Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7515904.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Original_Female_Character(s)
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Original_Female_Character(s), Sam_Winchester, Malachi_
      (Supernatural), Original_Angel_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Torture, Psychological_Torture, Past_Rape/Non-con, Explicit_Sexual
      Content, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence
  Series:
      Part 5 of The_Lives_We_Make_for_Ourselves
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-18 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 19957
****** White Room ******
by SoulSurvivor_36
Summary
     Delilah McAllister finds herself in a room and thinks back to the
     events of the past few months that led her there.
Notes
     Post Bad Moon Rising, mentions S9:E08 and leads into S9:E09. The
     timeline in the show is very vague at this point, in my mind it spans
     August to November (ish)
     Other than the reference to Rock and a Hard Place, the hunts are my
     own, although I did try to stick to Supernatural canon when
     describing the monster (no spoilers ;) )
     Rape/Non-con, Underage and Torture tags all relate to Chapter 4, the
     other chapters are not so bad, Explicit sex in Chapter 1 (let's start
     it off with a bang eh?) and "graphic" hunt in Chapter 3
     Title and lyrics from Cream's song: https://youtu.be/pkae0-TgrRU
     I hope you enjoy!
***** Chapter 1 *****
                                  White Room
              I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines
           Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves
 
The ceramic tiles felt cool and soothing against Delilah’s cheek.  She curled
herself into a ball, hugging her knees.  Her eyes were slowly closing, her mind
slowly being lulled into sleep.  She smiled in the dark as a memory came to
her.  She let it drift to the forefront of her mind, halfway between asleep and
awake.
                                       ⭐
 
Demons.  Where the hell did they come from?  One minute, Delilah was watching
Dean set fire to an open grave, and the next she was flying back through the
air and landing between headstones, flung by a black eyed creature.
She recovered quickly and rocked back to her feet, ready to charge to Dean’s
side.  What do you use to kill demons?  She ran through her mental checklist,
cursing the distance to the Impala, parked a little ways down the road from the
cemetery so it wouldn’t raise suspicion.
Knowing that without a weapon she was worse than useless, she crouched down
behind a headstone to analyze the situation.
There were two demons that were slowly moving around Dean who calmly held a
knife with a serrated edge in front of him and matched them step for step to
keep them well in sight.  He was talking to them, coolly baiting them, making
Delilah’s stomach sink into her feet; why did he always have to make situations
worse with his smartass mouth?
Her attention was drawn suddenly to the grave where the bones of a murdered man
turned vengeful spirit were being consumed by flames.  She thought she saw
something glint in the firelight.  Her eyes fell on Dean’s open duffel bag, off
to the side of the grave, and inside it something silver.  Keeping low to the
ground, Delilah crept her way to the bag holding the spare gear Dean had
brought with him to the graveyard, all the while keeping an eye on the hunter
fending off the demons.
She saw him lunge with the knife, but his target sidestepped, grabbing him by
the back of the jacket and throwing him to the ground.  Crouching beside the
bag, Delilah reached in and pulled out the long sleek triple edged blade and
grasped it firmly in her hand.
She looked up as she heard Dean grunt.  He had gotten back up to his feet but
one of the demons had managed to get in close again and land a punch on his
jaw, he was no longer holding the demon killing knife.  With a surge of
adrenaline Delilah sprang from her crouch and made to join the fray, but was
stopped in her tracks by a sharp painful pull on her hair from behind; the
other demon had snuck up on her.  Delilah silently cursed herself for
forgetting to watch her six, like Dean had been teaching her.
The demon yanked her back against him blocking her access to his body to use
the angel blade.  Dean glanced her way as he deflected another blow from the
demon he was fighting and his eyes grew wide as he saw her trapped.  He also
saw the wide smile that slowly crept onto her face just before she reached back
with her free hand, pushing down on the hand gripping her head, and then
twisted around and down, the movement catching the demon off guard.  At the
last second, he saw the blade in her hands and she saw his eyes go black and
then his skin crackle with golden electricity as she plunged the blade right
into his gut.
She turned around to go help Dean just in time to see him roll away from the
demon who was now trying to kick him.  Dean got back on his feet with his knife
back in his hand and as the demon approached him again to attack, he slashed at
the arm, blood spraying, then quickly moved in, as the demon howled, to finish
him off angling the blade under the rib cage and up into his heart.
He turned around panting and saw Delilah rushing over to his side, her own
blade bloodied, and her breathing quickened.  Dean’s face had a spray of
glistening red blood across one cheek, over the bridge of his nose and up his
forehead.  He didn’t seem to be injured and Delilah sighed with relief.  She
must have passed his inspection too because he cracked a smile as he nodded to
the blade in her hand.
“Nice work there, rookie,” he told her.
“Not so bad yourself, old man.” She smirked at the annoyed look that flashed on
his face.
Delilah slipped the blade back into the duffel and turned around, glancing at
the dying flames and fresh bodies in the graveyard.  The light from the dying
embers was no longer enough to see much of anything by.  She looked off towards
the entrance to the holy grounds when she heard distant sirens.
“We should probably get out of here, right?”
She started to turn back towards Dean when he didn’t answer, the man being
uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of the fight.
“Dean?” she started to say but sputtered as she received a face full of
lukewarm water.  “What the fuck!” she yelled at him as she used the front of
her t-shirt to wipe off the water trickling down her face.
She glared at him as he chuckled, screwing the cap back on to the flask of holy
water he kept handy.  “Sorry ‘Lilah,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “I
had to check.  Demon possession,” he said as he walked past her, back towards
the main footpath, holding his duffel.
Delilah sputtered after him, “I’m warded Dean.” Dean stopped and looked back at
her giving her body a once over making her blush. She continued, “I got the
anti-possession sigil tattooed.”
“Huh,” Dean grunted, then he got a mischievous look on his face and Delilah
prepared herself for his usual taunting, “So where is it?  On your hip bone?
Lower back? Did you get some cute little stencilling done around it?”
Delilah crossed her arms in annoyance and glared at him, “Not anywhere I care
to show you, Winchester.”
Her response only seemed to amuse him because his smile grew bigger and his
eyes twinkled.  Then he turned away and started walking up the path again. He
called back to her over his shoulder, “What’re you doing, Grasshopper?  Let’s
get moving.”
Delilah fumed as she just saw the smile stretched all over his face. 
“Seriously?  A karate kid reference?  When did you get so lame, asshat?”  She
jogged after him, shoving her hands in her pockets.
She could hear him laughing as he called back, “Hey, that shit is a classic,
and besides, I’m not the one who got an anti-possession tramp stamp.”  They
made it back to the car and climbed in.
“It’s not a fucking tramp stamp dickwad!”
Dean pulled away from the curb laughing and Delilah couldn’t help the smile
that pulled at her lips at the sound of it.  They headed down the road and back
into town to the motel.
She and Dean had been hunting together for a little over a month.  At first, it
was Delilah who called him when she came across the wide world of weird, which
seemed to be increasing in frequency since the banshee case in July, just like
he had asked her to do instead of calling Sam.
After a few cases though, Dean started calling her to help him.  Sam was still
sick, and very tired much of the time, so Dean was doing his best trying to
take care of him.  Dean told her that they had gone on a hunt a couple weeks
back that ended with Sam going head to head with some ancient roman goddess. 
He didn’t give her much more detail than that, getting a dreamy look on his
face, then coughing uncomfortably, and that was the end of that story.  Sam
hadn’t been too forthcoming either only adding that the goddess had been after
born again virgins.
Since then, Sam had agreed to take it easy, but he didn’t have an off switch
and when he came across what looked like potential cases in the news, he
wouldn’t let up until Dean went to check it out, so Dean would call her for
back up.
They had developed a simple, easy going friendship, Delilah growing more
comfortable and shedding some of her shyness with Dean although he still
managed to get her rilled up over nothing.  She thought that maybe this was in
part why he liked taunting her so much.  It was very different from her
friendship with Sam, with whom she could find herself chatting away the night
talking about this creature or that research or some obscure text. She hadn’t
told him she was hunting with Dean, and since he never brought it up she wasn’t
sure if Dean had told him either.
Other than the banter, Dean took on a mentoring role around her, showing her
what she needed to know to track and kill the various creatures they had hunted
so far, and making sure she stayed safe while doing it.  Delilah had started
her own journal where she documented these hunts and the information she gained
from them.
Dean pulled up to the motel and switched off Baby. They climbed out of the car
and headed to the motel room door.  There was no point, Delilah had said when
they went on their first overnight hunt, to occupy two rooms, when they could
bunk in the same one and spend a little less money; separate beds, no big deal.
Delilah walked into the room, having first unlocked the door, and headed for
the far bed.  She sat down and took off her boots, wiggling her toes.  She
could feel the buzz of energy just under her skin from the unexpected attack. 
Her hands were actually shaking a little.  She pushed off from the bed and
paced a few steps towards the bathroom figuring a nice hot shower would be just
the thing, but then she turned around and headed back to the kitchenette area,
trying to shake out the nervous tension in her arms.  She reached into the mini
fridge and pulled out a beer.  She uncapped it and took three big gulps, nearly
draining half the bottle.  She leaned back against the small counter, crossing
her ankles, holding the bottle loosely in her left hand.
She looked up at Dean who had followed her into the room and dropped his duffel
on the small table by the window.  He watched her as she first paced and then
leaned on the counter drinking her beer.
He kicked off his boots, sloughed off his green jacket, slinging it over the
back of a chair and pointed at her hand, “Got one of those for me?” he asked,
quickly looking through the bag, taking inventory of the contents.
Delilah put down her beer on the small counter and reached down into the small
fridge again, pulling out another one.  She uncapped it easily and held it out
towards him, not moving away from the counter.  “Come and get it, Winchester.”
Something in her brain shifted as he looked up from the bag and locked eyes
with her.  He slowly straightened up and took the few steps that separated him
from the beer, and therefore her, and her body tingled with excitement.
His eyes were playful as he drew up to her, taking the beer from her hand,
brushing his fingers against hers, sending electrical signals shooting up her
spine.  She kept her eyes on his face as he took his first swig, not stepping
away.
He had wiped away most of the blood that had sprayed onto his face during the
demon fight, but Delilah noticed a few flecks remaining on his forehead. 
Feeling her heart rate increasing, she passed her hand on her perspiring beer,
wetting her fingertips, and brought her hand up to Dean’s face.  She gently
rubbed at the blood along his hair line until it was all gone.  His eyes never
wavered from hers.
She slowly let her hand glide down, her fingertips brushing his temple, then
his scratchy jawline until her thumb was hovering just over his mouth, tracing
the curve of his lip without actually touching it.  Her breathing increased
again, bewildered that he was letting her touch him this way.
Last time that she had done anything like this, when she had kissed him in the
backseat of the Impala, he had pulled away and the rejection was enough to keep
her from making a fool of herself again – much of her bravado came from her own
need for self-preservation.  But tonight, she was on edge, and she needed an
outlet for her pent up energy and God knows she didn’t lack desire for the
green eyed hunter standing so very close and for once staying quiet.
She slowly straightened up from the counter and just as slowly titled her head
back, reaching up towards him with her mouth.  She figured this way, he’d have
plenty of time to stop her, if that’s what he wanted.
His eyes flicked back and forth as she got closer, looking at each of her
facial features.  She still had no idea what was going on in his head, his face
completely closed off and unreadable.  She stopped a few inches away from him,
suddenly insecure.  She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, the
pumping blood deafening her.
The moment stretched on interminably, and then a slow smirk changed Dean’s
features and suddenly his eyes were warm and crinkling at the corners and
Delilah caught her breath as he smiled, showing his pearly white teeth.  His
lips connected with hers the next moment and Delilah closed her eyes, a mixture
of relief and desire coursing through her body.  She wrapped her arms around
his neck and he pulled her body right up against him as they kissed hungrily. 
Dean took a couple of steps pinning her to the counter and ground into her. 
She moaned into his mouth as she felt him beginning to stiffen against her.  He
lifted her off the ground and sat her on the counter, moving between her legs. 
Delilah captured his lower lip between her teeth and tugged getting a growl
from Dean, the sound rolling into the pit of her stomach, making her lower
regions pulse.
She could not get enough of him.  She ran her hands along his wide shoulders
and down his chest and abs, feeling the muscles just under a layer of soft
skin, then moved her hands to his back and down the curve of his ass.  She
squeezed, pulling him against her before snaking her hands under his t-shirt
and up his back.  She wrapped her legs around his, keeping him close and broke
the kiss, stretching her neck, leaning her head back and to the side.  Dean
didn’t miss a beat, he trailed kisses down her jaw and along her neck, brushing
her hair aside with his hand.  He nipped at the edge of her collar bone that
was exposed through the neck hole of her t-shirt.  He pulled it aside to reach
more skin, but Delilah stopped him, pushing on his chest with her hand.  He
looked at her, a question in his eyes and she smiled, pleased by his confusion.
She pushed him a little more, making him take a step back then quickly hopped
off the counter, bumping her body against his.  “Lilah, wha…” She silenced his
gruff voice with a finger to his lips, gave him a quick kiss then moved to the
center of the room, pulling her t-shirt over her head and stepping out of her
jeans as she went.  She quickly yanked off her socks, always annoyed at how
impossible it was to do it gracefully, then she crawled onto Dean’s bed, laying
back on the pillows.
From across the room, Dean watched her, his eyes taking in every bit of her. 
His wandering eyes stopped as he fixated on her right thigh and she smirked.
Delilah crooked her finger at him, beckoning him over and he lost no time,
dropping his plaid shirt off his arms then yanking his black t-shirt over his
head.  He unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans, stepping on the toes of his
socks between steps to remove them.  By the time he got to the bed, all he had
were his black boxer briefs and a raging hard on.  Delilah sat up and made her
way to the foot of the bed where Dean had stopped.  She stared at the outline
of his hard cock pushing at the fabric of his underwear.  She kneeled up on the
bed right in front of him, taking in his near naked form, Dean resting his hand
on her hip, rubbing his thumb over the week old ink on her leg.  She leaned up
and into him whispering in his ear, “I told you it wasn’t a fucking tramp
stamp.”
She lifted her hand and traced the numerous scars on his torso, lingering a
little on his tattoo and then moving slowly down until her fingertips brushed
the elastic of his boxers.  She looked up into his face a split second before
his mouth came down on hers again, his tongue pushing its way inside.  She
moaned into the kiss and pushed her hand into his underwear, wrapping it around
his large, hard cock.  She broke the kiss again, squeezing him and he let out a
groan.
Delilah loved being in control of the preliminaries, she relished driving her
partner mad with desire, before he lost himself over the edge and took over,
forgetting all notions of being gentle, and that’s exactly what she wanted from
Dean.
She scooted closer to the edge of the bed and sat down, her legs on either side
of his.  She let go of him and pulled down the elastic of his boxers, dragging
them down his long legs.  She smoothed her hands back up, feeling his warm
skin, looking up at his face as she wrapped her hand around his cock again and
pumped him once, slowly.  His eyes closed and he parted his lips letting out a
breath and Delilah smiled.  She shifted her focus to his erect member in front
of her and she licked a line with the tip of her tongue from the base of the
shaft all the way to the top of the head and along the salty slit, tasting the
beginnings of precome.  She swirled once around the edges of the head before
lowering her mouth around him and sucking on the tip, teasing.  He let out a
sound, halfway between a growl and a moan that sent shocks down to her pussy
and she wondered briefly how long she could hold out before needing to feel his
cock pushing into her.
She swirled her tongue and lowered her lips around him again, but this time she
felt Dean’s hand on her head applying pressure.  She took in as much of him as
she could and sucked, pumping what she couldn’t take in her mouth with her
hand.  She swirled her tongue around the head as she pulled back and then
pushed back down the shaft over and over, increasing speed.
Dean suddenly bent down, popping his cock out of her mouth.  He wrapped his
hands under her thighs and Delilah just got her arms around his neck before he
lifted her off the bed and pulled her to his hips, trapping his cock between
them.  She wound her legs around him, helping to hold herself up as he slammed
his mouth on hers, giving her bruising kisses.  Feeling his control slip,
Delilah rubbed herself against him, getting another one of his throaty growls
before he pulled away, dropping his head to the crook of her shoulder and said,
“Fuck, Lilah.  You’re making me lose it here.”
Smiling Delilah put her mouth to his ear and answered, “Maybe I want you to
lose it, Dean.  Maybe what I want is for you to drive that big cock of yours
into me hard,” she kissed his ear, “and fast.” She wrapped her lips around his
ear lobe and sucked as she rubbed her hips against him slowly.
Then she was falling through the air, Dean having tossed her towards the bed. 
She landed in the middle of the mattress and hardly had time to recover before
Dean covered her with his body, one leg between hers.  He held himself up on
his hands but dug his hips into her pelvis, a promise of things to come, then
he stilled, laying kisses along her collar bone and down the middle of her
chest. “Is that what you want?  What if I want to make you beg for it?” he
growled between kisses.  His hand snaked behind her and deftly unhooked her
bra.
Delilah glared at Dean, already the slowed pace making knots in her stomach and
dampening her desire.  She had to get him back on track, slow love making was
not on the menu.
She grabbed his wrist as his hand came down over her breast and applied
pressure, turning her body and thrusting her hips, making Dean fly and land on
his back.  Delilah rolled on top of him right away and straddled his hips,
bearing down on his cock.  “Maybe some other time, babe,” she said panting.
Dean gave her the most devilish smile, managing somehow to look both boyish and
carnal all at once.  “At some point, you’re going to have to teach me some of
these techniques of yours.”
Delilah rocked her hips again, shutting him up.  She removed her untied bra,
and threw it off to the side towards her own bed, continuing to roll her hips
against him rhythmically, the friction against her thin panties getting things
back on track for her too.  Dean put his hands on her hips and started
thrusting with each of her rolls.  “Fuck sweetheart, you’re soaking.”
Delilah rolled against him once more then climbed off the bed.  She headed over
to her side of the room where her travel bag was sitting on the floor.  She
bent down and opened one of the side pockets pulling out a condom from her
pack.  She walked back to the bed where Dean had rolled to his side, resting
his head in his hand to watch her.  She slowly pulled down her panties and
kicked them off, then climbed back onto the bed, forcing Dean back onto his
back and straddling him again, his hard cock in front of her.  Delilah tore
open the plastic wrap and pumped Dean a few times before rolling the condom
down over him.  She lifted herself on her knees, guiding him to her pussy.
She pressed his tip along her slit, rubbing her clit with him then running down
her slit again.  She could feel herself getting more aroused as she did it a
few more times and then she gave in to her urge, lining him up and sinking down
on him slowly. He felt so good inside of her, pressing against her walls, she
could feel herself stretching around him and she bore down until their hips
were pressed together.
Dean threw back his head and clutched at her hips again as she squeezed her
walls around him and slowly moved back up, raising herself up his length.  As
she slowly started to press down again, Dean tried to thrust, but she pulled
back just enough that she still had his tip inside of her but denying the rest
of him.  She smirked at the annoyed look on his face, as she slowly started to
push down on him, but again pulled back when he tried to thrust up.
Something snapped in Dean, she saw it in his eyes, as his features darkened
suddenly and he got the same focused look he gets on hunts.  Delilah shivered
in anticipation as he sat up suddenly, wrapping his muscular arms around her
and forced her down on him while he thrust up.
The first ripples of pain and pleasure coursed through her body and she moaned
loudly, throwing her head back, he did it again pushing her down and thrusting
upwards before rolling her to the side and laying her on her back, thrusting
into her hard.
“Is this what you want?” he growled at her, thrusting into her again.
“Yes!  Fuck me, Dean,” she gasped through the waves of mounting pleasure.
Dean grabbed one of her legs and hooked it over his shoulder, changing the
angle of his thrusts as he drove into her harder.  Delilah cried out as he
bumped against her sweet spot, surprising her.  He increased the pace, never
letting up as the orgasm started building inside of her with each thrust.  A
mixture of profanities and cries escaped her mouth, completely beyond her
control as Dean drove her to the very edge of her pleasure.
Then he rolled his hips changing the angle again and she toppled right over and
gave in to her climax: her muscles spasmed, she cried out and she closed her
eyes as she raised herself off the bed and arched her back.  She felt the
pleasure rippling through her, sending heat down to her fingertips and toes,
her whole body tingling with it wave after wave.
When she came down from her high, Dean had collapsed on top of her and was
panting heavily into her shoulder, their bodies slippery with sweat.  He stayed
there as both their breathing slowed back to normal.  Then, he groaned, pushing
himself up with his hands, the muscles in his arms flexing.  He held onto the
edge of the condom as he pulled out, slipping it off and tying it before
tossing it into the trash can by the bed.  He rolled back onto his side and
tucked a pillow under his head, his free arm curling across her tummy and
around her side.  He pulled her towards him, dragging her body across the
sheets to lean up against him.
Delilah looked at his relaxed face and couldn’t help but lean over and kiss
him.  He lazily kissed her back in his sleepy state and she smiled at how
adorably innocent he looked, slipping into a post sex coma.  Then she rolled
away from his arms and stood up by the bed, surprised at how shaky her legs
were, and feeling very pleased.  She hadn’t come that hard in a long time.  She
padded into the bathroom to shower, and when she got back, he was snoring
quietly, passed out.  Delilah crawled into her own bed and wrapped herself in
the scratchy motel linen before falling deeply asleep herself.
***** Chapter 2 *****
A noise startled Delilah awake and she sat up, straining her ears, listening. 
Everything was quiet beyond the closed door and she started to relax again.  A
soft dawn light was creeping in through the high window above her, and she
pulled her legs to her chest and dropped her chin on her knees, settling in for
another long day.
                                       ⭐
 
Things at work had taken a turn for the worst.  She couldn’t blame her boss for
getting on her case about missing work.  She couldn’t remember the last time
she had done a full five day week, certainly not since Nashville, and that was
two months ago.
Her hunts with Dean had certainly increased too in the past few weeks, he was
calling her easily two or three times a week, once showing up directly at her
job in his full FBI outfit and flashing his badge at whoever glanced his way
before declaring her a key witness to an investigation and fucking perp walking
her out of the building.  He got a punch in the arm for that one once they got
into the Impala, while Dean laughed uproariously.
After an awkward moment the morning after their romp, Dean clearly unsure how
he was supposed to act around her, she had raised her eyebrows at him, called
him an idiot and treated him the same way she always had.  He had visibly
relaxed and slipped into his usual routine of trying to get a rise out of her
and, for the most part, succeeding.
Hunting with Dean, became more and more natural, as she learned more about how
to interact with the supernatural world.  She still couldn’t play act worth a
damn though, so she left the FBI shtick to him and she did more behind the
scenes researching.
The sex was great too.  She wouldn’t call what they had a relationship, because
to Delilah relationships equaled feelings, and she didn’t think she had
feelings for him.  She certainly didn’t feel like running through fields hand
in hand with birds chirping around them and frisky bunnies gambolling about,
but having someone to channel her sexual energy into was great.  And boy did he
know what he was doing.
They still booked rooms with two beds when they had overnight hunts, and they
didn’t end up fucking every time, but when the mood struck her, she didn’t
hesitate anymore, and he didn’t turn her away.  She always went back to her own
bed afterwards though; cuddling was for couples and that was definitely not
what they were.
Delilah paid for her coffee and took a sip as she turned to head back out of
the coffee shop next to her office building.  Normally she ordered a hot
chocolate, but she needed some serious caffeination this morning.  She stepped
out of the café and into the blinding September sunshine, shielding her eyes
with her hand.  She felt the familiar prickle in the back of her neck, as she
looked up at a blond woman sitting at the bus stop.  She could have sworn that
she had been looking at her a second before.
Delilah kept staring at her a few more minutes, but when she didn’t turn
around, Delilah chalked it up to paranoia brought on by too much hunting.  She
took another sip of her hot coffee and turned into the lobby of the office
building where she worked.
It was late in the morning on a Thursday.  She had been on a hunt the night
before and her face was all scratched up on one side, split lip and everything.
A spirit had thrown her across a room and she ended up with a face full of
floor.  She was sore all over as she headed to her desk sipping at her coffee
trying to wake up.  She’d barely had any sleep, having gotten home around 4 am,
Dean pushing on towards Lebanon and the bunker.
“Hey there stranger!”
Delilah winced as Betty popped her head over the cubicle wall and called out to
her cheerfully.  Betty was one of the coworkers who was part of the group she
sometimes had lunch with, or at least she used to have lunch with them before
she started the hunting thing.  Delilah always had a hard time with social
niceties, they always felt so shallow and artificial, but she managed to get
by.  Building real friendships was so complicated, especially with other women,
they always pried and then lost interest if they felt her answers were
insincere.  Really the only people she had connected to in the last few years
were the Winchesters and even they didn’t know her whole story.  Maybe if Sam
asked, she would tell him… Maybe.
Still, no point in being rude.
“Hi Betty.  How’s it going?” she asked, putting down her coffee to turn on her
computer, glancing at the toppling pile in her “to do” tray.
“That’s a pretty bad cut there Dee, have you been fighting again?”  She let out
an irritatingly grating laugh, clearly entertained by her own joke.
Delilah looked her right in the eye and answered completely deadpanned,
“Actually a ghost threw me into a wall.”  She gave Betty her best smile,
feeling her cut lip pull painfully, but the look on her coworker’s face was
worth it as her eyes rounded in complete disbelief before cracking into a full
toothed smile and letting out another round of the most annoying laugh in the
world.  Delilah held her head in her hands like she was hung over, a massive
headache throbbing at the back of her head.
“Oh Dee!  Always with the jokes!  You’re a hoot and a half.”
She retreated behind her particle board wall and Delilah sighed with relief,
picking up the first paper on her pile.  She stared at it blankly, not
absorbing a single word and letting out a frustrated sigh when her cell phone
vibrated in her pocket.  She dug it out of her jeans and opened the messaging
app.  She blinked as she registered the words on the screen.
What are you wearing?
Fucking Dean.  She turned the phone sideways to type her reply.
Nipple tassels and a hoola skirt.
The screen flashed right away with an answer.
That’s gotta be a hit with your coworkers.
What do you want? I’m kinda busy.
There was a pause and Delilah put the phone down on the desk and picked her
paper back up to attempt to read it again.  She almost understood the first
paragraph when the phone vibrated again.  She put her paper back down and
picked up the phone.
Something weird going on down in Rockwell, Arkansas.  Thought we could check it
out.
Delilah could feel the pull of the road calling her, but she had already missed
two days this week.  She sighed as she started typing her reply.
Sorry, I can’t.  I really have to get shit done at work.
She was about to hit send, when her desk phone started ringing.  She glanced at
the ID and swore under her breath as she saw her boss’s name.  She picked up
the receiver.
“Delilah McAllister.”
“Delilah, I need to see you right away.”
“Of course Mr Walsh.”
She put the receiver down and leaned her head down onto the desk.  This day was
going from bad to worse.
“Oh dear, was that Mr Walsh?” asked the annoying voice from the cubicle next
door.
Delilah turned her head to see Betty looking over the wall again.  She sighed
and straightened up.
“Yup! Wants to see me in his office,” she told her.
“Oh!  What for?” asked the nosy busy buddy.
Delilah was sorely tempted to give her a sarcastic answer full of innuendos,
but she knew that whatever she said would be told to the rest of the office
workers and then she’d be in real trouble, so she simply said, “Who the hell
knows?  I guess I’ll go find out.”
She stood up and slipped her phone back into her jean pocket and stalked off
towards the manager’s office.  Delilah never really bothered with the office
dress code, but she did try to look somewhat presentable most days.  Today,
however, she had gotten dressed when she was barely awake enough to function
and she glanced down at herself quickly before knocking on Mr Walsh’s door. 
She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that looked mostly clean, but she
managed to mismatch her converse shoes, one being a bright blue high top and
the other a regular black shoe.  She was wearing a plain kelly green t-shirt
with a jean jacket thrown on top.  All in all not the most sophisticated
outfit, but it could have been worse.  She quickly passed her fingers through
her messy hair trying to get it to lie flatter, but that was a lost cause.  She
knocked on the door and turned the knob and walked in when she heard the boss
telling her to come in.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Thank you Ms McAllister, have a seat.”
Ah fuck.  It’s never a good sign when people start calling her Ms McAllister. 
Mr Walsh looked at her from behind his steepled fingers and took in her
appearance.  He wasn’t a bad boss.  She certainly had gotten away with plenty
of things over the years of her employment, and he certainly had been very
patient in the past couple of months, putting up with her absences and lack of
excuses.  But even she wasn’t naïve enough to think it would last, which is why
she wasn’t surprised by what came out of his mouth next.
“We’re letting you go, Ms McAllister.”
She didn’t even bother arguing with him.  She sighed and stood up out of the
chair again.  Mr Walsh frowned and stopped her before she opened the door.
“Is everything ok Delilah?  I’m not blind, no one in the office is.  If you
need any help…”
He left the sentence unfinished and Delilah felt like laughing.  He thought she
was being abused.  She looked up at him and the concern in his eyes and she
actually felt gratitude for the man…  He was just 15 years too late.  Where was
he and people like him when she was a teenager?
“Thank you Mr Walsh, but I’m fine.  I’ll just go clean out my desk.”
He nodded and she left, closing the door behind her.  She headed for her
cubicle, pulling her phone out of her pocket.  She deleted the text she had
been writing before her phone rang and typed a new one in.
Pick me up at my place on the way.
She sent the message, looked around her sterile cubicle, turned off her
computer, put the paper back on the to do pile, grabbed her messenger bag and
walked away from another piece of the life that belonged to the old Delilah
McAllister.
***** Chapter 3 *****
The light coming in from the window was still diffused although there was more
of it now, Delilah guessed it was probably cloudy today.  She didn’t bother
trying to look out the window, knowing the shackles wouldn’t let her move that
far.
                                       ⭐
 
Delilah sat in her apartment and looked around at the things she thought were
her for so long: the couch, the tv, the bookshelf that held the books that had
kept her company for so many years, even the plates in the cupboards. 
Everything had been picked by her when she had left university and she got her
first tiny apartment in Lawrence.  She didn’t stay there very long though, it
reminded her too much of the places her father moved her to after her mother’s
death.
She had found a job in Topeka and moved out to the small town of Auburn where
the housing was more affordable.  For the first few months, she didn’t want to
furnish the place beyond the basics, memories of frequent moves and abandoning
things stopping her from forming any roots.  But a few more months passed, and
then more and she was still there and slowly she started making the place her
own. She should have known better really.  It may have taken five years but
there she was again picking what would stay and what she could shove into her
car to go with her.
In the end, she kept her books, the picture of her and her mom on her 12th
birthday, a pillow, a comforter, her clothes and whatever was already in her
travel bags.  Everything else, she told the owner he could sell.
Delilah stood in the door holding the handle and took one last look at her
life, feeling numb.  She switched off the light and made her way to her car. 
Heading out on to the open road, Delilah was overcome with a sense of freedom. 
She had money in the bank, gas in her car and a world to explore.
 
She drove up to the Pinecrest Inn, parked her tired Rust Bucket Tercel and
stepped out of the car stretching, cracking what felt like every vertebrae in
her spine as she did so.  Idaho was a fucker of a drive to do in one shot, but
it was nice to know she didn’t have to drive all the way back, ever.
She had picked Idaho Falls for her first destination because of an article she
read online about some mysterious deaths.  Some people were being mauled and
left with their chests all torn up.  The newspaper article had chalked it up to
animal attacks, but what kind of animal could get around a busy city without
once being seen?  Delilah thought it was maybe a werewolf, but the lunar cycle
was all wrong.  Maybe it was a rugaru.  No matter,  she was eager to get her
research started.
She settled into her motel room.  It was small, with barely any room for the
queen bed, dresser, tv and stand, and a little corner table with two chairs. 
She unpacked her travel suitcase, which contained all her clothes, and left the
rest of the things in the car.  She had a couple of boxes with some of her
mythology books stashed in the trunk and out of sight.  Feeling completely beat
she decided to take a shower and hit the hay, get an early start the next day.
She walked around the room drying her hair with a towel and plugging in her
tablet when her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and smiled.
“Hey Sam!” she said cheerfully into the receiver as she sat down on the side of
the bed.
“Hey!  What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing much.” She turned on her tablet to look up the article from
earlier, “About to start a bit of light research, then probably go to bed.”
“Oh,” Sam sounded disappointed, “Dean is driving me insane.  I was hoping you
could take me out of my misery and catch a movie with me, or something.”
Delilah smiled, Dean could be a total mother hen with his brother sometimes.
“Sorry Sam, not tonight.” She hadn’t told either one of them about getting rid
of the apartment.  Or about losing her job either actually.  She’d seen Dean a
couple times and talked to Sam too, but somehow it just didn’t seem to come up.
“Maybe some other time though, a movie sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, ok.  So what’s this research you’re working on now?”
“I don’t know yet.  I’m just getting started.  I’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Anything I can help with?  Or maybe this is something we can set Dean on?  Is
it a hunt?”
Delilah hated how Sam was so intuitive about these things.  He always knew when
something was up.  She didn’t want to lie to him, but she also didn’t want him
to send Dean after her.  She could handle this.  “No, no, nothing we need to
bother Dean with.  I promise I’ll call if I need help with the research.  How
are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling better actually, went for a run this morning.”
“That’s great Sam, soon you’ll be ready to get back on the horse.”
Sam made a sound through his nose, “Tell that to Nurse Ratchet.  He keeps
trying to force soup down my throat.”
“Dean cares about you, Sam.”
“I know.  Anyways,  I’ll let you get back to your research.”
“Good night Sam.”
“’Night Delilah.”
Delilah hung up her phone and sighed.  Those two.  She shook her head and
chuckled under her breath.
She made a list on her tablet of the people and places to see related to the
reported deaths.  She also made a list of the facts so far.  Then, she turned
off the light and went to sleep.
 
Delilah pushed open the door to the newspaper offices that printed the
article.  She had dressed in her most conventional yet sexy clothing: a black
mini skirt that showed off her long legs, but still covered her tattoo, a
bright blue fitted blouse that, combined with her lacy, black push up bra, gave
her some awesome cleavage, and her simple, black high heel shoes.
She walked up to the receptionist’s desk and introduced herself as Delilah
Wilson.  She had an appointment with Riley Ferris, the journalist who covered
the animal attacks.  The receptionist gave her a once over and rolled her eyes
before picking up the phone and informing Mr Ferris that she had arrived.
Delilah could not pull off FBI agent, however she felt safe with her cover as a
student reporter for the University’s newspaper, she was confident that even
with her 30 years, she could still pass for a college brat.  The outfit was a
backup, in case that didn’t work.
A door off to the side of the main lobby opened and a tall, middle aged woman
with thick golden brown curls made her way towards her.  Delilah was surprised,
expecting a man, but quickly recovered her composure before the imposing woman
shook her hand firmly.
“Ms Wilson, a pleasure to meet you,” she said in a flat tone as she took in
Delilah’s appearance.
“Ms Ferris, thank you for meeting with me,” she answered with a smile.
“Of course, always pleased to meet with the students working on the Argonaut. 
I had a few breaks myself that got me here today, so it’s nice to give back.”
They had walked into the journalist’s office and Delilah took a seat while Ms
Ferris closed the office door and walked around to her desk.
“So what can I help you with, Ms Wilson?” she asked, being very straight
forward and getting right to business.
Delilah pulled her tablet out of her purse and opened her notes on the case so
far.
“I’m working on an article about the recent animal attacks around town, and I
was hoping you could clear up some questions.”
They discussed for about thirty minutes before the topic turned to the Argonaut
and Idaho U and Delilah felt her cover being in danger.  She glanced at the
time on her tablet and faked another appointment before standing up and shaking
Ms Ferris’ hand and showing herself out.
She had managed to get quite a few details that had been left out of the
official coverage, including the names of some of the victims and the name of
the officer in charge of the investigation.
She settled herself in a small coffee shop and reviewed her notes.  She
searched the internet for information on the victims.  There were five, so far,
and strangely enough, they were all men in their early to mid twenties. 
Delilah frowned at her screen.  Two of them had open Facebook pages and she
scrolled through their walls, looking for clues as to what they had been up to
before they died.  For one of them, Derek Stilinski, she ended up scrolling
through message after message from grief stricken friends, posting farewells,
before finally finding the last post from Derek himself.  She felt herself
tearing up a bit and quickly wiped the wetness away and took a deep breath. 
Saving people, hunting things, she told herself sternly, if she wanted to
prevent any more deaths she needed to focus.
Derek’s last post was about being out with friends at a local bar down the main
stretch.  A place called “The Dive.”  She noted the name of the bar and the
names of the friends who were out with him that night.  There was nothing
specific on the other victim’s wall, but in his pictures she could see that he
was also the bar hopping type.
Another half hour of fruitless searching on the victims’ backgrounds and
Delilah decided it was time to try the cops.
 
Delilah sat in the police station lobby for what felt like forever as she
waited for someone to come talk to her.  She was about to give up when a gangly
young man in a black police uniform came up to her.  He was clearly a rookie,
and Delilah was annoyed that they had shunted her along to the last person who
could just not refuse.  She stood up and shook his hand trying to see how she
could turn this to her advantage.
“Hi, I’m Officer Ben Ellis, how can I help you today?” he asked her politely,
but clearly reluctantly.
“Delilah Wilson, I’m a reporter for the Post Register.  My boss wanted me to
follow up on the animal attacks we covered earlier this week.”  Delilah took on
an air of annoyance, like this was a boring task that anybody else could have
done.  At the same time though she bent forward to pick up her purse from the
chair, giving the young officer a good look at her exposed cleavage.  She
straightened up again and, for good measure, pushed some of her long hair back
over her shoulder.  She was pleased to see the blush crawling up his neck as
she looked at him expectantly.  He stuttered a little as he gestured for her to
follow him.  She had to hand it to Dean, flirting did get shit done.
A few minutes later, they were settled at a desk in the middle of the busy
police station.  Delilah crossed one leg over the other and perched her tablet
on her knee, ready to take notes.  Ben turned to his computer screen and typed
in his access information.  Delilah stored that piece of information away in
her head, memorizing the keys he pressed for his password.  When he glanced at
her, she gave him a smile and he smiled back.
He opened the case file for the animal attacks and Delilah leaned forward to
get a better look.  Ben turned his screen away though when he saw her.
“I’m sorry, much of this information is not cleared for the press,” he told
her.
“Oh! Of course, I completely understand.”
They discussed the case for an hour, going over the details he was allowed to
disclose, including some of the sites where the bodies were found, which were
mostly around the shores of Snake River.  Some of the bodies were water logged,
suggesting that they might have been dumped up river and stayed in the water a
few hours before ending up on the shore.  But some of the others never touched
the water.  Delilah took notes on the locations of the five different bodies
and moved on to ask about the nature of the wounds.
The officer looked uncomfortable and described very briefly how the chests were
opened.  Delilah blinked, that was not useful.  She slapped on her sweetest
smile.
“You know, maybe it’s because I’m visual, but I just can’t get my head around
it, what do you mean the chests were opened?”
“Now, Ms Wilson,” he started, Delilah reached forward and patted his hand,
giving him another clear shot down her blouse.
“Please, call me Delilah.”
The officer blushed again and Delilah had to hold back the eye roll she so
desperately felt like giving him. “Delilah,” he grinned sheepishly and she
pulled her hand back, still smiling at him, “a nice lady like yourself, I just
don’t think you need to have that stuck in your head.  Wild animals are not
gentle creatures.”
“So, was the skin torn apart?” Delilah tried to sound sweet, but she was
getting irritated with the sexism, probably her fault though for playing the
sexy damsel in the first place. “Or were the ribs cracked?  Were any of the
organs missing?”
The young officer’s face blanched and he looked at her with a shocked
expression on his face.  Delilah smiled at him again and she said,
apologetically, “Sorry, I’m a bit of a horror movie buff, slashers are the
best.  It tends to make me sound a tad morbid though.”
“No, not at all.” He swallowed forcefully.
“Look, I can see this is making you uncomfortable.  Are there any photos of the
bodies that I can look at?  You know, so you don’t have to worry about
describing it?  I’m really very visual anyways.”
He looked like he wanted to say no, so Delilah leaned in for his hand again and
gave him her biggest eyes, “Please Ben, it’s important.”  Then she quickly
pulled her hand away, pretending that she hadn’t meant to do that, and trying
her best to look embarrassed…  Blushing on command would be a really good skill
to have right about now.  He thought about it a little longer, then seemed to
make a decision.  He turned to his computer again and typed a few commands
pulling up a file with crime scene photos.  He opened one of them and turned
the screen towards Delilah, keeping a close eye on her as she scooted her chair
over so she could see better.
She quickly got over her initial revulsion, hoping the officer hadn’t noticed,
and examined the photo.  The chest wasn’t just torn up, it was missing.  There
was a big hole where the rib cage normally was, the ribs clearly broken off to
get to the inside.  What was left was a goopy mess of red and it was hard to
tell what she was looking at.  Delilah leaned forward again and reached across
young officer Ben to take the mouse to zoom in on different sections of the
picture.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier, were there any organs missing?”  Ben
was very quiet so she turned her head to look at him.  He had gone very pale
and was just staring at the picture on the screen.  He must really be new if he
hadn’t been exposed to this level of gore before.  Then again, not everybody
actually gets exposed to monster level shit in their life either.  Delilah felt
bad for him and closed the picture, retreating to her corner to write down her
observations on her tablet.
“Um, no, no organs were missing, but the heart was squeezed to a pulp, there
wasn’t much blood left in the body, but that’s not surprising with the size of
the wound and the time spent in the water.”
Delilah kept her tone gentle, “And what about the bodies that weren’t in the
water?  Was there more blood left in those?”
Ben turned to look at her again and Delilah decided she better cut and run
before her luck disappeared and she ended up in a cell.  She’d try and see if
she could hack the file later.
“Well thank you Officer Ellis, you’ve been very helpful.  I’ll head back to the
office and let my boss know that no new information has come to light.”
She stood up and Ben Ellis did the same, taking her extended hand and giving it
a shake.  Delilah gave him one last smile and walked back out towards the main
hall and the exit.
She rushed all the way back to her motel, excited to get all her racing
thoughts down.  What creature could possibly do that?  She definitely had not
come across anything like this with Dean.  She needed a weapon.
 
Delilah stepped up to the counter in the hunting goods store and looked at the
various knives in the glass case.  She had changed before coming to the store,
figuring the damsel buying weapons would draw more attention than she would in
her normal clothes.  She wore her skinny jeans and Dr Martens with a black and
grey baseball shirt.  She had tied back her hair too in a high pony tail.  The
man behind the counter looked her way and immediately dismissed her.  She
browsed the hunting knives in the case, eyeing the 8” blades.  She crouched
down to get a better look through the glass and she saw the man’s legs behind
the counter as he finally decided to come see her.  She looked up and gave him
a smile, her face was seriously starting to hurt from all the smiling she was
doing today.
“Hi!  I could really use your help I think!”
“What’re you looking for?” he asked in a deep rumbly voice from behind his long
brown beard.
Delilah straightened up, “My boyfriend wants me to go hunting with him,” she
said in a simple, not quite sing-song voice, “He told me I needed a knife, for
survival, cuz, you know, in case I get lost or something.”
The man grunted, looking at her with a long penetrating stare.  Delilah did her
best to keep her innocent look.  Finally, he leaned down and unlocked the glass
case pulling out a variety of utility knives with various attachments and
gimmicks that would be completely useless to her.
“Hmmmm,” she said as she looked at the selection and even picked up one or two
of the flimsy knives, “He was pretty insistent about the type of blade I get.” 
She fished out a paper and unfolded it, reading what she wrote earlier, “He
said at least an 8” blade and to make sure it’s well balanced.  Oh and it
shouldn’t be a folding knife, so he said to be sure to get a case too.  Oooh
could I get a cool ankle strap or something like in the movies?”
The salesman rolled his eyes at her, put away the pocket knives and took out
the different hunting knives he had on display.  Delilah picked up several of
the blades to feel the grip in her hand and the weight. She decided on a black,
8” blade, that looked huge in her hand, but actually fit quite comfortably in
her palm.  The salesman pulled out the case for it, explaining that it clips
onto a belt and it should be on her dominant hand’s side for easy access.
“Great, this is perfect.”  Delilah grinned at the knife and then looked up at
the salesman, all traces of lightness and fun out of her face, “Now, let’s talk
machetes.”
 
A large credit card charge later, she walked out of the store the proud owner
of two large fighting knives with belt holsters and a beautiful black 18”
double edged machete with a leather sheath that clipped to her belt and around
her thigh to keep it fixed securely during hikes.
She stashed her machete and one of her knives in the trunk of her car, behind
the books, and clipped the other knife to the back of her belt, hiding it under
her baseball shirt.  She headed into a crowded family restaurant to grab some
hot chocolate.  As she sat alone at her table, sipping her hot beverage, she
pulled out her tablet.  She had decided to try and get access to the crime
scene information to see what she could uncover by comparing the different
bodies.
She logged in to the restaurant’s free wi-fi and hunted around the net going
page to page until she found what looked like a login page for the police
department.  She took a deep breath and entered Officer Ben Ellis’ username and
password.  To her intense surprise she was granted access and she lost no time
surfing the server’s files for information on the case.  It was hard because it
was set up to search by case number, and she didn’t have one.
She eventually found a file labelled, “Snake River victims, September 22-27,
2013” and Delilah held her breath as she clicked on it.  She had found each of
the reports listed under the dates of the discovery of the bodies.  Delilah
quickly opened the first one and read through the information, sipping her
cocoa.  Then she opened the next and did the same.  By the time she got to the
third one, prospects were looking grimmer and grimmer, whatever this creature
was, it killed brutally.  When Delilah tried to open the fourth case file,
suddenly a message popped up on her screen saying, “Warning, unauthorized
access.”  Delilah freaked out and shut down the page completely, erased her
browser history, shut down her tablet and walked out of the restaurant.
She had made her way back to her motel before she dared turn her tablet back
on.  She was not doing that again.  Either way, she had enough information now
to go on.  All that was left was to interview the families and friends of the
victims.  Delilah let herself fall backwards onto the lumpy mattress,
exhausted.  This stuff was a lot easier when you were two.  And she still
didn’t know what she was hunting.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and located Sam’s name in her contacts. 
He picked up on the second ring, sounding groggy as hell.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry Sam, I didn’t mean to wake you.  Were you napping?”
“Nope, I was reading and I guess I fell asleep.”
“Must be some pretty boring stuff then.”
Sam laughed, still sounding a little groggy, “Yeah, are you calling to
entertain me?”
Delilah laughed and said coyly, “Maybe.  What are you wearing?”  Delilah heard
a cough at the other end of the line and started laughing harder, “Sorry Sam,
I’m just messing with you.”
“You and Dean, always screwing around with my head.”
Delilah didn’t respond to that, unsure how much Sam knew about just how much
screwing she and Dean actually got up to.  She decided to get back to business.
“So that research I was telling you about yesterday, I could use a sounding
board if you’re up for it.”
“Shoot!”
Delilah gave him the run down on the victims and the wounds, as well as what
she knew of the sites where the bodies were found.  She answered as many of
Sam’s questions as she could and took down some of them as lines of inquiry for
future hunts.
“Delilah, this sounds serious.  Where are you?” Sam had his ‘no bullshit’ tone,
but Delilah didn’t feel like having Dean crash the party.
“I’m fine Sam, what do you think is killing these people?”  She heard Sam sigh
loudly.  “Really Sam!  I swear everything is fine, I can handle this.  I
thought of a werewolf, but it’s not the full moon for another week and a rugaru
would have eaten the whole body, not just bust open the rib cage.  I have no
idea what this is, or how to protect these people.”
“A few years back, Dean and I came across something like this.  Same type of
kill.”
“What was it?”
“Tell me where you are.”
“California.  What was it?”
“Delilah, this is dangerous.  I'm sending Dean to help you.”
“Well I’m going after this thing tonight wether he’s here or not, so tell me
what it is or I’ll have to wing it.”  Delilah knew she was being unreasonable,
but she had dealt with enough macho bullshit for one day, and she didn’t want
to risk another body showing up on shore tomorrow because she was waiting for
backup.
Sam hesitated, but then must have decided she was serious because he said, in a
dejected voice, “You’re dealing with a lamia.  They're rare this side of the
Atlantic, but they do sometimes cross over.”
“How do I kill it?”
“Delilah!”
“Sam I’m not going through this again, how do I kill it?”
“Silver blade, or throw salt and rosemary on it and set it on fire.  Wait for
Dean, Delilah.”
And he hung up on her.  Delilah stared at her phone a few seconds, stunned. 
She and Sam never argued, it left her feeling a little sick to her stomach. But
she shook herself, got up from the bed, grabbing her messenger bag and her jean
jacket and walked out the door.  She had to figure out the thing’s hunting
grounds.
 
A few hours later, Delilah found herself sitting on a bar stool, staring at the
mainly college aged patrons of the place.  She had her hunting knife tucked
away on her belt hiding under her loose baseball shirt and her machete was
concealed under a blanket in the backseat of her car parked out back.  She
figured this way, if she saw anything suspicious, she could easily get to it if
she needed to.  She also had a flat squeeze bottle tucked away in her boot –
her secret weapon.  She toyed with a match book that had been lying around on
the counter and kept her eyes on the mirror behind the bar.
After interviewing some of Derek’s friends, and then the girlfriend of the
second victim, Delilah spotted a pattern.  It would seem that both young men
had been out partying with buddies.  Derek’s friends talked about a beautiful
blonde hovering around, getting their attention.  She stayed a little bit with
the group and then got closer to Derek and eventually left with him.  Delilah
wondered why there was no mention of the blonde in the police reports she read,
if anything it was suspicious.  The friends all said though that the girl
seemed really nice.  The girlfriend was less amused when Delilah brought up the
blonde, she got very defensive and practically chased Delilah out of her
apartment.
So here she was, sitting in the local watering hole keeping an eye open for a
beautiful blonde woman.  Delilah had already spotted a few potential targets; a
group of three men playing pool and a group of four laughing together in a
booth drinking and eating nachos by the front of the place.
Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out of her pocket to check who was calling
her.
“Hey,” Delilah said apprehensively, clicking the answer button.
“Sam thinks you’re up to something.  Won’t shut up about it.  Are you getting
yourself into trouble?”  Dean’s gruff voice made her body tingle as always.
“Me? Get into trouble? Please, Dean.  What the hell made him think that?  You
been feeding him horror stories before bed with your soup?”
“So… You’re not staying in a motel in Idaho Falls where you bought two knives
and a machete earlier today?”
Delilah was stunned silent.  How in the hell?
“Dean…”
“Goddamnit Lilah!  I told you that hunting on your own is dangerous.  What the
fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Sam’s quite the fucking stalker is what I’m thinking.”  Delilah
glanced up in the mirror and saw the back of a woman with long blonde hair
leaning against the pool table.  The three men were crowding around her and she
looked like she was eating up all the attention.  “Dean, I gotta go.”
“Don’t you dare hang u…”
Delilah hung up and focused on the men and the blonde.  She watched them move
around the table, trying to impress her, buying shots and sinking balls. 
Slowly, she started paying more attention to one of the men: a tall, handsome,
twenty something with dark hair and eyes.  Delilah’s eyes were glued to them in
the mirror, she was not letting this thing get away.  As soon as she had an
opening, she was going for it.  Another hour passed and it was clear, that the
dark haired man was her mark, she was practically having sex with him right
there, sitting on his lap, her tongue down his throat.  “Nice lady indeed,”
Delilah scoffed at no one in particular.  Men can be such idiots.
When the blonde got up and headed towards the back of the bar, pulling the man
along behind her, his friends cheered… They actually cheered!  Delilah slipped
off her stool and made her way to the back to follow them.  She saw the back
exit door close and she hurried after them.  She looked down the road and
spotted them easily as they made their way west down one of the side roads. 
Delilah rushed over to where her car was parked and she grabbed her machete
from the back seat, clipping it to her left leg and belt while continuing to
follow the two.  A few blocks later, Delilah found herself in a secluded park
by the river.  She could feel the adrenaline starting to pump as she watched
them through a shrub’s branches.
She unclipped the machete, pulled it out of its holster and stepped out from
behind the shrubs.  The girl saw her first and pulled back, hiding behind the
man.
“What is it baby?  Did a raccoon scare you?” he said, laughing.
“Much worse things out here than raccoons, hot stuff,”  Delilah said, making
the guy turn around, a stupid smile on his face.  The smile faltered as he saw
her standing there with a machete in her hand.  He looked confused, not sure
what to make of her 5’4”, 135lbs frame holding a blade as long as her forearm.
“Hit the road Jack, before you get hurt.  Me and blondie got business.”  The
guy stood up straighter and pushed the blonde behind him in a typical
protective male gesture.  Delilah took a step forward, “Dude, I’m fucking
serious, get the hell out of here before you get yourself killed.”
He looked like he was going to protest but suddenly, he let out a strangled
yelp and looked down at his chest.  The lamia’s previously beautifully
manicured nails had turned into thick talons and it dug them into the man’s
chest.
“Let him go!” Delilah yelled at it, getting ready to step forward again.
“Not another step, hunter,” the creature called out with a strangely accented
English, “or the pretty boy dies.”
Delilah froze on the spot, not twenty feet from them.  How could she get him
out of harm’s way?  She bent down slowly, pretending to put down her machete,
as she reached back and pulled out her hunting knife from the back of her
belt.  She threw the knife and it dug into the tree just behind the lamia.  It
followed the knife with its eyes and laughed, “You missed, stupid hunter
bitch.”  Delilah took the moment of distraction and closed the gap between
them, running her machete blade down the creature’s arm, causing it to scream
and release the poor terrified guy, who collapsed to the grassy ground. 
Completely exposed, the lamia turned and ran.
Delilah helped the guy get up and looked him in the eye, “Get out of here.”  He
nodded and took off in the opposite direction, away from where the lamia had
gone.  Delilah grabbed her knife out of the tree trunk, returned it to its
holster, and followed into the shrubbery.  She took careful even steps, trying
to stay alert, in case of an ambush.  She looked all around her, occasionally
glancing back to make sure it hadn’t doubled back to creep up on her.  Pretty
soon she had made it to the river bank and she watched the dark water as it
flowed swiftly past.
She was getting more and more worried that she had lost track of it.  Still, at
least she saved the poor sap for tonight.  A branch cracked behind her and she
turned around in time to see the blonde jump on her.  Delilah let herself fall
backwards, dragging the lamia with her and, using their momentum, tucked her
feet into its middle and kicked up, propelling blondie a few feet away. 
Delilah finished her back roll and stood up on her feet, turning to face the
lamia, machete still in hand.
It came charging at Delilah again, and she side stepped out of the way,
bringing the machete down hard, slicing open its back.  A weird oozing liquid
spurted from the wound, but Delilah watched in disbelief as it closed itself
quickly, knitting shut.  Must be why the blade needs to be silver, still it did
seem to have an effect on the creature – it screeched and reached for its back.
Delilah needed to move it away from the river, otherwise her plan wouldn’t
work.  She charged the creature, raising her machete and intending to bring the
blade down on its head. To her surprise, the machete cut right through the neck
and the head went rolling.  Delilah stood confused, why would it let her do
that?  The body collapsed to the ground, that strange, dark liquid oozing out
from the neck.  Delilah moved forward and nudged the body with her toe; nothing
happened.  “Huh.  That wasn’t so hard.”
She bent down and wiped her machete on the grass before sliding it back in its
holster.  Then, still keeping a weary eye on the beheaded corpse, she took the
few steps and picked up the head by the long blonde hair. “A little bonfire,
and this will all be over.”
She turned back towards the tree line, hearing the sound of rustling, but saw
nothing.  Her neck prickled.  Something was wrong.  She looked again to where
the body lay and there was nothing there.  Delilah startled, dropped the head
and unsheathed her machete again.  Holding it away and to the side, ready to
swing, she kept her eyes on the dark trees as she walked down the deserted
river bank, along the trail.  Everything was completely still around her, not a
whisper of wind in the trees, just the river burbling along in the strong
current.
Suddenly, she heard a splash, just before two arms gripped her like iron bars,
pinning her arms to her body and she was dragged backwards into the current. 
Delilah managed to take a deep breath just before the water closed over her
head.  She struggled against her bonds, opening her eyes to see how she could
get away.  The water was clear, as it dragged them down at a fast pace and
Delilah clearly saw the pale arms holding her captive.  She also saw something
long and scaly slither around by her legs and she almost screamed, fighting
against her instinct to take a breath.  The claws were out again, and she could
feel them trying to dig into her ribs with superhuman strength.  She saw dark
spots moving in front of her eyes, her brain telling her she was low on oxygen
and she was going to black out if she didn’t do something soon.
She tightened her grip on the machete and swung at the slithering mass of
scales around her legs.  She heard the lamia scream, clear even under the
water, and its grip loosened slightly.  Delilah swung the machete upwards and
buried the blade in the creature’s arm, severing it at the wrist, but also
nicking Delilah in the upper arm.  It screamed again and released her,
slithering away in the water.
Delilah’s head broke the surface of the water and she breathed in, desperate
for oxygen.  Her hands and feet were going numb from the cold, late September
water and she looked around, trying to orient herself to see where she was. 
She started swimming towards the shore, machete still in hand, her shoulder
throbbing from the slice.  A hand grabbed her ankle in the water and pulled her
back under.  Delilah tried kicking it away, but its grip was too strong.  She
looked behind her and saw for the first time, the true form of the lamia.  It
had the head and torso of the beautiful blonde woman from the bar, except its
fingers ended in long curved talons and its mouth was full of sharp teeth.  The
waist turned smoothly from skin to scales as a giant serpent’s tail replaced
the lower half of its body.  The tail was always in motion, controlling the
creature’s movements easily through the water.  Delilah tried kicking her off
again, but with no success.
It smiled its sharp toothed smile and pulled Delilah towards her, the tail
wriggling its way forward to wrap up her other leg.  She swiped at it with her
machete, slicing the tip off, but it hardly deterred the creature as it grew
back its missing tip and continued to try and get a hold on Delilah.
She had to get out of the water, she had to get somewhere dry so she could BBQ
this fucking monster.  She had to do something to get out.  And then she got an
idea: this thing fed on the shore, and she had interrupted its meal.  Delilah
ignored the return of the dark spots and let her body go limp, letting the
creature drag her closer, a hungry look in its eyes.  It wrapped its tail
around her legs and held her close as finally, it started moving towards the
shore.  Delilah struggled to not breathe in the chilly water, her vision going
darker every second she couldn’t breathe.  She was fighting the darkness with
everything she had, she could not pass out before the creature brought her to
shore.
Suddenly, her head broke through the water and she breathed in greedily.  The
lamia dropped her on the rocky shore, Delilah hitting her head and seeing
stars.  The creature still had its tail around one of her legs, keeping her
from getting up and running away as it dragged its body out of the water.
On land, it looked much less mobile, and Delilah started to hope, that here,
she could defeat it.  She coughed up some water and rolled onto her side, to
try and clear the liquid from her lungs.  The lamia was on her in a second,
standing tall over her prone body.  Delilah tried to swing the machete which
was still miraculously in her hand, but the lamia swiped at her, clawing open
her cut shoulder and knocking the machete out of reach.
“I’m going to enjoy sucking you dry hunter,” it said in its strange accented
speech, emphasized by the sharp teeth in its mouth.
Delilah was seized by another coughing fit, her body trying to purge the
remaining water in her lungs.  She curled onto her side again, and reached for
the knife in her back.  The lamia pushed her flat on her back again and clawed
at her chest, leaving a deep gash.  It reached back to take another stroke and
Delilah seized her chance, plunging her knife right into the heart of the
creature.  She didn’t wait to see if it did anything, she pulled it out and
sank it back in again.  The creature screeched and Delilah chopped off some of
its talons as it tried to swipe away her hand.  The ongoing assault forced it
to scurry away, and Delilah reached back and grabbed the machete where it had
been knocked out of her hand.  She pushed herself to her knees and then her
feet, despite the throbbing in her shoulder and chest..
The lamia was retreating towards the water, but Delilah cut off her escape by
stepping between it and the racing river.  With one swing of the machete, she
decapitated the creature again, and then started hacking away at whatever body
part she saw.  When she finally stopped, there were pieces of it spread on the
rocky ground and the dark goo covered the area.  Delilah didn’t wait for the
fucking monster to pull itself together again, she reached into her boot and
pulled out the squeeze bottle.  She uncapped it using her mouth and squirted
the lighter fluid mixed with salt and rosemary all over the remains.  A screech
sounded around her and Delilah briefly wondered how the creature could scream
when it was all over the place in bits, but she really didn’t care.
She reached into her other boot and pulled out a Zippo.  She picked up some dry
kindling from the ground, a combination of twigs and long grass, and flicked
the stone hoping the thing wasn’t too water logged to light.  She finally got
the fucking thing to make a flame and she lit the kindling, dropping it to the
butane soaked ground.
The area was in a blaze in seconds, and Delilah took a step into the river
water, to avoid the hot flames.  She watched it burn long after the remains of
the lamia had disappeared.  By the time the first jogger ran past though, she
was gone, the charred ground the only sign of her having been there.
She made her way back to town slowly, holding her clawed shoulder with her
hand.  The current had really carried her far and by the time she reached her
car, it was six in the morning and the sun had started to rise.  She opened her
car door and sat down, her legs constrained by the wet denim, the only part of
her that hadn’t had time to dry on the walk.  She started the car, looking
forward to a hot shower as soon as she got back to the motel.
She groaned as she pulled into the parking lot.  The Impala was there, parked
in front of her motel room, no sign of either Sam or Dean, which meant they
were probably inside.  Delilah sighed, turned off the engine, checked her cuts,
that had now stopped bleeding, and resigned herself to a lecture from one or
both of the Winchesters.  She smiled though as she put her hand on the motel
door handle: she had gotten the job done.  She had saved lives tonight.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is the chapter with rape/non-consent as well as underage. Also
     there's both physical and psychological torture.
Delilah jerked out of her daze as the door slowly creaked open and Dean slipped
into the room looking furtively around and closing the door behind him
quietly.  Delilah’s stomach flipped happily seeing him there, as a sour taste
flooded her mouth, apprehension pulling at her subconscious.
                                       ⭐
 
She was being followed, she was sure of it now.  It had been months of strange
prickling feelings in her neck, and quickly averted eyes, but the last two
weeks it was like she couldn’t step outside without her skin trying to crawl
off her bones.  It took her a long time to really notice it because it was
always different people, and she kept moving from place to place, but she knew
in her gut that everywhere she went, eyes were following her, she just had no
idea why.
After the incident with the lamia, and a rather humiliating lecture by both
Winchesters, Delilah found herself on her own again – Sam had shown significant
improvement and he was itching to get out of the bunker so Dean went back to
hunting with him, telling her flat out to go home.  Only thing was, she didn’t
have a home anymore, not that he knew that.
Delilah bounced around the midwest, not straying too far from the familiar and
not taking on bigger hunts than she could handle on her own.  Although the
lamia hunt had turned out alright, nearly drowning was not something she wanted
to repeat.
Delilah got off i-30, and headed into Cedar Rapids, Iowa.  She figured it was
as good a place as any to stop, get some lunch and maybe see if there was
anything odd in the area that she could help with.  She was heading up a
stretch of road on the outskirts when she spotted an all too familiar car
parked outside a diner.  On a whim, she pulled up and parked beside it.
“Of all the burger joints in all the towns in all the world, she walked into
mine,” Delilah drawled in her best Bogart, which sounded nothing like Bogart
actually, as she walked up to a booth by the window where two plaid clad men
sat enjoying lunch.
Sam’s face lit up right away and he stood up to give her a hug.  “Hey! You’re a
sight for sore eyes,” he told her, looking her over quickly, maybe checking for
fresh injuries.
Delilah smacked him affectionately on the shoulder. “Me?  What about you! 
You’re looking good.  Feeling better?”
“Loads.”  Sam sat back down into the booth and scooted to the far end of the
bench.  “You should join us.”
Delilah glanced at Dean, who was playing with a French fry on his plate.  He
looked up at her after a moment and pointed to the seat next to Sam.  “Yeah, go
ahead,” he said in a flat tone, his face closed off and unreadable.
Delilah felt a little disappointed as she sat down next to Sam, her mood
turning sour in light of Dean’s indifference.  True the last time they had seen
each other, they had argued about the lamia, rather vociferously, but so had
Sam and he was happy to see her now.  They chatted amiably enough but something
about Dean’s short, generic responses had her decline the waitress’s offer of a
menu when she came around to the table.
And then she felt it.  The feeling of unease, and the prickling in her neck. 
Delilah quickly turned her head and scanned the diner, her eyes alighting on a
family of four: a man, a woman and two children under ten.  She could have
sworn that the man had been staring at her a moment before.  She watched as he
spoke to the children at the table, nothing out of the ordinary.  The prickling
started again and this time when Delilah turned her head, she actually locked
eyes with a young woman who was sitting by herself at a table in a corner. 
They stared at each other as several seconds ticked by, Delilah trying to
recognize the girl and wondering what she wanted, until Sam got her attention
again.
“You ok?  Delilah?”
“What?” she asked, glancing back at him but quickly looking back to the young
woman, who was suddenly just gone.  “Um, yeah, I’m great Sam.” She kept
scanning the restaurant for her but couldn’t see her anywhere.  She got up from
the table.  “Hey, it was fun bumping into you guys.  I gotta go though,” she
said hurriedly.
She turned to leave, still looking around and a large, warm hand wrapped itself
around her wrist, holding her loosely.  She turned to look at it, which
happened to be connected to Dean’s arm.  He was looking at her with a frown on
his face.
“Is everything alright, Lilah?” he asked.
She looked into his eyes, bright green in the light of the window, and felt
calm for the first time in weeks seeing the concern etched on his face.  She
chafed at her own response to him.  Why was it that he had such an influence on
her emotions - one minute making her feel like shit and the next fluttering on
the inside like a hormone ridden teenager?  She wanted to tell him about the
strange prickling feeling following her everywhere, but this was her business
and she didn’t need him to help her.  She didn’t need him.
She tried to smile reassuringly at Dean, but her voice came out flat as she
said, “I’m fine.”  She tried again, this time managing to sound a bit more
natural, “I think I might just be tired from the road.  I’ll go find a place to
bunk down for the day and I’ll continue on my way tomorrow.”
Delilah glanced back at Sam who was also looking concerned and smiled at him
too.  She pulled her hand out of Dean’s hold and headed out the front door and
to her car, the feeling of unease returning, Delilah barely registering the
tall dark stranger watching her from across the street.  She got into her
Tercel and started driving away.
She barely got herself settled in a room at the first motel she spotted that
there was a knock on the door.  Delilah took her knife out of its holster
clipped to the back of her belt and approached the door apprehensively.  She
glanced out the window and let out a frustrated sigh when she spotted the
Impala.  She nearly jumped out of her skin though when her visitor pounded on
the door again and a familiar voice called out.  “Lilah, open up.”
Delilah unlocked the bolt and opened the door, turning her back on Dean as he
came in and closed the door behind him.  She was putting her knife back in its
place on her belt when it was taken out of her hands.  She turned around to
glare at him.  Dean was holding the knife in his right hand, inspecting it.
“Not a bad blade,” he said, checking the balance, “You do realize that it
wouldn’t be much use on most things though right?”
“Woulda worked fine on you,” she responded, a note of venom in her voice.
Dean shifted his focus to her then flipped the knife, holding it by the blade
and handing it back to her. Something like hurt passed over his handsome
features as he said, “I didn’t realize you needed to be protected from me.”
Delilah felt a knife twist in her gut.  What the hell was this?  She took the
blade from him and slipped it back in its place.  “What do you want Dean?  You
gonna lecture me about hunting on my own again? Cuz I’m really not in the mood
for that shit right now.”
“Actually, I wasn’t, but now that you brought it up,” he spoke in clipped
tones, clearly angry about something, “What was that at the diner?  What kind
of trouble did you get yourself into?”
“I’m not in any trouble Dean,” she answered, just as irritated with him, “It's
nothing you need to be worried about.”
“Like hell it isn’t!” Dean said angrily, taking a step towards her.
Delilah narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her anger and resentment bubbling up
to the surface as her heart rate increased.  The feelings had been lurking for
weeks now, but Delilah had been dismissing them, ignoring the gnawing
loneliness and abandonment that had been eating away at her.  She didn’t need
anybody telling her what to do, and she certainly didn’t need Dean looking at
her like that.
“Why don’t you go back to Sammy?  He needs your mothering a lot more than I
do.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dean exploded, his voice getting rougher as he
yelled.
“It means I’m fine on my own and I don’t need you fucking up my life with your
lectures and your concern ok?  So there’s the door, feel free to walk out
again.”
Delilah felt a sob in her chest as her voice cracked.  She swallowed it down,
turning away from Dean, his piercing green eyes disconcerting her.  That’s all
this was, she was just reacting to that fucking look he kept giving her. 
Suddenly, she felt his hand on her arm and before she could pull away, he had
spun her back to face him, slamming his mouth down on hers.
Delilah was going to tell him to get the fuck off, so she was completely
surprised when her arms, instead of pushing back on his chest, wrapped
themselves around his neck.  She was even more surprised when her body pressed
itself into his and she returned his forceful kiss.  Then, as his hands cupped
her ass, bringing her even closer, her brain just gave up and let her body do
what it clearly wanted to do.
It was fast, and brutal, each stripping the other quickly, their clothes strewn
all over the floor in no time and when Dean picked her up and slammed into her
right there against the wall she cried out and ran her nails down his back. 
Delilah clung to him as he pumped into her, running her hands all over him,
feelings of desperation and need welling up inside of her.
They tumbled to the floor, Dean continuing to drive into her hard, Delilah
moaning his name every time.  Her emotions were all over the place, quickly
going from anger roiling in her stomach to ecstasy gripping her sex and fear
clenching her heart.  By the time Dean pulled out and came all over her belly,
she was a complete mess inside.
She got up, without saying a word, leaving Dean to recover on the floor, and
headed into the washroom to clean up.  She took control of the storm raging
inside of her and little by little the confusion died down, leaving her feeling
numb as she washed the semen off at the sink.  Dean came and leaned in the
bathroom doorway dressed only in his jeans.  She felt his warm hand on her as
he squeezed her shoulder at the neck.  She slapped his hand away and pushed
past him and back into the room, picking up her clothes and getting dressed.
“What are we doing here Lilah?” Dean asked her, moving back into the room and
getting dressed as well.
“What do you mean?” she answered without turning around to look at him.
“I mean,” he repeated, taking her hand gently in his and pulling her towards
him, “What is going on?  With us?”
He was looking down into her eyes, and Delilah found that she couldn’t turn
away from his intensity.  Her heart was beating wildly, and she started feeling
nauseous as her brain screamed at her to run away.  She kept her face under
control, not betraying the turmoil inside as she spoke.  “Us?  A bit of casual
sex and suddenly there’s an us?”
A pained look flashed in Dean’s face before his eyebrows settled into a frown. 
“Is that all this is?  Sex?”
“Of course,” Delilah screamed on the inside, “What else would it be?”
Nothing visibly changed in Dean’s face as he let go of her hand and took a step
back, but the switch was flipped and his eyes dulled a little, the shields
lowering into place.  Delilah swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth.
“Uh,” Dean started, then cleared his throat, looking away, “I left Sam at the
diner, he’s probably getting ready to kill me, so I should…”
“I’ll see you around, Dean.”
He didn’t respond.  He walked to the door and closed it behind him as he left. 
Delilah leaned onto the small table by the window and let out a shuddery
breath, shaking from her efforts at controlling the emotions raging inside of
her.  Damn him and his stupid looks.
“You know daddy loves you right baby girl?”
A tear dropped from her eye and she reeled from the long forgotten memory.  She
shook herself and squashed it back down quickly, burying it deeply again.
A knock at the door startled her and she quickly wiped at her wet eyes.  The
man had to learn when to give up.  She walked over to the door and opened it,
looking out into the bright sunshine.
“What do you want now, Dean?”
Delilah’s hair stood on end as she looked at the shadowy shape blocking the
sunlight.  It was definitely not Dean.  She reached to close the door again as
the girl from the diner raised her arm and pressed two fingers to Delilah’s
forehead.  Darkness crept up on Delilah as she fell backwards, and then there
was nothing.
 
“You know daddy loves you right baby girl?”
Smell of puke and rancid beer, a sticky puddle forming on the floor.  Feelings
of rage mixing with sadness and love for the man passed out on the couch in the
dark room.  Delilah holding empty beer bottles in her 13-year-old hands,
bringing them to the kitchen.  Three men playing poker and smoking, more beer. 
A large hand on her head, passing fingers in her hair.  Fear.
 
The pounding in her head was the first thing she noticed when she woke up with
a start.  The cold tiles came second, and finally the shackle around her ankle
tied securely to a ring in a cement column.  Delilah sat up and tried to open
the ring around her ankle, tugging on the lock keeping it closed.  Where the
hell was she?  She looked around.  She was in a small room, maybe what could
have been a storage room once, but it was empty now.  The column in the center
of the room and the small window high on the wall suggested she was
underground.  The floor was grimy, the walls a dark red brick.  The only other
thing in the room was a small table.
Delilah stood up carefully, checking for injuries, but she seemed to be fine. 
She tried to look out the window but all she could see was a brick wall and a
piece of the sky.  She turned back towards the door, and what she saw on the
table made her stomach drop into her feet and her head swim.  There was a
silver tray on the table and in the tray she could see a mix of tools: a monkey
wrench, a tourniquet, what looked like a manual drill, a couple of knives and
some needles.  And blood.
She looked around again and saw the blood stains on the floor all around her,
some of it dry and caked on, but some of it looked fresh, barely clotted.  In a
panic Delilah checked herself again for wounds but again found none.
She took a step towards the door, but the shackle held her back.  Even if she
stretched as far as she could, with her leg tied, she could not reach the door,
or the tools on the table.  She sat down again, not bothering to avoid the
blood on the ground.  She wrapped her arms around her knees trying to get her
head around what was happening.  How long had she been there?  Would Sam and
Dean have noticed her missing?
She thought back to what she told Dean before he left the motel and figured it
wasn’t likely he would try to contact her after that.  Was he angry enough to
tell Sam to leave her alone too?
She clung to the hope that someone was looking for her, but she knew the
chances were slim to none.
She heard footsteps beyond the door seconds before it opened and two people
walked into the room.  One of them was a scrappy looking man with chin-length,
straight, black hair and a brown goatee, he was wearing a black leather
jacket.  He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was skinny and looked stretched,
his skin tight on his cheek bones giving him a bit of a morbid air, he kind of
reminder her of a scarecrow. The second person was the girl from the diner. 
She had spiky, cropped, light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that gave
Delilah chills.  She was wearing a cute little summer dress and looked like she
was just barely eighteen and yet Delilah was more terrified of her than she’s
ever been of anyone.
Delilah stood to confront them, a feeling of déjà vu gripping her.
“Well,” the man said in a smooth voice, “Nice to see you’re feeling better,
refreshed, regenerated one might say.”
“Who are you and what do you want with me?” Delilah asked.
The man rolled his eyes theatrically and sighed, “Always the same questions
with you.  I’m hurt that you keep forgetting my name.  Then again, you are
rather forgetful.”  Delilah didn’t say anything.  “Alright, one more time
then.  I’m Malachi, this is Adriel, and you’re going to tell us where Castiel
is.”
What? “What?” Delilah said confused.
Again, the man called Malachi let out an exasperated sigh.  Then he turned to
Adriel and addressed her.  “I think the wiping of her memory was a mistake,
let’s not do that anymore, this is just tedious.”
With a crooked smile, Adriel approached her, raising her fingers towards her
face.  Delilah took a step back and fell sprawling to the ground, tripped up by
the shackle around her ankle.  Adriel crouched down on top of her and touched
her forehead.  Delilah just saw the glowing white light her fingers emitted
before a terrible ripping pain ran her through and through.  Her arms were cut
repeatedly, her face and body punched, her throat slashed and her gut stabbed,
her legs, fingers, what felt like every bone, broken in several places, and
everything over and over.  Delilah screamed from the compounded pain of four
days’ worth of torture and through it all that same question: Where is Castiel?
Delilah lay on the ground, her body convulsing slightly at the remembered
physical trauma.  Even though the angels, because she remembered now what they
were, had healed her at the end of each day, she felt every wound like it was
fresh and she heard every scream torn from her throat and felt every drop of
blood on the ground she now knew for sure was hers.  Adriel slowly stood up
again and stepped back from Delilah as she sobbed, folding on her side into a
ball.
Malachi crouched down beside her, his face bare inches from hers. He passed his
hand in her hair, placing it almost gently away from her face.
“Maybe now, you’re ready to give me the answers I want,” he whispered to her,
raising her chin with his hand.
Delilah straightened a bit, looking him right in the eye, and she spit into his
face receiving a slap across her cheek that slammed her head into the tiled
floor, splitting her open at the eyebrow, adding fresh blood to the mess.
“Get her to talk,” she heard Malachi tell Adriel on his way out the door,
“Everyone has a breaking point.”
Adriel smiled and Malachi glanced back at Delilah before walking out of the
door and closing it behind him.
“Oh good!” Adriel spoke in a surprisingly high voice that should have sounded
light and carefree, but only held more promise of pain, “My turn.”
She opened a drawer in the side of the table and took out a key.  She walked up
to Delilah and grabbed her by the shirt front, lifting her off the ground with
one hand and then slamming her into the column.  She grabbed the manacles
connected to the column and unlocked each one.  Delilah attempted to slap her
away, but Adriel grabbed one of her wrists and snapped it before sticking her
hand through the manacle and locking it shut again.  Delilah screamed from the
pain radiating from her wrist as the angel locked her other arm in the second
restraint.
“My my, we’re screaming early today,” Adriel said in her high sing song voice,
“but I haven’t even started yet.”
She crouched down and locked Delilah’s other foot to the column and tossed the
key into the tray.  Delilah watched with apprehension as the angel picked up
one of the knives and twirled it in her hand.  When she turned around, she had
the most twisted smile on her face, like a sadistic china doll.
“Shall we begin?”
 
The room was dark.  Delilah was hanging from her shackles, blood slowly pooling
on the floor.  The pain in her wrist blending in with the rest of her aching
body.  She had been beaten, cut and broken in every way possible and Delilah
didn’t know what more they could do to her.  She didn’t know anything about
Castiel, she had never even met him, but the angels knew about her and the
Winchesters and that was enough for them to think she would know where their
angel was.
Adriel stepped back into the room, Delilah saw her by the light from the
hallway beyond.  Something glinted in her hand and Delilah recognized an angel
blade.  What now?  No more.
“No more,” Delilah whispered.
“No more?” Adriel mocked her, “But there is always more.”
“Please,” Delilah said through her cut lips, “I don’t know where Castiel is.”
“You don’t know? But Malachi thinks you do, and so do I.”
“Just, kill me.”
Delilah dangled from her shackles, her broken legs too weak to support her and
she no longer knew if she had spoken or thought the last bit.
“And what if I do kill you, doll, will you tell me what I want to know then? 
Or will I need to torture your soul until you are beyond repair?” She grabbed
Delilah’s hair and yanked her head back against the column, “Death would only
be the beginning of new and wondrous torture.”
Tears ran down Delilah’s face, death had been her last prayer, but even in
death, she would not be able to hide from these monsters, these angels.  Adriel
punched her in the stomach, but Delilah felt nothing, she slammed her head into
the cement column, and again she felt nothing, she ran the sharp angel blade
down her front from clavicle to hip and Delilah barely moaned; the pain was
shutting down her nervous system.
“Oh well,” whispered the maniacal angel, “There’s always tomorrow.”
Adriel touched her fingers to Delilah’s forehead and everything went black.
 
“Daddy loves you, baby girl.”
The grass was soft under Delilah’s cheek, the smell of the sun warmed field and
the buzz of the summer cicadas were lulling her to sleep as she lay in the
grass a little ways from her mom and dad having a picnic.
“Where are you Delilah?” called out her mom, looking around.
Eight-year-old her popped out of the long grass only a few feet away and ran to
her mom squealing in joy as she was picked up and swung around, her brown
pigtails waving in the wind like ribbons.
Delilah sat up in the grass and looked around, everything had a bright, over
exposed look to it; things were too yellow, brighter than anything she ever
remembered seeing.  She watched herself babbling with her parents, helping to
pick up the picnic things.  She smiled.  This was one of her favourite dreams. 
Watching her parents from before everything changed.  They had been so happy.
Delilah sat cross-legged, holding her ankles and let the warm sunshine of the
dream recharge her.  She laughed seeing herself doing cartwheels and chasing
butterflies while her parents walked hand-in-hand and stared at each other
lovingly.
“My, my, my, what a pretty family,” a stranger said beside her.
Delilah startled and turned her head towards the person who should not be
there.  The man had short jet black hair and grey eyes and he was sporting a
dark five o’clock shadow along his strong jaw.  He was sitting in the grass
beside her, one arm casually resting on top of one long bent leg, the other
laying casually towards the side, looking like he had stepped out of a
magazine.  He wore simple clothing – jeans and a t-shirt – and he was
barefoot.  He continued to watch the happy family playing in the overly bright
field and when young Delilah jumped at her father’s leg, making him topple
over, he laughed in a deep, rich laugh.
Delilah had no idea who this was.  She frowned, confused.  The man turned his
head towards her and flashed his bright white teeth in a wolfish grin that was
both familiar and strange at once, like the expression belonged to someone else
somehow.
“Who are you?” Delilah asked, perplexed.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, his deep, smooth voice like honey in her ears,
“I’m the man of your dreams.”
Delilah snorted in surprise and turned away.  “Hardly,” she said.
“How ‘bout now?”
Delilah stiffened hearing the rough sound of a voice she would recognize
anywhere.  She turned back towards the figure sitting beside her.  He was
wearing the same clothes as before, only the shoulders were broader, the hair
was lighter, and the face had morphed into the smiling features of Dean
Winchester.  Delilah looked into the green eyes of the hunter and felt relief. 
She called out his name as she jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his
neck.  She felt his strong arms wrap around her and hold her tightly.
“Do you want to see something neat?” he asked her in her ear.
Delilah drew back, something wasn’t right.  She held onto his shoulder, his arm
still holding her waist, as all around her, the light was changing, dulling,
like someone was dimming the over bright sunshine and leeching all of the
colours out of the décor.  A chill permeated the air and Delilah instinctively
pressed herself into Dean’s side as a heavy rain started falling.
She blinked and suddenly, she found herself sitting in the passenger’s seat of
a very familiar car, the windshield wipers working double time to clear the
driving rain.  Bile burned her throat and flooded her mouth as she turned her
head towards her mother at the wheel.
“Did you hear me Delilah?”
“Mom!” she cried out, bordering on panic, “We have to get out of here!” Delilah
pleaded with her, but she acted like she hadn’t heard her.
“I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”
“We need to stop the car, right now!” Delilah sobbed, as tears streamed down
her face. “Please, mommy, I’m so sorry.”
Delilah grabbed at the wheel, but nothing happened.  She tried to shake her
mom, open the door, anything, but it was like she wasn’t really there.  She hit
every button on the dashboard and still nothing.
“Oh my God!”
Delilah tensed at her mother’s words, knowing exactly what was about to
happen.  She faced forward as the headlights bore down on them.  The car
swerved sideways as her mom jerked the wheel.  The impact hit the driver’s side
and the car crumpled as it spun around on the wet asphalt and into the next
lane.  A second car hit just behind the passenger door and they were jerked
around again, sandwiched between the two vehicles as more cars piled into the
mess.
Delilah felt the panic rise in her as she cut herself on the broken glass all
over the seat.  She unbuckled her seatbelt, stuck repeating her actions from
all those years ago.  She pushed on the door, knowing it wouldn’t budge, no
matter how bruised her shoulder got, throwing her weight against it
nonetheless, trying to get away from the bloody mess that was no longer her
mother.
Delilah curled herself into a ball and sat in the car’s footwell as flashing
lights started appearing around her, casting their blue and red over the horror
show in there with her, and she could not look at her mother.
“Well that was disappointing,” her mother spoke, causing Delilah to look up at
her, seeing the broken face and dislocated body hanging limply against the
seatbelt.  As she watched, transfixed, the corpse turned its head towards her. 
“I figured there would have been an explosion or maybe we could have rolled the
car a couple of times,” it said as it tried to move its broken limbs.
“Stop it!  You monster, stop!”  Delilah looked away again and sobbed into her
knees.
“Where is Castiel, darling?  If you tell me, it will all go away,” the corpse
said in a twisted version of her mother’s voice.
“I don’t know!” she screamed.
“Delilah!  Get your ass in here now!” her father yelled at her.
She lifted her head and found herself sitting in a cramped living room, one of
the many she had lived in, in Kansas City.  Delilah trembled finding herself
back here, and decided that she was not moving from this spot.  Her father
yelled at her again and she flinched.
13-year-old her came out of her room and Delilah scurried to her feet trying to
hold the girl back.
“No!  Don’t go in there kid!”
Dean chuckled at her from the couch.  He was lying down, watching TV, one arm
behind his head and sipping a beer.  The position was so familiar to her, a
perfect mirror of her dad’s posture.  Delilah felt sick to her stomach.
“You don’t learn too fast do you?” he said, his voice like acid.
“I won’t go in there.”
“You think you have a choice?”
And suddenly, she was standing in the corner of the kitchen, looking down at
the table where her father was drinking a beer with one of his friends.  A man
he called her uncle, but definitely wasn’t related in any way.  Empty bottles
littered every horizontal surface in the room.  13-year-old her was standing
stiffly beside the other man.  He was passing his fingers in her hair, humming
a children’s lullaby.  Delilah could still feel the man’s fingers and smell his
breath even from where she was, haunted by the memory.
“Daddy loves you, baby girl.  Do you love your daddy?” her father drawled,
barely coherent from the drinking.
“Dad please, I don’t want to.”
Her father slapped her hard across the cheek and Delilah felt it too, searing
into her skin and throbbing.
“Why do you make me hurt you?” He turned in his chair and fixed his eyes on her
in the corner, his stare boring a hole into her soul.  “Just tell us where
Castiel is.”
Delilah closed her eyes again tightly and pressed herself into the wall,
wishing she could disappear, as little her sat in the other man’s lap.  She
listened to herself struggling and complaining and was unable to stop it, as it
happened to her all over again.  All the while her father watching and
repeating that he loved her, until he passed out.
She crumpled to the ground and everything went black.
 
She woke up chained to the column, the diffused sunlight creeping in through
the window.  She was all alone.  She buried her face in her hands and wept,
feeling the shame again from 17 years ago as if it were fresh.  She barely
noticed that her physical injuries from the day before were gone.  All she knew
was the gaping hole in her chest as she relived the memories over and over
throughout the day, unable to rebury them.
She was left alone all day, no one coming to see her, no noises outside the
door.  There was no need, as she continued being tortured by her own past.  She
was completely alone.
***** Chapter 5 *****
“Dean?  Is it really you?”  Delilah asked incredulously.
He took a few steps into the room and looked at her.
“Who else would it be?” Delilah watched him wearily as he approached her,
“Listen, we don’t have much time.  Sam is waiting outside.  We have to go.”
Delilah stood up as he got closer and let him put his arms around her.  She
even squeezed him back, still trying to figure out if he was real, if anything
was real.  He felt so warm and strong, she desperately needed to believe it was
him.  He whispered into her hair, “I was so worried.  I thought I lost you,
baby.”
A little alarm bell went off in Delilah’s head; Dean has never been this
affectionate.  She glanced over his shoulder at the little table and saw the
keys still on the tray.  And something else left behind.  And she knew what she
had to do to get out.
She nuzzled Dean’s shoulder, “Get me out of here, Dean.  I want to go home.”
“Of course baby, let’s go.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her.  Delilah fought against the urge
to pull away from him, while at the same time only wanting to give in and let
him take care of her, but when he tried to slip his tongue in her mouth, she
pushed him away, growing more suspicious.
“Dean, honey, really not the time.  The keys are over there.  Castiel’s waiting
for us.”  Delilah watched his reaction carefully.  The real Dean would think
this was a weird thing for her to say.
The Dean in front of her didn’t even pause.  “Right!” he said.
He turned around and grabbed the keys from the tray. He crouched down and
removed the lock from her ankle. Delilah stepped around him and reached for the
angel blade, forgotten on the table.  She held it out in front of her, pointed
at Dean’s chest as he stood and turned around.
“Whoa!  Delilah, what are you doing?” he exclaimed.
“You’re not Dean Winchester.  You’re one of them, an angel,” she spit the last
word out, the blade completely steady.
“What?” His face twisted in confusion.  It looked so familiar.  Delilah doubted
herself.  “You’re crazy,” he continued, “They’ve been playing tricks on you.”
“Prove it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.
“We don’t have time for this Delilah!” he growled.
He took a step towards her and she backed up, keeping the blade steadily aimed
at his heart.
“Stop being ridiculous, give me the blade.”
If hunting with Dean had taught her anything, it was that Dean Winchester would
never take her only weapon, and he would not hesitate to prove he was human, no
matter what he had to do.  All doubts disappeared from her mind.  She
straightened out of her fighting stance and lowered the blade, moving towards
him to hand it to him.  As she approached, he extended his hand and a smug
smile spread on his face.
At the last second, Delilah swung up and swiped his hand, slicing it open. 
Bright white light spilled from the cut and she lunged forward and sank the
long, triple-edged blade into the heart of the masquerading angel.  Light
spilled from his eyes and mouth and from the wounds as the angel screamed, and
Delilah couldn’t help the nausea that overtook her seeing Dean die again, even
if it wasn’t him at all.
She felt like a curtain lift in her head and she stared down at the lifeless
figure as it turned back to the form of the girl with spiky brown hair. 
Delilah grasped the blade firmly in her hand, anger boiling her blood as she
looked at the dead angel on the ground, burnt charcoal marks all around her
thin body.
Then, she headed to the door.  She was focused, lethal, as she opened the door
to her cell a crack and glanced down a long hallway.  There were closed doors
on either side and stairs going up at the very end.  The hallway was deserted
and she could hear no sound coming from any of the closed off rooms.  She
quietly ran to the end of the hallway in a semi-crouch, keeping low and ready
to stab anything that crossed her path.  At the top of the stairs, Delilah
found herself in a sort of atrium, a large room with a main door straight
ahead, this was her road to salvation.  She crouched down behind the corner of
the wall when she spotted someone standing guard at the door.  She was past
caring wether it was human or angel, anyone involved in her torture was fair
game, including this one.
She snuck up to him on quiet feet, angel blade ready.  As she drew level with
him, her arm came up smoothly and the blade sunk into his back like butter. 
She glimpsed the bright white light again, but didn’t wait around to see if
there would be backup coming to the rescue; she opened the door and ran out
into the early evening light.
Much of the rest was a blur.  Finding the highway, flagging down a driver,
hitching a ride heading to Kansas, walking the last few miles up a dark, wooded
road, falling down the steps and landing in front of a door built into a
bricked up drainage tunnel.
It was sheer dumb luck that she got there at all, the angels must have been too
busy with something else to come after her.  As she collapsed onto the mattress
in room 11, small awareness of Kevin hovering around her, the events of the
last week kept going through her head, like the wall that she had carefully
built up brick-by-brick over the years had been blown to smithereens and she
couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was going to put it back up.  Images of
her parents and her happy intermingled with the horrors in her life.  The last
image in her head, before finally sinking into oblivion, was that of a pair of
bright green eyes.
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