I'm feeling cranky, so a-not-so-happy fic resulted. Whatever.spn_het_love surprise challenge Heavy Metal Inspiration based on lyrics from The Four Housemen, Metallica – “A sinner once a sinner twice/ No need for confession now / Cause now you have go the fight of your life”
Title : Tonight I'm running wild
Author : Joans23
Rating : R
Paring : Dean/Jo
Prompt : Written for
Ellen bugs her about the sweater. Says is hot as hell in here, why on God’s-green-earth is she wearing a sweater? She feels a moment of panic. What was she going to tell her mother if she saw? When she didn’t even know herself what the hell it meant. To avoid any further questions, she once more escapes to the bathroom mumbling under her breath about coming down with something.
She gingerly peels off the sweater and turns under the harsh fluorescent light to get a better glimpse in the distorted broken-edged mirror. The angry dark bruise high on her back where he shoved her against the wall. The five identical marks on each arm where his fingers gripped too tight. There are more on her thighs, hips and ribs. Her proof of life. She gently runs a finger along the cuts on her knuckles where she skinned them on his teeth and then reluctantly goes back to tending the few customers sitting around the bar.
That night she crawls into bed naked, letting the cool sheets sooth her tortured skin. She doesn’t turn out the light, she wants to look at her wounds, remember the night before and try to understand. His eyes when she asks him to be rough, to make her bruise. Why he backed away when she pulled out her knives. The things she said to make him angry if he dared slow or stop. She wonders if he knows why she did it. Does he have any better idea than she has? Is it so she’ll have something to remember him by when he leaves again? Does she want him to hurt her on the outside as much as he hurts her on the inside? Feeling guilty and sick to her stomach, she finally turns off the light and turns on her side She doesn’t want to think about it anymore.
In the dark Dean stands in silence watching the faint light go out in her room. She was probably looking at the bruises, touching them, wincing at the pain. She doesn’t think he’s figured it out. He did. He knows she doesn’t love him. She loves the idea of him. A hunter. The scars and the damage and the danger. Does she know that it kills a little bit of him each time she asks, each time he gives in? That he does it anyway, because if he doesn’t she’ll just go looking for it somewhere else. At least this way he can control it, make sure it doesn’t go too far. At least this way he has her.