Old and New

Chapter-30

THIRD PERSONS POV.

  It was dimmer than most thought it would be.

Metal walls and a thin carpeted floor.

  This interrogation room was more depressing than anything.

Especially since it was a little bit after midnight.

   "I'm surprised you agreed to this Montgomery." Dean mentioned as he watched the person in the room from behind the glass.

  "From this point forward, I didn't." He responded. "How the fuck is this supposed to go down?"

The cop was nervous, he had never done anything like this before.

  Because he was now about to be an accessory to murder.

  "When I'm done, a couple of guys will come in, remove him, and clean up. You won't have to touch anything."

  "I did a hell of a lot to just make sure no one found out about her grabbing a police officers weapon! Oh god, why am I even doing this?" He began to pace the room.

   "Because I'm paying you." Dean wasn't going to rest until he got this job done.

  "Ugh. Just hurry up!" Montgomery pressed the red button, allowing access to the interrogation room.

 
  He spared no time, and walked in.

"Woodruff." He greeted.

    He stayed silent.

"If you must know, your brother has been moved to a New York jail. I hear that he already made some... friends. If you know what I mean, of course."

What he meant was that New Yorkers don't like child predators.

  Especially the people who have to share a jail cell with them.

Still, Damien didn't budge.

   He was too pissed off.

"What? You sure were talking a lot when you had my sister." Dean sat in the chair directly across from the handcuffed convict.

   "She's not your fucking sister!" He finally snapped.

"It talks." Coaxed Dean.

  "That little bitch was my responsibility way before you took over!"

  He was shut up by a large fist.

"You just never learn, do you?" He was truly confused by how much shit such a nauseating member of society could talk.

   "If you're here to kill me, then fucking kill me."

"In good time. I just needed to get a better feel of this situation." He leaned back.

  "The fuck does that mean?"

"I want to know what it brought you."

Damien gave him a confused look.

    "Was it satisfying? Murdering a little girl? Did it satisfy you?" Dean was talking about his sisters late friends.

   This took Woodruff aback.

"I never saw them as children." He abruptly answered. "They were pointless bodies."

   "Right. And what about Lana? Were you afraid of her the most?"

He scoffed. "I wasn't afraid of any of them."

  "That's bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit!" Dean slammed his hand on the table before standing up. "You were fucking scared of them! You knew they were capable of so much more than you were! They had fucking lives ahead of them, but you were too vile of a human being!"

   Dean always seemed like the calmest brother, but he was the most hate filled towards these type of people.  Somehow.

   "You know what? Fine. They were good girls. Smart as hell. And to be honest with you, I might feel a little bit of regret." Woodruff began. "But I won't ever regret ruining that once perfect, pristine little sister of yours."

  Something in the room shifted.

Deans eyes grew darker as he withdrew a pistol from his waist band.

  He had done this many times before, so there came no shock when he aimed it at Damien Woodruffs head, and pulled the trigger.

  Except for Montgomery, who wanted to throw up as he stood behind the blood splattered glass.

   He was stressed, but Dean was cooler than ever.

  It was over.

The war was finally fucking over.

Vincent, Damon, Axel and Lana were all sleeping on the couch.

Well, the boys were. Lana was sprawled over the three of them.

   It didn't look comfortable, but this was the most comfort she had had in weeks.

  However, they all woke up when Dean walked in the quiet hotel room.

  "Where have you been?" Vincent asked as he tried to rub the sleep out of his face.

"Nowhere. Just out murdering."

"Just talking with the cop." He answered somewhat truthfully.

    "I'm starving." Axel groaned.

"We literally just had pizza." Damon rolled his eyes.

    "You complained about it the entire time! It was hard to eat with your hot breath in my face the entire time."

  "Guys, stop moving." Lana groaned as she rearranged herself to get comfortable again.

    "Sorry." They both said at the same time, igniting another argument. "Why are you constantly saying what I'm saying?!"

  "I didn't do it on purpose you idiot!"

No one actually cared about the argument though. Not even the two in question.

  This was the most normalcy any of them had had in quite a long time.

    This was family.