This is Chapter 6, not 7...it's late and I should be in bed...
A dim, almost burnt out candle light lit up her metal cage, casting flickering shadows of her chains on the walls. Blood dripped down her face, falling to the puddle of blood below. Mixed with sweat and tears, it showed the red reflection of the girl that hanged from the chains and meat hooks. She didn't dare to look, she didn't want to see the work that the demons done. She didn't have the courage to look at her broken body. Her maybe body broken, but not her soul. She was strong, but for how long she wondered. How long can she take this torment? How long has it been since she's been in Hell? Days. Months. Years. She lost count.
Not a sound came from outside her eternal prison. She's couldn't tell what was going on outside of her cage. The only thing she heard was the sound of her own heavy breathing, her blood dripping to the floor, and her own voices inside her head. Telling her to keep fighting. Make it through all the pain and agony. She made it this far, but also the voices told her to let go and give up as well. Give up and become a demon. Torture souls, so that she can no longer feel pain but instead inflict pain on poor souls. That thought crossed her mind so many times. She wanted nothing more than to say yes. But, she was better than that. She refused to become the thing that she once hunted. She wouldn't become like her mother.
A loud clang jolted the girl awake from her nightmares. Down there, the nightmares were more peaceful that being awake. Her eyes opened wide, and the pained awakened. The chains rattled, cutting into the wrist again, her breathing quickened. Her head felt too heavy to lift up, and look into the eyes of the Demon in her cage, but she didn't need to. She knew who it was, and she avoided her gaze at all cost, did her best to block out her voice, her laughter. Just the very presence of the demon made her blood freeze, activating a never ending shakiness. She prayed for it to all be a dream. But in hell, there is no such thing as a prayer.
A hand tightly grasped her neck, squeezing what air she had out of her. Lifting her up to look into the eyes of the demon. She smiled at the broken bodied girl. Her eyes turned black, and her face changed, inducing fear into the girl.
"…Hello, my daughter. My Maxie…"
The Demon raised her hand into the air, and buried it deep into the girl's chest, gripping her heart, squeezing it before ripping it out of her chest. And all that was heard, was the forever echoing screams of the damned Max Winchester.
Max jumped up from her pillow, her hand resting on her chest, gripping her shirt. Her chest ached, as if everything in the nightmare was real. The plain was real, that's for sure. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out. Her wrist ached and stung to the touch. Her shoulders sore where the hooks were impaled. Was it just a dream? Or was all of it real? Her face, that twisted face seared forever into Max's brain. That very face that's haunted her throughout the years.
Her hair, pillow and bed soaked with sweat, and breathing heavily. She grabbed her pillow and buried her head into it, screaming at the top of her lungs before coming back up for air. Tears ran down her face, but she quickly wiped them away, caught her breathe and didn't even think about going back to sleep. She sat, frozen in place for a long while. She didn't know how long she sat in her dimly lit room. Staring at the wall with her mind filled it racing thoughts, never to end anytime soon. She was awake, now there was no way she can go back to sleep. Wanting to get the sticky sweat feeling off her, Max decided to shower. Even though it was four in the morning. She didn't care, the teenager was used to it.
It's been like this for the last few years for the teenage girl. Sleeping for a few hours a night, nightmares running her life, fear controlling her. But the hot water running down her face was the greatest feeling since her latest hunt only hours ago. The smell of blood and vampire still lingered after her first shower. Her shower was peaceful, calm and soothing. Her Ipod speaker blaring music while she wiped the soap off her light skin. Praying for the stale blood smell to finally disappear. When she finished, only twenty minutes have passed, and it was just after 4:30.
Max sighed. There was nothing else to do but wander the halls of their new bunker they discovered to be a full of old books, weapons and more information on monsters than Bobby Singer has. It was nice, the Winchesters had a nice place to stay other than moving from hotel to hotel. Hunter's HQ is what Dean called it. Max didn't care what it was called, it had everything for them to use, and it was almost like had a home again. Almost.
When they found it a year ago, Max wandered the halls, exploring every room and book when she awoke in the middle of the nights like this. But, she explored it all, now she had nothing to do, and it was only 4:45. So much time, and nothing to do except to cook breakfast after she heard her stomach growl. With her short boyish hair still damp, she went to the kitchen. Quietly, slowly walking through the halls barefoot, her boots hanging from the laces off her shoulder. Not wanting to wake up Sam or her father, Max practically tip-toed through the bunker. And, she didn't want to share her food with anyone awake. But, knowing her father, once he smells the bacon, he'll be at the table waiting for her to finish cooking.
The pan was on the stove, the bacon grease already melting only second after being dropped into the frying pan. Her eggs already beaten and the bacon packaged ripped open. Her music playing on a low volume and Dean snuck in, leaning on the counter watching Max cook. She had no clue that he was behind her, actually she had no clue that he was even up. He heard her scream in her sleep, and heard the shower running at such an odd time. He had an idea of who and what it was, and it was something that's been happening for four years.
Max turned around, going for the bowl of eggs before she discovered Dean holding the bowl out to her. Scaring his daughter and causing her to drop her utensil. "Jesus! Christ! What the Hell are you doing," Max shouted. Her heart felt like it was literally beating in and out of her chest.
"I could asked you the same thing," he smiled, wishing he could've recorded that entire moment.
"Well, cooking breakfast and about to die from a heart attack, you jerk," Max chuckled.
Dean raised an eyebrow, "Cooking breakfast? At five in the morning?"
"Morning…that's when breakfast is usually eaten, right," Max poured the eggs into the skillet and already begun to cook. She pushed them around with her spatula, then broke more eggs for her dad. "How did you know I was up anyway? I didn't even start cooking the bacon yet."
"I heard you screaming. Nothing new, though. Been hearing it for the last four years," Dean said casually. He moved over to the other side of her and started cooking the bacon. He felt the awkward silence between him and his daughter after only a couple minutes ticked by. "So, what was it? A scary movie? Video game," Dean asked calmly.
"Don't play dumb. You know what it was," Max answered, mixing the eggs in the glass bowl before pouring more into the hot skillet. "Like you said, it's nothing new. Omelet or scramble?"
"Omelet," Dean answered. He moved forward a bit, so Max can get to the fridge for the cheese. He picked up a slice of cooked bacon and chopped it for the omelet. "Coffee or juice?"
"Both," Max said as she flipped the omelet and scooped it onto a plate. She sighed, setting the plates on the table while Dean grabbed the drinks.
"Four years, Max. I've been patiently waiting for four years. And now, we find out that your moth_"
"Don't call her that," Max cut him off, practically yelled into his face. Dean stared her in surprise. He didn't even get to finish, and Max was already to blow up. He saw the betrayal, sadness and pain in her eyes. She turned away, running her hands through her hair before getting the silverware, clearing her throat in the process. "She's not," she said more calmly.
Dean starred at his daughter. Her sudden outburst was the last straw for him. "Okay, you know what? This has gone on long enough. I have had it."
"Do you want your breakfast to go," Max asked. Not wanting to argue with early with her father. He didn't answer her, "Well, I'm gonna make mine to go."
"We're not going to have breakfast. We're not going to eat anything until you talk."
"Then it looks like you're going to starve." Max had her back towards her father, and leaned on the counter. She was tired of fighting. Tired of arguing. Tired of it all. She hated getting into fights with her father like this. She sighed, resting her head in her arms and kicked the counter. Her voice was unsteady, shaky when she spoke again, "I… I was back in my cage."
Dean dropped his shoulders, confused. "What?"
"My nightmare, it's always my cage. My cell. My chains. You know, I can still feel the weight of them on my wrist. Cutting into them, making them bleed. It still hurts sometimes." She went silent for a moment, catching her breath again, feeling the pain in her chest from her nightmare.
"Where does your mo_ Karen fit into all this," Dean changed his words when he saw Max's shoulders tense up. "I know she's a demon now, but_" Dean stopped talking when he saw Max start shaking, then shook her head from side to side, refusing to answer. "Max."
Max still leaned on the counter, she cleared her throat, but her voice was still shaky. "In the nightmare, my heart was being…ripped out before I woke up. I can still feel the hand inside my chest. It hurts, dad. You have no idea how badly it hurts. And, you want me to talk about it? About it all? You really believe that it's going to help me?"
"Cas thinks it will," Dean shrugged.
The teenager rolled her eyes, scoffing at the advice the Angel gave to them. "Castiel is an Angel that has no emotion. He doesn't know anything about pain or eternal suffering."
"But he knows what happened to you down there. Does he know about Karen?"
"He does, because…because he saved me from her," Max dropped her head. She didn't want to tell Dean what Karen did, what she's done. The woman he once loved, the woman was once a mother to Max was a monster entirely.
"W-what do you mean by he saved you from her," Dean caught on. Max shook her head, she refused to answer. But this time, Dean was going to get an answer from her. He grew tired of waiting after a minute of awkward silence in the kitchen, he stomped over to Max, grabbing her by her shoulders and made her face him. He finally saw the tires that ran down her face. "Max, what did you mean and you better fucking answer me, girl," he growled.
"She ripped out my heart. Broke my bones. Peeled off my skin. She tortured me, Dad," Max begun to list off. The pain flowing through her body, the dark memories returning like a wrecking ball to her brain. Tears running down her face like waterfall. "And she enjoyed it," she coughed, "That bitch enjoyed every second of it. Laughing and dancing. She had a huge smile on that ugly demented face of hers while I screamed and begged."
Dean heard enough, his heart had begun to hurt as well. He wanted answers, he's waited for them, now he's got them. Shoved into his face, trying to process it all. "Max," he tried to stop her, "Max, that's enough_"
"Do you know, what it is like to have slices of skin ripped off? Or to have an iron rod sticking out of your chest, piercing your heart? To have roaring flames eat_"
"That's Enough!"
"You wanted to know! Is it too much for you," the eighteen year old stomped up to her father, only inches smaller than him, she somehow ended up face to face with the man. She was at the height he was, starring into his eyes, sharing her pain with him. "You waited four years for all of this! Well, now you got it! I had to endure it for years. Decades! One hundred and forty years I had to endure all that pain_"
Dean's temper grew, he grabbed the collar of Max's shirt, and shoved her away from him. "Well maybe if you weren't stupid and trying to be a damn hero, it would be me down there and not you!"
Max caught herself before she fell backwards. Stomping back up to Dean, then shoving him back. "Damn it, Dad, I was doing what you taught me when I first held my gun. You told me we protect each other! We're family, and family makes sacrifices for each other! I was doing what you taught me! I wasn't trying to be a hero, I was doing what we do. We saved people, we hunt things… the Family business! Are we even still a family anymore?!"
The tension between the two was overwhelming, the air was practically unbreathable for neither of them. But, they both stood their ground and, refusing to let either one win this four year battle. Fire and rage roared in Max's eyes, Dean can see it. The red blazing flames that lit her soul and fuel her anger. She was right, he wouldn't understand even if he tried. Everything Max just said to him was correct. He taught her that family is important. And they do make sacrifices for each other, no matter what the cost maybe. The family business, they were barely a family now. It hurt him, deep down that it all led to this. Him and Max argued nearly every day and it ended up like this. This had to be the worst battle they had. Right now, he was just thankful that Sam was still asleep.
"Besides," Max broke Dean's thoughts. Her voice was low, deep, and filled with pain. "Heroes don't do to Hell. Heroes don't exist. I'm just a damned girl with Demons on her tail, waiting to see my blood pour onto the cold floor. But you wouldn't understand what that feels like." Max starred at the table, where their breakfast sat. Growing cold. It was then she decided that that she was no longer hungry. "You can have my food," she sighed.
"Where are you going?"
"To my room since I'm on lock down," Max said before turning to leave.
Dean looked at the table in a sad way. "I thought you were going to eat? It's been a while since we've eaten together."
Max scoffed, turning around and looked at her father. "How can we even eat together without fighting? I mean, we can't even be in the same room together for five minutes anymore. Thanks, but no."
Dean watching with saddened eyes as his daughter left the kitchen, dropped his head. Realizing that he couldn't help his daughter, not alone anyways. He had to fix this, the relationship with his daughter was breaking. It was thin rope that held the two together.
He was alone, and left with the dreadful task of cleaning up. The cookware sat on the stove, the carton of eggs still sat on the counter. Hate for those to go to waste, and the open bacon. He wrapped those and place the food back in the fridge where they belongs. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the dirty dishes and food covered plates. His hunger subsided as well, then declared Sam to clear up the mess. He always does anyways if left out like that. Dean smiled at the idea, took the cooked bacon and left the messy kitchen with his heart still aching.
Max laid on her bed after a few hours of punching the poor pillow and pacing around her room. Rearranging her weapons, moving stuff around. Packing, then repacking her hunting gear. Anything to avoid going outside of her room. She wanted solitude. Wanted it more than anything. It was the only thing that brought her peace of mind. Max didn't want to be bother constantly by Dean and Sam…and the Angel. It was calm, being alone. No talking. Nothing disturbing her thoughts. It was just what she needed after a very eventful morning with her father. But only few hours past, time was treading by extremely slow. It was barely nine, and the teenager was ready for the long day to be over.
With a sigh, she checked her locked door. It was secured. Then she turned to her speaker and ipod that sat on her dresser, placing the settings on shuffle, and volume on its highest. That way she couldn't hear anyone knocking on her door. Alone and with music. It was relaxing for the eighteen year old as she jumped on her bed, only to stare at the bland gray ceiling above her. It was calm, so calm that Max didn't even realized that she was drifting. Her eye lids grew heavy, then closed completely shut, blocking out the light from her lam, and entering in the darkness. Peaceful. But, the peacefulness didn't last for long.
"MAX!"
A high pitched, ear piercing scream jolted the girl awake. Her eyes were barely closed for a minute she thought as she hoped off the bed and grabbed her gun from under her pillow. A habit that she gained from Dean. Her bare feet on the cold floor. One second, her room was normal, then she blinked, and was surrounded by darkness. All her heard was her heavy panting, and the soft clanking of metal. She closed her eyes, then opened them, hoping for it all to be a dream. But, flames surrounded her then, blocking her inside the small confined circle. No escape without getting burned.
The gun in her hand disappeared, leaving the girl defenseless. Screams filled the air around her, causing her to press her palms against her ears. It was no use as they continued to echo in her head. But what scared her the most, was the satanic laughter that was louder and more frightening than the blood chilling screams. Fear over took the girl's body, making her freeze. Her eyes widened, she feared to even blink. She was afraid of what might show up if she did. Then the moaning, groaning and pleads of help enter the parade of sound. They call for something that won't come to save them. Worthless efforts of the damned souls.
Max squeezed her eyes shut, and pounded the sides of her head with her palm. Screaming to herself to wake up from the hell that infiltrated her head. Her bit her tongue, tasting blood and feeling that pain to wake her up. But nothing work. She was so focused on trying to wake herself up, she didn't even feel the hands of the crying souls grab her. From her toes to below the knees, the hands gripped her like death, refusing to let her go. Her eyes shot open when she felt a burning heat from the bottoms of her feet. The ground below her cracked open, it was then she discovered the arms that belongs to the beasts and damned souls form below. They didn't allow the girl to move away, not even for a centimeter.
They screamed to her, echoing through her frozen soul. All at once, bombarding Max with guilt, with fear, with pain that she fought away all these years. The twisted faces screamed at her,
"Why were you saved? What about us? We deserve a second chance too! Drag her back down! Make her suffer!"
"No!" It was too late, after the girl cried, they had already begun pulling her down into the glowing fire pit. She screamed as the burning flames ate her flesh. "No!"
The angered spirits were unrelenting. New hands and bones grabbed Max's body as she descended. Not letting go. Not allowing her to move. She shouted and cried for help. So much that her throat began to burn and ache. Her cries blended in with all the other screams the surrounded her. She called out for Dean. For Sammy. For John and Bobby. To everyone in her family to help… to save her. No one came. No one grabbed her outstretch arm that was pointed to the dark void above.
It was all over, she thought. This was it. She gave out one last cry. It was over.
Until…
A hand grabbed hers tightly, almost breaking it. She felt like her arm was going to be ripped out of its socket as it fought against the demonic force. She couldn't see who it belonged too, but it felt familiar, as it pulled her out of the hellish nightmare. Her name was being called, screaming for her.
"Wake up, Max!" a voice shouted from above. "Wake up, Damn it!"
Her eyes snapped open, only to be greeted with a pair of eyes that stared down at her. She screamed, continued screaming after she awoke from her nightmare.
It was all a dream.
Max fought against the strong arms that held her in place. Dean's arms, her father's arms. Wrapped around her waist from behind, bounding her arm to her sides. Her back rested on her father's chest, his head back from getting hit by her thrashing head. He wasn't going to let her go. She still fought against them. Fighting to get free, to break away. Screeching at her tight prison. Her legs, held down by Sam. He sat on them, resting his hands on her knees, forcing them to stay down.
The adrenaline course through the girl's body, giving her strength for a few more moments before it faded away, and died. Her trashing and fighting subsided and ceased. Her body limp, her muscles twitching. Her head rolled to the right side, resting on Dean's arm. Her screeching replaced by weak whimpers and soft crying. Her breathing stuttered turning into little gasps of air ever few seconds. All the girl heard was her unsteady breathing, the soothing sound that came from her father. She felt his breathing on her sweaty neck. Even when her weak body went limp, he didn't release his tight hold on her. He bowed his head, exhausted from the fighting the terrified girl that fought in her sleep. Her bound prison, was an embracing hug form her father.
"Its okay, Maxie. I'm here. You're safe," he repeated to her. Over and over again.
The eighteen year old breathed heavily, "You… win," she spoke weakly. Dean and Sam exchanged confused glances. She repeated, "You win. I'll talk…I'll tell you everything."
Sorry for the updates. I know, they are taking forever. I'm trying to hurry up, but writers block sucks dude. So, someone said it would be interesting to see Max dragged back to Hell. Honestly, I don't know what I am going to do, I have so many options and ideas. I think that's what's slowing me down, trying to figure out what to do with Max. Its the same thing for Not an Average Teenager, so many ideas, not knowing what to do. But I'll get to it. For now, you'll just have to wait and see. If you have any ideas, I would love to see them. Just inbox me! =) that's all. thanks for reading.