Summary: You have an addiction that is slowly consuming your life. When the Winchesters pick up your trail, they make you come face to face with what is causing your problem.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, other minor characters
Word Count: 2999
Warnings: Angst, language, SPN canon violence, minor sexuality, addiction, mentions of death
A/N: This is for @impala-dreamer‘s Titles Are Hard Challenge. I was going to make a fluffy fic of the reader being accepted into the Winchester clan... but this time of year reminds me of a very dark time in my life full of addiction and heartbreak, and part of how I deal with that is through my writing. If anyone out there is struggling with an addiction, just know that it gets better and make sure you Always Keep Fighting, no matter how long the road to recovery may seem. If you enjoy it or want more, I will more than likely make a part 2 with a ship, but as it stands right now, there is no pairing in this. If you would like to be tagged in any of my stories, please send me an ask! Beta’d by the lovely @saxxxology!
It felt like liquid sex rolling across your tongue and down your throat. Each taste bud exploding with delight as you drank with shaky hands. You could feel the warmth spreading through your stomach and making your whole body tingle just under the surface like electricity was coursing through your nerves. Sure, you never meant for it to go this far, but the feeling it gave you, the rush of pleasure and the tingle of excitement… you couldn’t get enough.
You were a vessel, approached by a celestial being that whispered promises in your ear. The angel that possessed you, Delilah, convinced you that you would be helping her do God’s work, that you would be aiding in the will of Heaven.
They were all lies.
Delilah took control of your body and did horrendous things. She murdered innocent people and other angels, she conspired against Heavenly Host, and worst of all, she killed your family when they were researching ways to expel an angel from a vessel. She whispered to you that it was for the greater good and that she still had work to do, but you were broken. The strong barricade you put up between you and her shattered, leaving you trapped in your own mind like a lethargic pile of despair unable to control your body.
You were stuck in the darkness of your own mind. That was until you breathed, felt air rushing into your lungs followed by a throbbing pain in your head. You willed your body to move, and your eyes shot open when you were able to wiggle your fingers. You slowly rolled to your side and took in your surroundings. You were in a derelict building that looked to have been abandoned since the sixties, judging by the wallpaper. There was debris and broken furniture scattered around you, everything caked in a thick layer of dust.
You sat up and noticed quite a few footprints in the dust surrounding your body. A few of them were scuffed like there was a struggle, but that’s when your eyes froze on the charcoal black outline of wings scorched into the floor in front of you. You turned around and didn’t see any where you had been laying down, but it appears there had been an angel killed here.
You leaned forward and managed to get to your feet, wobbling slightly as you remembered how to walk. It had been fourteen years since you said that one word that ruined your life, and you weren’t about to stick around and let them get another chance at you. Your eyes landed on a shiny metallic object under one of the broken chairs and you bent down and picked it up. An angel blade would come in handy, just in case you needed to defend yourself.
You brushed some dust off the tacky light gray suit you were wearing and slowly creeped through the house and outside into the sunlight, taking a moment to stand outside and let your skin tingle with warmth as the sun’s rays caressed you. It had been a while since you’d felt anything and you knew it was going to be slow remembering how to function again; remembering how to live again.
That was three years ago. You hunted for a while, trying to distract yourself from the piece of you that was missing. It felt like you were missing a part of your soul and nothing would satiate the hunger you had to be complete. You tried drinking, sex, pure adrenaline, and even some recreational drugs, but nothing worked. It was like your body was a puzzle with a piece missing and no matter how many times you tried to jam another piece in the gap, it never fit and you were left even more frustrated than before.
Until you met Damien two weeks ago.
“Hey Sammy, we got a case,” Dean called out from the library of the bunker. He heard the heavy footsteps of his brother getting louder as Sam made his way from the kitchen to the library.
“Whatcha got?” Sam sat down across from Dean and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“A trail of bodies in Iowa,” Dean turned his laptop toward Sam, “four dead so far in two weeks, victims had no connection to one another except that they were wearing business clothing and-”
“And you think this is a case?” Sam raised an eyebrow after skimming the news report.
Dean raised a finger to silence his brother before leaning up and hitting the spacebar, scrolling the article down to show him pictures of the crime scene. Each crime scene had a pair of charcoal black wings scorched into the surface behind each body. Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he continued scrolling, studying each photo of the four crime scenes.
“Angels?” Sam asked and Dean nodded. Sam continued reading and let out a soft chuckle at one of the paragraphs. “They’re calling the perp a serial killer and named him The Crow. Clever.”
Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”
Sam sighed and turned the laptop back around to face Dean. “A group of crows is called a murder. They’re being punny.”
Dean made a grunt of approval before he slapped both hands on his thighs and stood up. “Sounds like our kinda thing, right? Right. Meet you at the car in ten.”
Sam slammed the laptop closed and grabbed it, sprinting after his brother to go pack for the trip.
“Thank you, officer. I will,” Sam forced out, rolling his eyes as the officer continued speaking. “No, I’m not sure if the FBI is hiring. You should check the website. I- I have to go. Goodbye!”
“Did you make a new friend, Sam?” Dean nagged, handing Sam a beer from the mini fridge in the motel they were staying in. Dean sat down on the end of one of the beds and popped open his own, taking a long pull.
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam growled, “I was eventually able to get more info about the crime scenes. All the victims were completely drained of blood; that was the detail they were keeping from the press.”
“So, what? We have a vamp that likes the heavenly fresh taste of angel blood?”
Sam shook his head. “No bite marks. All the victims had their throats slit. Had to have been done with an angel blade or else they would have healed.”
“Rogue angel?” Dean speculated. “Maybe some kind of ritual that requires a lot of blood?”
“I have no idea,” Sam said, “but you should call Cas.”
Dean groaned, but shut his eyes. “Castiel, this is Dean. We got a crazy serial killer down here that’s popping angels like they’re bubble wrap. We could use some trench-coated assistance. Come in, Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”
Dean opened his eyes when there was a knock on the motel room door. The brothers exchanged looks of confusion, but Sam stood, his gun raised, and walked over to the door, peering through the peep hole. He slipped his gun into the back of his waistband and opened the door, revealing Castiel standing on the other side.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel grumbled, stepping into the room. “Sam.” He nodded at the younger Winchester.
“Why didn't you pop into the room? What’s with the knocking?” Sam asked, sitting back down in his chair at the table.
“The last time I came when Dean prayed to my father, I interrupted him when he was naked in bed with a blonde woman. She was in an intriguing position with her leg behind-”
“Whoa, okay,” Dean cut the Angel off, “Sammy doesn’t need to know the details about that little mishap. Can we move on please?”
Sam muffled a laugh and cleared his throat, pulling up the news article and giving Cas a full rundown of the case so far. He agreed that it was probably not a vampire, but someone specifically targeting Angels for their blood. He assumed it was a witch or some other type of monster that was using Angel blood for a ritual.
“Did you know the angels?” Sam asked as he hacked into the traffic cams for the surrounding counties. The most recent killing had a witness that said she saw a black SUV pulling away from the scene fifteen minutes before the body was discovered.
“I knew two of them, Damien, the first victim, and Melissa, the third. They were both very good soldiers.” Castiel hung his head. “Our numbers are already diminished enough, we need to stop whoever or whatever is doing this.”
“Found it,” Sam exclaimed, rapidly typing on his laptop. “I spotted the SUV parked outside an abandoned house at the edge of town. Thank goodness for crime prevention cameras and paranoid civilians.”
It started off as a high pitched ringing in your ears. The sound felt like someone scratching nails down a chalkboard inside your brain. It was driving you mad, you couldn’t sleep, you could barely eat, and it was slowly killing you as you tried as many ways to get it to stop as you could. It wasn’t until your first taste that the ringing began to shift into words. Once you understood, you could call out, bringing them to you… like ordering a pizza delivery.
You slumped down against one of the decayed walls inside the house’s kitchen and brought your knees up your chest, shivering and rocking back and forth. You only had two cups left, barely enough to last the rest of the week. You whimpered, reaching for one of the cups. It was a problem, you knew, but your addiction was controlling you.
You chugged the entire thing, letting the warmth of the liquid soothe your tremors and pacify your mind. You swallowed down the last sip and were now licking the cup clean, trying to savor every last drop. You jumped and slunk farther into the corner when the front door was forcefully kicked in.
Three men ran into the living room only meters from you, two had flashlights and guns and one was in a trenchcoat. You spotted him immediately and licked your lips. A soft glow of bright blue surrounded his body and you could feel the power radiating from him. He was an Angel.
You reached for the angel blade on the counter as the two men split off in opposite directions and the angel began to walk toward the kitchen where you were hiding. You just needed another taste. You needed fresh blood. You needed him. You slowly wrapped your fingers around the cool metal of the angel blade’s hilt and shifted to your feet.
You followed his line of sight and knew he had seen the empty cups of blood littering the floor in the kitchen. It was now or never.
“Dean! Sam! I fo-”
You lunged at him with the angel blade, making him jump backwards, unable to finish his thought. He looked up at you and narrowed his eyes, confused as to why you were attacking him. You licked your lips, the sweet coppery taste of blood still on your mouth and chin.
“Angel,” you whispered with a smirk.
You lunged at him again, knocking him backwards into the living room, landing with a loud crack as the coffee table you both landed on broke underneath the combined weight of the two of you. You were crazed, you could smell the power coming from him… it was more than any angel you’d ever seen. You needed him. Maybe this time you could be whole again.
You slashed your angel blade at him, but he was able to block every move while continuing to try and push you off him. You heard a loud bang and let out a feral shout as you felt a burning pain pierce through your right side. You rolled off to the left of the angel and took deep breaths, locking eyes with one of the two men. He was standing near the stairs, with light brown hair and deep green eyes, smoke still rising from his gun.
You felt a stinging sensation as the bullet was pushed from your body and the wound closed. You stood up and spun the angel blade in your palm, ready to kill this human that was getting in the way of your addiction. You saw his eyes shift to a spot over your left shoulder and the moment you turned around, you saw the butt of a gun coming at your face and everything went black.
You slowly came to, taking in your surroundings but keeping your eyes closed. You couldn’t move your arms or legs like you were tied down, and you heard hushed voices coming from a spot in front of you.
“She’s not an angel,” one voice whispered, “but she does have residual grace inside her. Almost triple what you had when Gadreel left you, Sam.”
You heard a scoff. “So she’s not an angel but is somehow able to access the power of the grace still in there?”
“I believe so. She’s been drinking angel blood to add fuel to the fire, so to speak,” he sighed. “Her soul was powering the grace for some time, but it’s been severely depleted. It’s almost been completely burned away, hence why she’s rabid. Her soul is almost gone.”
“That’s no way to talk about a lady,” you chuckled, lifting your head and opening your eyes, “especially one sitting in the same room. The name’s Y/N, by the way.”
All three men looked toward you and you looked around the room. You were chained to a chair in the middle of a devil’s trap in some kind of dungeon basement. There was a table and chair off to the side along with a cabinet filled with various blades and torture devices. You felt the first tremor tingle through your fingers and quickly balled your hand into a fist.
“So yah gonna tell me what the hell I’m doing here,” you nodded over to the cabinet, “or am I your freaky sex slave now?”
The tallest man stepped forward. “My name is Sam,” he pointed to green-eyes, “that’s my brother Dean,” he pointed to the Angel, “and you’ve already met Castiel.”
You let out a dreamy sigh and licked your lips. “You smell delicious, Castiel. Can I just have a small sip? I can practically taste the power coming from you. You’re not like the other angels, are you?”
“Hey,” Dean snapped, “you’re not drinking anyone. You’re not some Angel vampire.” A smile twitched at his lips and he chuckled. “Angelpire.”
“Dean, not now,” his brother scolded before he turned to you. “We’re going to help you. You need to detox from this angel blood. It’s not going to be fun, but we’re going to help you through it.”
You scoffed and laughed. “What if I don’t want to be helped? What if I’m perfectly fine with who I am now?”
Sam sighed and stepped forward, crouching down in front of you so he was eye level. “I know what it feels like. I was addicted to demon blood a few years ago. I loved the power it gave me, but that rush of pleasure and satisfaction made me do very, very bad things.”
“Cut the lecture, Dr. Phil,” you spat, “I don’t give a shit what you went through. I need angel blood to survive,” you nodded toward Castiel, “just ask Wings over there.”
Sam spun on his heel and looked back at the Angel. “Is that true?”
Castiel shrugged. “I’m unsure. Her soul is barely stable. The grace has attached to it like a parasite, siphoning power from it in order to keep her alive.”
“Can we do a grace extraction?” Sam asked Castiel as he stood up.
“I doubt she would survive. The angel blood has acted like a steroid, in a way. We need to weaken it before we can even begin to think about extraction. We need to get the angel blood out of her system, but that might kill her by itself.”
“So basically I’m screwed either way,” you shrugged. “Just kill me and get it over with. Angel blade should do the trick.”
“Nobody is killing anyone,” Dean interjected, stepping closer to you. “Sammy made it through his detox and we’re gonna get you through yours. I can tell you’re a fighter, it’s not time to give up now.”
You took a shaky breath as your hand began to shake again. You could feel the hunger gnawing at the back of your subconscious, clouding your thoughts. You had one goal and you would do anything to get what you needed. You began to struggle against the restraints, trying to loosen them and get your hands or feet free.
“I can’t,” you growled through gritted teeth. “Let me out of here!”
“You’re stronger than your addiction, Y/N. Just focus on getting better, we’ll be in to check on you a few times a day.” Sam let out a heavy sigh. “It’s going to suck, but we’ll be here to support you.”
Your whole body began to start shaking and you felt a trickle of sweat slide down your forehead. The hunger was becoming so intense, you couldn’t think anymore. You let out a loud scream of frustration as the three men turned around and walked toward the door on the opposite side of the room.
“No! You can’t leave me here! I’ll be fine, just let me out!” You pleaded, the restraints digging further into your skin as you struggled against them. They ignored you and shut the door behind them.
You were alone with the pain of your addiction, the horrible impulsive subconscious entity that consumed you. And that… that scared you more than the pain of detox did. You really didn’t know if you could survive… or if you even wanted to.
