"Hmmm, not ideal." Her sister declared after a once over her body, as if it wasn't hers... "No matter, she will do for now."
"I-I don't know who the hell you are, but get the fuck outta my sister." Jezebel spoke slowly, with a tense jaw and fire in her eyes. Liza's body turned towards her with a wide grin growing on her lips. "Are ya deaf, slimeball?!"
"Mmmm, hell is right, young Jezebel." Liza mocked as she patted her cuticles and brushed off the imaginary wrinkles from her woolen dress. Carefully she inspected each hand with a sneer. "A little young, a little frail, but should still get the job done."
Black eyes landed on Jezebel and Jezebel tripped backwards in a frantic need to get away from her sister. Liza laughed unnaturally boisterous while walking from around the desk and Jezebel scrambled to get to the door.
"Not so fast, sister." The door slammed shut right in front of Jezebel's face and locked magically. Swirling around, Jezebel held up the silver knife in front of herself protectively. "Oh, no no. You can stab me all you want, but the only person that'll hurt is, well..." Liza shrugged and put on a familiar puppy dog look. "Me."
"Who... who are you?" Jezebel demanded, knife still barred but hands trembling.
"Who, who, who." The demon mocked with gentle twist of her wrist. "Sound like a damned owl. They always ask who but when will they ask why? Ah, no matter. We just need to get you out of that hoodie—"
Instinctively, Jezebel's free hand grabbed her hoodie tighter and the demon in Liza held out her hand in a grabbing motion. "Come on Jezebel, hand over the ugly rags and I'll leave your poor sister alone."
At the mention of her sister Jezebel paused and considered her options. Obviously a demon wanted her hoodie, but why? It was a raggedy thing her aunt had given her years ago and something told her that demon's weren't obligated to be truthful.
So, Jezebel closed the pocket knife, much to the smile of the demon before her. Then she slowly brought her zipper ends together, raised her eyes to the demon's, and zipped it obnoxiously to the very top of the hoodie.
"You don't want to play games with me." Liza snarled.
To further accentuate her point, Jezebel used both hands to tie the strings of her hoodie tightly together.
"You know what..." Jezebel began carefully. She used both hands to tie the strings of her hoodie tightly together. "I don't care who or why you're here. Honestly, I couldn't give less of a shit." Her eyes flashed protectively and her jaw set harshly.
"But I'll be damned before I let you use my sister."
"Touching." The demon responded dryly. "A little... ick. But, I'll let you in on a secret." Liza's arm rose with a sick grin and Jezebel panicked as her feet left the ground, flying to the hand that soon gripped her by the neck. "You're already damned"
Jezebel was thrown into the bookshelves away from the exit with a loud crash. Her arms shielded her from the fall of antiques and books. Barely a second went by before Liza was in front of her, grabbing the dark hair by the roots and lifting her up.
"Fuck." Jezebel hissed as she clawed at the hand of her sister. She could feel her nails scraping flesh away from the tan arms, but Liza only tutted her tongue.
"Watch your language." The demon scolded playfully and slammed the human's head against the wall. "It's unbecoming of a young lady." The breath was knocked out of Jezebel and while she gasped for it back the world went blurry. Once again the demon threw her the other side of the room, crashing sideways against the wall and sent the family portrait shattering against her in an array of shard across her skin.
Graciously the demon allowed the human a few seconds to catch her breath. Maybe this time Jezebel really had gotten herself into a fight she couldn't get out of. Jezebel pushed herself wobbly on her feet and listened for the footsteps behind her.
"We can just stop this if you hand over—"
"Shut up," Jezebel snapped, her fist connecting with her sister's jaw. The force of the blow sent the demon's head reeling to the side, and Jezebel winced at the sting in her hand. "You talk way too much, you bitch." With a frustrated growl, she raised her hand again, poised to strike once more.
Liza delicately wiped the blood from her face, her wide, tearful eyes fixing on Jezebel with a mixture of shock and betrayal. Her lip trembled as she whimpered, "W-why? What's going on?" She glanced down at the blood on her trembling hand, her confusion evident in every quiver of her body. When Jezebel took a step closer, Liza flinched back, her gaze accusing. "You... you hit me!"
"L-Liza, I can explain," Jezebel stammered, her mind racing in panic. She held her hands up in a gesture of peace, pleading for her sister to stop backing away. "No, no, no, please. You have to believe me! There are these— demons, and I just—" She reached out to grasp Liza's wrist, desperation evident in her voice, but Liza violently wrenched her hand away, spinning to face Jezebel with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"Mom and dad were right!" Liza's voice pierced the air, her words a dagger to Jezebel's heart. The heartbreak in Jezebel's eyes was evident as she watched her sister's accusation sink in. "You're just a witch, Jezebel!"
"No," Jezebel whispered brokenly, her voice barely audible over the weight of her despair. She extended a trembling hand towards her sister, tears streaming down her cheeks. The realization that the one person who had always believed in her goodness, who had never been mean or insulting, had finally given up on her was almost too much to bear. "Please," she begged, her voice choked with emotion, as she stared down at her bruised and bloodied hands through blurry vision.
While Jezebel was lost in her own anguish, Liza's expression twisted into a sinister grin. With a single, swift step forward, a surge of primal fear engulfed Jezebel. The air seemed to thicken around her, suffocating and oppressive, pressing down on her windpipe with merciless force. Trapped against the unyielding wall behind her, panic seized Jezebel, driving her to claw desperately at the hands that held her captive. But they might as well have been made of iron, unyielding and relentless, as they held her in their grip.
"Hell, you're too easy," Liza's voice dripped with malice, her eyes once again blackened orbs set in a bruised and battered face. The smirk that played on her lips seemed grotesquely out of place given the circumstances.
Her lungs burned with the desperate need for air, each gasp coming shorter and shallower than the last. Darkness encroached at the edges of her vision, a cold, creeping void that threatened to swallow her whole. Every fiber of her being screamed for release, for the sweet embrace of oxygen that remained just beyond her reach. Time lost all meaning as she fought against the inevitable, a futile struggle against the inevitability of death. In her final moments, as consciousness slipped away, there was only the silent acceptance of fate, a whispered surrender to the merciless grip of asphyxiation.
Slowly, her vision blurred and her fight went with it. Punches and kicks turned into twitches and slaps, and Jezebel took one last feeble attempt to smack the demon away.
"Rock a bye baby." The demon whispered tauntingly while the final seizes of muscles fluttered through the brunettes body.
The demon turned towards the door with a hiss as the entrance to the building slammed open and a familiar bumbling tree raced down the hall.
"Jezebel!? Liza?!"
It only took a single glance through the window of the door for panic to rage through Sam, a deep instinct urging him to shoulder the door open with a single, forceful push. Immediately upon entry, the scene unfolded before him, prompting a swift assessment.
On one wall lay a crumpled Jezebel, her chest barely perceptible in its rise and fall, her face streaked with tears, hands stained with blood, as though she had fallen onto broken glass.
In the furthest corner from Jezebel, Liza cowered, awake and trembling, her gaze fixed and unblinking. In her hands, she clutched a silver flask, its surface engraved with a solemn cross. At the sound of Sam's footfall on the grass outside, her eyes darted towards him with a mix of fear and desperation.
With a gasp, Liza leapt to her feet, hastily splashing the remaining liquid from the flask in Sam's direction.
"What the—?" Sam sputtered, instinctively wiping his eyes clean and studying the droplets glistening on his hand. "Holy water?"
"I-I, oh oh thank you." Liza babbled as she raced over to the tall man and slipper her arms around his waist in a tight frenzied hug. "I-I don't know what happened! I-I was h-hiding in here and then Jezebel came in! Everything was fine, honestly! Until this black smoke came from nowhere and then it was going in her and then she was cough and—and—!"
"Woah, woah, woah. Breathe, Liza." Sam directed calmly with hands on her shoulders to break the girl away and stare her in the eyes. Immediately Liza let out a sob and wiped her eyes and snot away with the back of her sleeve. "So, black smoke went into Jezebel?"
"Uh huh." Liza stuttered with a nod. "Then, I don't know, she started laugh and-and talking about how it was planned and-and then she started attacking me!" Sam's eyes locked on the bruises on the usually pristine teen's face. "Oh no, I-I don't- I didn't- the flask was no where and when I crashed into the shelf it spilt on her and she hissed."
"Holy Water..." Sam muttered as she handed over the empty vessel. "It burns demons."
"So, I spilled more on her and-and when she fell back, I shoved her as hard as I could and then she slumped over and-" a hiccup left her followed by a wail. "Did I kill my sister?!"
Immediately, Sam wrapped Liza up in a hug, offering what little comfort he could to the trembling teenage girl. Just then, Dean burst into the room, his expression a mix of anger and devastation as he took in the scene before him.
"What happened?!" he demanded, rushing over to the crumpled form of Jezebel and shaking her gently. "Hey, Spitfire. Wake up!" But Jezebel remained unresponsive, her bruised and bloodied face a stark contrast to the loud girl they knew. "Now's not the time to play around!"
"Dean," Sam interjected, catching his brother's attention, his own voice tinged with urgency. "We need the handcuffs."
"No..." Dean whispered, his voice barely audible as he rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Damnit!" With a surge of anger, he lashed out, his fist connecting with the wall and leaving a noticeable dent in the paneling.
"Dean!" Sam's voice rose in concern, but Dean's anguish was palpable, his frustration evident in every line of his body.
The eldest Winchester only took a minute to lay Jezebel in a better position before hurrying out to the Impala to grab the demon-cuffs. Thankfully everyone had gone for the day and pastor Jack had gone with his wife to the hospital after her mysterious fainting spell.
As Dean worked on securing the cuffs around Jezebel's wrists, Sam guided Liza outside and offered to walk her home. Tears streaked down Liza's face as she watched Jezebel being laid in the trunk of the Impala, flinching slightly as the lid was shut.
Politely declining Sam's offer to accompany her home, Liza insisted she needed some time alone for now, but promised to visit her aunt later. Before they parted ways, Sam handed her a new flask of holy water, which she gratefully pocketed.
With a spluttering gasp, Jezebel's eyes fluttered open, only to be met with a blinding light. Was she at the beach? Another splash brought her back to reality with a jolt. No, this wasn't paradise—it felt more like hell.
As she struggled to orient herself, Jezebel felt a sharp cramp in her shoulders. Trying to stretch her arms, she realized they were bound behind her. Panic rising, she squinted through the brightness and saw the unmistakable figure of Dean Winchester, arms crossed and glaring at her, with a bucket by his feet.
"You're lucky Sam lost the rosary," Dean mocked, his sneer etched with frustration. Jezebel could only tilt her head in confusion at his words. The lack of response fueled Dean's rage, and he violently kicked the bucket across the room, causing a loud crash.
Jezebel gasped in shock, attempting to scoot away, only to realize she was tied up in a chair placed in the middle of a circle with strange, familiar designs. Panic surged through her as she realized she was in an unfamiliar room. Were they actually murderers? Were they the bad guys?
"What's goin' on, where's Liza?!"
"Right." Dean drawled with a roll of his eyes. "Spitfire doesn't ask about Liza. So here's your options: answer my questions, get outta that body, or I'm going to make you."
"What?" Jezebel repeated incredulously. Dean was over to her in only a few strides with his face a fiery expression looming over hers. "What?!"
"I know you think I'm too good to hit a teen, but I ain't too good to hit a demon." Dean whispered threateningly before leaning back. "So, Sandy. Christine. Margret. And now Jezebel? What's your motive here, you parasitic trash?"
"I don't have a motive!" Jezebel sputtered out incredulously while trying to break free from the cuffs. "Let me go!"
"Yeah, nice try." Dean smirked and Jezebel didn't recognize the man before her. He had been an asshole before, but not one of such malicious intent. "Can't leave that body until I say so with those puppies on your wrist."
"Dean, I'm not a demon!" Jezebel pleaded, begging for him to understand with wide eyes. "I am Jezebel! Honestly!"
Dean was in her face again and had a hand on the back of her chair. With a single controlled shove, the chair dipped backwards with only two points of contact on the floor. He ignored the small yell of terror and held the chair there while he spoke to the demon before him.
"Miss Michaels - name ring a bell?" Dean whispered violently and Jezebel remained wide eyed and frozen. "She's been around a mighty long time. Just like you. And she had some choice words about you."
"The only interactions I have with that old lady is when she asks me to cut her grass or try her cookies!" Jezebel spat out angrily, a burst of annoyance at her position filling her. "Let me go!"
Another cruel smirk had Jezebel's heart skipping a beat. "There's the rage." He laughed without humor. "I knew you were in there." And without another word, he pushed the chair over so that Jezebel landed harshly on her side.
With a cough, Jezebel strained against her restraints, desperate to move, to wiggle free, to do anything. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes as she heard footsteps approach from behind, followed by the telltale rustle of fabric as someone squatted down beside her.
"I can do this forever, and I will. You wanna know why?" Dean vowed in a low, menacing tone. His words tightened around Jezebel's heart like a vice. "Because that girl has gone through enough hell because of you and I'm gonna put a stop to it."
"I've been in hell. I've lived it and learned from it: the pain, the agony, the misery." Dean leaned against the chair slightly much to the strain onto Jezebel's body who could only stare the floor in a state of shock. "I'm not gonna let her take a single step towards that place while I still breathe. That's not just a promise, that's a threat."
