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The man you used to love is now your enemy. The man you used to feel so safe with is now the source of your fear. The man you used to call your home is now your hell. The man you used to love and know is now only a memory, a shadow, a faint figure in the distance–always calling for you, but you can never seem to reach. You used to wish for someone to spend the rest of your life with, now you wish for the rest of your life.
You did everything to try and get back Dean, but he caught you before you could catch him. You're bruised, you're bloody, and your life is hanging on by a thread.
"You know, this could have gone in a whole different way," Dean says as he steps into the room. "You could have lived your life with Sam, but you decided to go looking for someone who doesn't want to be found."
"I know you're in there, Dean. This isn't what you want," you say breathlessly.
"He is in here, Y/N, but this is what he wants. It's what I want. And if I send you back to Sam, I have to send back a lesson."
He takes a knife off a table nearby and pushes it against your collarbone. You're so broken and beat that you don't really feel the smooth steel against your skin. He presses the blade and drags it across your skin, watching as your blood flowed out of the wound. He has a sadistic grin on his face, a grin you wish never found its way there.
"You tell Sam," he whispers next to your ear, "the same thing is going to happen to him if he continues to look for me."
He takes the knife and stabs it in your thigh, and you let out a guttural scream, a scream that is music to his ears.
