Big Bad Wolf
It was dark, quiet, and cold. All you could hear was your heartbeat and the sound of chains clacking against each other. You opened your eyes gently, then blinking a few times trying to adjust to the darkness. Your eye sight was blurry, but you could make out a table in the other room in front of you, and a dark figure sitting at the so called table. You wanked your arms, finally realizing they were above your head in the chains, your toes barely touching the floor. You wanked your arms again knowing it was pointless, but you were too stubborn to give up. The dark figure let out a small scoff with a hint of excitement laced around it, the figure shifted and started making it’s way towards you singing out lyrics to a song
"Little red riding hood, I don’t think little big girls should go walking in these spooky old woods alone." he mumbled out slowly. When the light hit the figures face, you knew who it was. Dean Winchester. You tried to remember what exactly happened, and how you ended up here. You didn’t even know where you were exactly.
"Ya’know, Y/N, you put up quite a fight." Dean said, stepping closer to you. In one hand he had a knife the other was empty. You tensed up, trying to think of a way to get out of here. Dean trailed the knife down your arms, to your shoulders, then down to your torso, down to your hips, then he pulled the knife away. You squirmed with a small grunt.
"You can’t get out, Y/N," Dean said, walking around you, the knife running across your rib cage and then to the small of your back. "Little red riding hood," the knife skimmed up and down your back "You sure are looking good." you could hear the amusement playing in his voice. "You’re everything that a big bad wolf could want." Dean sang out behind you. You felt a tug on your shirt, then heard the material ripping, soon enough your shirt was in the floor underneath you. You thanked yourself for not wearing your good shirt, but there were bigger problems ahead.
"Please, Dean, let me-"
"Let you go?" He laughed, "Why? So, you can go running back to Sam? My brother?" Dean growled, walking around you again. The knife running deeper into your skin.
He dug the knife into your side, you let out a scream then followed it up with a grunt from the inside of your chest.
"Oh, c’mon, I know you can do better than that." Dean said harshly, pushing the knife deepening. You squirmed, knowing that was going to make things worse, but you couldn’t help but squirm. Dean pushed and drug the knife down your skin, cutting deeply. You felt the blood run from your side. ‘You’ve dealt with worse, Y/N!’ you thought to yourself. ‘Play through the pain, remember.’ He pulled the knife back slightly, his fingers playing in the blood that was dripping down your side and soaking into the hem of your pants.
"Dean, I know you’re in there.. This isn’t you.." you barked out when he pulled the knife away. He laughed a sinister laugh.
"You really think so, Y/N?" Dean grinned, he walked in front of you. The tip of the knife against his bloody finger tip, spinning the knife slowly. You glanced down at the knife, then back at him.
Dean’s face fell, then walked in front of you, digging the knife into your stomach slightly. Just enough for you to let out a pained moan. Dean watched you, the knife plunging deeper and deeper into your stomach you letting out pained noises made him happy and his smile growing wider.
"The Dean you knew, Y/N, is long gone." Dean yanked the knife out of you, leaving you dying to catch your breath. Dean’s eyes watched the blood soak into the hem of your pants again. Then reached forward to the button, causing you to flinch.
"Calm down, take a breath, Y/N." Dean said soothingly. This was crazy. You didn’t know what he wanted exactly, but none of this made sense. He unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down slowly, the knife skimming across your thigh, leaving a trail of blood behind it.
"Lift your feet." Dean commanded, no longer being soothing. You didn’t move an inch.
"I said, lift your fucking feet or I’ll cut them off." Dean growled, putting the knife against your ankle telling you he would cut off your feet. You let out a quiet sob, picking your feet up slightly. Dean tossed your shirt and your pants across the dirty room, taking in the sight of you in only your bra and panties. You felt like you were going to vomit. Hot tears started to stream down your face.
"Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. This is going to be fun Y/N." Dean grabbed your face by your cheeks, pulling you forward to him. The grip on your cheeks caused you to groan slightly. The cuts on your side and stomach starting to itch and burn leaving you squirming. Dean grinned like a fool, then pushing you away.
"Dean," you moaned out, "W-why are you doing this? Why to me?" you asked gently. You didn’t want to make any sudden movements or any kind of comments or questions that’ll set him off and kill you.
"Why?" Dean, now at the table playing with a radio trying to find a station that isn’t static, grumbled out, "Because you were mine. Not Sam’s, you were mine and mine only." You watched him, confusion written all over your face. The radio started to play the song that Dean was singing earlier.
"What big eyes you have, the kind of eyes that drive boys mad," Dean sang out quietly, walking back over to you, his fingers skimming across the cuts that were on your body. You flinched away from him, the touch of his fingers made the cuts burn and itch more. You saw Dean grin, looking up at you, "So, just to see that you don’t get chased, I think I ought to walk with you for a ways." Dean drug the knife across your hips softly. Suddenly, everything that has happened finally clicked. He was doing this because he loved you, or did, and wanted to torture you because he thought you were Sam’s. You just connected with Sam more, than you did with Dean. Dean never really tried with you, and neither did you. Your body didn’t register the gash that Dean made because of the shock that was setting in from everything.
"Dean.. You.. You loved me?" you gasped out, finally registering the cut. It wasn’t as bad as the other two, but still scar material. Dean let out a scoff that sounded like a laugh. You knitted your eyebrows. You were curious as to why he didn’t bother trying, or even telling you. The thing that was telling you this, was, in fact, him, but not the part of him you thoroughly enjoyed after every hunt the three of you did.
"The other Dean did." Was all he said as he
dug the knife into your thigh, you let out a high-pitch shriek. Your heart started to crumble at what he said, but you know damn well he was right. Good Dean wouldn’t do this to you to prove a point.
The ringing of your phone brought Dean’s attention away from your bleeding leg to the pocket of your pants. You squirmed again as he answered the phone, he held a finger to his lips for you to be quiet. You didn’t want to risk it, so you stayed quiet.
"Oh, hey there Sam." Dean smiled. You heard a muffled voice on the other end, to which Dean laughed and shook his head.
"Your little girlfriend is doing just fine, Sammy.” Dean said, making his way towards you, the knife circling around the wound on your tummy, causing you to flinch and gasp.
"Here." Dean held the phone up to your ear, but trailed the knife closer up to your chest ready to plunge the knife into your chest if you started to freak out and tell Sam.
"Y/N?! Are you okay?!" Sam’s voice was laced with concern which you smiled at. Dean pushed on the knife harder
"Y-yeah, Sam, I’m-" you coughed, "Yeah." was all you could manage out. Sam mumbled a few curse words under his breath. He must’ve put everything together, and you were praying he was tracing the call to where you were. Dean pulled the phone away and hung up. You let out a whimper, and Dean seemed to be bored so he knocked you out. You knew this wasn’t the end. You were nowhere near the end.
Uh, okay, so I lied, there’s going to be three parts to this. The third will be the ending. I’m so sorry this is taking so long, but how I’m writing it, it’s full with detail and I love me some detail. So, again, I’m sorry this is taking so long.