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withlovewriting · 6 months

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 6: The Blood You Bleed Is The Blood You Owe

Chapter Six.

Woken up like an animal, I'm all ready for the healing, My mind's lost with nightmares streaming, Woken up, kicking, screaming, Oh, take me out of this place I'm in, Oh, break me out of this shell-like case I'm in, Underneath this skin, there's a human, Buried deep within there's a human, And despite everything I'm still human, But I think I'm dying here

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,864

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, cursing, mention of breaking the law but nothing too serious, blood/mentions of injuries.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Six: The Blood You Bleed Is The Blood You Owe

You sat on one of the small armchairs in the Byers’ living room, leg bouncing and only half listening as Mike explained the concept of the acrobat and the flea — the same one you and Mr. Clarke had described during Will’s Wake — to the rest of the group.

Hopper’s eyes were darting between yourself and the small girl sitting in front of the coffee table, her shoulders hunched slightly, as if she were ready to flee at the first sign of danger. On the other hand, you were much more interested in biting the skin around your nail, knowing that you’d regret your decision in the morning when the area would boast a sore hangnail.

The Upside Down, Eleven had called it. Here, but not really here. And if you guys were the acrobat, that meant the monster — and somehow — Will was the flea. It meant Barb was the flea.

The good news was that Eleven was certain she could speak to Will and Barb, despite them being trapped in the Upside Down.

Everyone stood around the kitchen table, watching as Eleven tried her hardest to connect with the place, but despite the flickering lights above you, Eleven’s voice cracked as she explained that she couldn’t find them.

Once the girl had excused herself to the bathroom with tears lining her eyes, the boys explained what they knew about Eleven’s powers.

“Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak.”

“The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets.”

“Like, she flipped the van earlier-”

“-It was awesome.”

“But she’s drained-”

“-Like a bad battery.”

“Well, how…How do we make her better?”

Mike shrugged, his eyes darting toward you as if you could be of any help at all, “We don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?”

Eleven appeared from the bathroom silently, only alerting you all to her presence when she finally spoke. She explained that she entered the Upside Down before, but she’d always been in water of some sort.

“A sensory deprivation tank?” You asked her, watching as she struggled to find the right words to explain whatever shit the guys at the lab had made her do.

Nodding, Eleven’s eyes turned, watching you carefully, “Yes. Like a bath.”

“How the hell do we get one of those?” Jonathan asked, pacing behind his mother who was currently brushing her hands through her unwashed hair.

“We don’t. We make one.”

Dustin had gotten off the phone with Mr. Clarke after only a few minutes, guilt-tripping the teacher into explaining how to build a homemade sensory deprivation tank at 10p.m. on a Saturday evening. You had to give it to the kid, he could bullshit his way in, and out, of most things.

“Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

Joyce turned towards Jonathan, shrugging slightly, “I think so. Yeah.”

“Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it.”

“How much is lots?”

Peering over Dustin’s shoulder, you watched as the boy slowly tried to calculate the solution. Placing a hand on his shoulder, casting the boy’s direction toward you, you sighed, “Average kiddie pool? About 1,500 pounds.”

“Well, where are we gonna get that much salt?” Nancy questioned, already feeling exhausted with the back and forth, the ‘can you, can’t you’ of the situation.

“The school,” you turned your attention towards Hopper, the man’s eyes already boring into you from across the table, “I mean, they have it for snow days, right? They grit the roads every December.”

Sending you a small smile, Hopper nodded, “Let's go. Boys, you and Joyce grab the pool and we’ll meet you at the middle school.”

You sat in the classroom feeling a little more than useless as the others prepared the pool in the gymnasium. Joyce was wrapping up a pair of science goggles with duct tape as you watched the girl nervously look around and you’d guessed she’d never been in a classroom before.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” When she turned, silently questioning you with her large brown eyes, you clarified, “You don’t have to go back there. I know it probably feels like you have to, but we’re not those bad men and you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Placing her small hand over yours, she sent you a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nancy and I… We found our way there. Only once, but… that was more than enough. It’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to not do this. We can always try and find another way.”

“You’ve been there? To the Upside Down?” The girl’s eyebrows pulled together as her hand clasped around yours instead.

Shrugging, you tried your best to not shake off her grip and instead allowed her to cradle your sweaty palm, “On accident. We… There was a tree, and we crawled into… You know what? It’s not important. I just wanted you to know that you have a choice in this, and nobody is gonna be angry if-”

“I can do this,” her voice was quiet but sturdy. Unwavering. “I want to do this.”

“This will keep it dark for you,” Joyce handed Eleven the goggles, unknowingly interrupting your conversation, “just like in your bathtub.”

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up from the too-small seat, feeling mildly uncomfortable, as if the young girl had looked right into your soul, “I’m gonna go see how everyone's getting on. I’ll meet you down there.”

Joyce’s dark, doe-like eyes followed you as you left the room, lips puckered as she watched with the concern of a mother. Something was off about you tonight, and it seemed so much more than everything that had happened this past week. She had seen the concerned looks Hopper had sent your way, the way the boys had spoken as they exited Hopper’s cruiser earlier, your name whispered on their tongue, and the fact you’d avoided eye contact with almost everyone since joining them in Joyce’s house. She’d also noticed the blood splatter on your sleeve, but declined to ask you about it so far, her thoughts circling back to her son instead.

Heading through the cafeteria, you grabbed a carton of eggs from the large fridge, handing them over to Dustin as you joined them in the gymnasium.

“Oh, I’m not hungry-”

“It’s to see if the water is salty enough, dumbass,” Lucas rolled his eyes as Dustin’s cheeks flushed.

“The salt increases the density of the water. So if the egg sinks, add more salt. Eleven needs to float.”

You were all silent as the girl blindly stepped into the pool with the help of Joyce and Hopper and as she laid down, you couldn’t help but watch as her — or rather, Nancy’s — peach-colored dress spread out around her, the fabric softly moving in the barely there ripples.

Almost immediately, the lights above flashed, flickering before going out completely. You watched with bated breath as Eleven slowed her breathing, her body relaxing as if she were no longer in the room. And, you guessed, she wasn’t.

The silence was deafening as you heard the girl mumble a name. Your eyes connected with Nancy’s across the pool and you willed yourself to not cry. She had found Barb.

The lights fluttered once more, and you could hear Eleven inhale deeply, as if whatever had seen her had shocked her. Or rather… scared her. Nancy tried to speak to the girl, but Eleven’s soft, wobbling voice told you everything you needed to know.

Gone.

As Eleven began to shout, the words echoing around the empty gymnasium, Joyce and Hopper grabbed her hands, the former’s reassuring coos settling the girl.

“Castle Byers…”

Eleven had done it. She had found Will, and he was alive even if just barely.

Somehow, the boy had found his old hideout in the Upside Down and managed to stay safe and if it wasn’t for the sound of his weakened voice on the radio, you might not have believed it.

After Joyce had cradled a weeping Eleven, she was eventually helped out of the pool and wrapped in a towel, the boys all crowding her on the bleachers like a band of protective brothers as she laid her head on Mike’s shoulder, exhausted.

Following Hopper outside, your words were wobbling at best, “Hop, you can’t go on your own.”

“You’re sure as shit not coming with me. Get back inside and stay with the others.”

“You don’t know what that place is like-”

“And you do?” He questioned, his tone leaving no space for niceties, and it was only once he saw your chin wobble that he realized what he’d said. His voice grew softer but remained desperate, “Listen, we can talk about all of this when I get back. But right now, I need to find Will.”

Less than a second later, Joyce and Jonathan burst through the door, the former already wearing her jacket. Squeezing his eyes closed, Hopper swore under his breath,

“He’s my son, Hop. My son. I’m going.”

You stood side by side with Jonathan, watching as the tires on Hopper’s truck screeched out of the parking lot, Joyce in the passenger seat. A cold, solid weight settled on your chest, threatening to cut your breathing off completely. You were almost certain you wouldn’t see either of them again.

“They’re going to get themselves killed,” you grumbled as you followed the eldest Byers sibling back through the door, “They’re going to walk into those woods with no idea of what’s out there. Not really.”

“They’re walking in there like bait,” a small voice said from the other side of the hallway, drawing your attention to her. Nancy sat with her knees tucked under her chin, back against the large mural dedicated to the Hawkins Tigers, and looking just as exasperated as the rest of you. “That thing is still in there, and we can’t just sit here and let it get them, too. We can’t.”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” you mumbled, brows knitting together as your eyes roamed over the painting of the tiger.

Nancy’s deep blue eyes watched you as you began to pace, the clogs in your brain working hard enough that she was almost certain smoke would soon steam out of your ears, “What do you mean?”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you eyed them — sat side by side — from the other side of the wall, “It’s dangerous and stupid, and I mean… Shit, it might not even work-”

Your name fell from Jonathan’s mouth, a desperate plea to stop second-guessing yourself and just tell him. To finally speak the words that were clawing their way up your throat, but Nancy remained silent, almost ready to agree to whatever dumbass plan you’d conjured up if it meant helping Joyce and Hopper and saving Will too.

This monster had taken Barb and for that, you both wanted revenge.

“Instead of going back out there, we lure it elsewhere. Somewhere far enough away from the woods that Hopper and Joyce have a shot at finding Will. We are the bait.”

Nodding, Nancy looked towards Jonathan, fully prepared to do this with, or without his help, “I wanna finish what we started. I want to kill it.”

Jonathan's dark stare flickered between you and Nancy, his usually stoic face now lined with certitude, “We’ve gotta go back to the station.”

“And what happens if you get caught? Hopper’s not exactly here to get you out of trouble.”

“I won’t get caught. Listen, it’ll be easy, alright? I’ll get the keys to Hopper’s office and you’ll get the supplies. We’ll be in and out in minutes.”

“What if you can’t get the keys?”

Rolling your eyes, you were already half out of Jonathan’s car, “There’s a reason they all know me by first name here. I’ll get them. Now, c’mon. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Despite sharing an unsure glance, the two followed, allowing you to enter the station first to distract the on-duty officer.

“Hey there, Paul.”

The man jumped, feet leaving the desk they were resting on as he sat up straight and spun around in his chair, and you had to try your best to stifle a laugh. Once it was apparent you weren’t the Chief coming in to do a nighttime check or worse, Flo coming in to berate him for not filing his paperwork correctly — he really didn’t care much for Robert’s tall tale about a small girl robbing the Best Buy, and all for Eggo waffles, none the less — his forehead creased, annoyed simply by your presence.

“Hop isn’t working tonight. If you-”

“I’m not here to see Hop,” you sighed, returning his glare, “I came by to give a witness statement”

Paul watched you for a moment, skepticism clear in his eyes before he seemingly caught on, “The Byers kid fight? Heard he caught Callahan pretty good. I’m surprised though, he doesn’t look like a fighter.”

Sending him a sarcastic grin, you made your way toward the desk, looking down at his radio, “Hey, I love this… channel.”

Cranking up the volume — only mildly put off that it was in fact playing a talk show rather than any actual music — the voices booming through the small speaker was enough to cause the officer to jolt in surprise, scrambling for the radio on one side of the desk as you grabbed the small key ring from the other side. Looking up, you saw Jonathan’s face as he hid around the corner and sent him a minute nod of the head before returning your attention to the man’s desk.

“Hey, what game are you playing?”

“Leave that alone!” Ditching the radio once the volume was returned to normal, he scrambled for his cards that you spread onto the desk, collecting them up quickly as you discreetly threw the keys through the small gap where Flo usually sat.

Once Jonathan and Nancy had silently crept past, you grabbed the discarded cigarette that the officer had ditched in an attempt to gather his cards — pocketing the man’s lighter — and inhaled deeply as he glared at you.

“Well, Paul. It’s been real. See you later.”

Bamboozled, the man watched as you trotted toward the exit, “Wait, I thought you were here to give a statement-”

Stopping to peer back through the same gap you’d thrown the keys through, you shrugged, “Yeah, I’ll come back tomorrow. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

Once outside, you peered through the window by the man’s desk, waiting for any sign of the others as you continued to puff on the stolen cigarette. A shock of brown hair caught your attention, and you quickly banged on the window, uncaring as to whether you would send the man into a second possible cardiac arrest of the evening.

“Goodnight, Paul. Don’t work too hard.”

The man returned your wave, albeit slower and much more dubiously, his actions slow as he watched you warily. But it had given enough of a distraction that Jonathan and Nancy were able to sneak out, a box of contraband in one set of arms, a fire extinguisher in another.

Nobody spoke until you were all in Jonathan’s Ford and far enough away from the police station to deem yourselves safe.

“How the hell did you know that would work?” Nancy questioned, turning in her seat to watch you with wide eyed.

“She got arrested a few years ago. Caught shoplifting at the 7/11 off Cornwallis.” Jonathan smirked, his dark eyes finding your glare in the rear-view mirror.

Scoffing, you folded your arms over your chest and turned your attention to the window, watching as the outside whizzed by, “I wasn’t arrested, I was escorted off the premises. And I wasn’t even shoplifting. That time, at least.”

Nancy’s mouth opened, gaping like a fish. Sure, she’d heard rumors… But Barb was always the first person to dispel them, waving off the gossip as if it was nothing more than fodder.

You’d been thirteen at the time — not much older than the kids that were currently situated at the middle school — and if you didn’t find something for dinner, then you wouldn’t be eating. And after already missing breakfast that morning, your stomach had been berating you all day.

But you weren’t lying. Technically, you hadn’t been stealing. At that exact moment, anyway.

Jonathan pulled into the driveway, killing the engine and hopping out of the vehicle. Time was of the essence, and if you wanted to keep Joyce and Hopper alive, you needed to set everything up quickly.

Placing a gas canister next to the box Jonathan had brought in, the three of you shared a look. You were really doing this. You were really going to try and lure that monster back out of the woods, or the wall, or wherever it was hiding now.

Nancy and Jonathan got started on screwing the bulbs back into the Christmas lights — the only real indicator you had that the monster was near — as you began to sort through the box.

Bear trap to one side, bullets to another, you grabbed the baseball bat that Nancy had brought and eyed it for a moment,

“Hey, Jonathan? Do you have any nails? A hammer, too?”

The boy stopped, colored light bulb in his palm as he stared at you, “For what?”

Standing, you threw the bat between your hands gently, “You ever watch that film, ‘Escape From New York?’ I have an idea…”

The gun had been loaded, the bear trap set and gasoline poured along the carpet, and you had finished hammering the nails into the baseball bat ala Snake Plissken style.

“Have you got the lighter?” Jonathan questioned, looking around the room at the mess you’d all made. God, was his mom gonna be pissed. The carpet was going to smell of gasoline for months. And that was if it didn’t set the whole house on fire.

Patting your pockets, you glared as you came up empty-handed, “It probably fell out in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Jonathan tossed you his keys before you slipped away. Despite being more than aware of Nancy’s relationship with Steve — even if that may, or may not be over right now — you couldn’t help but feel the palpable tension between Jonathan and the girl. And whilst you really didn’t care either way, you didn’t appreciate feeling like a third wheel between two people that you knew longer individually.

Leaning against the side of the car, you let out a long, wearied sigh. This week, hell, this day had felt like it had gone on forever. Only this morning you were curled up in your bed, trying to pretend that monsters weren’t real, and now here you were, preparing to fight one. Preparing to risk your life in an attempt to save Will’s, Hopper’s, and Joyce’s. Shrugging your jacket off and leaving it on the floor by your feet, you inexplicably felt too hot all of a sudden, uncaring of the chilly autumn air that blew through the surrounding trees and left a path of goosebumps along your exposed skin.

Running your hands over your face in an attempt to stop them from shaking, your peaceful few moments alone were interrupted by the sound of an engine way too smooth to belong to anyone you knew.

The car’s headlights blinded you momentarily, and even once the engine was killed you could only see brightly colored spots whenever you blinked.

Peering into the darkness once your vision had returned to normal, you couldn’t believe your eyes. “God, what the hell are you doing here, Harrington?”

The boy slammed his door shut, unfazed by the way the sound echoed into the darkness, or the way you flinched, eyes darting away from him and toward the treeline,

“Me? What am I… It doesn’t matter what I’m doing here. What are you doing here? Where’s Jonathan?”

Poking his chest with your finger, you glared up at him, “I swear to God, if you’re here for round two, I might just help him kick your ass this time.”

The boy held his hands up — a silent white flag — as he shook his head, ignoring your pressing finger, “I’m not, I swear. I just… Look, I really need to see Byers. You were right, I-”

“-Then come back in the morning. He’s busy.”

“With what?” His words came out a little too desperate as he watched you rip open Jonathan’s car door, hunting for the lighter.

Once you had fished it out from between the car seats, you quietly closed the door and began to make your way up the gravel drive, a sharp glare sent Steve’s way as he began to follow you,

“Listen, Harrington. He doesn’t want to see you. Not right now, at least. The best thing you can do is to go home.”

“But-”

“Go home, Steve,” you huffed, quickly ducking back inside the house and leaving the perplexed boy to contemplate your lame excuse.

Shutting the door behind you and sharing a look with Jonathan who had let you back in, you turned your attention toward Nancy, “We have a problem. Your boyfriends here.”

“What? No, he can’t be here right now.”

Handing the lighter to Jonathan, you moved further into the room, inspecting the damage, “Yeah, well… Hopefully he’s got enough sense to-”

A flurry of knocks interrupted your words, and you found yourself almost choking on the annoyance that was Steve Harrington. Considering you’d managed to spend the majority of your school career avoiding the guy and his meathead friends, this week had really made up for it. You’d do almost anything to go back a few weeks and avoid this whole situation altogether.

As Nancy made her way towards the door — something you weren’t sure was the best idea considering Jonathan and Steve’s earlier fight — you noticed the white bandage that was wrapped around Jonathan’s hand, the boy toying with a loose strand of the fabric.

Silently, you took his hand into yours, eyebrows pinched together. He shrugged, only half paying attention, almost too mindful of Steve’s pleas from the door, “Bait, remember?”

Steve had pushed his way past Nancy, stopping to look around the room. His eyes were wide, confusion evident on his face as his eyes darted between you and Jonathan, and the accumulation of weapons spread across the small coffee table.

“What is…What the…”

“You need to get out of here,” Jonathan pushed the boy backward, “Listen to me. I’m not asking.”

But Steve had begun his descent down the rabbit hole, his tunnel vision stopping him from listening to what the boy was saying, “What is that smell? Is that… Is that gasoline?”

“Steve, get out!” The click of Nancy’s revolver was enough to separate the boys, Jonathan backing up and almost knocking you over as you stared at the girl wide-eyed, much her like boyfriend currently was.

“Wait. What? What is going on?” He shouted, eyes darting between the three of you.

“You have five seconds to get out of here.”

“Nance-” you tried to intervene, eyes stuck on the gun in her grip. You might not have believed that Nancy would hurt Steve, at least, not until the whole cinema graffiti debacle.

“Okay, is this a joke? Stop. Put the gun down,” Steve’s hands were held out in front of him once more as his brain began to re-circuit. Nancy Wheeler, of all people, was holding a gun up to him. It was almost a shame he didn’t see that she was doing this for his safety, and instead, he panicked.

The lights above you flickered, and you finally managed to peel your eyes away from the weapon, despite the girl now counting down and Steve’s incessant begging, “Nancy…”

“Nancy, the lights!” Jonathan shouted, finally causing the girl to lower her gun as she spun on the spot, looking above at the flickering lights.

“It’s here.”

“Wait, what's here?” Steve blabbered, his mouth moving faster than his brain ever could as he tried to work out what the hell he’d walked into.

Jonathan picked up the bat as you all looked around, Steve continuing to ask questions that nobody could quite answer.

Jonathan and Nancy circled around each other, backs pressed together and eyes wide as you froze to the spot. Eyes drawing upward, you spotted the first crack in the ceiling, “Guys… Up there-”

Nancy began unloading the bullets into the hole, the same slimy substance that had coated you both after you’d crawled into the tree was now spreading along the ceiling of the Byers’ home, totally unaffected by the girl's shots.

Grabbing the girl around the waist, Jonathan easily maneuvered her out of the way, ushering her into the hallway as you followed her, hand gripping Joyce’s ax as the boy grabbed Steve by the hand to drag him along too.

Slamming the door to Will’s room shut, your heart felt like it was about to pound its way through your ribs by sheer force alone, and just for a second, you felt guilty for the shock you’d given Paul earlier at the Sheriff’s station.

Somehow, you could still hear Steve’s shouts over the monster’s screeching.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan’s voice blended into one, and finally, the boy paid heed to some advice as the four of you turned toward the door, listening out for any sign of the monster creeping closer.

Its footsteps were loud along the hallway, and you couldn’t help but feel like a mouse, waiting inside its hole, being lulled into a false sense of security once you couldn’t hear the cat outside anymore.

Eyes focused on the small, yellow yo-yo, you waited with bated breath for it to move. That was part of the plan, after all.

Once the yo-yo moved, you’d light that motherfucker up. Except, the yo-yo didn’t move and instead, you were left with silence as the lights flickered once more before coming back on.

“Did you hear anything?” Nancy asked, lowering her gun slightly.

Flicking the lighter closed, Jonathan made his way closer to the door, “No…”

“It isn’t gone,” you whispered, eyes focused on the closed door in front of you, silently pleading for it to remain closed.

Jonathan turned to watch you carefully, his hand over the door handle, “The lights-”

“It’s not gone. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Nancy questioned, her gun finally pointing toward the floor.

Shaking your head, your eyes darted between the two, completely ignoring the way Steve worried his hands through his hair, “I don’t know, okay! It’s a predator, right? Nancy, in those woods, it wasn’t just trying to track us. It knew where we were… Where I was, the whole time. It’s not looking for us… It’s playing with its food.”

You all crept toward the living room, hands wrapped so tightly around your weapon that you felt the stretched skin across your knuckles ache, your sweaty palm holding onto the ax for dear life as you searched around the room.

Hearing the boy muttering to himself, you turned your attention toward Steve as the boy really lost it, rushing toward the landline, “This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy!”

Nancy ripped the Byers’ phone from Steve’s grip, throwing it to the floor as Steve swiveled toward her, chest heaving, “What are you do- What are you doing? Are you insane!”

“It’s going to come back, so you need to leave. Right now.”

As if the weight of the evening had finally hit him, Steve made his exit swiftly. Barely paying attention to the slamming of the door, you gripped the ax tighter and continued to look around, body straightening as the lights began to flicker, disorientating you before eventually turning off completely.

It was back.

A loud growl caused you to spin on the spot, the large creature stood tall behind Jonathan, yours and Nancy’s joint shouts of his name not quite preparing him for being knocked to the floor, the bat rolling out of his hand and away from you all as he tried his best to keep the creature's claws away from his sternum, the drool dripping over his face as he gasped for air.

Steve dashed toward his car, tripping over the gravel and fallen leaves and eventually dropping his car keys like some bad horror movie cliche. Unlocking his door, he turned to see the lights flash, the flickering Christmas lights felt much less cheerful than before.

His eyes fell to the floor as he leaned against his open door, looking for what had tripped him. And there, strewn across the driveway and half dragged by his own foot, was your abandoned jacket, a splatter of blood on the sleeve that he hadn’t noticed before.

He heard the gun go off, again and again, and Nancy’s voice sounded so distant as if his head was being held underwater and despite being close in vicinity, he was unable to understand her, the blood in his ears crashing in waves too loudly to distinguish any actual words.

And then he heard it. A bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching scream.

And he was off.

“Jonathan!” You yelled, panting as you watched Nancy unload bullet after bullet into the monster, finally casting its attention away from the downed boy and toward her.

Your body felt too heavy as if your bones had been replaced with steel rods, your feet dipped in cement, gluing you to the spot.

It felt like an out-of-body experience. Like you were witnessing everything that was happening, but you weren’t really in the room. Mouth agape and eyes like saucers, you watched as the bullets barely slowed the thing down.

It wasn’t until you heard the dejected, empty click of the gun’s barrel that you were finally able to unstick yourself. Your body moved before your brain had realized, arms pulling back as you swung with all of your might, the ax colliding with the monster's back and lodging into it, tearing the skin as its blood oozed, a loud, horrific screech falling from the mouth of the monster as it turned, swiping you away as if you were nothing more than a fly, buzzing around him on a warm summer’s eve.

A sharp scream pierced your ears, the sound physically hurting you and it took a moment to realize that the scream had fallen from your lips. Colliding with the wall on the other side of the room, the wind knocked out of you was the least of your problems.

The monster hovered over you, and despite not having eyes, it felt like it could see right into your own. Lifting a large, clawed arm, the monster released a horrendous roar, only to be stopped mid-swing as a bat swung into the back of its head, knocking it off balance as it collapsed to the floor, briefly stunned.

The flashing lights mixed with the pounding of your head, leaving you to barely keep up with the scene in front of you.

The nailed bat swung again and again, the sickening sound etched in your memory as it connected with skin. It twisted in the boy’s hand before he released another strong swing that knocked it backward and into the bear trap.

You wondered if Steve had ever been on the school’s baseball team.

Nancy pulled you up and into the safety of the hallway, alerting Jonathan to throw the lighter down, watching as the monster went up in a blaze of glory. Once the fire was out, Nancy assisted you back toward the living room, watching as the lights flickered, following it outside.

“Where’s it going?” Nancy asked, brows pulled together as she left you leaning on the door frame.

Jonathan’s words barely registered in your mind as you hunched over, the pain wracking your body. A clammy hand gripped the door frame as you tried to suck in a deep breath, seemingly coming up short every time, the pain that was encompassing you, forcing it right back out in small gasps.

You felt woozy, as if your body was filled with jello instead of actual muscle and bones and it felt consistently harder to keep your eyes from fluttering shut.

“Holy shit, is she okay?”

Glancing toward you, Nancy did a double take as she saw you wobble, one arm held tight against your abdomen, and it was then that she saw it.

“We need to get her to a hospital-”

Nancy’s words died on the tip of her tongue as she lunged forward in an attempt to stop your body from hitting the hard wooden porch as your legs gave out. Jonathan quickly assisted, taking you from her and lowering you slowly, letting you rest against the wall, “Hey, listen, I just… I need to see it. I need to see how bad it is.”

Tears fell from your eyes as Jonathan sucked in a sharp breath, his dark eyes tinged red as he tried to force back his own tears. The blood had stained your bare forearm, cascading down, the beginnings of a puddle gathering on the floor, the waistband of your jeans soaked a few shades darker, and your top left with three large gashes that had cut into your abdomen.

You tried to tell him that it wasn’t a big deal, that despite your crying, there was absolutely no need for him to be. He wasn’t the one led in a pool of their own blood, favorite jeans ruined and only fit for the trash. But as the adrenaline depleted from your veins, you could barely utter a word, a pained gasp released in their place. The voices around you felt too far away like you were slowly slipping from Jonathan’s grasp, your body still there, but your mind… your soul no longer fully present.

The pain had slowly ebbed away, and despite the strong hand now holding down what seemed to be a couch cushion to your abdomen, you felt only numbness. You just felt so tired, as if the week-long sleep deprivation was finally catching up on you, nipping at your heels and threatening to pull you under, to drown you in it.

You were cold… so cold, and it took you a moment to remember your forsaken jacket left outside on the driveway, the blood from the agent hunting Eleven earlier in the day still splattered across the sleeve. Was this how he felt as he laid in a pool of his own blood, head caved in from the metal pole that you’d held in a death grip? Did he know he was dying, or was he just… gone?

Did she feel this way?

Maybe that’s the way life went. Karma was supposed to be a bitch, right? Or maybe, this was just how it worked.

You violently take a life, then you violently give a life.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter Thirty-Six: How I Did It - By Jack The Ripper

Rated PG-13: For dark themes and language

Masterlist

~We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water? The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water?

Beg me for mercy Admit you were toxic You poisoned me just for Another dollar in your pocket Now I am the violence I am the sickness Won't accept your silence Beg me for forgiveness~

"He's here."

Crossing the Event-Horizon

That's what that's called. I've always thought that's the most beautiful way of putting it. The words have a certain ring to them.

Crossing the Event-Horizon

It means crossing the point of no return. That itself - the point of no return - could mean a lot of things. It could mean the beginning. It could mean the end. It could mean the infinite. It could mean life. It could mean death. It could mean war, peace, happiness, sadness, or anything in between.

But it means one thing for sure.

Crossing the Event-Horizon means there's no going back.

If I had to identify a beginning to the end of my story, then I think that little red dot on the map of time is where I'd stick my proverbial pin. That one little sentence, those two little words.

Yes, it was that moment, I think.

That was when it all started to go wrong.

"Felix is here," I said quietly, "He's outside."

I didn't know what I was going to do to get my revenge from that point. All I knew was, in order to kill Felix, I would need to get to him. And that meant getting away from Jack. Getting away from the son of the devil is something certainly easier said than done.

I would have to do it in a manner which would compel him and the Winchesters to come 'save me'. Of course, I could just knock Jack out and ditch him, but then I would have no back-up if things with Felix went sour. Now, if there was one thing I had learned in the five years leading up to my presence in that lighthouse, it was redundancy. It never hurts to have a safety net. Mine just happened to be a Nephilim.

"You remembered to lock the door, right?" Jack joked. I huffed a laugh. "We're safe in here. Don't worry, Marty. I'll protect you."

Isaac shook his head. "Felix has hostages. Two of 'em." He informed me.

"It's not me I'm worried about," I said to Jack, "This is a hostage situation."

The Nephilim's expression darkened and Isaac rolled his eyes.

"Personally, I say we go on the offensive. I mean, ya boyfriend here has more than enough juice to disintegrate seven dudes, right? Just waltz out there like we own the place, boom, clap, poof, TA-DA!"

"Ya know, that's actually not that bad of a plan," I said, nodding. I relayed the message to Jack who nodded.

"I could do it." He seemed confident.

"Felix brought six helpers. Have you ever dusted that many guys before?" I asked.

"I have, yes. Many more, in fact."

Well, that was... thoroughly disturbing. He seemed so calm about it. As if anyone who stood against him was nothing more than an obstacle. That could be me one day. That could be me tomorrow.

"Alright then, lead the way," I said, smirking.

Is it bad that I hoped something would happen to Jack? Nothing deadly, of course. Just something that would stop him from using his powers to take my revenge for me. Felix was mine. I needed to be the one to kill him. If Jack did it then what had been the point of it all? So, was it bad of me to hope that the quickest, cleanest solution wouldn't be the one that played out?

Was that wrong?

Did that make me evil?

Did I care if it did?

"Everything's going to be fine, Marty. You'll see." And Jack smiled at me softly and I wondered how long that would last.

I found myself standing beside him at the door to the lighthouse. My blood was boiling for a fight because this was it. Felix was on the other side of that door and in a few hours, I would be free, one way or another. Jack turned the handle.

Across the Event-Horizon.

A vampire, a ghost, and a Nephilim stepped out into the muggy night air. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but it was more the beginning of a new era, at least for me. I stayed mostly hidden beside Jack, maintaining my air of powerlessness. Isaac stepped into place at the Nephilim's other side to match. I could feel the heat of Felix's presence bleeding through the space between us. He carried with him the foul stench of burning tar and just his scent made me want to wrinkle my nose.

He stood about ten feet away from Isaac, Jack, and me, flanked by six other vampires. There was no army, not that I had expected there to be - that wasn't how Felix worked. He didn't need an army, he'd brought two hostages. Two humans knelt on the ground in front of each of Felix's lackeys, poised to die.

Felix's lips stretched into something that approximated a smile but his little ruse was transparent. I could see the hate simmering in his eyes.

"This little game of ours has been fun but a score still stands to be settled and its resolution, I do believe, is long overdue. There is no place left for you to run, child. Are you finally ready to face judgment for your crimes, Martina?" He said. A smile spread across my face to match his.

"Are you?" I challenged, leaving all human emotion out of my voice. I had been so afraid of him before, but that fear was in the past. I had come to witness true power, I had seen it up close and Felix Ashton Monroe was nothing in comparison. I wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"I suppose you'll just have to find that out," He said. "Now, I've just had a rather unsavory chat with one Samuel Winchester. Barbarians those boys are - him and his brother. I do so hope you'll remember the manners I taught you and come along like a civilized being."

"Ready when you are," Isaac reported. His Darth Vader figure was tucked safely in my boot and I counted the fact that Felix didn't know about him as one of the few advantages I had. Both Isaac and I knew that in order to keep that advantage my brother would have to suffer through being dragged behind a car via his attachment to the figure to prevent Felix from noticing his presence. We had decided a long time ago that I wouldn't face Felix alone. Isaac had protested against us facing him at all.

It was ironic, really. He was the ghost, yet out of the two of us, I was the vengeful one. See, Isaac had never sought revenge against Felix. The only person Isaac wanted vengeance against was himself. He sought punishment for his failure to keep me safe, to keep any of us safe. I suppose he got his wish. Ever since that night, Isaac remained trapped on earth with what was less of a mission and more of a duty. To keep me alive. If one looked at it properly, that was another advantage. Isaac had been formidable when he was alive, but as a vengeful spirit and with a threat on my life to power him up, Isaac was alarmingly deadly.

I didn't need to send him a discreet nod to acknowledge his words. The two of us had been preparing for this moment for five years. We knew our roles. We knew what we had to do.

"Marty isn't going anywhere with you," Jack cut in, his voice firm.

"You're Jack Kline I presume," Felix said in his usual drawling tone. His voice too reminded me of tar with the way it oozed lazily around his words. Everything about him was so clean and sharp yet somehow it was all horrifically revolting.

"I am, yes." Jack nodded. He was trying to sound confident and authoritative, mimicking Sam or Dean or Castiel. But he wasn't like them, it wasn't in his nature. Jack was too soft. Felix regarded him with a smirk, studying the boy in a calculating manner as if Jack were merely a rare antiquity he was appraising in an effort to determine its value.

"The boy born to rule..." He hummed, drawing out the words almost reverently. "Yer smaller than the rumors describe ye to be."

"So are you," Jack replied, standing up straighter and lifting his chin confidently.

"Oh, I'm afraid not." That slime ball cracked a smile. "I'm much too careful to allow for rumors of my physical appearance to drift beyond my reach."

"Really?" Jack challenged. "Because it seems like Martina found us. She told us everything about you."

Felix just laughed like he was talking to something as insignificant as a flea.

"Do ye never listen, young one? I said I don't allow rumors to drift beyond my reach. Seeing as Martina is standing directly ahead of me, I'd say she is well within my grasp. That which is mine does not escape me, laddie. She knows that better than anyone," Felix said.

"If you're so careful, then why come here yourself?" Jack asked, struggling to remain impassive. He didn't really have a poker face.

"Why, because unlike an amateur I actually quite enjoy getting my hands dirty every now and again. Especially with a vendetta this personal. Isn't that right, Martina?" Felix taunted. "Will you be coming willingly or not?"

"I said you can't have her," The half-angel forcefully growled. Jack pushed me behind him, shielding me from my creator's gaze.

"Is that so? I was unaware you had a choice in the matter," Felix accosted, seemingly amused. "Were your circumstances not clearly implicit in the situation? No? Very well! If you insist against using so much as a modicum of intelligence, I suppose I'll have to explain this situation to you. See, these dirty, pathetic excuses for intelligent life forms you see trembling before you are called humans, dear boy. I hear you're quite fond of them, and today they are playing the role which we in the criminal world usually refer to as the hostage. Now, their miserable little lives are in your hands, Jack. I am a man of my word thus I will gladly release them, alive and well, upon the prompt return of my property. However, I will not hesitate to rip them both to shreds right in front of you if I don't get my way. Do you understand that , boy?"

Jack didn't respond. He appeared torn between protecting me and saving the lives of the hostages.

"Good," Felix droned, "Now, are you ready to leave, Martina dear?"

" You don't get to speak to her ," Jack snarled. His teeth snapped together with an audible click as he threw his arm out in front of me, not quite ready to give up. Felix rolled his eyes.

"Must we really do this the hard way?" He asked, boredom evident in his tone.

"Yes."

Felix tilted his head and his gaze flicked to me. I could see a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Tell me, lassie. Have you kissed him yet?" He chuckled. Then, abruptly, his expression darkened. "Or is he just that stupid? "

"Who says I did anything?" I replied evenly. Felix huffed, rolling his eyes.

"So you have?" He turned his attention to Jack who just seemed confused. "Did you enjoy it, me boy? If you'll recall, I did wish you a very exciting first, did I not?"

"Marty, what's he talking about?" Jack asked, doubt wavering in his voice. I didn't answer him. Felix was taking a chisel to the wall I'd built in that boy's head. Not causing enough damage to send it crumbling, but planting enough doubt for it to hurt even worse when it did.

"Ah, my devious little Martina," Felix sighed, shaking his head dramatically. "You're as predictable as you are appallingly cruel."

"Guess I learned from the best," I hissed, glaring at him.

"Does that mean you'll be sensible?" He asked, raising a brow.

"You're not taking her!" My angel boy yelled. "She's mine. " A shock ran through my bones as Jack's powers ignited and his metaphysical wings spread out in front of me in a terrifying reminder of what he truly was.

Felix didn't flinch. Instead, he chuckled.

"That's cute," He said, gesturing to Jack's massive wings. Then, he straightened the cuffs of his suit and sighed. From out of his pocket he retrieved a box of matches, pulling one out and striking it. He tossed the match lazily in front of him, the reflection of its tiny flame dancing in his eyes.

The match hit the sand and flickering orange flames erupted from where it landed. The fire spread outward in a ring that encompassed the entire lighthouse, trapping me, Jack, and Isaac inside.

Jack hissed through his teeth as he watched the flames die down. They were low enough to pass easily through, so how were they supposed to contain us?

"In case ye can't tell, that there is holy fire," Felix informed, tucking the matches back in his pocket. "Any angel who finds themselves encircled by holy fire is rendered powerless, and if one tries to step through those flames, one will be instantly vaporized." He looked up again, unimpressed. "Don't get smart with me, boy . I am thousands of years your senior. I'll do with that disgusting whore whatever I damn please."

"No, you won't !"Jack yelled. His wings flared out and a blazing golden light poured from him like molten metal. The air buzzed with a divine power that burned my skin from standing so close. He was like sunlight, and it burned. I cowered away but watched in awe as Jack's veins lit beneath his skin as if gold were pumping through them instead of blood. Because that's what Jack Kline was. He was power. With a sudden ferocity, the flames leaped up, roaring around his body in an effort to keep him trapped inside. But Jack did the impossible and stepped beyond the ring with a cry of effort.

Felix did not cower away as his underlings did; he merely tilted his head with slight interest.

"How intriguing," He mused, folding his hands in front of him. "Tell me, lad. How did you manage that?"

Jack glared at Felix, his chest heaving, for I could tell that act had caused him pain.

"I'm not an angel."

Jack raised his hand, poised to snap the monsters all into dust.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Felix half-heartedly warned.

"Why not?" The Nephilim ground out.

The vampire smiled coolly. "Because these fine specimens here are not my only hostages." Of course, he had more. He was always prepared.

"Where are the others?" Jack demanded, eyes flaring.

"They're safe and sound, I assure ye. Unless, of course, you try to do somethin' stupid, such as kill me. If that's the case, and I do hope it's not, then my people have orders to do some rather unsavory things to a room full of children." Felix raised a brow, daring Jack to make a move against him.

"I can save them," Jack said, confident.

"Please! Ye don't even know where they are!" He scoffed. "Do what ye must, Jack Kline. But I really do fear for the children." Jack gritted his teeth but said nothing. He knew he was beaten. "That's better." Felix turned his attention to me. "Give up this pitiful act of yours, Martina. Come on out. You know this is checkmate."

I stepped away from Jack and stood tall, allowing the thing that had made me to see the steel in my eyes. I passed Jack and planted myself in front of Felix.

"This isn't checkmate, Monroe. This is merely check. I'll be damned before I walk into something with no way out, you know that better than anyone." My voice was calm and cool and I let it chill him. It was my real voice, not that other one I always used to put people at ease. My real voice was the one that makes people do what I want.

The corner of Felix's mouth twitched up. "Oh, yes. I know." He leaned down, his face merely an inch away from mine. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So, where's the car?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Right this way, m'dear." He gestured towards the dirt road a ways away and started toward it. I began to follow but Jack's voice made me stop.

"You're a monster," He spat, shaking with rage. His pained expression had morphed into one of hatred and his glowing golden eyes fixed on Felix.

Felix twisted around, mildly amused more than anything.

"Empathy, humanity, and morality make you weak, boy. Alas, weakness is a bitch , isn't it?" He smirked, basking in the pain he caused.

"I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!" Jack screamed. His power flared with his anger but there was nothing he could do. The absolute helplessness and hopelessness of his situation finally dawned on him. He never could stand feeling helpless.

"Hold on, I'm confused. Is that not what you do ?" Felix jeered, lifting a brow. Jack froze, his eyes going wide and puppy-like as the vampire's words hit him in the heart. His rage and power dimmed.

"W-What?" Poor thing. His voice sounded so small. He had never been made for this.

"You're the Winchester's attack dog, are ye' not?" Felix clarified. "Playing judge, jury, and executioner for anything you deem a monster."

"You are a monster," Jack scowled, clenching his fists.

"Oh, I know that!" Felix laughed. "But I like to think I've done quite a bit to earn me that title. There are, however, six quite innocent and quite human patients in critical condition at a Manhattan hospital. Six patients, who you put there. Those weren't monsters now, were they?"

Jack's face paled. Sam and Dean had said everyone was fine. Sam and Dean had lied. "H-How did- How did you-"

"That was some stunt you pulled in Times Square, boy," He mused. "Did you really think I wouldn't know about it?"

"Th-that w-was... I-it wasn't... I didn't mean to I-" Jack shook his head in denial. "It was an accident!"

"Why, of course it was!" Felix laughed. "You've not a malicious heart nor the disposition to take an innocent life. Dear boy, you are but a loaded gun for the Winchesters aim at anything they don't like."

Jack shook his head. "T-that's not true! I kill things that are evil because they hurt people." His words sounded hollow like they were something practiced. Like something that had been pounded into him.

"Do ye now? Because as I recall, you killed your own mother and ye' don't even know why. Sad, that." Felix smiled. "You kill because you were bred to; it's your purpose. It's almost cute, the son of the devil thinking he's a hero."

"I am ! I'm a hunter!" Jack insisted.

"You are not a hero," Felix sneered, shaking his head. "You are a murderer, Jack Kline. What else could ya be?" The Scottish man turned on his heel, not caring much to hear what the Nephilim had to say.

"Y-you're wrong. You're wrong about me!" That was all Jack could force out. He tried so hard to keep the tears at bay. I shook my head and turned away from him to follow my creator. "M-Marty?" Jack called out from behind me, his voice laced with desperation and confusion.

I stopped.

In that moment, I finally stripped away the final pieces of the human girl I'd made for him. The girl I'd designed for him to love. Jack would never see her again. That girl was gone now. And good riddance to her; I hoped she'd never come back.

Because she was weak.

And I was not.

Because she was human.

And I was a monster.

Because she was kind.

And I was cruel.

Because she was innocent.

And I was insane.

Because she was honest and grateful.

And I was a deceitful manipulator.

Because she was the blissful mirage.

And I was the horrid reality.

Because she was perfect.

And I never could be.

Because Jack Kline loved that sweet girl.

But that girl wasn't ME.

She never had been.

Of course, I still loved him which only made this harder. But I supposed that in a few hours that would be of no consequence. He wouldn't care. And that fact hurt like a needle to the heart, but pain only brings power to those with nothing left to lose. So, I threw my head back and I laughed as I embraced that pain, just as I did for every other cut and bruise I had ever received. That needle was one in a million and all that pain was what made me real. So, I sighed and turned back to where my angel boy stood, staring at me like some lost puppy.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I said sweetly, "Thanks for getting me this far, I don't think I could have done it without you. Unfortunately, this is something I have to do on my own. This is my last page and nobody can write it for me."

"You can't go," He said, shaking his head. There were tears in his eyes but none in mine. I smiled at him and that was the first he'd seen from me that was real, because, for the first time, Jack was talking to me.

"Why are you worried, Jack?" I was surprised at how smooth and pleasing my own voice sounded, now that I took notice. My real voice was why I was dangerous; when I used it I could make anyone do anything. But there was a reason I had been masking it for so long. It was what had gotten me into this in the first place. "I know you'll come to save me."

"What if I'm too late?" He asked, his voice breaking.

"Then I'll be there waiting for you," I answered.

"You'll die," Jack whispered. I laughed lightly, shaking my head.

"I'm not going to die today, Jack."

"You don't know that!"

"I've known for longer than you think," I said. I watched his teary, desperate expression and copied it to my memory as best as I could. It was the last time he'd look at me that way. At least for a while. "Just do me one last favor?"

"Anything," Jack promised.

"There's a girl you haven't met yet, try not to hate her when you do." I smiled and Jack nodded, trying his best to stay strong.

Then I left him there.

Alone in the sand, he watched a stranger he thought he loved going to what he thought was her death and vowed to save her from it.

Was it wrong for me to deceive him?

Did I care if it was?

***

Sam paced back and forth along the length of the lighthouse as he waited for Dean and Castiel to return. Every few minutes or so he would check his watch anxiously and run a hand through his hair, muttering something unintelligible under his breath before he resumed his pacing.

But Jack wasn't paying attention to that. He was busy staring at his hands. There were too many thoughts racing through his head for him to focus on any one of them. It had all happened so fast and there was nothing he could have done, but it didn't feel that way. Jack felt responsible. Martina was going to die because of him. It was his fault.

It was always his fault.

The door of the Lighthouse burst open, revealing Dean and Cas standing there in the driving rain that had come on before anyone had time to notice. Dean threw himself inside and Cas trailed after him, taking the time to close the lighthouse door while Dean shook the rain off like an oversized dog.

"What took you so long?" Sam was immediately questioning. "Where were you?"

"Gettin' information," Dean smirked. "It took a while, but one of the bloodsuckers squealed. What happened here, Jack?"

"I kissed Martina," Jack blurted out.

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Cas asked in unison, sharing the same disbelieving expression.

Jack hadn't meant to say it but it just sort of came out. It probably wasn't his fault, though. Jack simply couldn't stop thinking about every detail of his time with the girl in the lighthouse. He wanted to focus on what had happened after, but his brain simply wouldn't cooperate.

"I, um... I kissed Martina..." He repeated, somewhat nervously. "And I think I liked it..."

Had he liked it? Jack thought so; he was pretty sure. But something about it felt off.

Why had he kissed her in the first place? What had compelled him to do that? Jack didn't know.

His memories of the kiss were strange. He remembered clearly the emotions he'd felt, and the intensity of them. Yet, for some reason, Jack couldn't seem to recall where those feelings had come from. He had wanted to kiss Martina, but not like that... Or... maybe he had? It felt to Jack as if the decisions he'd made weren't his own. He couldn't even remember making any decisions, really. All he remembered was those feelings and acting on them. Something about that seemed off to him but Jack wasn't sure. He supposed it wasn't that out of the ordinary for him to behave impulsively. On the contrary, he tended to do that quite a lot. So, what was bothering him?

"Wait..." Dean paled, "You and Marty... You- You two didn't, like... do it in a lighthouse, right?"

Jack tilted his head, brows furrowing. "Do what?"

"C-Cas?" Dean's face whitened another shade as he turned to the seraph. "Please tell me your son didn't-" Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh.

"No, Dean. I really don't think they did anything," He said, rolling his eyes.

"Not everyone is like you," Sam added. Dean waved him off.

"Yeah, okay, but why am I the only one gettin' weirded out by this?" He exclaimed.

"Because we have bigger problems, Dean!" Sam pointed out, exasperated. Sam seemed anxious and Jack wondered what he wanted to tell them.

"Well, I think this is pretty big!" Dean insisted, turning to Jack. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I don't understand what you mean. Martina and I kissed." Jack said simply.

"Dean, seriously. I-" Sam tried. Dean held up a hand, sighing.

Dean sighed. "Jack... Y-You don't do that."

"Dean! Listen-"

"Not now, Sam!" Dean cut him off again.

"Why not? Jack asked, frowning.

"Look, ya just- Ya gotta wait a little while, man!" Dean said, running a hand over his face. "I mean, Marty's like, twelve!" He insisted. By then, Sam had decided he'd had it.

"No, Dean! She's really not!" The younger Winchester yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

"What?" Dean was shocked by his brother's sudden outburst. Sam took a deep breath to calm himself now that he had everyone's attention.

"Martina's not as young as we think she is. I-I think she's older, m-much older." Sam said, stress leaking into his tone.

"What are you saying, Sam?" Cas asked.

"I'm saying we've been played."

***

The car ride was smooth and it was the first time I'd been in a limo, so naturally, I took the comforts offered me. I stretched out across the seat, lounging as I stared out the tinted window. I didn't worry about Felix sitting directly across from me. I knew he didn't want to kill me. Not yet anyway.

"I'm curious, how did you manage to fool them?" He asked, watching me with a comfortable expression.

I shrugged. "Long story, lots of boring details."

"Indulge me," He insisted.

"Why should I?" I asked. He shrugged, mimicking me.

"I'm simply curious."

I hummed. "I bet you are."

He smirked. "Well, what can I say? It's just my nature." I nodded vaguely, continuing to stare out the window. We both knew how this would end. There was no real reason not to tell him.

"Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel..." I said their names thoughtfully, allowing the corner of my lips to twitch up into a sly smile. "They seem so simple at first glance. You have the poor unfortunate soul who lost so much yet kept his kindness, the perfect killer who spent his whole life at war, and the fallen angel who found a home. But if that was all there was then I never would have fooled them. However, for men who claim to be so faithless, there's so much they want to believe in."

"Whot do ye mean?" Felix asked, tilting his head. I smirked lazily. T

"I'll start with Sam. Sam is kind because he's damaged, but the last thing he is is a fool. When someone's good at unraveling lies, the last thing you do is give them a really big one to unravel. If you do that, then they'll cut right through and they'll figure you out easily. So, what do you do? You give them distractions. Hide puzzles within puzzles and Sam will stop to solve each one because he loves it. But how do you get him to ignore the big picture?" I stopped and grinned.

"It's easy really. All I had to do was appeal to his hate. Sam Winchester is so extraordinarily full of such raw and powerful hate, that if you simply aim it at a conceivable target, he can ignore anything else. And of course, with his hate blinding him to the truth, Sam can't figure out the lie. All one has to do to fool Sam is give him a puzzle to solve and something to hate.

"So, I made him hate you."

***

"How?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

"It's Marty. We can't trust her," Sam said. Dean scoffed

"After all that lecturing earlier? Why the hell not?" He demanded. Sam took a nervous breath.

"Because she's been lying to us, Dean," He said. "I-I think she's been lying to us this whole time."

Dean's jaw clenched and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you talking about, Sam?" His voice was tight and guarded.

"I talked to Felix after I saved the little girl," Sam admitted.

"You just stood there and talked to that son of a bitch! He's a sick, messed up, psychopath! Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean yelled. Sam held out his hands in a peacemaking gesture.

"I know w-what he is, Dean. A-and, believe me, I thought the same things you are now and I swear it was over the phone a-and all he did w-was tell me things. But-" Sam hissed through his teeth and tugged at his hair, seemingly at war with himself.

"But what, Sam?"

"I don't know. He- he just-"

"You don't know?!" Dean interrupted accusingly.

"H-He said things, alright! Felix told me things. Things about Marty. A-and they- they made - They just made so much sense! And I hate him just as much as you do and I don't wanna believe him but-" Sam's voice faltered and he shook his head seeming lost.

"What did he tell you?" Castiel pressed, gentle but still firm.

"He told me Martina killed his wife."

***

"Now, Dean? Dean's a little harder," I said as the driver made a sharp left-hand turn. "Dean's not just a hardened killer, though that's mostly what he wants people to see. He wants people to see the machine without a heart so no one will see how horrifically broken he really is." Thinking of what Dean was really like made me laugh and I flicked my gaze at Felix. "And believe me when I say that there's nothing that could fix him by now."

"But there's so much more to him than the killer and the brokenness. Dean's the righteous man who's never known a day away from war. There are so many things he wants so desperately. Dean dreams of walking peacefully along a beach yet he's never even been to one. For all he's never had Dean tries to give it to others. For all the blood and death he's seen he's remarkably full of love. Love is the key, really. Dean Winchester loves more powerfully than anyone I've ever met. If Dean loves someone he'll do anything for them.

"He sees my age and sees in me the child he never was. He sees me afraid and wants to provide me the protection no one gave him. He sees me flinch when someone yells and wants to offer me the security he never knew. He sees an orphan and wants to give me the parental love he never had. All one has to do to fool Dean Winchester is give him a child to love.

"So, I made him love me."

***

"And you believed him?" Dean scoffed. "Marty is a kid, Sam! She's a kid! Just a scared kid who needs our protection! Marty never could have done something like that."

"Why not?" Cas spoke up. All eyes snapped to the angel.

"BECAUSE SHE'S A KID!" Dean roared. Jack flinched away from him, he'd always hated when Dean yelled. It scared him. Though, this time Dean sounded less angry and more desperate. As if there was something he didn't want to believe. As if yelling the words would make them true.

"T-that's what I thought too. But what if we're wrong?" Sam asked.

"How could we be wrong?" Dean demanded.

"What if Marty's not a kid?" Sam carefully spoke, "What if she's not human?"

Dean shook his head. "No," He said, "No, you're wrong. I know what you're thinkin' and you're wrong." Jack shook his head too. There was no way... was there? Something itched at the back of his mind. He didn't know what it was. Did he want to?

"Dean, I know this is hard to accept, but we need to think this through," Sam said, holding his hands out beseechingly.

"We don't have time for that!" Jack spoke up. "Felix is going to kill Marty! We can't just let her die!"

Sam held up a hand. "He's not gonna kill her, not for a while. We have time."

"No, you don't get it! I promised I'd save her!" Jack said.

"Exactly!" Sam pointed out. "Jack, that's exactly what she wants! She's been planning this the whole time."

"What do you mean 'the whole time'?" Dean inquired, crossing his arms.

"Think back to the beginning, w-when we first met Marty," Sam said, walking them through it. "Why were we in Copper Harbor?"

"For a ghost hunt," Jack answered, impatience leaking through his tone.

"You're right, but there was another case there. What was it?"

"Blood was being stolen from the hospital..." Cas said slowly as if remembering.

"Exactly! Exactly." Sam took a breath. "Now, that ghost in the viral video, who was it? Was it whoever's bones we burned?"

"No, it was..." Jack made the connection. Why hadn't he noticed that before? "It was Isaac."

"Okay, so that means..." He trailed off.

"That Marty was lying about the hunt and the bones," Cas finished.

"Right, now why would she do that?"

"I dunno, professor. Maybe so we wouldn't torch her brother?" Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam pursed his lips, sighing. "Well, yes, b-but no! This isn't about Isaac, this is about Marty. What would she have been hiding?"

"The blood theft," Cas said decisively. Dean shook his head.

"That's a coincidence. Marty can't be - She can't-" He couldn't even say it. He could hardly think it. "Marty can't be a vampire."

***

"Castiel was harder," I continued. "Aside from the fact that he's a multi-billion-year-old cosmic being, Castiel also lacks a soul. That made tapping into his emotions significantly more difficult, but once I did that it was quite clear that I could never fool him. At least, not directly. He's intelligent, not easily deceived, and he always tries to do what he thinks is best. Whatever that course of action might be, more often than not, it hasn't been the right one.

"Castiel is, primarily, a screw-up. There's a lot of history and even more drama involving his fellow angels and the Winchesters, and he has consistently attempted to fight for both sides of the war between them. His torn loyalties have caused a great many more problems than they've fixed and it seems as though any attempt to fix one of said problems breeds yet more chaos. Castiel is rebellious. He can never seem to do what he's supposed to. So, naturally, that makes him the most dangerous piece on the board.

"When Castiel sets his mind on something, there isn't much that can sway him. His actions have proven, repeatedly I might add, that he is even willing to go behind the backs of the Winchesters if he believes it's for the greater good. But his destructive pattern stops only for the one person he's never betrayed. Thus, to fool Castiel one has to fool his son.

"So, I got my hands on Jack."

***

"Why not?" Cas snapped.

"'Cause she just can't!" Dean's voice broke.

"She single-handedly killed five vampires, Dean! Remember?" Cas pressed. "There's no way a mere child her age could have done that."

Jack shook his head, refusing to believe it. "Marty can't be a vampire. Dad, she just can't be."

Castiel sighed, his eyes soft. "I know you want to believe that."

"Why shouldn't we?" Dean challenged.

"Because she killed five vampires single handedly! What part of that escapes your understanding?!" Cas repeated with frustration.

"We don't know what happened in there!" Dean persisted.

"Exactly! WE DON'T KNOW!" Cas yelled.

"THEN WE CAN'T ACCUSE, CAN WE?" Dean shouted back. Jack flinched again and Cas took notice, forcibly relaxing his posture in hopes of reassuring his son.

Sam groaned. "Look at the facts, Dean. The research!"

"Damn the research, Sammy! This is Marty! We know her!"

"We know she's an empath!" Sam spat. "She's been playing with all our emotions, we know that! We need to look at this objectively and, as hard as that might be, it means looking at the facts!"

"What about the facts?" Dean asked reluctantly.

"Think about it," The younger brother said. "W-we did the research, remember? Remember how none of it lined up?"

"Yeah, because Felix messed with it!" Dean tried.

"Not all of it," Sam pointed out, "Marty said she was nine when she died, but her youngest brother was ten. Remember that? How could she have been younger than her youngest sibling?"

"Sam, that-"

"Because she wasn't, Dean," He hissed, "She wasn't nine. Marty was sixteen."

"I-I remember..." Dean froze, his eyes flicking up to meet his brother. "Sammy..." He said, his voice tense and shaking, "How did I forget that?"

Dread coated Castiel's tone as he answered instead.

"I think she wanted us to."

***

"Jack is a very special boy," I said, sarcasm lacing my tone. "Although, he is the offspring of a fallen archangel, so I'd assume that 'special' comes rather naturally. Thanks for that clue, by the way. It would have taken me much longer to figure him out if it wasn't for that itty bitty little detail."

"You would have gotten it regardless." Felix shrugged.

"Of course I would've!" I snorted, shaking my head. "I didn't think my abilities were of any question."

"They weren't," Felix replied. "I know what you're capable of, lassie."

I smirked devilishly. "You should." Felix's hand clenched into a fist and he sent me a tight smile.

"Indeed." He forced the word through his teeth. "Which is why I'm surprised you enlisted to lie to that boy so completely. Doesn't that violate whatever moral code of Donoghue's it is that you've adopted?" I nodded and shrugged with a sigh.

"You're right, it does. Jack is in many senses young and vulnerable and on top of that, he's dreadfully naïve. He could never deserve what I did to him." I huffed out a humorless laugh as my face twisted into a sneer. "But you do. So I made an exception."

Felix shook his head as if disappointed. "Now, now, Martina. When one has a goal, one does not make exceptions. Lest they desire to fail, of course. Only hypocrites make exceptions. Did I teach you nothing?"

"I'm not like you," I spat.

"Is that what it looks like from where you sit?" He mused quietly. I flashed him a barred toothed grin and continued.

"There's only one that Jack Kline truly wants in this world. He wants to be good - to prove to himself and those around him that despite his parentage, he can be good. He's been told that there's something wrong with him, so he wants to find a way to somehow purge it. But he can't because there's nothing wrong and there never was. Yet, he can't believe that. So it leaves him with an insatiable desire to please.

"It's pathetic, really. He seeks validation in everything. He thinks he has to be useful to be loved. Otherwise, he's just a burden, one that nobody wanted. Jack doesn't want to believe that; he wants to be told that isn't true. Jack Kline may be powerful but he's also soft - moldable if you will. See, he's so haplessly needy that it's honestly sickening. He'll do anything for you to tell him what he wants to hear. And he'll do anything to keep hearing it.

"Jack is a combination of his three guardians. He's desperate. Like Dean, he doesn't want to see what's right in front of him. But he's not stupid. I had to erase his memory more than once. Then, like Sam, I simply distracted him and, much like Castiel, I had to keep him in line by appealing to that insatiable need of his. To fool Jack Kline one has to give him someone to save.

"He thinks he's saving me." I smiled fondly when I'd finished, glancing up at Felix with a challenge in my gaze.

"Well, we both know that's impossible," He said, eyeing me with a smirk, "There's nothing left in that cold shell of yours worth saving." I grinned, showing him the insane thing he'd created.

"You're damn right."

***

Then, like a memory, there were words running through Jack's head. Words and voices, but he didn't remember hearing them.

'You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!' That was his voice in his ears. But Jack couldn't remember saying those words. 'You haven't aged a day... Five years and you haven't aged a day.'

'I aged about a month, actually.'

The other voice was Marty. The words buzzed like static, making his headache. Jack shook his head. It was like Deja Vue but entirely more vivid. Sam, Dean, and Cas kept talking. It was hard to hear them through the ringing in his ears.

"Cas, are you saying she can wipe memories?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," Castiel replied, shaking his head. "But she can certainly suppress them."

"But it-it must only work when she's around b-because when she's gone - I know for me - When Marty's not around I-I start to remember," Sam said.

The ringing in Jack's ears intensified, making him groan and grasp at his head. He clamped his hands over his ears but the ringing only grew louder. It was like angel radio, but instead of being surrounded by fire, Jack felt like he was burning from the inside out.

"Jack?" Cas was calling his name. "What's going on?"

"I-I don't- I-" Jack gasped, the pain growing stronger. "It hurts! Dad, please make it stop!"

"Jack? JACK!"

He stumbled into Cas's arms as another blurred memory hit him like a train.

'I'm gonna need you to forget that,' Marty's voice whispered in his head. She sounded so gentle, so inviting. She sounded like a spider.

'I wish I could,' His own voice shook as Jack listened to himself say words he couldn't remember speaking. It felt like a memory that didn't belong to him.

There was more to it this time. There was a picture frame, but the picture inside was out of focus. There was an image. It was Martina. She had fangs. And there was something else too. Jack could feel it like a phantom pain. It was terror. The paralyzing kind. The feeling of being trapped. Jack felt the shadow of limbs and he couldn't move. He was trapped. Jack couldn't get out. He was trapped like a fly in a web. Marty was the spider. He couldn't get away. He couldn't get away from her.

She wouldn't let him.

'I can make you forget,' She was going to hurt him. ' Take us back to the night we met. '

'What do you mean?' His voice asked cautiously. He was scared. He was so scared. He couldn't get out.

'I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was.'

'You're a monster.' He'd said

The ringing in Jack's ears faded and he bolted upright, gasping and shaking as panic set in. He needed to tell Sam, Dean, and Castiel what he'd remembered but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"S-She lied." That was all he could force out.

"Jack, what happened? Are you okay?" Castiel worried, checking over him. Jack just shook his head.

"She did something to me," He choked out, shaking. "I don't know. I can't remember. Why can't I remember? She did something to me!" He felt sick. There was something wrong with him.

No.

There was something wrong with Marty.

She was sick.

"What? What did she do?" Dean demanded, eyes wide.

"She-She made me forget. I knew. I-I knew and she made me forget!"

"Forget what?" Sam asked.

"I figured her out a-and she made me forget but I remembered." Jack stopped and only then did he realize he was crying. "She's one of them."

Because she had betrayed him. Marty had betrayed all of them. Jack didn't even know what to believe anymore. Had any of it been real? Or was it all some twisted lie?

"I'm sorry, Jack," Cas offered quietly.

"You were right, Sam," Jack whispered. He couldn't stop his voice from shattering. "Martina is a monster. A-And she lied."

There was silence for a moment. Then, Dean spoke up. Because someone had to take the lead and it was always him. It wasn't fair, but it was always him.

"We gotta go," He said, struggling to make his voice sound cold and firm. But he'd lost a daughter today.

"W-Where?" Sam asked.

"Me and Cas know where Felix is taking Marty. That kid's got some answering to do," Dean answered, his green eyes darkening with his tone. Castiel stood, helping Jack climb to his feet.

"Martina is dangerous, Dean. Are you sure you're willing to do what may be necessary?" Cas asked, watching Dean with a somber expression.

"It's not gonna come to that," Dean said.

"And if it does?"

"I will." Jack's voice was quiet but it caught the adult's attention.

"Jack, are you- Are you really sure?" Cas asked gently. Jack shook his head.

"I don't want to kill Martina. But you're right, she is dangerous." His voice faltered. "I can't let her hurt anybody else."

***

Felix's limo pulled into the garage of what was easily a multi-million dollar home. It was four stories and it reminded me of a castle with its dull grey stone and tall windows. The interior of the garage was constructed simply of polished cement and was entirely empty aside from the car now parked within it. I sent Felix a smirk and climbed from the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind me. The car was surrounded. Twenty or so of Felix's vamps stood guard but I knew they were more for display than anything else. Some of them I recognized, some I didn't.

"And here I thought this little girl's night was just gonna be you and me," I huffed dramatically upon seeing them, "You had me feeling all special."

"Sorry to disappoint, Lassie," Felix drawled. "But don't worry, I invited some of your friends too. Well, just one to be exact."

I shot him a curious glance but shrugged before sauntering my way past Felix's lackeys like I owned the place. I supposed I had, but that was so long ago. Were his minions really still so afraid of me? I surveyed one of the vamps as I passed him, taking notice of the bead of sweat dripping down his neck. He was clearly terrified.

So, they remembered who their queen was. Good.

Spinning on my toe like a ballerina, I let a bubbling laugh escape my throat. All of Felix's soldiers turned to face me, watching with careful eyes.

"Hello, Lovelies!" I called, grinning. A few of them shifted nervously. "Just thought you all should know, both your beloved Prince and Princess are dead! I killed them!" Murmurs spread around the empty garage, echoing off the polished grey walls. "That's right! Boyd's head I ripped off with a tractor, though I'm sure your leader was glad to finally be rid of his bastard son." I glanced at Felix who stood there stoically and winked. "I knew about that, by the way. As for Elwyn, I had the Devil's son snap her into dust like Peter Parker in Infinity War. 'Cept she ain't comin' back!" I giggled in reaction to the horrified expressions of Felix's soldiers and send the man himself a smirk before whipping around again.

"Ye know, Martina?" His voice made me pause though I kept my back to him. "I look at you and I don't see anyone looking back..." He trailed off, his tone thoughtful. "Where is that soul you used to have?"

"Just like I told your daughter, I lost it in the woods in favor of something else. You wanted me to learn something and I learned it!" I eyed him over my shoulder. "You never should have sent me there."

"I know that now." Felix sounded almost solemn. "Whatever Sampson brought back with him wasn't the girl I tossed in, was it?"

I shrugged. "That's where you're wrong. It's still me. Like I said, I just learned something over there is all."

"And what did you learn?" He wondered.

"That you were wrong."

"It doesn't seem I was," He said. I chuckled softly.

"You said I was made to be a queen. You were wrong."

"Aye?"

"I'm not a queen, Monroe." I turned to face him. "I'm a damn Empress." I grinned. "And, honey, you should see me in your crown."

I didn't bother to watch his expression. I just turned and walked.

Pushing my way through the garage door, I skipped down a long, dark hallway decorated with dark wooden pieces that I was sure had cost more money than they were worth. I smirked upon hearing Felix's footsteps trailing behind me. Whirling around and walking backward, I grinned at my former torturer.

"Got anything you didn't wanna say in front of your minions?" I taunted.

"I do, actually." He huffed a laugh that held no humor. "For the record, I'm sorry."

My expression soured. "No you're not."

"I am, truly." He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of sincerity. "I apologize for my greed and my stupidity. I unleashed you upon this world; that will be my greatest regret, I think. I made you into a plague and I lost control over you."

"You never controlled me," I hissed.

"And I the second I realized that I should have put you down," Felix said. "I just hope the Winchester's don't make the same mistake."

I shook my head. "That's the think, Felix. They will."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He shrugged.

"I guess I'll find out, won't I? So! Where's this friend of mine?" I asked, rubbing my hands together.

"Two doors down on your right," Felix answered. I glanced at the door he was referring to then back to him.

"Ooh, goodie. Before I open it, why do I get a present?"

Felix shrugged. "Call it a joke."

I nodded. "Dope."

Then I skipped over to the dark wooden door and grasped the handle. It wasn't locked, of course, so I pulled it open. I didn't look for traps. I knew Felix would never stoop that low. The room was pitch black and there were no windows, but I found the light switch easily enough. Bright fluorescent bulbs flicked on and washed the space with light.

Sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, was a rather muscular man. His arms and legs were tied to the chair and his head was tilted down. I may not have been able to see his face, but I would have recognized that old, grungy cap almost anywhere. I crossed the space between us and tapped him on the shoulder. The man inclined his head, squinting against the light, but when he caught a glance of my face, his usually bright eyes filled with terror.

I had forgotten how fun it was to instill that level of fear. I smirked.

"Hey there, Benny! I haven't seen you since the Hunger Games!"

~We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water? The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water?

Beg me for mercy Admit you were toxic You poisoned me just for Another dollar in your pocket Now I am the violence I am the sickness Won't accept your silence Beg me for forgiveness~

Lyrics from: Blood In The Water by grandson

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