I woke up, my spine pressed up against something soft and squishy. It contoured my body perfectly, my arms on both sides of my body with my head lolling to the side. I felt the rhythmic twirl of a fan, the slap of wind against my face.
Something tight wrapped around my legs. I tried to moves to pass my finger tips over it but something restraint me.
Handcuffs?
Something dug into my wrists, as well as my ankle, bitting at the skin and causing me immense pain. A leather strap wrapped around my stomach, squeezing at my abdomen and mashing my back against the mattress.
Where was I?
With great effort, I open my eyes, letting light shine down into the creases of my eyes and making me cringe back in pain. "Gah." I grumble, turning my head to the side and narrowing my eyes on a steel plated door. It's locked from the outside, a wheel which is probably unturnable at the moment, just out of my reach. Otherwise the bed, the rest of the room was empty.
As my sense began to flood me, I heard distant voices. They were actually very loud, unceasing and pounding my eardrums. I grumble and stir, turning my head the otherside, trying to block out the sound that flooded through the hatch.
The voice stopped suddenly. The hatch opens and Dean steps in, sliding between the doors. Even though I couldn't see him, his labourous breath and his slow steps gave him away. He was a lot nimbler than his brother, giving him the appearance to be smaller. I smile, cackling like a bird.
"What's so funny? You nearly got killed." Dean grumbles, circling the bed. He comes around my vision, his shoulders tense and his whole body turnt away from me. I can smell it from miles away, the smell of fear clinging to his coat.
"You're scared." I cock my head, narrowing my eyes and wincing against the pounding headache. Dean steps back a little, leaning against the steel, circular walls. "Where am I?"
"At Bobby's. You're safe here." Dean murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning down at me with a disaproving look.
"Do I look safe to you?" I give a sudden outburst, frightened all of a sudden. Why was I frightened and jittery again? I fight against the bounds, clenching the muscles of my arms.
"You can't escape." He points underneath the bed. "Devil's Trap."
Right. Devil's Trap. I could feel the tightness of the whole room, wrapping my body like a veil and keeping me pinned. Dang it.
"Dean, I want to go home. My friend is waiting for me, she's probably worried sick-" I begin but Dean cuts me off, pulling the knife out of his pocket and pressing it against the flat of my stomach.
"Cut the crap, we know who you are, Delora Nettles." He snaps. Sam slips into the room as well.
"Dean put that away, we don't need that." Sam urges, a little too roughly. They exchange a glance before Sam approaches the bed, leaning down and pouring cool water around my shirt.
I glare at him. "Thank for soaking my shirt, darling." I snap bitterly.
"We want to know who you are, we were only able to recover your names." Dean twirls the knife in one hand, the inscription on the blade making me cringe back. Fear clenched throughout my body, choking my lungs.
I shut my mouth, bitting down on my lung. Sam waves the knife over. Dean hands it to him and he carves a scribbling line down my abdomen, opening the bottom of my shirt up and letting dark red blood ooze out. I groan, feeling the familiar, painful jolt make my skin jump.
"Ruby's knife works on you, but the holy water doesn't." Sam informs Dean.
"Thanks captain obvious." I snarl.
He digs the knife a little deeper, the jolt intensifying and the sparks flying up to my throat. I choked, fighting against the bounds. "Stop." I say breathily.
"We want to know who you are." Dean leans into my field of vision, the necklaces around his neck dangling down just between my eyes. I wanted to reach up and choke him but I faught off the temptation, cringing as Sam works the blade deeper underneath my skin.
"Go to Hell." I say stubbornly. Suddenly, Sam moves the knife around to my waist, pulling up just underneath my ribcage and making sure it dug deep into the skin.
I could tell I was screaming, pain and fear gripping my so tight tears begin to fall from my eyes, drenching my pale cheeks. "Please stop."
"Then tell us." Dean urges, his voice somewhere distant. They were monsters.
"Fine." I take a breath, letting the shakiness leak from my voice and trying to sound convincing, forcing authority. "I don't know what I am. I don't even know how I got stuck in this Devil's Trap. I live up in New York City, I was visiting a friend for the weekend and needed a time off. Please let me go, my friend will begin to worry." I even forced a leftover tear to peel down my cheek.
Sam and Dean exchange a look, both of them utterly confused. I choke, shutting my eyes and trying to fight back the fear. I was fine.
"Where do you live?" Sam asks, putting the knife down.
YOU ARE READING
Killing Sam Winchester (Sam Winchester FANFIC)
RomanceI was asked to kill. This is my job. I kill people for a living. I see people's life run out of their eyes for millions of dollars. The very source of themselves dripping away into Hell. I enjoy the pay, yes. I have cash in the bank and food on the...
