The Secret of Henley Winchester || Dean's Daughter (Supernatural)

Chapter 16: The Final Countdown

The wood splintered, shattering in every direction, the bookshelf now only a shamble of remains. Groaning, Henley clutched her stomach, leaning her head back against the wall. She'd bet every last penny she had that her ribs were bruised, if not broken. . .again. Just once Henley wished that when she was doing something important someone wouldn't try to murder her and everyone around her. Watching Ketch struggle to get up from across the room, Henley knew this would be her only chance. She groaned as she leaned on the wall for support, slowly hauling herself off the Bunker floor.

"Why can't you just die already?" she spit out, narrowing her eyes at Ketch as he stumbled to his feet, glaring daggers at her from across the library. He let out a scoff wiping the blood from his mouth as it slowly dribbled down his chin.

"Funny. . .I was thinking the same thing about you Winchesters."

"Trust me," she laughed, "we aren't going anywhere any time soon." Reaching her left hand behind her, Henley felt the hilt of her knife she had stashed in the belt loop of her pants. Grasping the handle, she whipped the knife out, flinging it across the room, watching as it soared quickly through the air, embedding in Ketch's shoulder. He let out a groan, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he sunk back to the floor. A satisfied smirk wormed its way upon her lips. That ought to keep him occupied for a while. Henley limped over to the table where Lady Bevel lay bleeding out in her chair, throat slit, and her father sat unconscious, still linked to Mary.

Henley winced, grasping onto the table for support, nonetheless sinking to the floor. Letting out a strangled gasp, she lifted up her shirt and looked down, biting her bottom lip out of frustration. Sweat emanated around her forehead, as her grip on the table faltered. Why the hell did her ribs have to be so damn fragile? Purple and green splotches adorned her stomach, the spots tender and becoming more swollen by the moment. She glanced up at her father, slowly making her way over to his chair on her knees. With trembling hands, she latched onto his bicep, shaking him roughly. "Come on, wake up dammit! Please, please wake up!" Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as her father remained motionless. Just as she was about to jostle Dean again, her entire body stiffened, as something hard and cold pressed against the back of her head. Shit. Groaning, Henley turned around slowly, coming face to chest with Ketch, the handgun now pressing against her temple. Gritting her teeth, she looked up at Ketch, glaring at the man who only smiled down at her in response.

"Ah ah kiddo. This fight is between you and me. Let's finish this." Grabbing Henley by her hair, Ketch dragged her backwards, across the wood floor, flinging her to the ground in front of him. "I should've finished you when I had the chance." Ketch aimed the gun at her head, and Henley knew she had to act fast if she wanted to live.

Thinking quickly, Henley lurched forward, grasping onto Ketch's legs, startling the man, as a shot rang out through the library. Henley didn't have a moment to think, and immediately sunk her teeth into his leg, biting down hard. Hearing Ketch's cry of pain brought a smile to Henley's face. As she removed her teeth from his calf, she sprung up right, Ketch swooping down to grab her. She darted around him, and hopped onto his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His nails began to dig into her arms, and as much as she wanted to let go, she knew she couldn't. She had to at least cause the horrid man to pass out. Squeezing tighter as Ketch clawed at her arms, Henley let go as she was abruptly slammed back into the cement wall. Sinking to the floor, she peered up at Ketch through her matted hair.

"Go on. If you're going to kill me just do it already." Henley ground her teeth, jaw clenching as she faced down the barrel of the gun. Ketch only chuckled in response, lowering the weapon.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you kid." Henley stared up at the man in confusion, watching as he retreated backwards, making his way over to Dean. "I'm going to ruin you." Henley's eyes widened, as she scrambled to get up, her entire body screaming at her from even the slightest of movements. He can't kill Dean. He couldn't. She wouldn't let him. After her third failed attempt at standing, Henley realized she wasn't going to be able to get to her father. At least not upright anyway. Dragging herself across the floor using her forearms, she let out a small hiss, wincing every time she inched forward. "Now this," Ketch drawled, "this. . .is pathetic." Henley only grit her teeth in response, heaving her battered and broken body across the floor at a faster pace. At least this was stalling him, if anything. Her breathing became labored as each and every movement became more difficult. Where was her inhaler when she needed it? Refusing to stop, she continued on her trek, waiting with bated breath to hear that fateful gunshot that would send her entire world crashing down around her. A fate far worse than death.