Bloodline (Supernatural)

26 - 'Change of Pace.'

It's official: this is my new room. It's certainly no upgrade, not even in the part about getting company. There is such a thing as bad company.

I don't sleep. I don't get let out of the restraints and the contraption. The only relief I get is when Not-Sam and Dean disappear to air themselves out. But even then I'm not alone. When they leave, Finn comes in to replace them.

I've had a lot of choice words for Finn, definitely not nice. At times I've begged, I've groveled. I'm not proud of those, because I know deep down he gets satisfaction from it.

At some point, Finn pitied me, because he started slipping me his blood again. He made sure that there was no trace of feeding by the time the demons returned.

I'm just waiting for the moment Not-Sam and Dean realize I've been juicing up. Maybe we miss a spot of blood. Or they can smell the blood on my breath, like cigarettes or alcohol. If they ever do, they keep mum about it. As if they're in on the joke.

Every time I think I'm trying to outsmart them, part of me believes they're pushing me on the path they want, not the one that I want or need.

"Hmm, what will it be today, Sam?" Not-Dean asks his counterpart. "Think we should start stripping skin?"

"We got to go bigger than that. She looks like she's got some courage today." Not-Sam circles the contraption. "Maybe we start breaking bones. We've been treating her too softly."

There will never be a "thank you" for that. But he's right, they've been breaking into my mind. They're not breaking my body. If I don't stop them before they start breaking bones...

"We can start at the fingers and work our way up. Start small."

"How about you let me take a free shot to break something of yours before you start on me," I say. "It's the least you can do."

"That's not how that works," says Not-Sam. "Or maybe...maybe we start taking fingers off. It won't kill her, just give her a hell of a lot of pain."

So the demons still want me alive, they just don't care how much of me is alive. As long as I've got a beating heart and I'm breathing, that'll be enough for them.

It sure as hell isn't enough for me.

In a weird sort of way, my body feels the strongest it's felt in some time. I know it's from the blood intake that Finn's been slipping me. It's been a gradual build up, I've been biding my time by not tapping into it during the unrelenting torture sessions. I don't want to play my hand too early.

"You take one hand, I'll take the other?" Not-Dean suggests.

I clench my hands into fists as they approach a hand each of mine. They try to pry my fingers open so they can display them against the cold, hard surface. It's now or never. This is the closest they may get to me.

"Stop fighting it, Wills," Not-Dean grunts. "It's gonna happen, whether you make it easy on us or not."

"We might spare you a finger or two if you cooperate," says Not-Sam.

"Might?"

The magic in me builds, thrumming in my bones. As I quickly unfurl my fists, blasts of invisible forces send Not-Sam and Dean flying away from me. Grunting, I use a small bit of magic to pull one strap off me. Then the other. Then the ones at my feet.

I honestly can't say how I know to use my powers in this moment. Instinct, yeah. Maybe it's instinct. Let's call it that.

Just as the two rush for me—large knives now in hands—I push my hands out. Again, the two go soaring off their feet. This time, they stick to the brick walls. They struggle but barely get any give from me. My head begins to pound. You can do this.

"What the hell is this?" Not-Dean thunders.

"Change of pace." I rub my wrists. "All those threats...Sam and Dean won't say them to my face, because they'd be outright lies. You've tried your worst, or your best, whichever. If you'd kept the bunker façade longer...maybe I would've cracked. Maybe your words would've gotten to me. But they haven't. They never will."

"Oh, they may have already," hisses Not-Sam. "You may just be in denial. We're speaking the deep truth they never would to your face. They're too soft to tell you what they really think of you. If you ever see them again, demand the truth. You'll see then."

Both of my fists clench. The magic feels like it's chomping at the bit to unleash on these two. They've spoken enough. They can't keep talking a minute more.

I hear two sharp cracks. Both of their heads fall onto a shoulder each.

The rush begins to wear off, and I release them. The bodies crash to the ground, and my legs begin to wobble. The pain my head grows. Though they look like the brothers, I know I haven't actually killed the Winchesters. No, but I just killed demons. I'm a killer now.

Conflicted emotions rise through the fatigue inside me. I'm happy, that I beat them. I'm upset that they still look like Sam and Dean, giving the illusion I killed my recently discovered family.

We're speaking the deep truth they never would to your face. They're too soft to tell you what they really think of you. If you ever see them again, demand the truth. You'll see then.

"Okay," says Finn, who rushes to catch me before I hit the ground. "Do you see what I mean now? All this time...they've been keeping you with both hands tied behind your back. See what a difference this makes?"

My eyes stay on the bodies. "W...what did I just do?" I know what I've done, so it's hard to say why those words tumbled out of my mouth. Shock, probably.

"You've freed yourself, Willa. No chains, no strings. You're free to grow as you will. And I'll help you." His lips press against my head.

I cringe at the contact. Weakly, I try and push against Finn, to let me go.

"You've fought enough for today. I think your old home misses you."

Again, acting nice. Maybe I'm imagining things now. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe I'm unconscious and can't feel the pain that Hell is really dishing out. Right now, I don't see a way to figure out if this is real or not.

Right now...I don't think I want to figure it out. I'm so tired. I just need new scenery. Recover. Demon blood. Anything to get me out of this damn room.