Chapter Text
You were sitting at the bar nursing a half empty beer, talking with a man who had a wonderfully sophisticated English accent and a fancy tailored black suit coupled with a muted purple tie.
He was smart, witty, and refreshing to talk to since it was very likely that he was the least limy looking fellow in the bar. So at the moment you weren’t worried about the fact that he wasn’t exactly your type, it just seemed harmless to make conversation.
Besides he didn’t really seem interested in you that way either, you got the feeling he was just content with minor flirting and mutual compliments which was making your night a lot less difficult.
Having just lost your dream job you were foolishly trying to drink your depression away as if you weren’t aware alcohol in itself was a depressant. The man named Crowley was a nice distraction, you felt no pressure with the kind charming British man, therefore no warning sirens were going off. If you only knew.
If you only knew that Crowley had perfected his mind diluting charisma over centuries of manipulation. . . You were falling right into his perfectly crafted web, and hadn’t a hint it was happening to you. With a halfhearted sigh you decided to go back to your cozy apartment and snuggle up with some popcorn in front of your laptop, to remind yourself why Meg Ryan wasn’t getting any sleep in Seattle.
Yeah, that sounds pathetically blissful right about now.
As soon as you stood up Crowley pushed back his barstool quickly to do the same. In the back of your mind you remembered that it was considered courteous to stand when a lady did, and you were once again surprised at the man’s barefaced respect he continued showing you.
“Oh um you didn’t have to do that. . .” you giggled a little feeling a buzz through the headrush that came from standing. He regarded you with a sideways doting look,
“Now darling, what kind of Gentleman would I be if I abandoned my virtue?” it was spoken like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he had you smiling again.
“You are that Crowley,” you informed him and when he raised a brow you clarified, “a Gentleman that is.”
“Exactly my point. Now.” he moved to take your jacket from the hook on the bar like it was second nature, “Don’t forget your coat dear, there’s a bit of a bite out.”
You could listen to the way he spoke all night, that colorful voice of his just sounded so intelligent. You turned around so he could slip your jacket on for you, and couldn’t help but smile.
He is so damned polite!
There was no way you could foresee the dark turn your night was about to take,
“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t offer to walk you to your car,” he started with his dark brown eyes promising genuine safety, “a pretty duck like you might run into a spot of trouble along the way this late at night.” Normally you would have declined, but he was right. This neighborhood was notoriously shotty and your car was parked a good three blocks away,
“Um. . . Yeah sure why not?” you smiled kindly, “Better safe than sorry right?” instead of a verbal answer Crowley gave you a little wink and took your arm to gently lead you through the door, yet another chivalrous gesture that had you grinning like an idiot and feeling like a queen.
The walk to your car was filled with easy conversation and unabashed charm from the obviously experienced man.
He had you looking up at him in wonder under the dim streetlights, he was only about two inches taller than you, but he seemed so sure of himself that you didn’t even think about the shady alleyways you strolled by in his presence. The same shady alleyways that tempted you to walk in the center of the street when you were on your own.
Out of nowhere the British man stopped and connected his brown eyes with your (e/c) ones, and for the first time they held a glint of something sinister. Like he had disturbing secret. It made your throat catch in surprise,
“I’ve had a wonderful evening with you love, and while I did enjoy our chats immensely, it pains me to tell you I have to ruin it.” your mouth hung open dumbly, and he looked over the top of your head to squint at nothing, as if something in his head was causing him pain.
“Don’t panic blueberry,” it was a gentle whisper, “this will only cause minor discomfort.” you were still too stunned to move or speak.
How did he play me so well?
He pulled you close so abruptly it made you grunt, and touched two fingers to your head, immediately overtaking your mind with painful pressure and your vision with blurred tumbling scenery.
Your feet felt swept from under you, but you weren’t necessarily falling. The whole shebang ended as soon as it started and you found yourself stumbling like a drunkard as soon as your feet hit a hard-packed dirt floor.
Threats of vomiting rolled your stomach uncomfortably and you clutched your midsection with a grimace.
What the Hell is happening?
~
“Easy puppet.” Crowley’s silky voice invaded your ringing ears, and you forced yourself to look up, “Take some deep breaths, the feeling will be gone momentarily.” you ignored his advice,
“What the Hell did you do?” you practically screamed at him, “What is this?” you coughed on the burn of stomach acid and pulled oxygen in deeply, trying to stand upright. It smelled like a mixture of mildew and death in this new place.
A spine tingling chuckle sounded somewhere near you and the register was too deep to have been Crowley. Whirling around you locked wide eyes with a man on the far side of the room.
No. . . not room. . . a cell. It looked like a prison cell, but with like ten times more space and moist rotting walls. Oh fuck what is this? The chuckling man was cloaked in shadows and you strained to see what he looked like. He spoke,
“Goddamn, I knew she was a good choice,” he was speaking to Crowley now, “she’s a sexy little thing ain’t she.” your gaze shot back up to the British man, terror gripping your soul. Crowley only glanced at you passively,
“Glad to know she’ll fulfill your needs,” he was a far cry from who you’d been chatting with all night, like he was a new man. An evil one.
“Are we done here squirrel? I have some other business around The Basement to attend.” he said it like he couldn’t care less about any of this,
“Cr - Crowley?” you stuttered quietly, and he finally turned his gaze down to your frightened expression. He looked slightly guilty and he spoke softly to you,
“So sorry dear, I’m afraid I haven’t properly introduced myself.” you waited without breathing, “Crowley, King of Hell.” he swaggered a little at the title and you paled,
“No. . No you’re lying.” you murmured knowing in your heart it was true, “What is this?” he never looked away from you,
“You’re here to satiate the Mark of Cain my sweet,” he spoke like he was reading poetry, “to feed Dean’s bloodlust so he can be of use to me. I’m afraid your life is over.” You felt like your heart stopped, like the world froze, like every molecule of Oxygen shunned your lungs.
Crowley rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if he might find the right words up there,
“I guess you can think of him as your own personal torturer. . Yes that sounds about right.” his gaze traveled back down to pin you with an apologetic smirk that made you want to scream.
Finally you snapped to your senses and backed away from the King of Hell, whipping your head back and forth in denial while trying to comprehend his words. However as soon as your back hit someone warm and solid your mind was wiped clean by the force of your terror. As you turned to face your new tormentor, you hedged away to avoid pain or really any kind of touching for that matter.
“Heya sweetheart.” he was menacingly tall. And muscular. And at first glance wildly sexy, but you stomped out that thought as soon as it came, because the powerful looking man was smirking down at you with green eyes that promised two things: Pain and ill intent.
It absolutely took your breath away. You stumbled backward away from him on the dirt floor, and he gave you the few feet you needed to give you a false sense of security.
“Stay the Hell away from me,” Jesus you sounded pathetic already, and the dark chuckle he gave was enough to draw frightened tears to your eyes, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to beg.
Not yet anyway.
The man was wearing dark leather boots, probably steel-toed, that were partially covered by a pair of well-worn dark wash jeans. A black cotton t-shirt that emphasized his already muscular body and his powerful biceps were covered with a red button down shirt that he had left open with the sleeves rolled.
You continued scanning his body until you were able to look up and really take in your kidnapper. A strong jawline with stubble along the edge framed a pair of very sexy looking lips. Lock it up idiot. Now’s not the time. But it was hard not to notice what with how long it had been since you'd been with someone. All your energy was focused on your job up until today, and you had forgotten how to really live because of it.
So yeah. You noticed this guy was the walking definition of sex. Big deal.
In fact there was no denying that he was attractive, and big too. Really fucking tall, his lean frame dwarfed you which was actually all manner of intimidating. You lifted your gaze past the freckles on his cheeks and nose up to his now. . . black filled eyes. . . You gave a stuttering gasp,
“What are you?” you squeaked and wrapped your arms around your trembling body. He smiled widely, flashing his gleaming white teeth,
“Oh baby,” his voice was husky, rough, and deep. “I’m a demon.” your eyes glossed over with more stubborn tears, and you shook your head miserably trying to fight them off,
“This can’t be real. No. . . this can’t be happening!” you cried into the echoing stone cell. Again he chuckled in a way that made your spine tingle, and allowed the black in his eyes to recede which gave you a minuscule amount of comfort. “Crowley!” you turned sideways slightly to beg the British man to let you go, but were met with only empty air. He was gone.
And you were alone with a sadist.
“Name’s Dean Winchester,” he spoke easily and nodded cockily when you timidly looked back to him, “you and I are gonna have some fun together sweetcheeks.” You were too busy trying fruitlessly to calm yourself down to offer your name, but he most likely didn’t care for it anyway.
Dean’s electric green eyes seemed to catalog the way your body was shaking, and the way your eyes were darting around nervously, and to your ever-growing horror he looked pleased.
“Oh come on, don’t look so scared sweetheart,” he grumbled like this was an everyday thing, then smiled softly. It wasn’t comforting, “I just wanna play with my new toy. Promise I’ll be gentle. . .” Your eyes pooled at the implication in his words, and terror from gripped your gut. His expression darkened and his eyes flooded black again. You whimpered at the sight, unsure what made him angry, and backed away - looking quickly to the floor.
“Aren’t you gonna say thank you slut?” he growled angrily,
“Th - thank you.” you quickly stuttered, earning you a smile. You weren't even sure what you were thanking him for, you just wanted him to stop glaring.
“Th - thank you what?” he mocked with a sick grin. You were at a loss and you swallowed multiple times before he took pity on your confusion, “Sir baby. Call me Sir." You blinked back insistent tears, having a sick feeling at where this appeared to be headed.
“Thank you S-sir.” it was a whisper but he seemed appeased,
“That’s it, bitch.” the curse word made you flinch, and when Dean’s boots moved closer you couldn’t help but back away with your head down. Too soon your back came into contact with a freezing stone wall that felt slimy to the touch. You put a shaking hand up without looking at him, hoping he would heed your silent plea and stay back.
“Stay - stay away from me,” you squeaked when you felt his body heat on your outstretched palm.
“Oh don’t be like that,” he jeered almost playfully, but it only made your fear grow. He purposely invaded your space, stepping even closer to you until his lean frame pushed your hand back into your quivering chest. “Don’t you want to play baby?”
Whimpers seemed to be riding on your every exhale, you only shook your head again finally releasing the building wetness in your eyes, you squeezed them tightly closed in response. What is he going to do to me? It didn't help that your brain was supplying all kinds of answers.
Rape, torture, murder. Take your pick.
The atmosphere between you seemed to actually thicken with his growing irritation and he moved with sudden swiftness to fist a big hand in you (h/c) hair. You yelped and squeezed your eyes closed while he bent your neck at an uncomfortable angle.
Shaking knees buckled slightly inward when you felt his hot breath right on your ear, and there was a concerning warm feeling pooling in your gut. No no. No, nope get a hold of yourself. This couldn’t be turning you on. Being manhandled and threatened by this man. . . This very very sexy man. . still there shouldn’t be tingling in your most intimate places. But there was.
It was making you sick.
“You answer me when I ask you a question.” a little whimper snuck past your lips at the proximity between you and it wasn’t completely born of fear, “Got it?” A long pause where you couldn’t form a single word caused Dean to practically shake with rage,
“Ye - yes. . . yes Sir.” it finally came out after a moment on a sudden sob, while you were trying to shrink away from him. His low chuckle startled your eyes open, and you took him in at his full towering height, grinning down at you with the most evil expression you’d ever seen. It made you feel like screaming.
“That’s more like it.” he murmured, seeming distracted while he studied your face. The look in his eye alone made you feel violated, and a single tear trickled out - one of many - his gaze followed it down your cheek, eyes glinting devilishly while he watched it.
Your insides felt like they were trembling.
“Don’t tell me your crying already. . .” he mocked, “is my little bitch scared?” Yes. God you were so scared. So damn scared. . .But when you didn’t answer aloud his eyes flooded inky black, and then you did scream, but it only made him smile. He gripped your jaw hard between his strong fingers and shook you a little,
“I said. . . Is my. Little. Bitch. Scared?” each word was punctuated with a painful squeeze,
“Yes. . .” you sobbed up at him hopelessly, “Please, th -this is a mistake! I shouldn’t be here. . .” Dean pursed those full lips and narrowed his black eyes, like he was actually pondering what you said,
“A mistake, huh?” he chided, “Let me tell you something Sweetheart. . .” he leaned in and you could smell the whiskey on his breath, almost taste it on your lips. It made your eyelids heavy, “I chose you.”
“Wh-what?” you whispered, clenching your fingers on the rough stone wall, and trying to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. Although your nerves were absolutely wrecked by this demon, there was still a confusing mixture of arousal and terror coursing through your veins.
God help me.
“I chose you,” he repeated, “because I want to wake up everyday looking forward to tearing you apart. Piece by beautiful fucking piece.” to punctuate the statement, Dean suddenly smashed his lips to yours, boring his horrible black eyes into your watery (e/c) ones, and held you there for a full minute despite your struggling.
It was nothing like you hoped kissing him might be. There was no movement, only still uncomfortable pressure of his warm mouth pressed so hard against yours that it made your teeth ache, while his fingers bruised your jaw. . . It was a message that your personal space, and sense of security wouldn’t be respected by him.
He broke the violent kiss with an exaggerated smack of his lips and a wolfish grin. All you could do was stare up at him with wide (e/c) eyes and an open mouth.
“Now let’s get down to business.” he pecked your nose with a sweet warm little kiss that would have been comforting in any other situation, but it now it was meant to be demeaning. And it only made you want to beg for mercy.
An embarrassingly loud yelp broke past your lips when he suddenly yanked you up by your elbow, and began dragging you toward a dimly lit hallway.
“Wh- where are we going?” you were quiet, for some reason hoping he didn’t actually hear the question, in case it pissed him off. But he flashed a dazzling smile back at you,
“Oh you’ll see babydoll, it’s gonna be so much fun.” as he towed you along it was all you could do to keep tears at bay, and try not to let your imagination loose. It was hard however, to overlook how comfortable Dean was in this environment, how much he seemed to enjoy frightening you. And that made it hard not to conclude that he was probably well versed in all things pain.
Now it seemed appropriate to beg, no amount of pride could have stopped you then anyway.
“Please. . . please.” you whimpered, too afraid of him to struggle, “Don’t do this to me, just let me go - I’ll - I’ll walk out the door and you won’t hear about this again! I won’t tell anybody -”
“Walk out the door, huh?” he cut you off when your voice started to rise, and you sobbed at his caviler attitude,
“Yes. I promise I won’t say anything to -to anyone! Oh God please just let me go. . .”
“Don’t you know where you are?” the hallway was tinted red, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what made the light that color. There were only burning candles illuminating the dark hall, and the flames looked orange and normal.
“No. . .” you whispered, actually allowing yourself to walk closer to him because of how unsettling your surroundings were. Like he would protect you if something jumped out of the jagged rock walls. Yeah right. He didn’t even glance back at you when he said,
“You’re in Hell baby.” you balked, absently pulling on his grip at the statement. "The lake of fire, Eternal Retribution, Hades. . . Whatever the fuck you want to call it.” he actually fucking chuckled about it. Hell. Dear Lord.
“You’re lying.” you whispered hopefully, looking around at the cavernous candle lit hall,
“You wish,” and you did, “good ol' Crowley brought you down here so I can do whatever I fucking feel like without. . . well. . . killing you. You’re all mine sweetheart, for as long as I want ya.” You felt like vomiting. You felt like vomiting and then passing out in your own vomit. Demons? Hell? All I wanted was a sad lonely night of drinking.
Tears of fear and self pity started leaking down your face, and Dean’s eyes flickered back to you when he heard you snivel,
“Aw baby, save it for the torture.” and then you were sobbing, coming so close to falling to your knees like a toddler being led out of an amusement park. Dean ignored it, easily towing you along with what seemed like superhuman strength.
When you arrived in front of stainless steel double doors, you knew it was all over. Inside the walls were white and the lighting was so bright you had to squint against it at first, but once you could see clearly you wished you couldn't see a damn thing. He abandoned you in the middle of the linoleum floor where there was a significant dip with a drain in the center, that reminded you of those old time surgical facilities.
There were other things in the room that correlated with a surgical lab theme as well. You spotted large shiny metal table that was equipped with four leather straps to bind each limb as well as divots on either side to control the blood flow into a little hole at the base.
The far wall of the room displayed every kind of weapon you’d ever heard of from basic knives to a scythe, there were also things you didn’t recognize - vials filled with colorful liquid and pointy stabby things - all sinister, all terrifying. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached with a breath that wouldn’t come and every fiber of your being was screaming to run. . . but there was nowhere to go.
Barely managing to tear your gaze from the wall of weapons, you found the main object of your terror. Dean currently had his back turned to you, and was slightly hunched over another smaller metal cart, you could only guess it held smaller tools like his scalpel.
They had your mind reeling.
Tears were pouring freely down your face, but you were trying to remain relatively silent like it would help if you didn’t draw attention to yourself. It was stupid, but you couldn’t form a rational thought. However no matter how hard you tried to hold it in, a tiny hiccup burst from your lips, and you brought a trembling hand to cover your mouth, watching in horror as Dean straightened and turned around.
He pinned you with a smug stare.
“What’s the matter Princess? See somethin’ scary?” he leaned forward and shook his big hands dramatically then casually moved toward you, like you were a toddler at a haunted house and not a grown woman in Hell.
Part of you wished he would actually comfort you, instead of taunting with the illusion of care. Then again he probably knew he was making everything harder for you with his sadistic games. It was sad that all you really wanted was for someone to hug you right then.
You brought your arms up over your chest and tried in vain to get a handle on your fear, he pulled his lower lip into his mouth with his tongue suggestively and popped it back out while he watched you. Every nerve was screaming to run, but you were simply too afraid.
“Yeah you won’t be needing clothes for this next part,” he grumbled not bothering to hide the way he was grating his predatory eyes over you. At least they weren’t black right then,
“Wh-what?” your whisper was shaky and high. No clothes? Oh God, oh God, oh God. . .
“You heard me. Clothes off. Now.” you stumbled back a few steps at the command in his voice, breathing jagged breaths,
“No. No!” his expression darkened again, but he didn’t advance on you yet, "Please. . ." he looked down on you, all hunched over protectively, with absolutely no remorse in his eyes.
“Last chance Slut,” you flinched at the name, “take em off or I take em off for you.” Sobs unleashed from your chest and your quaking knees finally buckled out from under you, dropping you to the cold smooth floor. You had been successfully reduced to a tearful mess.
“P-please don’t make me do that. . Please no -” you hiccuped on your words, and scrunched up on your knees when his brown work boots boots came into view. You put both hands up in a pleading gesture, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, fearing his wrath for outright defying him.
Instead of hurting you or ripping your clothes off like you expected, Dean merely squatted in front of you and waited until you looked up at him. He had a soft misleading smile on his face, which caught you a little off guard.
“Is someone afraid to be naked in front of the big bad Demon?” his eyes flickered black and watched you struggle to hold it together for a moment, “You’d do well to obey me sweetheart.” There was obvious warning in the last part, so in a shot at self preservation, you unbuttoned your shorts with horribly shaky fingers and timidly pulled your shirt over your head.
"Don't - don't touch me. ." you wept hopelessly, just praying to God this was some terrible nightmare. Of course he was gonna touch you. In fact he would do a lot more than just touch. Dean abruptly rose to stand, blatantly gripped your upper arm, and hauled you to your feet causing your shorts to drop around your ankles. You stood rigidly in front of him, only covered in your bra and panties.
"You aren't in charge here." he whispered in your face. Yeah no shit. You were shaking so hard you thought you might shatter.
“Dean. . Dean please. . .” you glanced up at him through your lashes and flinched at the blackness that was still in his eyes, he cocked his head to the side and raised a brow expectantly,
"What is it baby girl?" he chided, looking down on you menacingly. Please don't rape me - please don't hurt me - please don't kill me! You swallowed what little pride you had left and asked your actual question,
"C-can I keep m-my underwear on?" your face reddened at the smirk on his, but he hadn't shot you down yet. What could only be described as a low growl rumbled in the big man's broad chest before he reached forward and snapped your panties against your hip, eliciting a startled whimper from you.
This could have been a dream if he wasn't so terrifying.
“I guess I can fuck your brains out during our next session. . .” you took an involuntary step back even though it was like he was talking to himself, and tried not to start sobbing again, “Yeah what the Hell. Keep em on for now, they’re sexy anyway.” You glanced down at your black matching lace set, and felt your cheeks redden despite the fear coursing through you body. However his next command snapped you back to reality,
“Hop up on the table.” he turned away to the tool cart, expecting you to obey him, but you couldn’t move. He glanced back, “You got wax in your ears? Get on the fucking table.”
“What are you gonna do?” you swallowed thickly, feeling awkward in your own skin. He turned to face you fully then,
“You really are a stupid cunt aren’t you?” he smiled unkindly, “You’re in a torture chamber with a Demon in Hell, what do you think I’m gonna do?” you balked and sniveled,
"I -I don't want you to hurt me," you whispered pleadingly, feeling like you might cry again. What a stupid thing to say, and Dean's response let you know that he noticed too.
"No shit? I couldn't tell." Dean's sarcasm burned hot.
Swallowing your fear and ignoring common sense, you stiffly tiptoed over to the edge of the table, keeping your eyes on Dean the whole time in order to avoid seeing his array of torture instruments sitting quietly just to your left. Not a cell in your body was inclined to climb the rest of the way on. Apparently Dean knew that.
Without another warning, he wrapped his steel arms around your waist and sort of tossed you up onto the slab with a metallic clang and a frightened scream from your lips.
A big calloused hand wrapped painfully around your right wrist and slammed it down in line with the leather strap. Icy fear built as you realized that even though you were struggling in earnest, you were no match for his inhuman strength. The idea of being restrained and at his mercy was simply too much,
“Stop!” you wailed, thrashing around on the table. "Nonononono!" you were bawling high pitched helpless sobs beneath him, straining hopelessly for control, and to your surprise he actually halted the buckling of your first restraint. The evil man stared at your tear stained face like he was pondering something.
“You know, we could make a game out of this.” he muttered, his eyebrow arched in a seductive manner that had your insides quaking for two very different reasons. He kept one hand on your wrist and straightened up,
“Ready for the rules?”