Words: 3370283Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDvfwd1CZ7s
Dean x Reader283Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrlg0HA4PN2
Warnings: mildly graphic descriptions, violence, blood, language283Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡplSrVzqMfk
283Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ53IbrLM1cq
You narrowed your eyes at the crossroad demon, losing patience. “What is there to talk about? You either make the deal or you don’t,” you said angrily.
He scoffed at you. “Surely you must realize it’s not that simple in your case. We’ve been explicitly instructed not to deal with you.”
Your heart stalled in its pounding. “What? By who, Luther? He must be a pretty big fish in that hell pond if he’s giving orders to crossroad demons everywhere,” you said.
The demon rolled his eyes at you. “Not Luther. The biggest fish,” he hissed.
You swallowed hard, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Crowley.”
”There it is! Good girl. You figured it out,” he said. “Crowley has a much longer history of grievances with the Winchesters than with you, sweetheart. So you can see why he would rather have Dean’s soul as opposed to yours. We knew you’d come knocking, you or Sam. Sam he may have been willing to deal with—what’s one Winchester’s soul to another?—but he doesn’t see much value in exchanging Dean’s soul for yours. He’d rather have Dean. Now as there’s nothing more for us to discuss, I think I’ll be going–”
You smirked. “You’re not very bright are you?” You flicked your lighter and dropped it, igniting the huge Devil’s trap you had laid out in gasoline, closing you and the demon within it.
He heaved an annoyed sigh. “Seriously? What good is going to come of this, Y/N? Dean is dead,” he gave you a cruel smile, “and he’s going to stay dead. He’s being tortured in hell right now. You should hear the way he screams–”
You gritted your teeth and rushed at the demon, grabbing him firmly by the front of his suit coat. “Listen to me, you son of a bitch! You’re gonna make this deal and you’re gonna do it now!” You withdrew the demon knife and flashed the blade at him. “Or you’re going to die.”
”Then kill me!” he spat back. “That would be nothing compared to what Crowley would do to me if I disobeyed a direct order! No one is going to deal with you. So little Dean-o is staying put in the fire.”
Your jaw clenched tighter. “Fine.” You plunged the knife into the demon’s torso and withdrew it rapidly, pushing him away and watching him drop to the gravel as the hellfire shown from his eyes and mouth.
You strode to the edge of the Devil’s trap and jumped carelessly over the fiery perimeter. You got to the Impala and popped the trunk, grabbing a rag and wiping the blood from the knife before tossing both of them down inside and slamming the trunk shut forcefully, still gritting your teeth. Now what?
”Hello, darling,” a smooth voice complete with a British accent spoke behind you and you jumped, spinning around.
”Crowley,” you said, trying to sound brave. “What do you want?”
He glanced over at the still-burning Devil’s trap and the body inside it. With a snap of his fingers, the flames extinguished. “You just knifed one of my best workers. I might have a thing or two to say about that,” he said.
You scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you’ve got thousands of those bastards. One gone isn’t anything you’d bat an eyelash at usually. So what is it really?” You leaned back against the trunk. “Here to kill me?”
He laughed and approached you. “Now why would I do that, when you’re suffering more here than you would in hell, even under my most… creative devices?” He took another step closer to you. “No. I’m here to tell you to cease and desist. Dean’s soul is going to remain firmly planted in hell, and killing crossroad demons isn’t going to do a thing about it. You iced Luther, one of my superstars, so now Dean’s contract has passed to me.”
”Huh… so he’s really dead then? I guess I expected him to have some sort of insurance plan in place so he couldn’t die,” you said thinking out loud.
Crowley rolled his eyes at you. “This isn’t the wizarding world of Harry Potter, this is hell. He’s dead. That knife did the job. Now I have Dean’s soul and you have your legs. So run home and take care of the old drunk and the moose. You’re wasting my time.”
You raised your eyebrows at him. “I wonder why you went to all the trouble to come to tell me that unless you thought I might actually be able to get Dean out.”
Crowley gave you a smug little smile. “You think too highly of yourself, darling. It’s no trouble. After all, I’m the king of hell. I can be anywhere faster than you can say—“ and he was gone.
You stood up straight, still puzzling over the interaction. So the crossroad demon was telling the truth: Crowley had enacted a trade embargo against you. A crossroad deal wasn’t the answer. Time to enact Plan B.
_ _ _ _ _ _
It was a dreary evening as you parked the Impala in a well out-of-the-way alley. You glanced around and carved a path up through the dingy street, stepping around piles of refuse and ignoring the splashes of dirty water on your boots. You were about to the halfway mark when your cell phone began to ring insistently. You hesitated, wondering if you should accept the call or not. You pulled it out and glanced down at the screen; Sam.
Better answer it.
”Sam?” you answered, resuming your jaunt through the dark alleyways, winding around dumpsters.
”Y/N. It’s good to hear your voice. Are you okay?”
You didn’t answer for a moment, wondering what to say. The truth was a little complicated. “I’m fine,” you said, jumping a particularly large and deep puddle. “Are you alright?”
Sam’s voice was weary. “As good as I could be I suppose. Where are you?”
Now that you definitely had to lie about it. Sam wasn’t stupid, and he would most likely figure out what you were up to if you were to tell him the truth. “Illinois,” you lied.
”What are you doing in Illinois?” he pressed, his tone a little surprised.
”Nothing. Just passing through,” you said. The silence stretched, neither one of you knowing where to go next.
”Any luck?” Sam finally asked, a little quietly.
You leaned up against the nearest brick wall, the last corner you needed to round just to your right. “Not yet. But I’m not giving up, Sam. Don’t worry. I’m going to fix this.”
There was another pause, and you could picture Sam pacing anxiously in the bunker. “I wish you’d just come back…”
”I will. When I get Dean back. I have to go, Sam. Good to hear from you. I’ll catch up with you—“ you hesitated, when? What if you didn’t come back? “later.”
Sam heaved a sigh. “Alright. Stay safe, Y/N.”
You dropped the phone from your ear, ended the call, and turned your phone completely off. Taking a final deep breath, you rounded the corner.
There she was. This was the rogue reaper you had heard about. She had short dark hair, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket. She looked like something out of a Joan Jett music video. You approached her cautiously. She was leaning on the hood of her taxi, reading the newspaper, and looked up unconcerned as she heard the cracking of little stones under your boots as you approached. She straightened up.
”You’re the–?”
”Reaper. Yes,” she said, tossing her newspaper down on the hood of the taxi. She studied you, squinting her eyes as she looked you over. “You’re a hunter. And you want to go through the door.”
You nodded, swallowing hard, feeling your nerves catch up with you. “Yes.”
”You’re young, strong. You’re healthy. Why would you want to do such a thing?”
”I didn’t come for a chat,” you said shortly. “Can you do it or not?”
”Anxious eh? Yes, of course, I can do it. Payment is a favor. I’ll cash in someday.”
”Fine,” you agreed. “How does this work?”
”Follow me,” she said. You walked steadily behind her up an alley that dead-ended into a building. She glanced over at you. “You’ll have twenty-four hours to meet me back where I drop you off. I don’t care what you do in Purgatory, but be back there exactly in twenty-four hours.”
You nodded. “The door into hell…” you hesitated. “Where is it?”
She raised her eyebrows at you and realization suddenly dawned on her face. “I know who you are. You’re Y/N… You’re trying to bring back Dean Winchester.”
You stared at her, trying to keep your expression blank.
”That’s a fool’s errand. Even if you survive purgatory and find the door, you’ll never get Dean Winchester’s soul out of Hell. He’s Crowley’s favorite chew toy now.”
”I didn’t ask for your opinion,” you said suddenly. “Are you going to tell me where the door into hell is or not?”
”Fine. Where three trees meet as one, there’s a rock. Move that aside and that’s your way in and out. I won’t hold my breath for you…” she said.
In a blinding flash, you were suddenly surrounded by tall trees in a seemingly endless forest. The sky was dark and overcast, giving the landscape an ominous appearance like things could be lurking anywhere—you were quite certain they were.
”Here. Twenty-four hours,” the reaper said. . “Be wary of the time. It swims by quickly in this place.” And she disappeared again
You heard rustling in the bushes off to your left, and your eyes snapped wide open, paranoid, your heart pounding, and you drew a long blade, before setting off to weave your way through the trees.
_ _ _ _ _ _
By the time you reached the clearing and looked ahead to see three monstrous trees, all growing into one another, you were covered with dirt and grime and blood. Some of the blood was your own (cuts and scratches peppered your face and arms) and a lot of it was not. You had lost count of how many monsters you had slain on your way through the trees. You had tied your shirt around a, particularly deep gash in your upper arm, which was still twinging every time you moved. “Thank God,” you said, stumbling over to the trees and looking up at them with wide, curious eyes. You heaved a couple of deep breaths and grabbed hold of the top of the boulder in the center, pulling it outward towards you.
It fell with a crash and there was a sound like wind roaring through a canyon. You felt the air behind you pushing past and sucking into the chasm you were staring at; the back-door into hell.
With one more deep breath, you adjusted your grip on the hilt of your knife and plunged inside.
As soon as you were enveloped by the blackness through the door you were hit by the heat and the stink of hell. Your brow broke out in beads of sweat, which dripped into your eyes and stung your cuts. You skirted along the jagged rock walls until you found a corner. You looked at the large blade in your hand and swapped it out for the demon-killing knife stowed at your hip, and edged as close as you could to the corner, back still pressed flat against the wall, ignoring the sharp rocks digging into your spine. You peered around the edge. The hallway was blessedly empty.
You slipped around and made your way cautiously down the corridor, knife raised at the ready.
You did your best to block out the horrible screams of agony and maddened mumbling as you passed row after row of tiny little cells. Every once and a while you would catch a glimpse of shifting eyes watching you through a slit in the doors or a haunted, gaunt face staring at you desperately, hungrily as you passed.
You wondered where Dean was… according to the crossroad demon and the reaper, he would be hard to get to. Crowley had reserved someplace special for his soul. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to put horrendous thoughts of what Dean may be going through from your mind. Just focus…, you thought to yourself. Steady progress. You made it through purgatory and into hell. You can do anything. The shaky feeling in your legs subsided some and you wiped at your brow with the back of your hand.
You threw yourself against the wall as you suddenly heard the clanking and squeaking of a heavy metal door. Two voices accompanied the noise; demons. They were headed in your direction. You pressed back into the wall, hidden by shadows, and waited as they passed.
”I’m not sure the boss has even hit his stride with him yet,” one said casually.
The other laughed throatily. “I think you’re right. Winchester ain’t seen anything yet.”
”And he won’t,” you said, stepping out into the middle of the hallway behind them revealing yourself. Both demons whipped around at the sound of your voice, eyes black as midnight.
”What the hell are you doing here?” the first demon yelled, rushing towards you. You silenced him with a quick thrust of your knife and easily disarmed the other demon, shoving him hard into the wall, your blade hovering mere millimeters from his throat. Your hand was shaking with adrenaline and the demon felt a little flicker of fear as he registered the intensity of the fire burning in your eyes. “You’re gonna tell me exactly where Dean is and I’m going to kill you. Otherwise, I’ll cut you up and leave you alive to explain to Crowley that you let me get away and that I’m wandering around his domain somewhere.” Your tone was savage and the demon let out a hiss of an exhale.
”The next wing over, I swear,” he spat at you. He began to laugh in your face. “But you’ll never get to him. He’s being guarded by many of us. He’s slowly breaking. You should hear how quickly he screams and cries now,” he laughed.
You looked down at him with disgust, pretending not to feel the nauseous churning in your gut at his words. “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” you said. With that, you drew your knife across his throat and let him drop to the ground.
You stumbled back, gasping for breath, your hands shaking. You needed to get out of here as fast as possible. You were starting to scare yourself… you felt like this place and purgatory were doing something to you, and it wasn’t good… Humans weren’t supposed to enter here, only damned souls and monsters.
You leaned back against the wall, shutting your eyes tight and trying to return your breathing to normal and block out the heat and the smell and the sounds… You focused on your heartbeat and your breathing, trying to calm both of them. When you felt steadier, you again opened your eyes, stepped over the fallen demons, and headed in the direction they had come from.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Dean’s head was hanging limply, his chin on his chest. He had no feeling in his hands from the angle of the iron bindings on his wrists. The hot, metallic taste was constant in his mouth. He felt ripped back into consciousness. All he could feel was pain and heat. He kept his eyes shut. What was the point of opening them? All he would see was the same dungeon and the same demons standing by, waiting to resume their horrible work.
But his ears perked at an unfamiliar sound and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He barely lifted his head and blinked through the sweat and blood running into his eyes. There it was again. Some muffled yelling and clanging outside the heavy metal door to his room.
A few of the demons exchanged looks with each other.
”Heh heh,” Dean laughed weakly, smiling at them. “What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise?”
”Shut up, Winchester!” The one in charge yelled. “You three, with me.”
Dean watched as they left the room, the door slamming behind them. He eyed the remaining two demons. “Don’t look so sour. I’m sure he left you guys here because you’re more skilled, right?” He choked out. He suddenly coughed and the iron taste in his mouth intensified.
There were more bangs and yells just beyond the door and then things were suddenly silent. The remaining demons now looked at each other and then exited through the same door, leaving Dean alone.
He strained his ears to listen, wishing his eyes could bore through that metal door so he could see what was happening beyond. It stayed quiet for a few long moments.
Suddenly there were a couple more stifled yells and the sound of something heavy hitting the exterior of the door.
”Son of a bitch…” Dean muttered, staring intensely at the door. He was trying to decide if it was more likely that this was a friend or foe. Maybe it was some new demon foreman punishing his guards for not enough torture, who knew?
The door slowly pushed open and Dean held his breath, swallowing hard.
You peeked in around the edge of the door. At first, Dean didn’t recognize you. You were absolutely covered in dirt and blood, but he saw the color of those irises in your wide eyes and knew it was you at once. You moved fully into the room, panting from your exertion of the fights in the hallway.
”Y/N?”
”Oh my God,” you choked out. He was there. You had really found him. “Dean…” Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you looked at him and you stumbled across the space between you, rushing to him, letting the knife in your hand fall with a clatter to the floor. “Dean.” The tears left clean trails behind them on your smudged and dirty cheeks. You fell to your knees in front of him and grabbed him into a tight hug, pressing him against you.
”Y/N—“ he leaned into you, wondering if this was real. He heard you sniffle and you pulled back, your hands clasping the sides of his face now. As his eyes locked with yours, all glassy and red from crying, he knew it was really you. “Y/N—what the—How did you get here? What’d you do? Did you make a deal or—“ a horrible thought dawning on him. “If you’re dead, I’ll kill you,” Dean said in a rush, his eyes wide and afraid.
”Shush,” you said, still looking him over. “I’m not dead.” You felt like you had been punched in the stomach as you examined him. You were sure the piteous expression was easily readable to him. He looked raw, broken. Every bit of him was covered in blood.
Dean’s eyes traveled over you quickly, drinking in every bit of you, assessing your condition. “You look like hell.”
“Yeah. That’s actually literally exactly what I look like. And so do you,” you said, going to work on undoing his bindings. “Wait a second. Here,” you said, taking out your small silver flask and putting it to his lips. Dean drank deeply. The water was cool and tasted like the best thing he had ever had.
He coughed a little and raised his eyes to yours. “Was that holy water?” he asked.
You nodded and went back to undoing his bonds. “Yeah.”
”That’s my girl,” Dean muttered weakly, with a crooked smile.
You couldn’t manage one back at him, not when you were looking at him so stained with blood, and so weak. Your heart ached as you tore off the last bond. “Come on,” you said, helping him to his feet, snatching up the demon knife as you did so. “We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got a deadline.”
ns 15.158.61.39da2
