The Devil You Know - SPN

Chapter One

The One With Paris Hilton

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I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel of my car, humming along to the soft Beatles song that was playing. I turned into the street of the wax museum, shaking my head at the case.

The town had had a series of strange deaths, the witnesses at both claiming it was the ghost of their idols. The only reasonable conclusion was that the ghosts were haunting the objects the wax museum had used in their figures, Abraham Lincoln was haunting his hat and James Dean haunting his jacket.

The museum was closed but the lock was easy to pick, I swung open the door and made my way across the tile floors to the wax figures. I stopped in front of Lincoln's figure and reached for his hat, a small smile on my face, I was beyond relieved at how easy this case was, when I felt something hard hit the back of my head. The world quickly began to fade as I lost consciousness but I could've sworn that I'd heard Paris Hilton laughing from behind me.

I awoke in a room adjoining the entryway I'd been knocked unconscious in. I shook my head and attempted to move only to realize that my wrists were bound to the wall.

Just my luck.

I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the slim figure of Paris Hilton in the corner. I almost laughed but stopped myself when I heard two voices.

She whipped her head around toward me, so I feigned unconsciousness, Hanging my head and closing my eyes. I felt a hand on my arm and heard a deep voice.

"Hey, Dean"

I was considering warning them of the murderous blonde when I heard a deeper voice respond.

"She alive?"

Two fingers pressed to my neck, "yeah, barely."

I heard something slam into wood and snapped my head up, to see two men staring at an axe buried into a wall. I noticed behind the smaller of the two was Hilton, with a terrifying smile on her face, but before I could warn them she'd knocked him to the floor.

The taller man ran at her, throwing a punch. She dodged it easily and shoved him across the room, effectively knocking him out. 

She walked over to the other man who was lying on the floor and positioned her foot over his head.

"Awesome," she said with a sickly sweet smile before slamming her heel into his head.

She then walked toward me and hit me in the forehead with the heel of her hand, it knocked my head into the wall behind me and before I knew it I was unconscious again.

I awoke for the second time to see her filing her nails along the side of a blade. I kept my head down, attempting to formulate a plan when I heard her sickly sweet voice.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake for this," she smiled, "this is gonna be huge."

I heard a sigh from across the room, "Super. I wouldn't wanna miss it."

I moved my wrist so that my claws were held above the rope and began cutting it, she chuckled. "I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately," she began, "So, it's nice to do the ritual right."

I looked up slightly and saw she had her back to me. With a small smile on my lips, I freed my right hand and began to work on my left.

"Just like the good old days," the taller one replied.

She laughed airily, " You have no idea, people adored me."

The shorter one scoffed, "Yeah, I guess people just aren't as into man-eating monsters as they used to be."

She ignored him and continued, "They used to worship me, offer themselves to me with smiles on their faces. Now, this is what they worship," she said gesturing toward herself in disgust, "So this is what I had to become." 

She angled herself toward them further to continue her monologue, and I took the opportunity.

I launched myself at her wrapping my arm around her neck and bringing my claws to her throat, she attempted to throw me off but in a second I'd slashed her throat with my claws.

I stepped away from her and she fell limp to the ground, letting out a shaky breath I walked toward the ax buried in the wall, pulling it out and moving back toward her body.

I swung it above my head and brought it down hard on her neck, just to be safe.

The room fell silent as I dropped the axe onto the ground beside the homicidal socialite and sighed heavily, wiping my bloody palms on my ragged jeans.

"Uh, thanks?" I looked up to the source of the sound and saw the shorter man. I looked at him properly for the first time and realization hit me like ton of bricks.

I dug around in the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a crumpled photograph. Holding it up, I compared him to it and felt a smile creep onto my face.

"Dean Winchester," I stated, as I walked toward him. He stiffened, "who are you?" he glared at me.

I shook my head and began untying the rope binding him to the trunk of the tree. "Carmen, I'm supposed to protect you."

I heard a laugh from beside me, "You?" he chuckled again, "no offense, short stack, but I think we'll manage."

I moved away from him toward the taller man, "Sam Winchester," I said softly, my confidence leaving me as quickly as it came.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice wasn't as deep as his brothers and his tone was laced with worry.

"That's a long story."

He moved away from the tree as the ropes fell to the floor, and rubbed his wrists.

"We've got time," Dean said gruffly.