One stupid favour leads to another...
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It might have been a stupid deal, a stupid favour we've asked of each other.
But if this worked, at least they come out alive. And all of us don't suffer anymore.
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After a drug dealer kidn...
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Belinda's two story townhouse was dark as we were dropped off at the entrance. Dean took lead and knocked on the door.
The black wooden door swung open and someone yanked Dean inside. From behind we're pushed inside and the door shuts with a bang. There's no sign of the twins.
"The living room's a bit dusty, so I thought we'd just use the ballroom for a change." Bruce Walter steps down the staircase as if he had all the time in the world. "Hello Bel." He greets Belinda with an honest smile.
Then we're hustled into the ballroom. Last time I was in this very ballroom, blood was spilled. Dean's driven to his knees instantly as we're all searched. "Boss, gun!"
Bruce smiles down at Dean, condemning the move of bringing a gun. Of course he brought a fucking gun.
"A little too ambitious, don't you think?"
Michael and I are held with our hands behind us as the man of the hour steps towards the kneeling Dean.
"Dean Fletcher. Nice to see you. You've been hiding a long while. I always knew where these two were. But you," he shakes his head, "you were hard to find. Guess I'm to blame for teaching you everything you know, huh? Who knew you'd turn your back so fast? After everything I gave you. You help this bitch?!"
Dean doesn't react, keeping his stare dead on Bruce. His gaze was as dark as Bruce's. I feared the worse.
Bruce shakes his head, swinging his knife. "Do you remember what happens to traitors? Usually they'd be starved, chained for days before we questioned them. They tougher ones needed a little prompting, remember?"
He leans closer, slicing right over Dean's cheekbone. I freeze, staring.
"A little blood and they all fess up. Remember how well you did? You'd get them to spill everything. Including their blood."
Dean grits his teeth as Bruce's knife dips dangerously closer to his neck.
Was this our fate? Slow torturous death? The plan was already in shreds.
"Bruce-" A hand clamps over my mouth as Bruce's gaze flickers to me. He gives a sharp smile. The condescending dark smile I'd remember him by.
"Surprisingly, nothing worked on your brother. Scott was very tight lipped. But that's because he knew nothing about you. Now, how is your brother?" Dean fights against his the handcuffs and the man holding him down.
Bruce jams his foot down on Dean's thigh, making his body crumble.
"You were an asset you know. Until you fucked up."
He slams Dean's head backward, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. I breathe hard behind the hand over my mouth, as Dean's eyes shut close and his body stops fighting completely.
No, no, no, no. Please god no.
He's not dead. He's not dead. He can't be dead.
But I couldn't see if he was breathing, if his eyes were moving, if he had the faintest heartbeat.
