[OTC] Lyrics
[Part of the Detective AU. Dean = jstliketherifle and the Cas referred to is soldier_ofgod. Follows THIS and THIS.]
Then won't you tell me why
You live like you're afraid to die
And you'll die like you're afraid to go
Her heels clicked against the cement floor of the building as she made her way down the corridors. A bit of sweet talking and Alastair had given her free reign of their current holdings. They weren’t exactly to her taste, and neither was Alastair, but he had something she wanted, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. It was the way of the world after all, and she was a very equal part of that.
When she reached the door in question, she was a little hesitant to open it. Once she did, she became a participant, and she knew it. That meant she had to heft a large amount of leverage that she wasn’t sure she had, but she also knew she never was going to know until she tried. She had to at least try after all. Otherwise she wasn’t going to get any of the things she wanted, and to put it simply, that just wouldn’t do.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob before stepping inside, keeping up the cool confident air he was used to seeing. Dean was sitting, slumped, on the far side of the table between them, and if Bela couldn’t see the labored breaths rising from the beaten body, she might have assumed he was dead. But he wasn’t. Not yet. And if he didn’t talk to Alastair soon, he was going to wish he was, and she wasn’t sure which one she wanted him to have.
His head lifted slightly at the sound of shoes on the pavement, but his eyes didn’t open. One was so swollen she wasn’t sure it would, and the other was just out of view. He took another labored breath, and tried to lift his head a little more, putting on the best defiant face he could, given the situation.
“Can’t a guy get at least five minutes to take a load off before you sons of bitches continue to torture me to death?”
Bela smirked slightly as she pushed herself up on the table, crossing her legs in front of her, and letting her bottom foot rest on the seat of his chair, fitting just neatly between his thighs. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sweetie. You think you’d know by now that torturing isn’t really in my repertoire.”
At that he groaned, whether out of pain or recognition, she didn’t know. It was most likely both, but she wasn’t really one to be picky at the moment. “What could you possibly want?”
Bela sighed softly, before leaning in closer. “I’m here to help you, Dean. Whether you believe it or not.”
“Well, if that wasn’t the biggest load of bullshit I ever heard.” The look Dean was giving her would have been much more effective if he wasn’t beaten to a bloody pulp, but she knew the threat was still there. “You never offer to help unless you want something, so what the fuck do you want?”
She sighed heavily. “I need you to-look the other way, regarding something. Something you don’t want to get your hands in anyway, given your record.”
“Go to hell.”
“Oh, now Dean,” she said softly. “Is this really how you want to die?”
“And who says I’m dyin’?”
“You really think you’re going to make it out of here alive?” She raised an eyebrow at him before pushing off the table and moving in closer. “Alastair will get what he wants from you, and then he will dump your poor lifeless body on the side of the road, and there will be nothing your partner can do about it. Now all you have to do is do one little favor for me, and I will make sure you get out of here, whole and intact. So I guess the question is, Dean, how much do you want to live?”
Dean stared at her for a long minute, before snarling slightly. “I would rather die than sell my soul to you.”
“I see.” She considered that for a moment, before crossing her arms in front of her chest . “I wonder if your partner would say the same.”
Dean frowned, now looking slightly concerned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If I take the same offer to him-he just looks the other way, and I’ll bring him right to Alastair’s front door-you have to wonder how far that ‘holier than thou’ exterior would go, yeah? How much he’d be willing to-compromise-if someone he cares about is in danger?”
“You stay the hell away from my partner. Do whatever the hell you want to me, Bela, I don’t care, but leave Cas alone.”
“We’ll see about that,” she smirked, pushing away from him and starting to head towards the door. “Last chance, Dean. Take the deal or leave it, and we’ll see if your partner is a bit more willing.”
Dean’s jaw tightened and he glared back at her, his good eye narrowed in a look of pure disgust. “As I said, go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” She pulled away, and she was almost out the door when Dean’s voice came from behind her again, a bit of a smug hint to his voice.
“You better hope I don’t die, bitch. You’re a part of this now. And you fucking know it.”
She hesitated at the door, only for a second, before swallowing it and pushing forward, wanting to get as far away from him as possible as soon as she could. She couldn’t say he was wrong, and he knew that she knew it. Now there was only one question on her mind: how the hell was she going to get out of this?
***
It didn’t take her long to track down the detective in question, and even less time to break into the house. She had to admire the man for doing his own handiwork, and he was doing it well, as far as he was concerned. Taking a heavy breath, she plopped down on his couch, crossing her legs in front of her and waiting for him to return home. She wasn’t sure when that would be-given cases like this, detectives involved tended to work round the clock until the one in question was found-but she couldn’t walk into that police station, so this was the easiest.
She wasn’t sure how long it was, but sooner or later, she was looking up and finding the muzzle of a gun in her face, and she held up her hands with a bit of a smirk.
“Easy, Detective. I promise I mean no harm.”
1119 words
Then won't you tell me why
You live like you're afraid to die
And you'll die like you're afraid to go
Her heels clicked against the cement floor of the building as she made her way down the corridors. A bit of sweet talking and Alastair had given her free reign of their current holdings. They weren’t exactly to her taste, and neither was Alastair, but he had something she wanted, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. It was the way of the world after all, and she was a very equal part of that.
When she reached the door in question, she was a little hesitant to open it. Once she did, she became a participant, and she knew it. That meant she had to heft a large amount of leverage that she wasn’t sure she had, but she also knew she never was going to know until she tried. She had to at least try after all. Otherwise she wasn’t going to get any of the things she wanted, and to put it simply, that just wouldn’t do.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob before stepping inside, keeping up the cool confident air he was used to seeing. Dean was sitting, slumped, on the far side of the table between them, and if Bela couldn’t see the labored breaths rising from the beaten body, she might have assumed he was dead. But he wasn’t. Not yet. And if he didn’t talk to Alastair soon, he was going to wish he was, and she wasn’t sure which one she wanted him to have.
His head lifted slightly at the sound of shoes on the pavement, but his eyes didn’t open. One was so swollen she wasn’t sure it would, and the other was just out of view. He took another labored breath, and tried to lift his head a little more, putting on the best defiant face he could, given the situation.
“Can’t a guy get at least five minutes to take a load off before you sons of bitches continue to torture me to death?”
Bela smirked slightly as she pushed herself up on the table, crossing her legs in front of her, and letting her bottom foot rest on the seat of his chair, fitting just neatly between his thighs. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sweetie. You think you’d know by now that torturing isn’t really in my repertoire.”
At that he groaned, whether out of pain or recognition, she didn’t know. It was most likely both, but she wasn’t really one to be picky at the moment. “What could you possibly want?”
Bela sighed softly, before leaning in closer. “I’m here to help you, Dean. Whether you believe it or not.”
“Well, if that wasn’t the biggest load of bullshit I ever heard.” The look Dean was giving her would have been much more effective if he wasn’t beaten to a bloody pulp, but she knew the threat was still there. “You never offer to help unless you want something, so what the fuck do you want?”
She sighed heavily. “I need you to-look the other way, regarding something. Something you don’t want to get your hands in anyway, given your record.”
“Go to hell.”
“Oh, now Dean,” she said softly. “Is this really how you want to die?”
“And who says I’m dyin’?”
“You really think you’re going to make it out of here alive?” She raised an eyebrow at him before pushing off the table and moving in closer. “Alastair will get what he wants from you, and then he will dump your poor lifeless body on the side of the road, and there will be nothing your partner can do about it. Now all you have to do is do one little favor for me, and I will make sure you get out of here, whole and intact. So I guess the question is, Dean, how much do you want to live?”
Dean stared at her for a long minute, before snarling slightly. “I would rather die than sell my soul to you.”
“I see.” She considered that for a moment, before crossing her arms in front of her chest . “I wonder if your partner would say the same.”
Dean frowned, now looking slightly concerned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If I take the same offer to him-he just looks the other way, and I’ll bring him right to Alastair’s front door-you have to wonder how far that ‘holier than thou’ exterior would go, yeah? How much he’d be willing to-compromise-if someone he cares about is in danger?”
“You stay the hell away from my partner. Do whatever the hell you want to me, Bela, I don’t care, but leave Cas alone.”
“We’ll see about that,” she smirked, pushing away from him and starting to head towards the door. “Last chance, Dean. Take the deal or leave it, and we’ll see if your partner is a bit more willing.”
Dean’s jaw tightened and he glared back at her, his good eye narrowed in a look of pure disgust. “As I said, go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” She pulled away, and she was almost out the door when Dean’s voice came from behind her again, a bit of a smug hint to his voice.
“You better hope I don’t die, bitch. You’re a part of this now. And you fucking know it.”
She hesitated at the door, only for a second, before swallowing it and pushing forward, wanting to get as far away from him as possible as soon as she could. She couldn’t say he was wrong, and he knew that she knew it. Now there was only one question on her mind: how the hell was she going to get out of this?
***
It didn’t take her long to track down the detective in question, and even less time to break into the house. She had to admire the man for doing his own handiwork, and he was doing it well, as far as he was concerned. Taking a heavy breath, she plopped down on his couch, crossing her legs in front of her and waiting for him to return home. She wasn’t sure when that would be-given cases like this, detectives involved tended to work round the clock until the one in question was found-but she couldn’t walk into that police station, so this was the easiest.
She wasn’t sure how long it was, but sooner or later, she was looking up and finding the muzzle of a gun in her face, and she held up her hands with a bit of a smirk.
“Easy, Detective. I promise I mean no harm.”
1119 words