Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

27. Inevitable

Eliza|| Two Hours Ago

I was pacing my jail cell.

"Look, I don't see what the big deal is anyway," Maya crossed her arms. "Just turn around and leave before he finds you."

"Yes, because if the person I was hunting down for weeks and weeks decided to inconveniently leave town, I would just call it quits." I snapped at her.

"Well what do you want to do?"

I stopped. "There's nothing I can do."

Maya seemed to understand where I was going with this. "If he sees you, he's going to kill you on sight," she said flatly.

"Not if we distract him."

"Meaning?"

"Destroy his offense system. Completely." I looked up at her. "He's scared. Of me. He created twenty something vampires just to attack me."

Maya nodded slowly, "Fifty something if you count the dead ones. But that means..." Maya uncrossed her arms and fisted her hands. "I'm not going to kill twenty vampires and wolves. You're supposed to save everyone. You can't take sides, monsters or humans! What the hell kind of person does that?"

I stared at her. She just continued.

"How could you even be okay with that? They were kids not a month ago!"

"Most of them were inmates."

"Just because they were in here doesn't mean they deserved to die. For god's sake one of them was in here because he tried to steal something from Gamestop."

"If they're going to feed on innocent people—"

"I'll make sure they won't." It was final, but her facial expressions were pleading.

"Fine. But make sure they're no where near this town until this entire party's out of here."

"Fine."

"And make it look like you're going to kill them in front of the guys. Sam and Dean won't leave unless they knew the vampires were dead."

"No offense but your friends? They're real dicks."

"Well..."

"Whatever. How do you plan on surviving?"

"I have to give Alec what he wants. I have to see him."

Eliza || Now

His eyes were red.

Not red like Crowley's, but red like he was ill. It was all around and under, with blood red veins spreading like fingers around the whites of his pupils. Red, like he hasn't slept since he was born. Red like he's never been exposed to the sun. Red like he's never had a sip of water in his life.

Under his eyes was also shades of black and blue, not like he'd been beaten up, but black like he's missing every nutrient known to god.

His cheeks were hallow, skin stretched so thin across his face I could almost see through it. His fingers, the tiny portion I could see from the too-big sweater he was wearing, looked so bony, so white, like they were about to snap in half. He was tall, but his waist was smaller than mine, smaller than an underfed child's.

The only thing that he seemed to have an abundance of was scars.

They were dangerously large and looked like they cut deep once before. Whoever the aggressor was didn't seem to care where he was aiming. They ate up most of his face, crisscrossed across and down his neck, some were even visible on his hands—I had no doubt that there was more under his clothes.