Castiel x reader- female

3

Screams echo throughout the house, down the hallway and to your room. Racking, silent sobs come out of you, you hide under your bed with the only weapon close enough for you to grab, a kitchen knife, and you listen to your moms screaming. Whatever was out there was keen on making her suffer, but hadn't noticed you were there.
You grip the hilt of the blade tightly, and you grit your teeth.
No. If it comes for me, it's gonna be a damn fight it'll remember. I'll be damned if it kills my mom.
You slowly crawl out from under your bed, and another scream sounds, you cringe.
You bend your knees slightly, opening your door quickly to stop it from squeaking. You shuffle forward, knife before yourself, and you can hear your mothers faint whimpering and a click of somethings tongue.
"Such beautiful skin, love. Too bad you have to die for me to look the same." The voice growls, scratchy and corse. You peer around the corner to view a grotesque... Human? Their skin looks like it fell off. Their eyes catch the light oddly, and they look rotten from the inside out.
You feel like you're gonna be sick.
They have their hands on your mothers neck, one on her cheek, caressing her skin. She's crying silently, her arms cut up and her hands broken. You growl in anger and ready yourself. You take a breath in and-
Snap
Your eyes widen and you whimper, almost dropping the knife. Inhuman speed. They broke her neck. They snap their head up at you and grin toothlessly, greedily.
"C'mere, lovely. You're next."
You sprint back down the hall and hear them running after you. You run into your room and try to close the door, yet their fingers catch the door. They try pushing in and your feet slip as you back all your might into the door, pleading it to close.
Wood groans and you loose your footing, and you're shoved forward. Your hands and knees burn, catching yourself, you scramble to get up, but they're there.
Grabbing you by your hair, they pull your head back, looking into your eyes hungrily. "I'm gonna have fun with you." He purrs, slamming your face down on the floor.
You Yelp, your temple hitting the hardwood. Your gaze goes foggy and you feel them drag you out, to the kitchen. They tie you to a chair and leave to the garage, and you loose hold of your sight, and soon you slip into darkness.

You wake up later, not sure how long you were out. Your wrists are bound to the arms of the wooden chair you sit in, your torso exposed and tied as well. Anger heats your cheeks as you move your limbs against the restraints, but you get nowhere. You look around and see you're in the garage, the toolbox rolled close to you, and your moms corpse in the corner, stripped of her life, crumpled like paper.
Clattering sounds from the door, and you look up. "Oh good, you're up." They say, coming into the garage, turning on the light. You look away and bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to make any sound to acknowledge the thing before you.
They crouch in front of you, grabbing your jaw, knife in their other hand. The grip is strong, and you choke on their fowl breath as they breath on your face, looking your body over. You feel disgusting, shivering at how they look at you.
"You're just like the rest of them, you know. Always revolted in what they see. " he says, bringing up the knife to trace the outline of your jaw. You tremble, "that's why I need you... I can be NORMAL. " they hiss the last part, taking the knife away with venom, and they slam the blade into your leg.
Intense pain blooms in your eyes and you gasp and scream, tears filling your eyes. You close them and put your head back, clenching your jaw.
Don't give them the satisfaction.
You shake as they flick the hilt, wiggling it back and forth. You don't have to look down to know you have blood pooling from your leg, you can feel it.
It clicks it's tongue, grabbing another knife out of the toolbox. Looks like they brought every knife from the house and dumped it in there.
It comes to you again and digs the tip of the knife into your chest, right below your collarbone. Your chest tightens but you look defiantly into its eyes, and it chuckles darkly.
"Cmon, I want to see you squirm." It mutters next to your ear, dragging the blade in and across your skin, and you let out more tears, but refuse to make a sound. This angers it.
It grabs your neck sharply, and you can't breath. "You little bitch." It growls, eyes flashing.
The garage door is smashed open, and both you and the monster jump. It grabs another knife and hides away into the house. Someone runs after it, and someone else stands next to you, cursing softly. They apologize profusely as they untie you, and give you their jacket to cover up with. He gauzes your cuts, and carries you into the backseat of an impala. The other person that ran in earlier hops in, sighing. Blood covers his chest and face.
He starts up the car, "just perfect Sam. We found the location, but we weren't quick enough." He growls. Sam rolls his eyes.
Sam's attention goes to you, and your leg. He took the knife out while covering your cuts, but some blood started pushing its way past the bandaging. "We need to get her to a hospital, Dean." Sam says softly.
Dean looks back in his rear view mirror, noting your existence. "Not with us Sam. You know we can't-"
You intrude on what he says, "I can't go to a hospital. I just can't. Please." Your voice is shaky and pathetic, and it makes you cringe.
Dean grabs the wheel tightly. "We're going to the motel and we're figuring this out. And don't," he says, turning his head to look at you, "interrupt me."
You roll your eyes and look out the window, and Dean scoffs at that.
"A thank you would be nice." He grumbles.
"What, do you want a cookie and a sticker too?" You shoot back, glaring. "I almost got killed. I'm not gonna ask if you get close calls or not with how you ran after that thing, but honestly, bleeding out in the back of some car isn't really my idea of a great day."
The car is filled with silence for a moment before Sam starts laughing, hard. Dean quirks the side of his lips to a smirk, and you can tell they appreciate your sharp tongue. 
Dean looks serious again and looks back at you.
"Wait. Did you just call my baby 'some car'?!" He cries, and you grin.

After an hour or so of driving, and Dean trying to tell you what the importance is of an impala, you arrive at a roadside motel, The Box, and you yawn.
Sam insists on carrying you in, which you protest only a little. After re-checking your wound, and having it (surprisingly) expertly stitched, the men sit down on the bed with you. After they get basic information out of you, they dig a little deeper.
"So. Why are you so reluctant to go to the hospital ?" Sam asks, folding his hands together.
"Well. I don't have insurance, hospitals scare me," at that Sam and Dean share a knowing look, " and I'm not exactly clean on my record. I was hiding at my moms for things to cool down, and well... That thing came along. You know the rest. " you sigh, looking down.
Dean looks skeptical. "What are you hiding from?"  His brows furrow and he looks between you and Sam, not sure what to make of this.
"A gang, of sorts." You roll your eyes. "They offered protection and money, as long as I provided a safe place every now and then and backed them up if need be."
"So you killed someone?" Sam pipes up, and you cringe.
"No. I got to my house one day and someone broke in while someone I knew was hiding out. Everyone was dead, and when I went to help keep one of them alive, my fingerprints were everywhere, and people next door heard everything, and knew I was involved in something." You finish.
Dean raises an eyebrow at you, thinking something over. "Sam. Outside, we need to talk. "
You edge back on the bed as they leave, sighing. Either they were going to help, or they'd bring police. Either way, you weren't in any shape to go anywhere.

A while later, they come back in. Stone faced.
"We want to help, but you need to promise something." Sam says, and Dean goes to a small fridge and pulls out three beers.
You nod slowly, "tell me what first."
"We'll teach you how to defend yourself... And some other things. But you have to promise to keep an open mind. And hey, we don't like cops either." He says, smiling slightly.
You nod, shocked. You expected the complete opposite. Dean hands you a beer, opened, and Sam too.
Sam raises his beer, and Dean raises his to. Silent.
They're asking if you'll join in their hunt.
Smiling, you raise yours, clink it to theirs, and take a long drink.
Let the hunt begin.