Love, The Universe, and Other Signs of the End

Leaning your head back, the stiffness in your neck on the verge of being a medical emergency, but you’d deal with that later. You continued stretching, enjoying the few minutes you had to smoke and be away from him, or at least out of that room. 

You’d done the impossible. Great. Now you were waiting for his actual handlers to get here and take him off your hands. Checking the time on your phone, and you still had at least six more hours with him. Super.

From outside the demon cage you’d made, you could hear him. He’d spent almost every minute trying to break you, and so far so good. The urge to smoke another cigarette was strong, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to go back in there if you gave in to another. 

Dropping the butt into the bucket, you took a deep breath and pushed off the metal wall. As soon as you stepped into the frame of the door, you felt his undivided attention. 

“Knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said with a smirk.

You didn’t reply. You’d made a point of not indulging him in the slightest. It hadn’t been too long ago where ending up in bed with him had been an option, but not now. The last time you’d seen Dean Winchester had been years ago, and even without the demon crap, he was not the same. 

He adjusted in the chair you’d chained him to, before he continued his one-sided conversation, “Remember when we met?”

Of course you did, but you went about your work. He wasn’t just some random demon, and keeping him in this room required almost constant work. 

You flipped through the pages of the book to find the next sigil you needed to paint as Dean continued to yap, “I do, and I think about it often.”

Hearing the smirk made this worse. Part of you would give your left leg to hear Dean Winchester saying he not only remembered meeting you but thought about it often, but this wasn’t the same man; it wasn’t a man at all anymore. 

You grabbed the bucket of blood and didn’t acknowledge him, as he continued, “Getting hard just thinking about it now. Bet we could have a lot more fun. Hell, you wouldn’t even need to get rid of the chains…” his voice seemed to drop an octave as he finished, “let you have your way with me.”

When you continued to work and ignored him, he seemed to give up. Then he was silent for the next hour. Not as much fun, but let you get ahead on the damage. Whatever he was now was tearing your formerly indestructible bomb shelter that doubled as a monster cage. 

After a quick check of the room, you figured you could take at least fifteen minutes. Smoke, grab a drink, maybe even try to work one of the knots out of your back. 

As you headed to the door, he spoke again, but it was different this time. His voice was hoarse and strained, almost too quiet to hear, “Please, don’t leave me here.”

For maybe four seconds you hesitated, pausing midstride to process, but that’s all he needed. You heard the chains fall to the floor as you were embraced in the worst bear hug. Before it was too late, you kicked out and tripped one of the panic buttons. The doors slammed closed and Dean bellowed before tossing you aside. 

You might be beat to shit already, but you weren’t a little bitch. Back on your feet, you were ready for something, not everything, but quite a few things. Making sure to keep as much distance between you and Dean as you could, you watched as he walked the perimeter of this prison cell. 

Slamming his fist against the door, Dean asked, “What’s the plan now, sweetheart?”

You weren’t about to start talking now, but that only seemed to piss him off. It wasn’t easy to figure out what you were supposed to do, it’s not like handling anything this powerful was common knowledge. Talk and risk your sanity or stay silent and get tortured. Honestly, torture is an option no matter what you do. Him getting out of the chains is bad, the worst, and you are going to pay for this with your life. 

He kicked the chair he’d been chained to, and you had an idea as he started to monologue. You weren’t paying attention to his vague threats and boasting about how nothing can hold him, because you knew where you’d fucked up. 

You racked your brain for when you’d last heard him straining against the chains. Maybe while you were on your last smoke break, after that you hadn’t heard the chains clanging or even moving against each other. 

You couldn’t get them around him again, that had been pure luck and you were all out of that, but you could get out of this room. You needed to move quickly but keep him distracted, and there was only one way to do that. 

Not waiting for him to pause, because he was never going to shut up, you cut Dean off, “What’s your fucking plan?”

He turned and grinned at you, “You really want to know?”

“Why not,” you said, letting the irritation and frustration bleed into your voice. 

“Well, sweetheart, first we’re going to have some fun,” Dean started, as he slowly approached you. 

You continued trying to keep away from him, but now with a specific goal: get to the fucking door. For each step he took, you’d slide a little closer, letting the panic take over to sell your performance. To add to the show you were putting on for him, you let out a very forced laugh before saying, “Fun for you, not for me.”

“Oh, babygirl,” Dean cooed, less than five feet between the two of you, “I’m gonna make it good for you. It’s still good, ol’ Dean in here, and I remember you.”

Barely a foot between where you were and where you needed to be, but he was so close already. If you screwed this up and he caught you, he’d escape, or hurt you until you told him how to get out. 

Sadly, not the first time you’d been in an absolute dumpster fire of your own creation. But you were tired and reaching a breaking point. With one last step, you were standing in front of the false panel. Carefully fidgeting with it, you rambled, “I remember you too. I remember you hitting on anything with tits. Assuming that whatever you are now is somehow worse, I’d rather you just kill me and get it over with.”

Dean laughed, closing the distance and boxing you in against the wall. His breath fanned out across your neck as you turned your head away from him. Running the end of his nose along your jaw, he whispered, “Oh, I can do that too, but why waste good pussy?”

Before he could do anything else, you slid the panel closed as the room filled with noise. To most it sounded like static, but Dean was on his knees. Clutching his head, eyes black, he let out an actual roar before collapsing. 

You didn’t think it would work that well, but went about getting him chained up again, this time on the floor. His body stretched out in the middle of the room, each wrist and ankle chained separately. Half an hour and it was done. You stood over him, smiling as you said, “My boss will be here soon to collect you, no more cute shit.”