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21 March 2009 @ 12:25 pm
this ain't a scene...  
Title: this ain't a scene...
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 602
Warnings: Violence
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: "You're a sick, twisted sonofabitch. You know that, right?"
Notes: Therapy through writing. It works. I feel a million times better now.


The silver blade drew a thin line of blood as it slammed into the wooden armrest.

Dean turned and stood with his back to the woman, shoulders square, fists clenched, and a scowl evident behind the dirt and sweat smeared across his face. Burning hatred raged through his veins.

"You're a sick, twisted sonofabitch. You know that, right?" he spat.

"You cut me," she whined.

The sound of her voice sent a twinge through his muscles, resulting in a spasm that led his fist into her face. He smiled at the split in her lip and a chuckle escaped his own. "You really think everything is about you?"

"Well, it sure as hell isn't about you."

Before the last breathe of her sentence was out, her face was slammed into the table in front of her. Dean got a fistful of hair and whipped her head back. Blood trickled out of her newly distorted nose.

"Where is she?" he barked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she grinned.

Dean pounded her head into the wood twice more, accentuating the words, "Fuck. You."

She remained slouched forward that time, appearing disoriented and out of breath. He didn't wait for her to sit back up. Grabbing her right middle finger, he pushed it back until it met resistance.

"Tell me what I want to know," he pulled it back further, "or..."

"There's nothing to tell," she insisted.

"Well then."

Dean snapped the finger against the back of her hand. She screamed, tears mixing with the blood on her face. Dean didn't feel an ounce of pity for someone he deemed a worthless sack of shit. Anyone who takes Jo away from him, even if she purposely annoyed him on occasions, didn't deserve the respect of a quick death like the roach he smashed under his boot. It didn't matter that Sam was already following a lead from Bobby with the whereabouts of the Harvelle girl. This bitch was the one responsible for the disappearance, and she was going to pay. Dean was already banished to hell in due time thanks to his deal to save Sam, and he didn't feel like allowing her to breathe long enough to be punished by God's hand.

He took a sick pleasure in the twisted scream and sound of breaking bones when he made her index finger as gnarled as the middle. He walked across the room and admired an object on the counter, his back to her so she couldn't see what torture awaited her next. Dean faced her from a distance, holding up his favorite gun. He'd used it many times before on creatures far more hideous than her, but this moment was far sweeter than his best piece of scrumptious apple pie.

"What are you going to--"

She was cut off by a shot that ripped through her shoulder, missing the vital organs on purpose.

"I hate stupid questions."

She gritted her teeth and Dean approached her side, lifting the smoking gun to her temple.

"I could end it all with one well-placed bullet." He pushed the tip harder against her skin. "But what's the fun with that?"

He stepped back, lowered the gun to her abdomen and pulled the trigger twice. He proceeded to a seat across the table from her broken and bleeding body and sat down, placing the gun on the surface in front of him. He relaxed back into the chair, his steel curtain poker face hiding the pure enthusiasm rushing through his body as he waited for that last glint of light to fade from her eyes.

Victory is mine.

deanandjo_recsdeanandjo_recs on May 15th, 2009 06:39 am (UTC)
oh sad. is jo dead?