my family that Montoya took from me. He took the woman I love; the one thing that meant more to me than life itself."
"And you killed him for it," Dean fired back. "Eye for an eye, you demented wackjob. Your revenge is over. You won already."
Diego's free fist shot out, striking the hunter on the jaw and drawing blood. "If I really wanted an eye for an eye," he said icily, "I'd kill the person she's in love with."
Dean heard Tasha's breath hitch and saw her eyes widen in fear.
Diego laughed. "Yes, I know who you are, Dean" he said triumphantly. "Maybe I'll slit your throat right now."
"No!" Tasha cried, panic written all over her face. She started to struggle but couldn't break free from Diego's strong grip in her hair.
The vampire ignored her. "She calls out your name in her sleep," he jeered, still speaking to Dean. "Whispers it when I wake her up with a gentle touch." He demonstrated by running a finger down the side of Tasha's face. She jerked away from him with a disgusted look on her face.
Diego snickered and leaned in to take a deep sniff of her cheek before turning back to Dean. "It's kind of sad, you know," he said. "I've been hunting this Montoya bloodline for almost two centuries. She's the last one. I'm going to have to find a new hobby."
"Why don't you let her go and then you can get your jollies hunting her down all over again," Dean suggested angrily. It was killing him to be so helpless with Tasha so hurt and to be so close yet unable to touch her.
Their captor snorted. "I'm almost tempted to turn her into one of my kind," he said. "Then I could make her suffer for years and years before finally chopping her head off." He grinned down at Tasha. "What do you think, Natasha? Want to spend the next decade with me? A century maybe?"
"Fuck you," she said defiantly through clenched teeth.
"No," Diego's snide expression suddenly turned ominously dark. "Fuck you, sweetheart."
With that his extra row of sharp vampire teeth emerged and he grinned viciously at Dean before ducking down and sinking them into Tasha's neck. She gasped and a pained cry escaped her as she began to struggle but Diego held her easily with his superior strength, the hand in her hair tipping her head away and the other pulling her torso closer.
"No!" Dean yelled, fear and panic mixing with rage as he struggled to free himself in vain. He could hear the slurping sounds of Diego sucking and gulping not twelve inches away and could smell the all-too-familiar scent of fresh blood . "No! Let her go!"
Diego let out a muffled laugh, his teeth never relinquishing their hold on Tasha's torn skin and his throat still pulsing with every swallow.
"You bastard!" Dean screamed, only remembering one time when he had ever felt so helpless, and that was the moment Sam had died in his arms at Cold Oaks. "Stop! Diego! I'll fucking kill you!"
Tasha's struggling slowed and Dean feared she was getting too weak to put up a fight but when his eyes met hers, he saw a look of determination. She wiggled an eyebrow as if to tell him something and he felt a light touch at his belt. He glanced surreptitiously downward to see her right hand reaching for him, her fingertips pulling at the waistline of his jeans.
She was going for his paperclip. Heartened by the sudden possibility of getting loose and encouraged by the fact that she was still lucid enough to even attempt the smart maneuver, he returned his attention to Diego. He needed to keep him distracted.
"I said let her go!" he yelled again, feeling the tips of her fingers sliding the paperclip free. "I'm gonna rip your head off!" he shouted. "You hear me? You'll be sorry you ever touched her! You sick motherfucker!"
She had the small piece of bent metal free and was reaching her right hand around to pass it to him. Dean twisted as far as he could without being obvious, trying to get his shackled hands around the post far enough to reach her hand. He knew he had to be quick for he could still hear Diego's greedy slurping which meant Tasha was losing blood quickly.
The vampire let his eyes drift back towards Dean, another gargled chuckle escaping his blood-smeared lips as he continued to drink. "You bastard!" Dean yelled to keep his attention but as Diego looked away, he tensed and suddenly stopped, pulling his mouth off Tasha's torn neck. His eyes narrowed as Tasha retracted her extended hand quickly but the faint, damning noise of a tiny piece of metal hitting the hardwood floor rang out as clear as church bells on a Sunday afternoon.
Diego lunged forward, snatching the dropped paperclip and lifting it to him for a closer inspection. An angry snarl escaped him and he glared at Tasha. "That's it!" he growled, "I've had enough of you. Playtime's over!"
He pushed her roughly to the floor, slamming her down on her back in front of a dismayed Dean. His strong hand hooked beneath her left knee and shoved her leg up and outwards, exposing her inner thigh to the vampire. "For my Eliza!" he cried before plunging his razor sharp row of fangs into the soft skin of her thigh, this time clearly aiming right for the femoral artery.
Tasha cried out once, struggling madly to sit up and thrashing at the vampire to pull him off but her effort was short-lived and she soon fell back to the ground, her hands feebly swatting at Diego's head between her thighs.
Dean was horrified and for the briefest of moments, was too panicked for speech. He finally found his voice and screamed at Diego to stop, realizing the sick bastard was no longer toying with his prey and meant to finally kill her. "No! No! Stop!" he yelled, his voice going hoarse as his rage turned to fear and desperation. "Tash! Stop! FUCK!"
Tasha was lying still now, her hands having dropped to the floor at her sides. Dean recognized the moment the fight left her and his heart twisted in an agonizing knot of dread. "No, no, no," he repeated, his voice coming out as not much more than a whisper.
She rolled her head towards him and her brown eyes locked on his. Another jolt of panic shot through him when he saw she wasn't giving him a look of fear or even one that begged for help, but rather one of apology and resignation. He knew in that instant she had accepted what was coming and merely wanted him to be the last thing she saw. Her hand scraped weakly across the floor towards his knee, her fingers uncurling just enough to graze his leg.
The last thing she touched...
"No, Tash," he pleaded, tugging at the shackles again so hard his hands were bloody and raw. Damnit, he needed to touch her, to hold her, to beg her to fight. He turned his attention back to Diego, his emotions well past the point of anger, and he began to beg. "Please, Diego, please. I'll do anything. Just don't..." The vampire ignored him, still sucking noisily as he fed from Tasha, draining the life from her as he did so.
Dean turned back to the brunette and their eyes met again. "Tash..." he rasped. "Oh God ... Tash." He knew this was it, just like he had known when Sam was about to die in his arms last year. "I love you," he blurted, saying the words out loud for the first time since his Mom had died.
Let that be the last thing she heard.
Her eyes drifted closed and he could no longer make out the rise and fall of her chest. Diego finally sat up, her leg still draped over his knee and her blood dripping down his chin as he smirked at Dean.
"Dean!" came a familiar voice, shouted from downstairs but Dean barely heard it as he stared at the horrific scene in front of him.
Fuck, the hunter thought despondently, unable to care that the cavalry was here. Why couldn't Sam have come two minutes sooner?
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A/N: OK, a bit of a dark and downer ending I know, but please review anyway! Last chapter will be up soon, I'm gonna work like crazy this weekend to get it done. And yay! New episode tonight!