Devil With a Smile

Help!

You're bored. Insanely,  almost irrevocably, bored. You've been in the safe house for weeks. And I do mean in the house. You haven't been allowed even one step out the door. Not that you've been sticking to that, but they don't have to know that you've been sneaking out at for night flies.  

You're sitting in the same chair that you've been in for the past three days, slowly reading through every book in the house, including several that you made Cas get you, when your neck prickles with the sensation that something is terribly wrong. 

Without moving the rest of you, you slowly raise your head, moving your eyes over everything, trying to somehow sense things behind you without turning to look. 

There's the bookcase, untouched (save for the books you've yet to put back), and through the hallway you can see into the kitchen where Jack stands at the counter, cooking probably. It's such a normal scene that your eyes want to move on, head onto something else, but you force them back to stare at your brother. You don't remember him coming in, and while you can't hear, it's an unusual day when Jack can somehow sneak past you. The longer you watch him, the more you can feel something's off. The hairs on the back of your neck are raised so high it's like gravity doesn't exist for them. Moving as silently as possible (which, for you, is pretty damn quiet.), you slide off the chair, putting the book down as gently as you can. 

One good thing about being deaf; you tend to worry more about making noises, so you learn how to be completely silent. You make it to the hallway, unsheathing your knife as you do so, which is, apparently, your downfall. His back stiffens, and a movement in the corner of your eye snaps your head to the side, looking for whatever it was that moved. After not finding anything, you turn back and freeze. 

Where'd he go? Shit. Before you can blink, a gust of power throws you through the wall. You attempt to roll with the impact and land on your wrist, the snap almost audible enough for even you to hear it. 

Your brother appears through the cloud of dust, but no. It isn't Jack, his eyes aren't black. And with that almost imperceptible glimpse of darkness in his eyes, you know what this is, and you know you can't fight it. But you know who can. 

You go limp, eyes closed as you pretend to be out cold. You wait until the vibrations of the demon wearing your brother's body make it to you to attack. Twisting your body into the De La Riva guard (a move you learned in the cages, thank god for the whitecoats thinking you need jiu jitsu!), you sweep his leg and use the momentum to carry you up until you're on top of him. Before he can react, you punch him square in the jaw, wincing as the pain radiating from your hand reminds you that you just broke that a second ago. But it does the trick, he's out cold. 

You slide off him, searching for the rope Cas insists you keep in every house you stay in for just this moment. Making sure he's secured, you head to your dad's room. Or, more specifically, his closet. Digging through his duffle, you breathe a sigh of relief as your hand grazes and then grabs hold of the phone. 
Flipping it open you pull up the contacts, knowing before it even loads that there is only one number in it. And you know exactly who it is. You don't want to do this. You really don't want to do this, but you know you have to. For Jack's sake. 
You just barely manage to send the text off, just your address and the word help, before you're slammed against the wall, an invisible force choking you. It twists you around, forcing you to look at your brother, his lips moving like he's in the middle of a monologue, and you can't help it. You roll your eyes. You know it's a demon, but it could at least  bother to learn about the people it's targeting. 
It pauses, looking at you expectantly, and you shrug. It's eyes narrow, annoyance radiating off of it in waves as the hold on your throat tightens. You flick you wrist, a tiny, unnoticeable movement, and the knife hidden in your sleeve slides into your grip. You don't want to hurt Jack, but the black spots in your vision are becoming worrying, and you know that soon you wont be able to move at all so you need to take advantage of this moment. 

You throw the knife and wince as it imbeds itself in Jack's shoulder. The monster wearing his body opens his mouth wide in a silent (at least for you) scream. It flings its hand to the side, dragging you with it, and smacking your head hard into the wall. Before you can recover from that, it sends you flying into the bookshelves across the room, and suddenly you can't breathe with the weight of the collapsed furniture on top of you.

Your good hand scrambles for purchase, trying to pull you out of the rubble. A sudden foot pressing all of it's body's weight into your broken hand makes you cry out in pain. The demon crouches down in front of you, gripping your chin with one hand, wicked smile on its face as it keeps on talking, not seeming to notice, or maybe it does and it just doesn't care, that you still can't hear it.

It twists it's heel deeper into your hand, and you bite your lip, tasting blood as you try not to vocalize your pain. But suddenly, it's gone and you look up to see the demon walking to the middle of the room where it stops. Through your haze of pain you watch the creature pull the knife out of it's shoulder. It inspects it for a moment before turning to smile wickedly at you. It rakes the blade down your brother's hand and you yell out in shock, trying yet again to get out from under the shelves, this time to try to pry the knife from it's hand. 

It moves in a circle, dripping blood from its hand as its lips move, almost like it's chanting something. Fuck. 

It turns back to you, deranged smile even more disturbing on your brother's face. It kneels next to you, taking your good hand in its own before running the blade in a vertical line from your elbow to your wrist, and you can't help but cry out again at the shock of the blade. It pulls a cup out of seemingly nowhere to collect your blood. It brings it to the circle and pours it into a dark puddle in the middle of it. Its lips continue to move as it chants, and you feel an odd pull to the circle. Your face twists in agony as the pull becomes something more. Your can feel your mouth open, can feel the inhuman scream tearing itself from your chest as your skin feels like it's erupting in flames.

The demon's head snaps toward the door, and you see it stumble back, see the shock of red on its skin from where the bullet pierced it's skin, and you try to tell the men bursting through the door that it's your brother, don't hurt it, but you can't say anything through the cries ripping from your lungs. 

The silhouette of a man appears in front of you, but it's too late, whatever the demon did was too much for your body. Your conscience manages to hold on only until the man grabs your broken wrist, and then the pain is too much.