rosalind taylor. 31. former psychiatrist. newly employed fbi profiler with the quantico, virginia behavioral analysis unit. also not human.
aaron hotchner. 44. widower and father. unit chief of the quantico, virginia behavorial analysis unit. is a...
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viii. wanna bet?
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"oh, lookie! she's awake!" was the first thing rosalind heard when she very slowly came to. groaning, she opened her eyes but closed them again when harsh light hit them. she felt a strong headache that was starting from the back of her head and spreading quickly. rosalind opened her eyes again, this time slowly, and was then met with the face of a rather ugly demon. they were really desperate for vessels, huh? "you look older, rosalind. been a while."
she made no move to answer the man in front of her and instead looked around at her surroundings. she knew the handcuffs were still on her and they had to be enochian handcuffs too. had rosalind been any stronger, she'd be able to break out of them easily. she turned her head but regretted it when you saw your friends.
each of them were lined up, pushed back against a wall, hands and legs tied with their mouths ducktaped. sam, dean, and cas were on the other side, all three unconscious. rosalind's heart ached and the overwhelming feeling of guilt came back over her as it had done merely an hour ago.
the demon whose name she had yet to learn leaned down in front of her in a squat. "you hid yourself quite well, rosie. couldn't find you for years. oh, but you messed up. we knew you'd slip up someday. you always were so adamant about protecting your friends." the demon looked to the wall and met the tired eyes of aaron hotchner. "does he know you saved him? took a bullet for him? does he know that you brought us to you just to save him?"
rosalind couldn't look at aaron. it was far too difficult and she could only imagine the kind of thoughts going through his head right now.
"why don't you speak up, rosie?" he said sadistically and ripped the ducktape he had put over her mouth in one swift movement leaving her with an awful sting on her mouth. "come on. i know you want to talk to little ole me."
"what's your name?" she whispered out weakly.
the demon chuckled. "what was that, sweetheart?"
"i asked what your name was. i want to know who i'm going to tear apart, limb by fucking limb." rosalind found some new confidence, new strength that was fleeting but was enough to send the smallest of shivers down the demon's spine.
"feisty!" he joked. "name's trazen."
"oh! you're the one who kidnapped crowley in a feeble attempt to get to me! real idiotic move, i must say. did you really think you could torture the king of hell? i thought he fed you to juliet."
"oh, he tried. got away though. left, hid myself. built this little following. tracked you for years. see, we want to turn you into one of us. an demon nephilim. imagine all the hell you could raise. literally."
