𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 || 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Chapter 7 ~ A Bit Tied Up (No, Really!)

Roman's POV:

The scene we walked in on was worse than could be imagined - worse even than we had expected to find. The whole darkened power-plant was a bloodbath.

Crimson puddles poured out from stumps where heads belonged on bodies, bits of dingy fur mixed into some of them, while other areas only held broken corpses- lifeless eyes unblinking as they stared at something no one could see. It was wretched, horrible. No amount of stories had ever prepared us for...for this.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the rank smell, briefly placing the sleeve of my jacket over my face. Yasmin though, as unflinching as ever in her usual calmness, strode in front of me - routinely checking each one to...to make sure. But as my brown eyes flicked up to meet the green-eyed gaze of my sister, she only shook her head. It wasn't them.

"So where could they be then?" I asked aloud, not really expecting an answer but hoping for one all the same.

But Yaz only shrugged in response, biting her lip as her hand tightened on the gun in her hand.

A beat of silence passed with her eyes scanning the room before she finally spoke, "Come on, we have to go further in,"

"What? Are you crazy? With only this-" I protested, holding up the angel blade in my hand for emphasis, "-to protect us?"

Yasmin made a face, waving the gun at me, "And this, you idiot. What do you think I brought it for? A nerf war with the vamps?"

I scowled at her, rolling my eyes. I knew she was right, though. But so was I. We didn't know the ins and outs of hunting like Sam and Dean did - or even mom, for that matter. All we knew was the stories - of demons, vamps, werewolves, and vengeful spirits. It had always sounded so easy as we listened, tucked into our warm beds with mom reciting them to us as if they'd happened yesterday. But after sleep settled over us, sucked us into our own dream worlds - all the stories disappeared with the daylight.

And they were just that - stories.

But when it was real-?... How could you cope? How could you really cope?

That was fear talking though. The "antonym for hope, for bravery, and all the things worth doing in this world" as mom would say.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat at the memory, I squared my shoulders before trudging after my older sister. The building grew darker the deeper we went into it, shadows looming at every turn. But after several minutes of walking down creepy, winding hallways with wind blowing through each empty room we passed, the sound of a mesh of voices began to drift nearer to us.

"Oh, she'll be sorry... Trust me, you all will. Welcome to our new world, Winchesters! And this time? This time we control the game," a voice spoke out from the darkness of the large anteroom a few feet away.

Ushering me behind her, Yasmin and I slid over to one of the walls, inching ever so slowly to the open doorway as we did.

"So that's it? That's the big plan then, huh?" Dean bit out, barely-controlled anger clear in his voice, "You take her, lure us here and what? Let us watch while you drain her? Then drain us, too?"

Dean barked out a humorless laugh then and I could almost see the hate blazing in those green eyes that were so identical to Yasmin's, "You should know better than to think that will happen,"

"What are you even doing this for? What do you get out of it?" Sam questioned, disbelief mixed with his own anger etched into the words tumbling from his lips.

"As if the famous Winchesters don't know..." the voice, clearly a man's, trailed off into a disturbing silence before resuming, "Sweet revenge for what little miss Parker took from us. Or should I say, what you all took from us...including that insolent father of yours. Heard he died though...can't say I send my condolences for it..."

Yasmin and I exchanged a look before ever so slowly, peering into the room. And as we gazed over at the tall man in the center of the floor, stories flooded back to us. Stories of a cold night, a vamp nest, and the last hunt our grandfather, John, had been apart of. That must be what the man was alluding to - he must've been apart of that nest all those years ago. Apparently, a few had survived...

But it wasn't the man who drew our attention. Or even the sight of Sam and Dean tied up in a couple of chairs on the other side of the room. No, rather it was the lone figure strapped down to another chair. The person was gagged but it was no matter, they were already unconscious, strands of ebony hair hanging limp across their face. And..it looked as if that vamp had beaten the figure, purple bruises spreading out across olive skin.

I let out a tiny gasp in spite of myself, already moving to race across the room when Yasmin's arm held me back, out of sight. My eyes blinked up at her, a mixture of helplessness and understanding warring inside of me as one single word emitted from my lips - the only word that came to mind.

"Mom."