Ooh a slight cliffhanger, the last one. So to recap, Pierce was captured by some men and put in a dungeon. She wakes up to find herself bound and facing a sinister looking man.
"Hello, darling," he drawls in a strong British accent.
"Who are you?" I ask him.
"Oh, the boys haven't told you about me? I'm very disappointed," he says. "I'm Crowley, king of Hell. Tell me, how are my favourite two hunters doing?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.
"Oh, let's not do this," he sighs. "I know you have been spending the past few months living with the Winchesters. Tell me, how are they doing?"
I ignore his question. "What do you want?"
"Not into small talk, I see," he shrugs. "Well, neither am I. So you can just give me the Summoning key, we can be on our way."
"I don't have it," I tell him.
"Don't lie to me, girl," he snarls. "I don't like playing games."
"I'm telling you the truth: I don't have it," I tell his firmly to his face. "Now let me go."
He drags a steel cart into the light, any sort of playfulness gone from his eyes. It makes him even scarier than he already is. He points to the tray. "Do you see this? These here are all the things I can use to bring out the answers I want from you." He selects something off the top of the cart and shows me a very sharp looking knife. "I don't want to use any of these things on you, darling. So if you could just tell me where the key is," he asks another time.
I put my chin up to him defiantly, "I don't know."
He brings a hand across my face and I feel the sting on my left cheek. The force of the slap sends my head sharply turning to the side. I hit my head on the high back of the chair.
"I don't like hitting girls," he says. "I shall get my assistant to do it." On cue, a tall female figure struts into the light. The lady stands near me and Crowley asks again. "Now, where is the key?"
I scoff, "You need to clean your ears, mister. I told you, I don't know."
"Really?" His raises his eyebrows and says, "Word on the street is that you are the only person in this world who knows how to get to it."
"Maybe you got the wrong girl," I shrug. He's got the right girl, but she doesn't know squat about anything, either. So we are all stuck.
Crowley raises his eyebrows with an unimpressed expression and the other demon punches me in the stomach, and I cannot curl up with the pain because of the rope tying me to the chair. She continues to hit me on my head and stomach until Crowley tells her to stop. I gasp for breath and spit out some blood from my mouth.
"I'm a lot nicer than you think," Crowley whispers in my ear. "Now you tell me where to find the key or we'll have to zap it out of you." I say nothing and he gestures to his assistant. She brings out something that resembles a dentist's drill.
"This thing you see here," Crowley explains, waving it in front of me. "It digs out anyone's deepest, darkest secrets. The deeper it is, the more painful. Hopefully, if that doesn't work, the pain will be motivation enough."
He aims the drill thing to my head, he presses a button and a high pitched sound comes out from the tool. The sound gets louder and louder, enveloping me in its single high note. Soon, I get a headache. It gets worse and worse but doesn't stop. My sight gets blinded with a white light and everything nerve in my body fries. I think I scream but I can't tell. The pain stops and I see Crowley and his assistant looking expectantly at me.
"Feel some motivation to tell me anything yet?" Crowley inspects.
I take a while to get my senses back in check. "I don't know anything," I tell them again.
"Oh, come now," Crowley tuts. "No need to put up such a strong game, we'll uncover it soon enough."
He points the tool to my head again and I go through the agony again. Nothing seems to come out of it and Crowley knows that too. He turns off the drill thing and I fall limp against my restrains. I hang my head low, trying to rid myself of the migraine and remaining flashes of white in my view.
"This is not fun," Crowley complains. "I'm going to get some rest." He turns to his assistant and says, "You can have your fun now, just don't kill the poor child."
His assistant looks at me and smile so vicious she might as well have long, sharp teeth to go along with it. She saunters towards me and raises one arm. I brace for the pain that will inevitably come and she punches me so hard on my cheek that I feel my skin tear and bruise. More punches rain down on me. My sides, my stomach and my head start to swell and she hits relentlessly.
She leaves me after I start spitting up blood from cut lips and sore jaws. I listen to the tap of her high heeled boots get further and softer. A loud click sounds out and the single bright light above me goes off. I am now in the solace of pitch black loneliness. After the company I have had, I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.
"Good morning, sunshine," Crowley's obnoxious voice wakes me up. "Had a good rest? Because I have." He laughs and his assistant appears beside him. She is holding the dreaded tool in her hands. He sees me look at it and Crowley retrieves it from his assistant.
"I see you're very eager to get started."
I am blinded by the pain once again. I fight against the bonds on me but they're on tight. It feels like forever before he lets go. He asks me about the key and I tell him that I don't know anything. With every time we go through the ordeal, he gets less and less patient. I'm glad that I really don't know anything, because I would've voluntarily told him to avoid his wrath.
This goes on for so long, my mind is now numb and sometimes, they have to throw a punch or two to rouse me back to the present. I wonder what information they are getting because I don't feel anything except pain. Judging their flustered expressions, I'm giving them about as much as I can see: empty and white as a sheet of paper.
"This is not getting us anywhere," Crowley growls. "There must be a different way to get the information out of you."
"I told you," I pant during one time he lets me rest and hopefully give him something of interest. "I know nothing."
Crowley scowls in frustration. He is not getting anything from me yet and he needs a better method. He taps the tool on his palm as he thinks. I smile at the assistant as she watches me while Crowley paces back and forth. She gives me a vicious snarl and I feign offense. My mocking earns me a few slices across my shoulders and chest. I yell out at the searing pain and she is satisfied. Suddenly, Crowley gets an idea and interrupts our little exchange.
"It is said that the deepest, darkest secrets and emotions are from the heart," Crowley reasons thoughtfully. He looks at me sinisterly, "Let's see how alike you and your favourite Winchester boy really are."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask wearily.
"You and I both know Dean Winchester follows his heart more than his head," Crowley explains. "Foolish really, gets him into so much trouble with everyone." He cocks his head, "You two seem to connect, so maybe that'll help us along."
He points the hateful thing at me once again. This time it doesn't aim for my head, but my chest. The pain is worse than the one on my head, if that is even possible. I can hear my screams of agony and I can tell that the sound is like music to them.
The pain this time is like acid eating on my heart. Its beats are irregular, fast and slow at the same time. For seconds at a time, it stops beating at all. It twitches inside me and my chest feels like caving in and exploding at the same time. Before long, flashes of images come to me but I can't decipher them. Crowley stops when I think my heart is ready to combust.
I am panting but I put up a strong front and spit out the blood pooling in my mouth. "Got anything?" I ask them and get twin snarls in return.
"For someone who is in a lot of pain, you don't seem to be any less sassy then when I first got you," Crowley sneers. "Maybe it's not painful enough for you. I can change the settings and increase it intensity, if you want."
"How can you get anything out of me if I have nothing to give?"
"You can leave the philosophical lines to me, darling," he snarls.
"Of course, Aristotle," I chuckle.
"Don't make me turn around and let her do what she wants to you," he threatens.
"If it kills me, you're not getting anything either," I tease him some more.
In a bit of a rage, he presses the button on the drill thing again. The pain comes back but I guess I deserved that one for being so cheeky. I am fast growing hopeless and I need something to keep my spirits up. Seeing them get angry and flustered does lift my mood a little.
The images show up again and they seem slightly clearer now than before. I pray that they don't get any of it. I don't know what those images are and I don't want them finding out before I do. I needn't worry about that, apparently. They are getting about as much as they did when they pointed that weird thing to my head. I don't know what that thing is, but I would like to find its manufacturer and burn down the factory.
Crowley gets bored and vents his frustration by ripping me to shred before going off to rest. I can't even tell how long have I been in this place because they have no windows or clocks. I don't know when it is night or when is it day. All I know is fist, knives, painful images and blinding pain. His assistant has her fun with me after he leaves. By the end of it, my nose is broken and my left eye is swollen until I can barely see with it.
Spitting out as much blood as I can from my torn cheeks, things go black and I pass out.