Demon Dean

Sam tried Deans phone for the third time but it went straight to voice mail.

"It's Sam. Call me."

He hung up and sighed. Dean had dropped him off at the motel two hours ago and then gone to pick up some beer and a couple of cheese burgers. They were done with the case, the demon had been vanquished and the people in the small town would live happily ever after. Those who were still alive anyway. But where the hell was Dean?

Laura had heard on the radio that the smoking remains of the killer had been found and so she finally felt safe being outdoors after dark. It was late and about time she got home to feed the cat, but she had another house to check on first. It was the 19th century seven bedroom house for sale just outside town. The owners had already moved abroad and had hired Laura as their realtor. The house had been put on the market with its furniture and everything. She was supposed to show it to a young couple today but they had cancelled after all the murders in town. This might prove a difficult sell. But for now Laura just needed to turn off some lights and make sure the place was locked up tight. Tomorrow morning she was leaving for Florida, for a well-deserved vacation and hopefully she could find distraction from the failing market in the hotel drink menu. Or maybe the pool boy. Or more preferably the pool man. Smiling she turned into the driveway outside the house and turned off the ignition. She got out of the car and took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air. It smelled like there would be snow tonight.

"Florida, here I come" she muttered under her breath. She closed the car door and pulled her coat tighter around her. The design lighting made the house look very inviting and she wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this. She walked up the gravelled road, digging through her purse for the keys, jangling them rhythmically in her hand when she found them.

She set her purse down on the porch and slowly unlocked the front door. It opened smoothly and revealed a mostly dark house. She loved being in people's houses when they were gone, even if it was dark and sometimes a little scary. But she wasn't going to stay long now. She closed the door behind her and walked into the house. There were just a few lights to turn off, plus the fridge and freezer. Some lights were on a timer and she would leave those, not wanting to invite burglars.

Spotting a crooked painting in the hall she stopped to correct it. There was a creak on the floor behind her and she turned abruptly, then gasped and took a step back. A man was standing there. He inclined his head and though she couldn't quite make out his features in the gloom, she thought he was smiling.

"Somebody better call God because heaven's missing an angel!" he exclaimed. His voice was deep and very loud in the quiet house. She couldn't tell if he was joking. It was an extremely disturbing situation either way.

"Who are you?" she asked in a no nonsense voice.

"I'm just having a look."

"I'm not showing the house today, you will have to make an appointment."

"Well how about now? We're both here."

She hesitated. Her gut told her this was a very dangerous situation that needed to be handled carefully. The man looked to be in very good shape, fast and surely strong. If he didn't want her to leave, chances were she wouldn't. She would have to find some way to talk him down or trick him.

"I suppose you're right," she replied evenly. So what kind of property are you looking for?"

"This one."

"Well, let's take a look then, Mr..?"

"Great," he said and nodded. "We can start in the kitchen."

He moved forward, put an arm around her shoulders and gently turned her around and pushed her forward, falling in to step with her as they walked toward the kitchen. She was very afraid now and wondered if it was still worth pretending that he was there to look at the house. Her cell phone was in her purse on the porch and of no use to her now. The house had a landline but it had been disconnected when the owner moved. An idea struck her. She turned her head and smiled at him.

"It is a lovely kitchen. The current owner remodelled it just two years ago. Made it into a real country kitchen, white panelled cupboards and a lovely oak worktop. The tile backsplash is quite nice. Do you cook a lot?"

"I'm more of a take-out guy actually."

"It's never too late to start," she said and turned on the lights in the kitchen. She tried to hide the fact that she was shaking and prayed he couldn't see it when she pointed to the cellar door at the other end of the kitchen.

"I thought we'd start with the kitchen cellar. The current owner is quite a wine buff and had it rebuilt into a wine cellar. No more dirt floors," she added and smiled at him again, trying to gauge what he was thinking. He smiled back. He seemed very relaxed, but there was something about the set of his shoulders that spoke of tension.

She walked ahead of him and opened the cellar door. It was pitch black and she swallowed hard, an image of her, screaming, being dragged down the stairs flashed before her eyes.

"Would you be so kind as to turn on the light? The switch is two steps down on the left. I'm ashamed to say I'm a little afraid of the dark."

"Oh absolutely," he replied and stepped towards the door. There was something about his voice that made her think that he was fully aware of what she was doing, that he was just waiting for her to act so that he could...react?

But even so he stepped through the door and when he reached the second step she slammed the door shut behind him, put the old door hasp in its place and fled from the kitchen. She heard him throw himself against the door as she was running through the hall. There was a loud crash and when she glanced back she saw him emerging from the kitchen. A whimper escaped her lips as she slid across the tile floor and into the front door, pushed down the handle and shouldered it open.

As soon as she was outside she stopped whimpering and started screaming, but it was cut short. He was just a second behind her and before she could even reach the edge of the porch he had grabbed her. His right hand choked her scream off and his left wrapped around her waist. He dragged her back inside through the still open door and slammed it shut behind them. He let go of her mouth and snaked his arm around her neck instead. She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to dislodge his grip but he grabbed one of her arms and twisted it high up on her back. She whined from the pain and stopped moving.

"Please let go of me."

"What kind of a realtor are you? Looking your clients in the basement?" he asked and chuckled, twisting her arm a little higher until she let out a small scream.

"You're hurting me."

"Oh, I don't want that," he said and abruptly let her go. She stumbled away from him and tried to move for the door again but he blocked her way.

"Ladies first," he said and nodded towards the great staircase.

"What?"

"We're going upstairs."

"No. We're not."

She tried to sound firm and determined, to speak with some authority. But he just cocked his head and smiled again. There was something off with the glint in his eyes.

"Alright then," he said and started towards her. She ran towards the kitchen but he caught hold of her arm almost immediately, pulling her back. She crashed into his chest and tried to get away using her right hand to punch at his throat and claw at his eyes. Her nails left red marks on his face but he didn't seem at all bothered by the punch to his throat. He spun her around, pinned both of her arms on her back and moved towards a dresser until they both were leaning against it. He pushed her down on it, making her bend at the waist and she screamed at the thought of what he might do next. But for now there was just a metallic clicking sound and cold steel encircled her wrists. She tried to move away to escape the handcuffs but he was putting his weight on her and she couldn't move an inch. When the handcuffs were locked tightly in place, he carefully took off her scarf and tied it around her head and over her eyes like a blindfold. Then he let go of her completely. She righted herself, feeling dizzy and unsure of where he was. She turned around, feeling the dresser at the back of her thighs, and sensing him in front of her.

"Please let me go," she whispered.

"No," he said matter-of-factly and then suddenly he was on her again. The world turned upside down and she found herself hanging over his shoulder, his arms firmly around her back and legs. She didn't dare kick, or even move, in case he dropped her. He seemed unperturbed and was humming something quietly as he started walking up the staircase.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Put me down, put me down!"

"Not gonna happen, Laura."

"How- how do you know my name?" she whimpered as they reached the second floor. She heard him open a door and they moved through it.

"Call me clairvoyant," he replied breezily, slamming the door behind them and then dumping her on top of what felt like a bed, and then added, "but my birth name is Dean."

Sam hung up the phone. Straight to voice mail this time too. Maybe Dean had stopped by some bar and met a girl. It wasn't unlikely. It had in fact happened exactly three times before. Sam decided to relax and have dinner alone. There was a snacks machine outside. That wouldn't be the first time either.

Landing on her hands when he dropped her on the bed had tightened the cuffs which were now digging into her wrists quite badly. Her first kick didn't connect with anything, but her second hit him in the stomach. At least she thought it was his stomach. But he didn't sound like it had hurt at all. He was still humming as he grabbed her feet and held them down before straddling her on the bed, pushing her hard into the soft duvet. It was difficult to breathe and her hands hurt like fucking hell. When he pulled up her shirt and started unbuttoning her trousers she froze and forgot all about the pain. She knew it was stupid to be surprised that this was happening but somehow her mind had refused to go there. Tears began to pool at the corner of her eyes, wetting the scarf that was still tied around her head.

"Why are you doing this?" she sobbed as he pulled her trousers past her hips.

"Well, I want to. And I can."

He rose from the bed a little, pulling the trousers further down. She was sweating in her thick coat. To get the trousers completely off he had to get off the bed and when he did she kicked out and started thrashing about on the bed. He promptly sat down on her lower legs, grabbed her feet and took her boots off. Then he just slid the trousers off. When he got up she started kicking again but it was futile. He flipped her over onto her stomach and straddled her again.

"Can I take your coat, ma'am?" he asked in a mocking voice.

"Just stop!"

"I don't think so."

She heard the sound of keys and stiffened. He unlocked her left hand but before she could move her arms he forced her right arm down on the bed and then planted his knee firmly on top of it. He pulled on her coat, tugging it down her back and then forced her left arm out and then her right. She didn't fight him, thinking she might as well be rid of the heavy coat. When he was done he grabbed her wrists, expertly cuffing them again.

"Let's get down to business," he said, flipping her over onto her back again. She gritted her teeth at the renewed pain in her wrists.

"We have a lot of time on our hands. But I always like the first time to be rather...quick and dirty, shall we say?"

"Just wait, please just wait," she pleaded. "If you want money..?"

"No."

Then his hands were on her chest, ripping her shirt open, tearing through the fabric like it was paper. She moved frantically underneath him on the bed but he was firmly seated, legs on either side of her. Next he grabbed her bra and tore it off, the shoulder straps burning her skin in the process.

"I like your breasts, Laura," he remarked, his hands cupping her breasts and squeezing, not painfully but still a bit too hard. She bit her lip and turned her head, trying to shut him out, to shut everything out.

"We'll get you to participate soon enough. Maybe in round four or five or so."

He gave her nipples a quick pinch and then stood up. She heard him unzip his pants and drop them to the floor. She turned her body away from him. His next touch was a slap on her ass, hard enough to make her gasp.

"Carry on my wayward soo-oo-ns," he hummed and tore her panties off. She screamed involuntarily and tried to move away from him but he dragged her towards him, pulling her up and onto her knees on the bed. He pushed her head down into the cover, forced her legs apart and then penetrated her to the root in one swift stroke. She screamed and tried to move away but he grabbed her hips and began a painful onslaught. After a few strokes the worst of the pain subsided as her body lubricated for him but his thrusts where hard enough to make her teeth chatter. She clenched them and sobbed into the soft duvet. It seemed to go on for ages and for a long while he didn't seem to be affected at all. But after a gruelling ten minutes or so, his breathing got heavier and finally he finished with a strangled sound. She was too spent to cry at the fact that he had come inside her. When he pulled out of her, she fell on the bed and curled up, twisting away from him. She was crying silently when he laid down on his back beside her, sighing deeply.

"You know, Laura, actually the second time's my favourite."