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Supernatural: Length of Chain (7/22)

Author Name: Patriciatepes (Patricia de Lioncourt @ )
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
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Chapter Seven

Jo dropped the unconscious, beaten half to Hell and back shapeshifter on the concrete floor of the operation room. Well, more correctly, she threw the limb monster down, like she was unloading a heavy bag of grain or something. Then, she stepped back, pressing her back against the wall just on the right of one of the doors, sliding down it to rest on her floor, her knees pulled up.

Crowley, who stood there with no body or medical equipment in sight, arched a brow at her. He gestured to the body, scoffing.

"What do you expect me to do with this?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

Jo sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, but you better tie him up or something. I don't know how much longer that tranq I hit him with has in it."

Crowley put his back to her, making his way over to his medical tray—where Jo noticed a flask and a scotch glass sitting.

"That's not what I pay you for," he muttered.

Jo leaned her head back against the wall, groaning and letting her eyelids slide shut. Another handful of weeks had passed, and Jo had been on numerous hunts. Apparently, Mordiggian had proved inadequate as far as information on Purgatory went. Crowley had already informed her that the Alpha Ghoul was dead. Fat lot of good all that pain had been for. But, as Jo kept telling herself, the less that the King of Hell learned of Purgatory, the better it was for her in the long run. She might be bringing him monsters still, but if they continued giving nothing, then, really, all she was doing was hunting. Saving unsuspecting innocents. And that was fine by her.

"I'm tired," she moaned as she pulled her head upright again, opening her eyes.

Her vision was blurry from a severe need for a good night's rest. But when they cleared, and Crowley didn't reply, she found herself surveying the demon. His cloths were rumpled, even torn some at the seams. He stopped, mid-pour, to glare at her from over his shoulder. He turned, glass and flask still in hand.

"You look like shit," Jo said before he could say anything.

He gazed down at her, not even a hint of a smirk on his face. "Likewise."

Jo smirked up at him, leaning her head to the side.

"Is everything not going too hot down in Hell? People got a few problems with the new boss, maybe?" she asked.

Crowley growled, slipping the flask back inside his jacket.

"If I were you, my dear, I'd shut my cake hole. Now."

Jo scoffed. "Hit a nerve there, did I?"

Crowley pointed a finger at her from around his glass, taking a step forward.

"Apparently, you've just decided that you need a daily regimen of that bauble. Or maybe it is time that we try for something new."

Jo rolled her eyes, but before she could even make a reply, Crowley vanished. She pushed herself off the wall, rising to her feet. She turned a few times in place, as if this was some sort of trick he was playing on her. But he was gone. Nowhere in sight. Her eyes fell to the still unconscious shifter at her feet. She sighed.

"Sure. Yeah, just vanish so I still have to put this bastard up," she groaned, reaching down to hook the monster under the shoulders.

She dragged him up the hall, and down another, until she reached an empty cell. On one side was a vampire, while a werewolf was located in the other cell. If Crowley had some sort of organization going for these monsters, she didn't know it… nor did she give a damn. She half-tossed, half-rolled the shifter inside, slamming the cell shut. She rolled her shoulder, rubbing it as she made her way out of the prison.

The walk from the prison and the manor seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. Or maybe she was just getting used to it. Although, even the demon doorman seemed less willing to screw with her. Now, she just buzzed him, the gates swung open, and she was within her room in minutes.

She stood in the middle of her wide, empty floor, putting her hands to her lower back and stretching. Things popped, and she moaned. Her eyes immediately fell to the bathroom, and she smiled. She was almost completely nude before she had even shut the door. She had the shower on, steam filling the cold tiled room, as she stepped in. Her hands brushed the necklace, groaning at its constant presence, but she found it rather easy to ignore. The heat of the water was too relaxing as she took her time, leisurely washing her hair and body. Once she was fully clean, she allowed herself a few more moments to let the water rush over her. Finally, her body too tired to hold her upright any longer, she shut the water off, shaking herself dry a bit, and wringing out her hair. Turning toward the fogged glass door of the shower, she grabbed it and pulled it aside without a thought, stepping out onto the soft rug on the floor.

The sound of a throat clearing made Jo jump and yelp, grabbing for the towel she had left to hand on the outside of the door. She scrambled to wrap it about her nude form as she realized that the bathroom door was open once more, and that Castiel stood just on the other side, his gaze politely averted away.

"What the hell, Cas?" Jo snapped, making sure she was completely covered by the large, soft black towel before she stepped into her chilly room.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning and dropping a large, brown paper bag on her bed.

The bag was rolled shut at the top, and Castiel moved toward the foot of the bed, looking somewhat agitated. Arching a brow, and double checking the tuck at the top of her towel, she moved toward the bag, touching it gingerly.

"What is it?" she asked, unrolling the top.

She figured that, if it were dangerous to open, Castiel would stop her. As it was, he sighed, shaking his head.

"It's the Staff of Moses," the angel explained.

Jo finished opening the bag, her curiosity peaked as she wondered how a whole staff was fitting inside a bag that looked just big enough to hold a six pack of beer. She got her answer soon enough as the bag was unfurled, and she dumped the contents out. Pieces of wood, once one looked at them as a whole, that were clearly from a staff piled upon the sheets. Jo turned toward Castiel who made an I-don't-know gesture.

"An angel by the name of Balthazar, one I thought had died while fighting the rise of the apocalypse, stole the weapons. And this one, he cut up, spreading about the place."

Jo shoved the pieces of the staff back into the bag, closing it once more. She hopped up on the bed, pointing to the bag of staff pieces.

"Does this mean it's broken now? That the power's gone from the staff?"

"Actually, it means the contrary. All of the pieces possess equally the same amount of power as the whole."

Jo shrugged. "Then why do you seem so upset? You got a weapon back."

"I just don't understand," Castiel said, snatching up the bag and holding it as if the mere thought of the contents disgusted him. "I don't understand how any angel in Heaven could desecrate the Moses staff by cutting it up. It's wrong."

Jo's tongue snaked out, and her smarter half told her to keep her thoughts to herself. But she was tired, and her smarter half was not the part of her that was awake.

"You mean, like any angel in Heaven could ally themselves with the King of Hell?" she snipped.

Castiel sighed, turning to glare at her.

"I tire of your judgments, Jo," he said, sounding a bit edgy.

Jo shrugged. "And I tire of giving them."

She paused for a moment, as both of them looked away. She rubbed the soles of her feet on the soft carpet, just trying to lessen the intensity of the silence that had filled the room. Finally, she looked back at the angel.

"Crowley heard me praying to you, when I told you about Easter, Pennsylvania. He said he might angel-proof the house, if I don't learn that I'm… his," she said softly.

"He'll do it," he answered. "If he thinks it'll hurt you."

Jo's hands reached up, touching the necklace that hung just over the towel. She had never doubted that. But, she had hoped—had dared to hope—that telling Castiel this would wake him up a bit. Make him realize that Jo was nothing more than a slave to Crowley. And maybe, just maybe, Heaven's trenchcoat-ed angel might remove the necklace, freeing her. But Castiel only turned to lock his eyes on her.

"You should be more careful not to anger him on such matters," he said.

Jo had known that she had no reason to hope. But to have it dashed so easily. Anger grew inside her, and she hopped of the bed, pointing a slender finger in the angel's face.

"Get out, Castiel. If that's all you can say about that… then please leave," she said.

He didn't reply. He didn't even try to argue. A flutter of wings later, and Castiel was gone. Jo moved toward the foot of the bed, taking a seat back upon it. Her towel was loosened a bit, but she didn't care. Tears welled in her eyes as she wrapped her arms about herself.

"Damn him," she muttered. "Damn him."

She sat there a while longer, just sniffling and glaring down at the floor. Finally, with a shuddering gasp, she looked up, her eyes aimed on the closet with the full intent to finally dress herself. However, just as she stood, Crowley appeared in the middle of the room. And if the look in his eyes were any indication, he was livid. Jo grabbed the loosened towel, wrapping it as tightly as she could about herself before re-tucking it. Crowley grinned at her, and the look in eyes changed from livid to malicious. With a hint of murderous. He gave a soft huff and opened his arms wide.

"Just the girl I was hoping to see," Crowley said, taking a step forward.

Jo backed away, the small of her back pressing into the edge of the tall bed. Crowley lifted a hand, pointing his finger skyward as if he were about to make a point.

"I've just had a hell of a night," he said.

He began to pace a small space of a couple of feet or so in front of her, leaving her no room whatsoever to move past him.

"See, I was just at Bobby Singer's house. That's who summoned me, you see. He trapped me in a devil's trap. And then, using nefarious means—and his two favorite whipping boys, Sam and Dean—proceeded to force me to return his soul to him. To break contract."

Jo blinked, taking an unconscious step closer to the demon.

"Bobby's soul? He sold it to you?" she asked.

Crowley stopped, leering at her. "Yes. Of course, I told him I would give it back. I lied, of course. But hey, he got a good deal. I threw in the bit about his legs working for free, basically. Oh, which, the sodding prick made me keep that part in. So now he has his soul and his legs."

Jo was reeling, and she found herself leaning back on the bed for support. Bobby was alive, well, and walking again. And he had sold his soul for it. With the intention of getting it back… which, he just had. The thought of it had Jo smiling, happy. But now she felt Crowley's gaze on her once again, and she lifted her eyes to find him having moved to loom over her.

"To sum up, darling, I've had a rotten night. And I'm taking it out on you," he said.

He followed that with a flick of his wrist, and Jo flew across the room, plastering herself to the nearest, flat wall of the room. Her towel had come undone and fallen way long before the collision. She felt a blush creeping up her face, and she was sure that it was covering her entire body. She desperately wanted to cover herself, and she struggled to free her hands—trapped against the wall on either side of her—but it was no use. Crowley grinned a serpent's smile at her, moving closer and closer.

"So lovely," he murmured, pressing a hand to her lower stomach, running it slowly up her body until his fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts.

"Stop it," she hissed at him.

"Oh, Joanna, I've barely begun. First, the appetizer," he said, snapping his fingers.

The necklace activated, and she screamed. The tense force holding her body seemed to tighten, and she was suffocating from the combined pain much sooner than usual. She wanted to kick and trash, but Crowley was keeping her in place. Finally, he snapped his fingers again, and the pain ebbed away, leaving Jo gasping.

"Let me go!" she screeched at him, and he laughed.

"Yes, because that always works," he ridiculed, turning away from her.

His eyes scanned the room, finally falling to a glass Jo had gotten a night ago when she had been thirsty. He honed in on it, declaring it perfect as he shattered it on the corner of the writing desk. Crowley arrived back in front of Jo, lifting up the largest shard of glass and bringing its edge down, diagonally, on the left side of her stomach. She cried out as she felt it split open her flesh, the blood that spilled hot on her chilled, exposed flesh.

"Such a pretty, pretty girl," Crowley said, lifting his free hand and curling it into a fist.

As he did, Jo felt her insides tug downward, and she was sure something internally had torn. She curled forward—as much as Crowley had allowed—and felt the insult be added to injury as the stretching of her external wound made it all the more unbearable. Crowley's tongue snaked out, licking his lips as he freed his hand from the fist, resting the fingertips in Jo's freshly spilled blood, just outside of the wound.

"Please, stop," Jo groaned.

"Ooh, begging. Didn't count you as such. I like it. Do it more," he said, moving his hand up.

She felt it. She felt him wiggle the tip of his index finger inside of the wound, and she screamed out. He kept it moving, and Jo kept crying out, tears streaming down her face. Crowley was laughing at her now, withdrawing his finger and slipping his hand underneath her right breast, and Jo could feel the slick blood he trailed all the way there. Jo sobbed once, trying her best to hold it in as Crowley lifted the breast just a little, bringing his shard of glass up to cut her, once, underneath… just under the curve. Jo hissed, turning her face away as Crowley repeated the action to her other breast.

He ran his finger over both cuts, and moved his hand up over breasts, smearing the blood over them. Then he pulled his hands down, running them over her thighs. Jo shook her head.

"Stop. Stop. Stop," Jo said, over and over.

Crowley laughed at her. He clucked his tongue at her, shaking his head.

"What's the matter, Joanna? Never had a boyfriend play rough with you?"

The shard of glass came down, and he ran it up her inner, right thigh, slicing the flesh open there too. Jo felt the blood run down the length of her leg, and Crowley ran his hand over it, hooking his thumb under where her leg connected to her torso.

"Thought you could use a little heat there, darling. You should thank me, really, for that," he said.

He made another cut on the opposite thigh and backed away. Jo's face was as soaked in tears as her body was in her own blood. Surely she had lost too much. It just looked like so much. But she was hunter, and she'd been through her share of scrapes. Hell, a couple of hellhounds had shredded her. She knew, deep down, that the amount of blood covering her body was nowhere near enough to kill her. And she knew that Crowley knew that too. In fact, she figured that had been the point.

"Now, let's have some real fun," Crowley said, snapping his fingers once more.

Jo had just enough time to register what was about to happen before it happened. She screamed, "No!" But it was too late, of course. The necklace activated and that bone-deep fire and pain filled her up, amplifying the pain that she already felt. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and Jo imagined them evaporating away as the pain made her feel close to combusting. She had never felt anything like this. Even the pain she could remember from the hellhounds hadn't felt as this.

"You know, this is quite therapeutic. I think that every time I have to put down a rebellion in Hell, or punish some demon that's too moronic to follow simple orders, that I should just follow that up with a nice, stress-relieving torture of you. And, I would be crazy to not admit that I rather enjoy doing this with you lacking in your clothing."

She didn't know when she had started. But somewhere, along the way in the torture, Jo had begun to pray. To silently pray and beg for the pain to end. For Crowley to stop. And, above all else, for Castiel. Apparently, Castiel heard her.

"Enough, Crowley. Let her go," the angel demanded, appearing behind the King of Hell.

Crowley turned, gazing over his shoulder. He sighed, snapping his fingers once, and the pain of the necklace stopped, as well the invisible tethers holding her to the wall. Jo fell to the floor, landing in a heap as Castiel rounded Crowley, kneeling and taking Jo in his arms.

Castiel's hands were warm on her body, and she could already feel him drawing the pain away, healing the wounds Crowley had caused.

"She prayed for you," Crowley said.

Castiel glared up at him. "You were killing her."

The demon laughed. "Oh, miles to go before that would've happened. You of all people should know what I'm talking about, Cas."

Castiel chose not to reply, as he pulled Jo closer to him. As soon as the haze of pain cleared from Jo's eyes, she glanced up at Crowley, who smirked down at her.

"You'll regret this," he said, vanishing.

Jo motioned for the towel, and Castiel grabbed for it, giving it over. As Jo dragged it over her body, concealing her nudity, she gulped, and gazed up at the angel still holding her.

"I believe him," she whispered.

Castiel only continued to hold her.


Posted by: twisted_slinky (twisted_slinky)
Posted at: November 28th, 2012 06:43 am (UTC)

Now that was intense O_O

Poor Jo! And that final line from Crowley did indeed sound ominous.

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