Captive Chapter 1 : Blue Death.
Gifs not mine
_Dean x Reader_
Summary :
Dean Winchester is an enemy.
Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.
During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.
That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…
He is going to kill me, right ?
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Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.
Chapter Warnings : Violence, blood, pain. This is pretty dark actually. Character death. Swearing. Dean being the bad guy. Reader being the villain... Everyone being quite bad.
***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***
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1. Blue Death
The knife enters the hunter’s flesh in one flowing movement and the tall man looks so surprised for a second. His large hand comes to my shoulder and he looks at me in the eye. Aware of how dangerous he is, even wounded ; I take a step back, taking the blade with me.
“Sam !” says the British men of letters and I turn toward him with snake’s speed.
He shoots on my direction and I avoid the bullet at the very last moment, but it lodges itself inside the tall hunter’s stomach.
Looking at my attacker -skeptical because he just risked his partner’s life without a hint of hesitation- I wrap my arms around his neck from behind.
“Ketch…” says the bleeding hunter, falling on the ground like a dying wild beast.
I send his gun flying far from us and climb on his back. The men of letters nails dig into my skin while I choke him with all my strength, screaming my lungs out to focus my energy on him. He tries to bang me on the wall behind us but I’m used to pain and I resist, coiled like a constrictor, even with the muffled sound of my rib breaking.
The lack of oxygen finally makes him weak and he falls on his knees. I scream even louder, compressing his throat more. His hands let go off my arms and he starts shaking.
The injured hunter tries to get up but fails, groaning and pressing a hand on the open wound I made on his side. The man under me passes out and I let go off him, knowing he’s not dead. My head is spinning from pain and shock. I look at his lifeless form and take my head in my hands.
“Raaah ! FUCK !” I yell, looking around to think.
I kick the unconscious man’s body and hear something break inside him, a bone maybe. My ribs hurt so much I could faint, my heart is racing with rage and fear.
How did they fucking found me ? I was so careful. Shit ! I’m going to run again, start from scratch once more.
“Fuck you hunters !” I shout, half panicking.
I take a deep breath and the long hair man seems surprised again. I spit blood and whine, holding my aching chest. Bending painfully I pick my knife and lift it above the man of letters. When he sees me hesitate, the hurt hunter speaks :
“You don’t have to kill us” he says weekly.
“Of course I do…”
“Still… you don’t seem to want it.”
“Shut up ! Fuck you !” I say before putting my knife away.
I take a big bag and untidily put a few things inside it. The hunter starts to shake, his hands in his own blood, his shirt drenched in thick vital fluid. A knife-deep cut in his side and a bullet a few inches from it.
When I’m about to go through the door, I hear him try to crawl to God knows where, like he needed to do something, anything, even if he’s already doomed. This man is a survivor and I can’t help but admire his will to fight. He crawls toward his gun and I could just leave before he reaches it, but I go to him and take it before he can touch the cold metal.
I take the bullets out and throw them far from him, giving him the gun back, and he takes it, like that was all he remembers at the doors of death : how to hold a gun. Given his height and weight -I’d say 210 or 220 pounds- and the speed of the blood loss… I say he will be dead in half an hour. There is absolutely no chance anyone finds him here.
I look at him and he stares at me, like a formidable noble lion looking in the hunter’s eyes. He struggles to breathe, his large and strong body fighting against exhaustion.
But he gives up suddenly, letting his head fall on the wooden ground. One menacing enemy gone, this should be a good thing… I sigh, and take a bottle of medical alcohol I have in my closet.
I kneel beside him and he looks at me with a great confusion behind the agony in his pupils. I press on the wound and he winces, I pour a large amount of alcohol on the cut then on the gun wound and he almost faints.
“If I slow the bleeding and prevent infection, someone may find you before it’s too late” I mutter, hating myself for taking so much risk. “You can’t go after me.”
Before I can find a bandage, he passes out and the door bursts violently.
Another hunter, also tall and strong, is aiming me with his gun, an extraordinary rage burning in his dark green eyes. An old but robust man with a machete and a blond woman in a cop outfit, also aiming a gun at me, follows him.
This is it. This is the end. I lower my hands and stay on my knees, closing my eyes to wait the sound of the bullet that will end me forever.
Finally.
Dean’s Pov
The doctor says Sammy is in a coma, he lost too much blood and even if he wasn’t stabbed on any vital organ, nor shot in his lungs, this is not good. His body started to shut down for good.
But that is when Cas said he couldn’t do anything that I truly panicked. He put his hands on Sam’s wounds and nothing happened. No bright light or miraculous waking.
So here I am, sitting next to my brother, a heavy pain on my stomach, despair on my throat. He seems so little, covered in hoses and machines, strangled by tubes on his nose and on his mouth, needles stinging his pale skin everywhere.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, that was a simple case, that was a simple stab, a simple bullet. Sam Winchester can’t be gone like this. Ketch said we’d be back by Monday…
“Dean, we got the girl” Donna says entering the room, and something hits me. “We don’t know what she is, so we used every protections and spells we know.”
“What if this is why…” I say getting up, thinking hard. “What if Cas inability to heal him is linked to what this bitch is ?”
I enter the dungeon, clenching my fists. Here she is, tied up to a chair in the middle of the large pentacle, her head down, hair falling on each side of it. Sam’s blood is still covering her and I have to swallow hard not to put a bullet between her eyes right now.
“What are you ?” I growl.
She doesn’t answer, keeping her glare on the floor.
“Oh so you’re not going to answer…”
I lift my arm and punch her face with full force, surprised by the lack of resistance her body opposes me. It’s like she doesn’t have any of that supernatural strength evil creatures usually have.
She spits blood and clenches her fists. For a second, her weakness surprises me enough to make me waver. But then I see her dark eyes turn blue, an unnatural light blue that remembers me of the monster she is ; so I punch her again, this time in her stomach and she almost faints, coughing and spitting a lot of blood.
When Ketch talked to us about the return of The Blue Death, I never imagined it had the form of a girl, nor I asked why “Blue” was in her nickname. And I know now. A fucking urban Legend among hunters, the death sentence itself, the monster that only tracks down hunters.
We tracked her for four months, following a trail of bodies, hunter bodies. Now I wonder how she could have killed so many of them without super strength, because she killed all of them hand-to-hand, with knifes mostly, or just strangling them like she did with Ketch, before shooting and stabbing my brother.
When Ketch woke up, he explained us that she shot Sammy before stabbing him, like a coward, and that she straggled him. They are lucky to be alive. She never left survivors before.
When he came to us for help to get rid of The Blue Death for good, he said she was hunter greater danger, and I remember smiling, thinking it was probably exaggerated. I believe him now…
French, German and Italian Men of Letters tried to stop her years ago but she slaughtered most of them, now she’s here to decimate American hunters. I should have listened to him more carefully, Sam and I were reckless and I’m paying the heaviest price for it.
I’m not doing the same mistake twice, I won’t underestimate her.
I’m going to break her.
Reader Pov
The pain is unbearable but I’ve known worse, worse than unbearable. If my body wasn’t able to heal a little better and faster than human’s one do, I would have died a hundred times already.
I think my jaw just cracked, every inch of my face is hurting like crazy, and my broken ribs are now displaced. I can’t breathe properly.
I should have ran, let this tall long-hair hunter die, run for my life as always… left the country.
I thought America would be a fresh start, since Men of Letters disappeared here, but it is always the same : BMOL convinces or pays hunters to track me down and my life became Hell again after only six months of my exile.
I’m used to run, I’m used to loneliness and anonymity. They sentenced me to eternal misery when I was still a child. When they killed my mother, my human mother, to take me. When they tested me, trained me like a slave soldier, when they made me kill so-called monsters.
The monsters are not always the one you think, and most hunters are dumb, ruthless, fanatical, alcoholic, violent morons. The one beating me right now is no exception, I can smell the booze on him and I can tell by the way he hits me that he is used to violence…
I just wish he would kill me already.
The dark is relaxing and I try to concentrate on my broken ribs to fasten their healing, but one of the countless warnings around me seems to have an effect on me, unexpectedly. I’m exhausted and at some point I think I pass out.
When my eyes open they meet incredibly green ones, highlighted by the red around them. The hunter is squatting in front of me with a stern face.
“What are you ?” he asks again.
Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t tell him.
I stare back at him and study his face : This motherfucker is beautiful, probably full of himself too, conceited, convinced to be some kind of hero. His jaw is clenched by hate and I wonder what bullshit BMOL brainwashed into this empty suggestible charming head.
“You think you can keep silent, huh ?” he says with a dangerous smile. “You’re messing with the wrong guy, honey.”
With that he stabs my thigh, making me cry out in pain.
“So you have a voice…” he says.
“Fuck you hunter” I whisper as loud as my aching lungs allow, an unintentional smile on my lips.
“You are going to tell me what you are…”
“Or what ? You kill me ?” I laugh sarcastically, coughing blood.
“You don’t fear death” he says. “But you run for months… I say you fear captivity” he rubs his neck. “I won’t kill you, I’ll let you rot in here forever if I have to.”
“I need to pee” I just say, hoping he will finally hit me too much, maybe kill me by accident, put me out of my misery.
He takes my face in his big hand, hurting my already broken face, squeezing so hard my heart races almost to the point of heart attack.
“You still think this is funny, bitch.”
Dean’s Pov
It’s been three days and she barely flinched.
Exorcism didn’t work, iron and silver neither. Salt just burned one of her wound, like it would have on any human. She opened her mouth to drink holy water, and no spell worked.
I arranged the dungeon into a cell, to be sure she understands she’s here for good, I need her to break. An iron collar keeps her on a chain-leach, she can reach a chamber pot and lay on the ground, that’s all.
When I enter the room, she’s sitting on a corner, shaking and holding her ribs ; she hasn’t seen me this time. I stare silently at her : she almost looks like a normal girl, dealing with the most extreme pain and despair. She winces lightly, trying to cover the cut on her leg with a piece of fabric, obviously coming from her shirt. She’s different when she knows I’m here, : no cocky expression on her face now, only exhaustion and a hint of sadness.
“What are you ?” I ask, like everyday, making her jump this time.
“Hungry” she says with that smirk that makes me punch her.
“What do you think this is ? A luxury hotel ?”
“Well if you want to keep me alive, food is not optional” she smiles despite the cuts on her lips.
I throw her a piece of bread and she looks at it, then at me.
“Not hungry” she says with scorn.
Rage makes me clench my fists. She’s manipulating me, confirming I don’t want her dead, that I need her alive, showing me how strong and determined she is by not eating what I brought her after three days of fast.
I crouch down and take her hair in my fist, making her look at me.
“Listen to me, whatever you did to my brother, I’m gonna undo it, and you’re gonna die…” I start but a poorly hidden surprised expression on her face forces a pause.
“The tall guy is your brother ?” she asks.
“You already know that” I spit. “You aimed at us directly.”
“No” she simply says.
I search her eyes and something makes me wonder, something about her eyes.
“Yes you did.”
“I don’t even know who you are” she says.
She’s manipulating me again. I bash her head on the wall forgetting to restrain as the image of my dying little brother hits me in the guts, and I yell :
“YOU TRACKED MY BROTHER !”
She lifts her hand on her head and looks at her fingers, they’re soaked with blood. When she sighs, I wonder. That woman is so different from what I thought The Blue Death would be.
“Are you the Winchesters ?” she asks like it just hit her.
“You already know that…”
“Shit… Obviously” she says with a sour smile.
“What does that mean ?” I say, confused by her reaction.
“That I’m so fucking unlucky… Listen, I’m sorry for your brother” she says and I get up to hold back my fists because I know I could kill her right now.
I hate hearing her talking about him.
“He needs my blood” she whispers.
“What ?”
“Give him a few drops of my blood, it usually helps…” she murmurs, her head falling slowly against the wall as exhaustion hits her, her eyes slightly rolling inside her skull.
“Is it a trap ?” I ask with something childish in my hoarse voice.
“No…” she grumbles, letting her whole body coil on itself on the floor.
Her head doesn’t stop bleeding. I’m afraid that punch was one too many. But I don’t have time to worry about her. I take a needle and jab her arm. Maybe she lied, I can’t take the risk to poison my brother. So I touch her bleeding forehead and carefully lift my finger to my lips, letting my tongue taste the metallic taste of her blood.
It’s the first time I touch her for anything else than hitting her, she flinches slightly and passes out. She’s actually pretty and I wonder what kind of monster can look so vulnerable when she stops acting so tough.
Her blood tastes so much like human blood, except something warm suddenly roams my body : Like a hug from a friend or a shot of the best whiskey. I suddenly feel like I had slept better last night and I’m less hungry and tense. My wounds don’t really heal, they just hurt a little less.
I look at her now unconscious form in disbelief. Who is she ?
Reader’s Pov
I’m so cold my skin hurts, and I’m so thirsty my lips bleed.
Fever.
I knew this would happen, my wounds are infected and this is really bad. I haven’t ate for four days. I know I can survive a little longer than other people can.
Eight days without food and water, according to The Men of Letters. Fifteen days with only water, 140 degrees for a whole day, -31 for a whole night. Six days without sleeping, twice more volts than a human… I remember all their measurements. How could I forget ?
But this is too much, and one of those warnings is still holding my body down. I shiver and try to get up to see if I can stand. I can’t. I fall heavily on the floor and swear under my breath, on the verge of tears. This is fucking unfair. Sometimes I just wish I would meet my father, know who he is, why he did that to my mother, to me…
I lost track of time, but what I know is Dean Winchester never left me so long. Maybe he is never coming back. My blood must have helped his brother and now he’ll let me here to rot.
I start to panic, breathing quickly, I feel pure, painful fear hit my guts. I don’t even know where I am and I’m going to die slowly and alone in the middle of nowhere : my own worst nightmare, just because I couldn’t bear Sam Winchester to go through it. Shit.
Please please please, come back. Hit me all you want, torture me, kill me. Just don’t forsake me like everyone did.
The bread is rotting on the floor and I watch it with held back tears in my eyes. Cramps are tearing my muscles up, but I stopped reacting to them because there is no strength left to this kind of thing, I’m focused on breathing.
The door opens suddenly. A young boy enters, a phone on his hand.
“She’s alive, Dean” he says looking at you with a sudden deeply pained expression.
“Good” says the voice in the phone. “Give her a glass of water, and something to eat. Don’t let her reach you, you hear me Jack ? Never.”
“Dean, something’s wrong, she’s shaking and sweating… I think she’s ill.”
“What ?”
“Dean… Are you sure she’s a monster ? She looks… I think she’s dying.”
“I’m coming back. Don’t get near her, Jack. You hear me ? Stay away, she’s dangerous. I’ll be there before noon.”
The young man hangs up and sits on the floor. I can’t move, I can’t lift my head or talk to him.
“You shouldn’t have hurt Sam” he says.
I sigh.
“Are you ill ? How do you feel ?”
“Fever” I just whisper.
“What are you ?” he asks with an innocent voice.
And, in my fever disarray, I finally answer.
“I don’t know.”
When I open my eyes, the light hurts me bad. A hand is on my head.
“She’s dying of infection, Dean” a familiar voice says.
“A bullet between her eyes and we put her out of her misery. End of the story” I hear the almost comforting voice of Dean answer.
Honestly I don’t have enough energy to care what they decide.
“She didn’t finish me off Dean, she even tried to heal me…”
“What ? Are you crazy ? Sam ! I just spent a week watching you slowly die after she stabbed and shot you ! Now what ? You want me to feel sorry for that thing ?”
“She didn’t shoot me…” Sam says pushing my hair to see the wound on my forehead.
“YES SHE DID !” Dean yells.
“Ketch shot me… How could you be so cruel Dean !” he changes subject. “Look at her ! This is torture and pure cruelty, we are not this kind of person Dean !”
“What ! I can’t…” his brother answers with so much anger in his voice I almost can see his pissed face in my head.
Then there is only flashes.
Water in my mouth.
Water on my wounds.
The smell of alcohol.
Jack’s voice asking Sam if I’m a monster.
Sam answering he’s not so sure about that.
The cold easing.
The pain easing.
Dark then light.
Then dark.
Sam’s voice trying to catch my attention.
Dean yelling.
The smell of soup.
And Dean yelling again.
Dean’s Pov
Sam is still barely talking to me and I just can’t get over how pissed I am.
With Sam taking care of the monster that almost killed him for good, Jack asking how she’s doing, Cas too, Donna calling Sam to talk about her… It’s like I was the monster. And If Bobby wasn’t there to suggest cutting her throat for good, I would feel like I was the one loosing my damn mind.
My phone rings and I sigh, putting my glass on the table. I look at the name on the screen : Ketch.
Until now, I never answered his calls, because I was too busy trying to save my brother, but now I have questions to ask him.
“Ketch”
“Dean. I was starting to think she got you too. How is Sam ?”
“Better. He’ll need time to fully heal, but he woke up” I say looking at my glass.
“Oh… I see. And the girl ? Did you burn the body already ? I’m going to need a proof of her death” he says with a hint of badly hidden anxiety.
“She’s not dead. Sam insists in keeping…”
“WHAT !” he cuts me, making me jump and widen my eyes. “Dean you have to kill her right now. Listen carefully : You’re in danger, your brother is in danger…”
“I don’t know Ketch, maybe I have more questions to ask her, like did she really shoot Sam ? Because he says you did…” I grunt.
“Don’t be a fool. This creature is the most clever, dangerous thing I’ve seen. She’s messing with your heads. You have to kill her before she makes you lay into each other.”
I lower my eyes, thinking. At this moment Sam comes out of the donjon and looks in my direction. He has a tray in his hands and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right” I say. “I’ll have to convince Sam.”
“Screw convincing, you have to defend your family” he states.
I frown. Ketch doesn’t care about family at all, or about us for that matters. Why is he so impatient to see her dead. I mean, he lost a lot of colleagues from her hands but…
I just can’t think straight lately.
A muffled sound catches my attention. Sitting on my bed, I listen carefully. What if she escaped ? Another sound. The clock says 4am.
I get up and take the gun under my pillow, walking silently toward the dungeon. The door’s not perfectly closed, I push it with precaution and prepare to shoot her.
She’s lying on the floor, bloody.
Ketch is sitting on her, beating her with full force. Her dirty clothes are ripped open, he carved something, an enochian symbol, on her chest. For a second I can’t move.
Her head turns toward me and she sees me but doesn’t react, obediently waiting for death. Her eyes trigger something in me, and it’s like time was in slow motion. I lift my gun and her hands open on the side of her body as Ketch hits her again. He lifts his knife above her heart and mutters “I win. We win, Y/n.”
I shoot him in the back. Twice. Thrice.
His body falls on hers, shaking an instant and freezing completely. She closes her eyes, a tear rolling on her bruised face.
Sam comes running, alerted by gunshots, followed by Jack. I just don’t move, not knowing what to do.
My brother runs to her, kneels, and pushes Ketch’s corps aside. Looking at him I squeeze my gun and hear his voice saying she’ll rise us up against one another. Then I look at her bloody bruised form in Sam’s arm and I wonder how a girl so pretty and cute can attract so much violent hate.
Sam takes his t-shirt off to cover her naked chest and the fabric becomes bloody. He looks at me.
“What happened ?” he asks, holding her.
“He was about to kill her” I just say muddled, looking at her pained face.
She clings to Sam, crying silently and, all of a sudden, that leash I tied around her neck seems so tight, I can almost feel it harm my own flesh.
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@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx
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