Long Cool Woman - Chapter 6
chapter summary: Nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide. Will the Winchesters get to you in time?
wc: 5.1k (oops)
cw: spn canon violence, torture (semi-graphic), demon taunts reader, deaths, insecurities, ANGST, hurt/comfort w/ sam, reader takes a bath, scars mentioned, panic attack briefly described
a/n: thank you so much to those who made it this far. it has been so cathartic to rework this from 6 years ago, and i appreciate all of you who stayed for the whole journey. feedback rocks, and stay tuned for the second of the three installments. find the rest of this story here
Trapped.
You frantically searched for a way out. Tanya and James blocked the only exit. You had nothing to defend yourself with, no knife or gun. Your phone was in your bag. You couldn’t even call the Winchesters. You had nothing.
Desperation is a funny thing. It’s the last slither of hope when there should be none left. There’s always one more gear, one more chasm of motivation to dig deeper, to give everything you have. Everything primal and innate takes the lead and goes into overdrive, screaming survive, survive, survive. But in turn, all logic is lost and tossed to the wayside, ultimately to your disadvantage.
You charged for the door.
James didn’t even look at you, so bored by the interaction, it seemed. He barely flicked his hand to the left. Your body slammed into the door and fell to the ground, your head cracking against the tile. As your world faded out of view, James crouched beside you and moved the hair from your face.
“I told you I’d make it personal.”
******
You woke up in a dark room. A warm, dim light spread around the room from behind you, flickering to an uneven rhythm against the walls. Your head pounded against your skull, and your vision blurred, liquid leaking into your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was blood or sweat. The rest of your body perspired as well, dripping down your back in a near-constant stream. A mix of salt and metal infiltrated your lips. You moved your hand to wipe your face, but both were tied behind your back. You sat upright in a folding chair, each hand tied to a different post. Your feet suffered the same fate, tied to separate legs of the chair. You were so tired, your head resting heavy against your shoulder.
“She’s up, babe,” you heard Tanya say from behind you. She circled you and flashed big black eyes as she smiled. Chills shot through your body.
James followed close behind. He closed the distance between you, resting his hands on your thighs. “Good morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”
You scoffed. You tried to lean away, but there was no escaping his grasp.
“What?” James said. “Not enjoying the view anymore?” He laughed and stood above you.
“Yeah, you’re suddenly not my type,” you said, spitting blood out of your mouth. “If you’re gonna kill me, then do it already.”
“And take away all his fun?” Tanya asked. “No, no. He wants this slow and sweet.”
Your eyes scanned hers. “So, what, are you here because you wanted to play dress up? Or do you just do what your little boyfriend tells you to?”
“It’s fiancé,” she said, her teeth grit together.
“Must be hard to watch your fiancé fixate on me right now,” you egged her on. “How often does he tell you it’s ‘for the job’ and not some fetish he gets to play out? And how often do you get to do the same?”
“Shut up!” she screamed. She pushed you, and your chair fell back, your head slamming into the cement floor.
You groaned, tears welling in your eyes. She pulled you back up by a fistful of your hair. You yelped in pain.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Tanya said, her words laced with venom.
“Easy, baby,” James said, unnervingly calm. “Don’t take my fun. She’s mine, remember?”
Tanya released her hold of you, and you released a breath. The room’s temperature rose by the minute. Your mouth was parched, begging for a drop of water, but only sweat and blood continued to accost your lips.
“Isn’t—” you breathed out “—isn’t the real fun with the pageant? Isn’t that where you wanna wreak havoc?”
James chuckled and shook his head. “She’s still not getting it. You still don’t get it, do you? You really don’t remember me? After I gave you those scars, I thought you’d never forget me. I get it’s a different get-up, but come on!”
Your vision blurred as your world caved in. Your heart dropped to the base of your stomach. “It—it’s you? So, what, none of this is real? This is all just to finish me off?”
James smiled, his eyes blinking black. “I’ve been planning this since the day you all sent me back to hell.”
“The dead Vermont girl, the position for me to fill, the serendipitous meetings with you, the date…” Your voice shook, shuddering as you put all the pieces together once and for all. “Every bit of it was staged?”
“Down to a science,” James sighed. “But what I couldn’t have even hoped for was your naivety, your utter imprudence! You walked right into my arms without a second thought! Honestly, do you actually think anyone would stoop low enough to want you? I know everything there is to know about you now, and all I’ve learned is that you’re pathetic. You think you’re tough and capable, but you’re not. You’re a liability. You’re just an unwanted weight on the Winchesters’ backs.”
His words crashed down on you, tears streaking your battered face. “Stop. That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it, though?” James asked. He circled you, closing in little by little. “You’re lying to yourself, babe. How much longer are you going to convince yourself that you're wanted? That you’re loveable when everyone in your life leaves? The pattern continues, yet you stay delusional. But deep down, you know the truth. You’ve always known, haven’t you? The Winchesters babysit you because they have to. But they are seconds away from dumping you on the side of the road as soon as they’ve used up what little you can offer. You’re so useless to those boys, they haven’t even tried to touch you, have they? Have you ever considered that? That they are so fucking disgusted by you they haven’t even tried to get in your pants? They don’t want anything to do with you. You’re nothing, and everyone can see it.”
Your breathing quickened, panic setting in. You couldn’t see straight anymore. His words cut you like a knife, and there was nothing you could do to defend yourself. It was true. All of it was true, and you could deny it for the rest of what little life you had left, but what was the point? You felt the hope you had left draining right before your eyes.
James stopped pacing and grabbed your face, ensuring there was nowhere to look but him. “You made me do this. Don’t you forget that. Whose fault is it that you fell for the first guy who looked at you? Whose fault is it that you wanted to pretend to be pretty for once in your life? I know you. So, I waited patiently – so patiently – to build you up. Because now tearing you limb from limb in the face you fell for is going to hurt you so much worse. It was a job, yes. But now, I get to enjoy it.”
James moved behind you, the sound of scraping metal causing you to flinch. He returned with a large steel rod, the edge a blazing orange. Beads of sweat rolled down your face as it neared you. You fought your restraints, leaning back from the heat. You used what little strength you had left to shift the chair back, but the chair tipped, and you began to fall back. With his free hand, James caught the seat between your thighs and pulled you back toward him.
“This is my favorite part,” he said. “There’s nothing better than watching a human’s eyes dilate with fear. And now, for my fun.”
With every burn, you screamed in agony. Each mark bubbled up within minutes, and no spot was left unscathed. He was slow, careful, as if performing a work of art. It was calligraphy to him.
Hours passed, and your screams devolved into whimpers, no longer able to muster up a cry for help. Pain overloaded your senses, dulling the sounds of footsteps and the fire crackling behind you. Your eyes could no longer focus on anything past James. He was all-consuming as he worked on your body relentlessly. You couldn’t believe that this was it, that this was how you’d finally go.
A hazy light pierced through the shaded orange of the dark room, drawing your attention. The light grew stronger and brighter, but just as quickly as it shone, it began to fade. The slam of a door took the light away. You tried to focus your blurred vision. James stood toward the sound, your gaze following his.
Sam and Dean stood at full height, their eyes narrowed and their weapons in their hands.
Tanya lunged first. She charged at Dean, but she didn’t stand a chance. Dean stabbed Tanya, and she flickered a bright orange. She sank onto his angel blade. He pushed her forward, and she collapsed to the ground.
“You killed her!” James screamed. He charged toward Dean and raised his hands in the air. Dean slammed into the wall and dropped to the ground, his blade sliding across the room.
Sam attacked James. He caught Sam’s wrists, a battle of brawn taking form. James slammed Sam against the concrete wall. James shook the blade from Sam’s hand and kept him pinned. Sam pushed back with all his might, but James didn’t let him budge. Sam peered over at you, his eyes frantic, before returning his gaze to James head-on, a rage behind his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched.
James recoiled for a split second in response. Then his lips curled into a grin. “You have a fire in your eyes that your brother doesn’t.”
Sam said nothing. He continued to fight against his hold to no avail, his eyes never leaving James’.
James chuckled and shook his head slightly. “It’s for her, isn’t it? You burn for her, don’t you?”
Sam’s eyes widened only a hair. Still, the façade had broken.
“You do!” James said. “It must have hurt, then, knowing she was with me. Picturing the two of us together.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Sam said through gritted teeth.
Dean came to and stayed low. He slid out of James’ periphery toward his angel blade.
“I bet it kills you knowing I’ve had my way with her. That I’ve gotten to touch her before you could. That she wanted me and not you.”
“ENOUGH!”
Sam found one final gear and pushed James off of him. He punched James square in the jaw, knocking him down. James turned his head, smiling through bloody lips.
“Now, this is what I was warned about! There’s that Winchester ruthlessness. Let me have it! Your girl’s gonna die if you don’t.”
Sam took James by the collar and beat him down again. The smile never waned as Sam wailed punch after punch. He lifted James by the shirt one final time. He spun James around and gripped him by the shoulders, revealing Dean who stood before them. He stabbed his blade into James’ stomach. James gasped for air, his bones flashing orange and yellow before slumping to the ground.
The sudden silence deafened your ears. Sam ran to you, the clattering of weapons overwhelming your senses.
“Oh my god. What did he do to you? Dean! Help me!” Sam took a deep breath as he frantically untied your legs. Dean joined him and worked on your wrists behind you.
“It hurts, Sam,” you whimpered, your words slurring together as your whole body trembled, full-body chills setting in.
Sam gently wiped the matted hair from your forehead. “I know, baby. I know. We’re here, now, ok? Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re being so tough for us. Just hold on. Just hold on for us. Please.”
As soon as you were free from your ties, you fell forward against Sam’s chest, no longer able to hold yourself up. He scooped you into his arms and picked you up, cradling your head. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You rested your head on his shoulder, sinking deeper into his touch as he carried you toward the daylight.
“Dammit, stay awake for me. Come on. You can do it. Please, Y/N. Dean! Help! Please!”
You couldn’t hold on. Your head fell back against his arm, and your arm slipped from his hold as it fell limp, lifeless.
******
A surge of air awoke you as you were greeted by two fingers placed on your forehead. Castiel knelt beside you, an endearing smile forming on his face. “You should feel better now,” he said.
You were in your room in the bunker, the soft lamp light humming against the walls. You rested above your sheets, still in your gown. The dress was destroyed, tattered with holes and rips and splattered with dried blood. But your arms had no gashes, no residual burns, nothing that remotely resembled the torture you endured.
You tried to sit up, but Castiel stopped you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder. “You still need to rest. You’ll be sore for a few more days.”
“Did, did I die?” you asked.
“No,” Castiel said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I only healed you. I’m not a miracle worker.”
You released a breathy laugh, though apprehension settled under your skin. You lifted the top of your dress. Your older scars remained, and your sternum scar stayed strongly visible.
“That I couldn’t heal, since it wasn’t yours to begin with,” Castiel said.
You nodded. You exhaled an air of relief.
Your door swung open to Sam in the center of your doorway, his chest rising and falling. His lower lip trembled, and his puffy, red eyes widened at the sight of you. Castiel stepped aside as Sam approached you, taking Castiel’s place beside your bed.
“You’re ok?” Sam’s voice rose barely above a whisper as if he couldn’t believe his own words.
Your heart swelled at the sight of him. You nodded, the small smile juxtaposing the tears welling in your eyes. You held your arms out for him, and he accepted, pulling you into his chest with an urgency you’d never experienced from him before. His hold was firm but soothing, one hand across your back, the other burrowed into your hair as you nestled into his shoulder.
“I thought I lost you,” Sam said, his voice shaking.
“But you saved me. I’m here,” you said, almost more to reassure yourself.
Nothing in you wanted to let him go, and something told you he wasn’t going anywhere.
“How’re you feeling, kiddo?”
You lifted your head and found Dean sitting on the edge of your bed. You released Sam and leaned back against your headboard. “I’m still kicking.”
Dean rested a hand on your shin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, why don’t we all let you rest, hmm? You can get cleaned up or take a nap. Maybe I’ll pick up some milkshakes for all of us. I think we’ve earned it.”
You smiled up at him as he stood up. “Thanks, Dean.”
He returned a soft smile and placed his hand on your head, lightly tussling your hair. “I’m glad you’re ok.”
You took his hand in yours and squeezed it, hoping he’d receive your message where words failed you. He squeezed your hand back and released a shaky breath, as if to compose himself, before heading out of your room.
Castiel approached your bed, joining Sam.
“If you’d like,” Castiel began, “I could help you wash up. You must feel incredibly weak.”
Your eyebrows raised at his offer, your cheeks shading a light pink. You looked at Sam who only returned a small shrug.
“I think I can manage,” you breathed out, not entirely convinced of your words. “Besides, I can’t ask an angel to do that for me.”
“‘…[N]o servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.’ And I am God’s messenger. God’s servant. It is precisely my job to provide for you. If you would like.”
You thought for a moment. You weren’t sure you could do it on your own. You were so tired. You took a deep breath in and nodded.
Sam and Castiel helped you out of bed and walked you to your bathroom, your arms resting on both of their shoulders. Your steps were small and delicate as you supported your weight on each foot. The boys kept to your pace, Sam’s hand resting on your back.
Castiel removed his coat and tie then rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Sam lingered in the bathroom while Castiel tested the temperature of the bathwater. Sam leaned against the doorway, his face flush, his eyes longing, watching you as you sat on the counter. His comfort radiated from him. Every muscle in your body begged you to ask him to stay. The words rested on your tongue, ready to be spoken the moment your lips parted. But they never did.
Sam promised to leave the comfiest sweats he could find on your bed before he closed the door behind him. You hoped that his energy would linger after he was gone.
As the water drained from the tub, Castiel met you with a towel. The blood, sweat, and tears had all washed away, but your memories remained. James’ words taunted you, a torture that continued even after his death. Your reflection haunted you. Shame forbade you to look, sure you’d find your failures written across your face.
Castiel helped you dress in the clothes Sam had laid out for you. Both the sweats and the shirt were his; much too big for you, but you didn’t mind. Your bare feet padded down the hall as the two of you joined the Winchesters.
The brothers cracked open beers as you sipped on your milkshake. The boys reminisced of a time before either you or Castiel were in the picture. You tried to settle in, perfectly content to witness a firsthand retelling of the history of the Winchesters, but the monster in the back of your mind took center stage. Pathetic, incapable, a liability. You’re nothing. Chills ran down your spine amidst the chatter and laughter.
Sam caught your eyes, pulling you from your haze. You managed a small smile in his direction. His eyebrows pinched together briefly. He silently mouthed, “You ok?”
You nodded. You were desperate to avoid a scene and allow the boys their time without your problems interfering.
The evening dwindled to night, exhaustion evident on everyone’s faces. The fatigue hit you as well, but fear overtook you as the others packed up for the night. You dreaded the emptiness of your room. The panic swelled in your lungs as you all walked down the hall to your rooms. But you didn’t dare say anything. You refused to continue relying on them, hoping they wouldn’t be as quick to leave you if you kept under the radar.
You all said your goodnights, and you sat in your bed. You couldn’t settle in, though, afraid he would find you as soon as you closed your eyes. But with your eyes open, you swore the small shadows moved along your walls in the dim lamplight. Your heart beat faster, and your breathing accelerated. Beads of sweat lined your forehead as you scratched at the phantom burns across your arms. You held your pillow in front of you and rocked, an abysmal attempt at self-soothing. But if the boys could handle this, so could you.
A knock on your door shook your attention. You tossed your sheets to the side and headed for the door. Sam stood in the hall, concern marking his features.
“I just wanted to check in with you before heading to bed,” Sam said. “Today was a lot. And just because Cas healed you, doesn’t mean you have to be fine.”
“I am fine. Really,” you said. You lied through your teeth. You weren’t going to fold that easily. It was up to you to handle this, not Sam.
Sam’s eyes narrowed as if to study you, then released a sigh. “Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. I’m here for you, ok?”
You nodded, careful to keep your composure.
He closed the door behind him, leaving you to manage your waking nightmare on your own again.
An unfortunate routine formed over the course of the week. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t dare to see James in your nightmares. Every night, you took watch of your room, ensuring every inch was accounted for. The fear dawned on you like clockwork, ritualistic in nature. Your bedroom became a warzone, a dreaded place to be, but you had to brave the storm alone if you were to get through this.
Daytime greeted you with grogginess from the night before, and you kept your distance from the boys. It wasn’t your place to ask for help. You were a guest on borrowed time. And nothing scared you more than your time being up, so you were cautious. You gave them their space as much as it pained you, and as much as you missed them. You refused to be an extra weight for them.
But six nights without sleep would wear down even the strongest of soldiers.
Your paranoid eyes darted across your dimly lit room. You held your pillow, sure that any tighter and it would burst at the seam. Tonight, you couldn’t settle your breathing. Your breaths shortened and quickened until you were hyperventilating. Panic overtook you as tears fell down your cheeks. You couldn’t take it. You weren’t strong enough to handle this. You needed help.
You gasped at the sound of the knock on your door. Your heart pounded in your chest. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and did everything you could to hone your breathing. You’re fine, you repeated to yourself. You’re ok, you’re ok. Just breathe.
You opened the door and found Sam on the other side.
“Hi,” you said. “Is everything alright?”
He didn’t respond right away. He pursed his lips, a grimace and a deep concern in his eyes residing in his features. “Can—can I come in?”
You felt the color drain from your face. “Yeah, of course.”
Your throat was closing, the air being sucked from your lungs. You were sure your time was up. You’d have to pack your bag and leave. With all the effort to keep to yourself, it wasn’t enough. You still weren’t enough.
You closed the door behind you and walked Sam to your bed. You leaned against your headboard while Sam sat opposite you. He kept to himself, as if careful to allow you your space.
“Are you doing ok?” Sam asked. “You’ve been distant since we got back, and I get if you need space maybe to process, or just space from us, but I just need to know if you’re alright.”
You released a shaky breath. “I’m ok. You don’t have to worry about me.” You sucked in your lip, hoping he would buy it.
Sam scanned you and then shook his head. “No. See, I know that’s not true. You don’t have to lie about this. Not to me.”
“What do you mean it’s not true?”
“I know your tells. You bite your lip when you’re not confident in what you’re saying. You did the same thing before your date.”
Heat rose to your cheeks. You averted your eyes from him.
“You can talk to me,” Sam continued. “If there’s anyone who gets it, it’s me.”
“I can handle it,” you said, pulling your legs to your chest. “I’m not here to be a burden.”
“Burden? There’s no burden.”
“You guys do enough by babysitting me after all this time. I don’t need to add to your load. I can work on being self-reliant, I swear.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where is this all coming from?”
Your lip trembled. “James said—”
“James?” Sam said standing up. “The demon? Demons lie. You can’t listen to them.”
“You didn’t hear him,” you said as tears welled up in your eyes. “He was right! I’m pathetic. I got myself into this mess.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I walked right into it. It was my fault I wanted to pretend to be pretty for once. It was my fault I fell for the first guy I looked at.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“And I’m useless to you guys!” you cried. “I’m a liability. I walk around thinking I can help, but I’m just a chore for you guys to clean up. And I’m scared that any day you’ll toss me out on my own because you’re too sick of me.”
“Stop,” Sam said.
Tears streamed down your face. “He said”—you shuddered at the memory— “He said” you stuttered, scared that speaking the rest out loud would make it true, too. “He said I was so fucking disgusting that you wouldn’t—that I was too gross to even be touched. Is there something wrong with me? He said he knew me. He said no one would stoop low enough to want me. Is that true? Am I disgusting?”
“Enough,” Sam said, his voice firm.
Sobs poured out of you. You convulsed into your hands, unable to collect your breathing. Sam sat beside you, his hands rounding your back as he pulled you to his chest. He kept his hand on your head, pressing you to his steady beating heart. You felt his breaths rise and fall at a slow, deliberate pace as he rested his head on yours. He allowed you the time to cool off before you continued.
“I wanted to—I needed to prove him wrong,” you continued, your teeth chattering as you shook. “So, I kept my distance to show him I’m not useless. To show him I can be self-reliant. To show him I don’t need babysitting. But I can’t even do that! I’m just so scared that you’ll kick me out. I want to be useful. I want to be good.”
“Listen to me,” Sam said. “None of what he said is true, ok? He took your fears and twisted them. It wasn’t your fault. It was Dean and I who signed you up, not you.”
“Sam—”
“Let me finish. He set it up. He set it all up, so of course you fell for it. We all did. You’re not stupid for not seeing it. And you’re not a chore. You’re someone who almost died. Y/N, you almost died. So, if there’s any burden I can lift from you, I want to do it. If I could kill him again for what he said to you, I would. There is nothing wrong with you, ok? I—” Sam took a deep breath. “Anyone would, should, be happy to have you in their life. I mean it.”
You exhaled and nodded, keeping your head down.
“You don’t seem convinced,” Sam said.
You shivered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I haven’t slept in days. I’m sorry. I tried to handle it by myself to not be a burden on you—”
“What can I do to show you you’re wanted here?” he said. “What can I do to let you know you’re not worthless? And certainly not here just for our use! The only thing fucking disgusting was all the bullshit James said to you. You are worth so much more than just what you can offer. The moment you stepped foot in here, you brightened our lives. You’ve challenged our thinking, you’ve surely given Dean a run for his money, and you’ve given me…you’ve been a friend, something I haven’t had in so long. We want you here. What can I do to show you you’re not alone here?”
Sam’s fervor allowed your final façade to dissipate. Your lip trembled before you broke out in tears. “I was so scared, Sam. It hurt so bad.”
You reached out for him, pulling him flush against you.
“I know,” he said.
“His words won’t leave me alone,” you said, “him just taunting me as he left burn after burn. I still feel him everywhere. I want him gone. I just want him gone,” you cried into his chest, your voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you, ok? I’ve got you.”
You couldn’t be sure how long you held him. Nothing could tear you away. And Sam let you as he continued running his hand down your hair. You shuddered in his grasp, but his warmth soothed you as you settled into the rhythm of his breathing. Soon, your eyes hung lower and lower, the threat of sleep pursuing you. You fought it off, but the weight of it loomed over you.
“I’m so tired,” you whispered against his chest, “but I’m so scared.”
Sam lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes locked with his. “Tell me what you need from me. What can I do to help you? Please.”
His plea swayed you to speak the words you’d been holding in all week. “Would—would you be willing to stay?” you asked. “The night, I mean. Just so I know he’s not—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Sam said, a sympathetic smile forming on his face. “I can do that.”
You exhaled an air of relief, your body relaxing for the first time. You pulled your covers back and allowed the both of you to settle into bed. Sam rested on his back with his hands at his sides. You did the same, rigid in your movements. You took a deep breath, his comfort exuding off of him like heat from the sun. It drew you nearer, pulling you like a magnet. You willed yourself closer, daring to rest your head on his chest. You felt his heart thud against you.
“Is this ok?” you asked.
Sam nodded. He pulled his arm out from his side and wrapped it around you. He twisted his body to face you and pulled you into his chest. You nestled into his touch, wishing to be impossibly closer. Sam hooked your leg with his and pulled it toward him, resting it in between his thighs. A content sigh escaped your lips.
Your head rested against his heart, staying solid and steady, keeping in time with your breathing. The rhythm soothed you, his words still playing in your mind like a lullaby. Every bit of this moment felt natural, so undeniably right. The demon’s words had dulled in your mind, Sam now saving your senses. A small smile rested on your lips. If Sam was all you needed to sleep, you’d be happy to stay here the rest of your life.
What the Water Gave Me - Chapter 1
