Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show, The Vampire Diaries or Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fiction. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. The original stories were developed using SPN episode content up until 02/11/10 and this one may include basically anything up through 2019. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 15, though my story took its own turn after SPN Season 4. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, "Mission," "Prelude," and "Bound." This story takes place where Prelude left off and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes. Any lyrics mentioned in this story do not belong to me are the property of their original writers.
AUTHOR NOTE: I'm BACK! This book is the last in the 2nd trilogy and I will be finishing it during the quarantine of 2020. This first chapter does include a slight recap from Prelude.
Dean found himself back in his filthy cell, his back flat against the damp stone wall. His bruised head was swimming desperately and there was a deep ring in his ears.
I'm in shock.
Through his dull haze, he scarcely heard Sam desperately calling his name from the other cell. He couldn't make a sound.
"Dean?! Answer me! Are you ok," Sam earnestly begged, his nervous voice getting more frantic with every second that went by with no direct answer.
Was he ok? What the hell just happened? Was it real?
He cautiously raised a slumped hand up to his sore neck and instantly found his terrible answer with a wince. His neck was semi-crusted over with some blood still fresh seeping from the wound. His chest tightened convulsively at the emotional pain and the terrible realization.
Hauled in by force, he stood before Abby and psycho Auntie Vampira. He couldn't buy into Ab's ruse of being one of Lilith's cronies. In his foolish soul, there was no way in freakin' Hell after all that Lillitu had done to them, that she would have joined them. Her absurd explanation of their mutual endgame just made no sense.
Dean had asked her directly to look at him so he could see into her dark eyes and see what she was thinking. He was a human lie detector and needed to see her to register the truth. He desperately needed to snap her out of whatever was going on in her head. He was banking that she was under some sort of compulsion, or maybe Abby before him was merely a shifter decoy, or maybe from something more powerful. Dean had to find for something, anything, that maybe a sign would point to something more than she just turned bad.
In the next instant, she was forcibly on him and had instantly sunk her teeth in. He could feel her canines piercing into his exposed flesh and her parched mouth on his neck, lapping up what seeped out. The terrible trauma of it inadvertently caught him off guard, and for a brief moment he didn't fight back. His conscious mind went blank as she carried on her grave violation. She was voluntarily committing Dean's absolute, number one unforgivable sin; Abby was violating her promise of never consuming his blood. Everything else, even anything absolutely terrible, he could somehow push through it because he knew she was trying to be good deep down. Hell, she had gone off the human blood bandwagon before, and he was always able to bring her back. No one could have predicted what she was going to do. ambushed him. He couldn't abide by what she was blatantly doin'. No. What she was doing was downright sacrilege.
He briefly thought about simply begging her to snap out of it, pleading desperately with her to find herself.
He somehow regained some clarity in the midst of the blood loss, and with his fight or flight instincts kicking in, he tried his damndest to knock her away. She resumed her brutal assault on his throat, accompanying the lapping with a sound that could be uniquely described as a combination of hissing and purring. His stomach wretched and him out of his brief surrender.
She genuinely enjoyed it. She was getting off on that.
With that horrifying realization, he gathered all his desperate strength. He grabbed her by her unbound hair, pulling her back and head down while lifting his leg up to give her a quick shot at her sternum. She jumped backward, readying herself in a fighting stance. Abby set upon him again, and Dean managed to shift his body around so she blurred past his right, and he quickly jabbed her face with his elbow. Her bloodied nose made a cracking noise. He grabbed her by the shoulders and drove his knee into her face, and she flew backward with the force of his kick.
Abby hissed at him, her canines extended as she stayed in a crouched position in front of him. Her eyes reminded him of a snake or some other kind of predator. They were eerily pitiless eyes that purely expressed one sinister purpose behind that gaze, and that was to feed.
Abby had straightened up, licking away some of his visible blood from her sensuous lips and wiping the rest with her forearm and a smirk.
Dean couldn't connect his flowing stream of consciousness when he saw her. A flashback of idealized images swirled in his fond memories. Her sleeping form beside him. A sweet smirk from the couch with a cup of coffee in the morning. Catching her wistfully observing him from the passenger seat while he drove. The sweet way she tucked in the kiddos at night when they were small.
Had he been that naive to believe all of that sentimental bullshit? Lies. All of them fucking lies. She knew exactly how to play him. All she naturally had to do was produce him a family.
He stood there breathing, holding his own, looking her straight in the eye, not giving her the satisfaction of holding his neck to prevent more bleeding. Let her see it. Let her try again.
"Dean! Answer me?!" Sam's voice cut through his overwhelming thoughts like a knife.
"Yeah, I'm here," he finally responded.
"Are. you. okay," his brother asked again in an anxious tone.
How in hell was he supposed to respond to that?
"Abby's gone, Sam-"
Sam gasped, asking him to clarify the meaning of 'gone.' Dean thought, with an unbearable pain in his chest he hadn't felt in many years, that it might be better off if she was dead. Soon enough.
"She's turned-has been-dark side, Sammy."
"What? Dean,you-you can't be serious. No way, that's our Abby," Sam responded defensively, a peculiar mixture of horrified surprise and denial in his emotional tone. "It is possible it's a shifter or something but-"
"Don't you think I thought about that, Sam? It's her. She's dark. I've got two puncture wounds in my neck that say that's exactly what she is," Dean groaned dismally as applied pressure to the injury. "New plan. We get out, we get April, and we re-group with the others."
"What about Abby," Sam asked suspiciously.
"What about her," Dean answered coldly. "She made her choice. Look-I've had to haul her out of some serious shit over the years but...it was all her play. It was a game. She set this up years ago for Lilith," he sighed ruefully. "And I was too damned stupid to see it. Now she's recklessly endangered the kids and us. I can't trust her, and can't have that. She's done, Sam."
Years ago he had let go of his Dad's slant of exclusively seeing things as black and white through his hunter's eyes. She had distorted his critical view; she was the gray area his Dad said didn't exist. She drove him to willingly believe some monsters could be noble, Hell even redeemable-and it was all bullshit. John Winchester was right that there are no shades of gray in the supernatural world. Abby delivered her decision, and that inevitably left him with no other choice but to forcibly take her out.