Bewere of Bad Decisions
Warnings: Violence, swearing, making out, non con kissing, character death, implied sexy times, Hana is bound twice, plans of doing naughty things to Hana without her consent, she "borrows" something and it's unclear if it's ever returned
Hana's POV
"You aren't coming with and that is final!"
It was another one of those battles. Let me tell you, I am sick and fucking tired of dealing with Dean's alleged overprotectiveness. The whole 'it's far too dangerous and you mean too much to me for me to let you get hurt' speech was resurfacing once again. Well, guess what, Winchester? You can take your lecture and shove it up your tight ass. "I can take care of myself, Dean! You never have to worry about me, so why the hell now?!" Even in putting on the best façade ever known to man, I knew that I myself was well aware of the exact reason Dean did this.
It was never on simple salt and burns, or a single rogue vamp. As soon as they suspected something on a larger scale, though, BANG I'm locked in the motel room bathroom without a window or anything.
But it wasn't going to happen this time. Not if I could help it. "Hana, you know why! It's too dangerous, and-"
I cut him off, this time with a certain amount of venom in my voice. "And you can't lose me, too. Yeah, yeah, I know." I regretted the words immediately as Dean's eyes flashed with hurt. It was a sensitive area and I knew it, yet I had still used it against him.
Shock barely registered in my system as his eyes turned dark and, all at once, his mouth was on mine, hand tangled deep in my hair. I couldn't help but melt into him, arms encircling his neck, case long forgotten. Before I knew it, my back was hitting the mattress, Dean in between my legs, hands running roughly up and down my sides. I felt like I was on fire everywhere he touched me with his calloused, large hands.
Panting for air, he broke away, resting his forehead against mine as he fought to regain his breath. "Don't talk to me like that, little girl," he growled, still not opening his eyes. "I should punish you for that." I pathetically attempted to squeeze my legs together with a whimper.
My eyes popped open, however, when a metal brace clicked shut around my wrist. I hadn't even noticed that it was above my head, if I was being completely honest. I looked up at Dean incredulously as he smirked down at me and rolled onto his feet. "But, maybe later. I've got a werewolf pack to take care of."
Tugging hopelessly against the handcuff that now chained me to the bed, I made a loud sound of frustration. "Go fuck yourself, Winchester! You're an ass, you know that? Good luck scoring sex later, you pig," I snarled, only getting more and more irritated as the stupid handcuff wouldn't seem to budge. Dean simply laughed in response.
Swinging his keys around his index finger, he winked one more time before opening the door. "See you later, princess. Good luck with those cuffs," he retaliated smoothly before snapping the door closed, leaving me alone and frustratingly bothered, cuffed to the bedpost.
After trying several different things, including attempting at snapping off the edge of the bedpost, I finally grabbed a bobby pin from my hair, folded it outward, and set to work. It was a bit cliché, but I knew from personal experience that it worked. Just like it did all but .2 seconds later. I rubbed my sore wrist along the red and pink marks of struggling.
Winchesters can be such assholes.
Throwing my last dwindling thoughts away, I jogged out to the parking lot, duffel with all of my supplies slung over my shoulder. To my dread, I quickly discovered my predicament. They'd taken the Impala, and the abandoned house where the werewolves were hiding out was a good 10 miles from here, according to my GPS.
Swearing, I resigned myself to the lowliest kind of thievery ever: hotwiring a car. Sure, I always returned it the next morning, but it took an idiot to think that hotwiring a car did anything good for it. I felt guilty, but I knew that this case needed me. The boys needed me. I hadn't really noticed it, but they'd been gone for quite a while during my conquest for freedom.
Panic now starting to fuel my movements, I successfully (albeit a bit joltingly) hotwired an old pick up truck in the corner of the lot.
Hoisting myself up into the driver's side, I smashed my foot down on the gas pedal and drove until I got there. I was so out of it that I probably went through multiple red lights. Oh, well. It wasn't my plates they got pictures of on the traffic cams.
Finally, after what seemed like forever of white-knuckled driving, I pulled up to the rickety house that the werewolves had taken refuge in. I whipped open the car door and almost stumbled because I wasn't used to being so high off of the ground.
The surroundings made a chill run the length of my spine. It was dark, the moon not quite risen yet. Cold clung to the outer layer of my jacket, pressing in insistently. The metal of the gun that I was clutching as I walked into the real life horror set comforted me in some strange way.
Forcing the air in and out of my lungs, I crept stealthily across the lawn, past Dean's beloved car, and circled around the back of the house. There was still nothing but dead grass. Maybe this was all a trick or something, I thought dejectedly to myself. The boys love playing tricks on me, especially Dean.
I let my guard lower with a sigh, which turned out to be my greatest mistake yet as a blunt force hit me in the back of the head and I crumpled to the ground.
When I first woke up, I wasn't even really aware that I had, it was so dark. But the steady pressure against my wrists made me remember all that had happened. With a stream of colorful words leaving my mouth, I tugged harder against the binds, only succeeding in further bruising my wrists.
A sick laugh made me stop in my tracks. I silently cursed at myself. If I hadn't been so caught up in freeing my wrists, I easily would've known that I wasn't alone. Squinting into the darkness didn't do very much to clear up what I was seeing, and it was giving me a headache, so I relaxed. The cool voice met my ear not even a second later. "Well, looks like we've got ourselves a pretty little hunter. A stupid one-" I winced. He wasn't wrong… "-but at least she's pretty." A shadow moved over to me and a hand clasped itself around my face. I struggled with a snarl as the reek of blood and alcohol and some nasty cologne invaded my nostrils. "But apparently feisty. Can't say I like your type too much. They always have a tendency to violently murder my family. Do you have any inkling why?" Disgust ran through me as his breath brushed across my face. Gathering up my courage, I deftly spat at the werewolf's face.
I didn't regret it immediately. It was kind of gradual as his hand fell unhurriedly from my face, fingernails dragging lightly along the soft skin there. My eyes slowly widened with the realization of what I had just done. Before I could get the apology out of my mouth, my head whipped to the side from the impact of the werewolf's fist on my cheekbone. I swore under my breath as a chorus of laughter filled the room. A pit of dread formed in my stomach. How many of them are there? What felt like claws now grabbed at the sides of my face and his breathing was more rapid now. A trill of fear filled me. He was furious. "You try that one more time, and I'm gonna rip your heart out of your fucking chest and shove it down your throat. Got it?" However reluctant I was to this whole thing, I knew when my defiance was useless. Chest heaving and tiny whimpers of pain forcing themselves up my throat, I nodded my head.
The werewolf savagely threw my chin away, and I cringed as the movement strained my neck muscles. His footfalls heading away made me sigh in relief, and for the first time since I woke up, I had a moment to think through everything that was happening. Where are the boys? Was I still in that run down old house, or had they taken me somewhere else? Why were they even keeping me alive? How many of them were there? Were they keeping prisoners, now?
But the question that popped out of my mouth was even more bold than the others, and the steadiness in my tone. "Why do you have the lights off? Obviously, I don't scare you. So, why can't I see you?" It was almost challenging. I couldn't believe that I wasn't being hit or sworn at or something like that.
A light was flicked on suddenly, making my eyes shrink. Everything had turned blurry because my eyes were struggling to get everything into focus. A group, still too blurred to make out properly, was advancing on me. As they finally came into focus, I stiffened. Blood was soaking the front of their clothes, along with the area around their mouths and their sharp teeth.
As a hunter, very few things can scare me. But holy hell, that was most definitely one of them. Smirks flitted onto their faces. They were smug about this whole situation, I realized with a shudder. "I told you that we didn't want to scare you." There were five or six of them. I couldn't quite tell because of how my vision still had a bout of dizziness usually just as I finished counting them. "You're probably wondering why we haven't hurt you yet, hmm?" They were getting uncomfortably close, making me squirm in my chair.
Deciding to not let fear get the better of me, I bit back, "Yeah, the thought has crossed my mind a couple of times." I had no idea where the sudden courage had come from, but I had mixed feelings about it. Sure, it showed my attitude, but I really didn't think it was the time or place to do so.
Where are Sam and Dean, for God's sake?!
Who I assumed the first werewolf I had spoken to was right in front of me, hands clasped on the arms of the chair and looming over me. "You hunters are such an arrogant breed." A muscle in my neck twitched as some of the blood from the werewolf's glistening teeth dripped down to stain my pant leg. Oh, I am in such deep shit right now. "I can smell the fear on you, so you can stop putting on your brave face," he growled lowly, dark amusement glinting in his eye. "Did you really think that we brought you all the way over here just to feed on you? We would've done that by now." My ears immediately perked up. Intentional or unintentional, he was clearing up one of my major questions. Not that I pointed it out to him. He didn't look stupid, but you really never know. "Look around. What do you notice about all of us?"
Even in my semi-concussed stupor, I could definitely draw one conclusion worth noting. "You're all werewolves," I stated flatly. I was getting a bit impatient with all of the rhetorical questions and answers I was apparently supposed to pull out of thin air. Maybe it had something to do with the massive headache that was now quickly increasing in pain. Damn lights. They had to be the cause of it.
The monster in front of me laughed, and his friends behind him instantly joined in. "Well, yes. But no. We're all males." He licked his lips menacingly. "Our mates were murdered by hunters like you. So, you're the one here to replace them. After we turn you, of course." My eyes widened. Oh hell no.
"When hell freezes over," I spat, yanking on the ropes around my wrists. I've gotta get out of here.
The leader of them leaned over me again. "You don't have a choice in the matter." His jaws opened and he moved for my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain and complete loss of freedom with a pit of dread in my stomach.
Except the bite never came.
Instead, the sound of a door banging open from upstairs made the werewolf pause in his tracks. He slowly rose to his full height again. His eyes darting towards the ceiling, teeth bared. A weak smile set on my face as I registered that they didn't know who it was. That's almost an 80% guarantee that Sam and Dean had made their grand entrance. The chuckle that left my lips made all of the werewolves whip around to face me. "You guys are so dead," I laughed. The alpha werewolf signaled for the others to head upstairs; it was a command that they followed without any objections.
Uneasiness fell on me in short order as the leader once again turned towards me with a perverted grin. The confident smirk that had been so proudly displayed on my lips was knocked from its power as his fist whacked into my gut, leaving me winded and in pain. "Get that smirk off of your pretty little face, sweetheart. It's not very nice." At the last word, his now loose hand connected with my cheek, snapping my head to the side. And then he was digging his nails into my cheekbones again, forcing me to look at him. "We're gonna have a lot of fun, you and I. That is, when you learn to behave yourself," he pouted with a light tsking noise. If I thought getting constantly humiliated and hurt was bad, having my lips pressed to that slime ball's almost made me physically sick. It was a hard kiss. No, it wasn't even classified as a kiss anymore. It was smashing two mouths together. I tried to yank myself away from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold. When I continued to struggle, the werewolf sealed his sharp teeth around my bottom lip and bit. Hard. I cried out against his lips, terror seizing me as I thought of what would happen if he sunk his teeth in further. I'd become what he was. A monster.
I jumped slightly at the loud bang. The weight of the now dead werewolf slumped on top of me. My gaze jumped up just as Dean approached me, throwing the corpse off and deftly setting to freeing me from the bindings. By the time Sam entered, I was in Dean's embrace, arms latched around his shoulders and legs curled desperately around his waist as he hugged me back with just as much ferocity. "Don't you ever fucking dare do that again, princess," Dean breathed, one hand coming up to bring my head closer to his shoulder. "I thought I told you to stay at the motel room!" he sighed out. Thankfully, I think he was more in the hugging mood than the lecturing mood.
"I know. Sorry. I was really worried…" I trailed off as Dean pulled back just enough to press his lips gently to mine.
Sam groaned. "Seriously, you guys? You are literally making out in a room full of dead bodies." Shaking his head so that his hair fell in his face a bit, he walked out of sight, probably to look for more werewolves.
As soon as he had rounded the corner, Dean had his mouth right next to my ear, whispering as if it really mattered that the dead werewolf could hear us. "You know, I might have to punish you for not obeying me."
Now, this is exactly what the werewolf did wrong. No one could Dean better than Dean himself. "How about we get back to the motel room first?" I suggested quietly, throwing in a little wink at the end.
Dean sighed against my collarbone, then carded the fingers of one hand into his hair, his other holding onto my hip to stabilize my interesting position. "Sam, we'll meet you back at the motel!" He yelled into the house, then gently kissed up and down my neck as his footsteps thundered up the stairs.
And let me tell you, it was one hell of an evening.