Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Not the Same Part 1

Warnings: Angst, violence, blood

"Sam, I think I found him," you whispered as you hid behind the kitchen doors, peeking out into the main bar area. "I'm not sure I'll be able to handle him for long, so hurry your ass up."

"Y/N, wait!" Sam yelled. "Don't go after him yet. Wait for me, and we can go together. We know how ruthless Dean is as a Demon."

"Sam, you know me. I won't wait. So just hurry up," you insisted, hanging up the phone. Making sure the tranquilizers were in your pocket, you took a deep breath, stepping into the bar. Immediately you were overcome with stale beer, unwashed bodies, and cigarette smoke. Trying to ignore it, you made your way to the side of the bar where Dean sat at a table, sipping on a glass of beer, watching the exotic dancer perform.

"Y/N took you long enough to find me," he muttered, never moving his eyes from the swaying brunette on the stage. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

Sitting down beside him, you drank in the sight of him. In the time he had been gone his hair had grown out, his face looking almost younger somehow as if not having a soul had freed him. If he enjoyed being a Demon that much, your job was going to be tougher than you thought. "Dean, you know how I feel about you. I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

Before you could even blink he turned, his hand wrapped around your throat, his eyes black as he stared into yours. "You'll wish you had," he promised before dragging you up from the table. Moving his hand from the front of your neck to the back, he pushed you to the door, and nobody made a move to stop him. Struggling to keep up with his pace, you winced as your shoulder connected with the doorway.

Out of the bar, into the sunshine he went, shoving you towards a familiar, black car. But instead of the sleek and gleaming Impala, you were used to, this one was covered in dust and grime. Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled out the tranq, getting ready to slam it into his neck. "I don't think so," he chuckled, twisting your arm so the needle was nestled against your skin.

The strength of the tranq was stronger than it should have been for your size, and you could immediately feel it going to work. Your knees buckled, your head grew fuzzy as Dean picked you up in his arms. Tossing you onto the backseat, he brushed your hair back, smiling down at you with those wicked black eyes of his. "We're going to have so much fun," he promised you before the tranq fully took control.

"There's my girl," Dean's deep voice spoke from next to your ear as he gently tapped your cheek. Blinking your eyes, your head foggy and sore, it took a moment to realize you were in some sort of basement. Tied to a chair in the middle of the room, no windows to show how long you had been out of it. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to miss out on all the fun."

Beside him, you could see a small table, his favorite hunting knife along with a couple other sharp instruments beside it.

"Dean, you don't have to do this," you started pleading, which only made his eyes light up with glee.

"I do love it when they beg," he said gleefully. "This is going to be so much fun. I know what turns you on, but I've never known what your pain threshold is."

Picking up the knife, he ran it over your clothes, leaning forward, his teeth tugging on your earlobe. "Ever since I became a Demon, I've had this obsession for blood. There are those who say it's the Mark. As a Knight of Hell, I'm supposed to love killing. But I do wonder if it's been inside me all along, wanting to come play."

"My Dean would never do this," you spat just as the knife slid into the fabric of your shirt, slicing it cleanly in half.

It took Dean the better part of an hour to remove your shirt and jeans from you, and by then you were covered in tiny little knicks and scratches. With each droplet of blood, you could see how excited he became, even going so far as to lean forward and catch a drop with his tongue.

Gritting your teeth together, you tried to ignore the burn, telling yourself over and over that this wasn't the Dean you had fallen in love with. This was a twisted version of him.

"There, that looks better," he finally exclaimed, standing back and looking down at you. It was then you could see the bulge in his jeans, how excited he truly was over the sight of your bloody, near naked body and it scared you more than you cared to admit.

Picking up the small scalpel, he ran it down your neck, hard enough to leave a line of blood behind it. His eyes turned black, and with his free hand, he reached down, roughly pushing down the cups of your bra to release your breasts.

"I've always enjoyed these," he muttered before taking one of your nipples between his lips, gently pulling on it, surprising you. The gently moment didn't last too long before he bit down, finally drawing a cry from your lips. Tilting his head back, he smirked up at you, taking the scalpel across the mounds of your breasts. "And soon everyone will know who they belong too."

Chuckling wickedly, he began carving into your skin, each cry torn from your lips exciting him even farther.

It wasn't much longer before he pulled away. Blood steadily dripped from the wounds he had inflicted. Standing there, he stared at his handiwork, reaching down to readjust himself. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."

"Dean, you won't get away with this. Sam knows where I am, and we'll rescue you," you told him, watching as your words angered him.

"I don't need rescuing!" He screamed, picking his knife back up. "I have more work to do."

Two days later

Your lips completely parched, you couldn't believe you were still alive. That you had enough blood left in your body to pump through your system. The floor below you was completely stained red, as was the bed on the far side of this little hell you were currently trapped in.

Any minute Dean could come back into the room, and you weren't sure you could handle it again. Seeing the Dean you had loved, turned into such a monster. The hands that were usually so gentle with you causing so much pain. Trying not to stare up at him while he gained so much pleasure from your pain.

The door handle creaked as it turned, and you sank back as far as you could in the wooden chair, wishing that you had more than your blood soaked panties as a cover. Wishing that you had listened to Sam and had never tried to capture Dean on your own.

Trembling in fear as the door slowly swung open, you almost passed out when a tall, lanky Sam Winchester stepped into the room. His arm was in a sling, and he had the beginning of a black eye, but he was here.

Immediately you started crying as Sam raced over to you. Trying to avert his eyes, he quickly undid the ropes that had cut into your arms and legs, gently wrapping his coat around your body. "Y/N, I'm so sorry I wasn't here any sooner."

"Where's Dean?" You stuttered, your eyes wide as you waited for this to be a dream. That any second you would wake up, and Dean would be there, ready to inflict more pain for his pleasure.

"He's tied up. Y/N, he won't hurt you again, I promise," Sam said, gently lifting you in his arms. Even the slightest movement hurt, and before you were even out of the room your eyes rolled back and you knew no more.