Cherry Pie

Uninvited Visitor

[Rayne]

I huffed at the impact, bright stars shooting behind my eyelids. Something sharp was being pressed to my skin, right under my jaw. Whoever pushed me had grabbed my hand with the knife in it and was now using my own weapon against me.

A choking sound escaped me as I was shoved upwards — my toes now dangling above the ground. The shadows hid the face of my assailant perfectly and the only clue I had as to who it could have been was the faint smell of alcohol on the person's breath. Then again, this motel was fairly sketchy so that could have been practically anyone — even the cleaning lady.

His voice was gruff, almost scratchy when he spoke. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Who are you?" I sputtered back. "You're the one holding a knife to my throat, buddy."

He shoved me against the wall even harder and I cried out in pain. "Who are you?" he repeated venomously.

Why the heck was I being assaulted for a second time that night? My mind raced in time with my frantic heart as I tried to figure out what to do. I could've screamed to let Sam know that I was in trouble, but the man pinning me to the side of the motel had his fingers wrapped around my throat in just the right places which prevented me from making any loud sounds.

The man knew what he was doing. This wasn't some sloppy drunk. He'd done it before, clearly. He could easily dispose of me and then he would most likely go after Sam and Dean as well. I felt the black smoke begin to swirl within me again and I tried to push it down. That sensation scared me more than any weapon or attacker ever could. I couldn't kill again — not with my bare hands.

Jerking my knee upwards with as much force as I could, I hit the man — not where it would hurt most, but close enough. He let me go for a split second, not anticipating the sudden blow, and that's when I let my fist fly, praying that it would hit its mark. I heard the hard smack of flesh against flesh and the crunch of bones. The man grabbed his nose with a grunt of pain and stumbled backwards — right into the beam of light being cast down by the moon.

[Dean]

Rayne had turned away from me. I couldn't give her the answers that she wanted — that she deserved — and she had turned away from me.

"You can go drink now."

Her voice was empty when she said that, but her words still cut me to the core. Getting pissed drunk was like second nature to me before Rayne came along; I used to do it on a regular basis. But hearing her say what we both knew was true still felt like a blow to the gut.

It was agonizing. I wanted to say something so badly, but I knew she wouldn't want to hear anything other than the truth. The truth that for some reason I was still hiding from her because some douche in a trench coat asked me to. As I stalked away from the motel in a blind rage, I didn't even remember to grab the car keys. There was a skeevy pool hall a few miles down the road and my anger got me there in record time.

"You can go drink now."

Sitting down at the bar, I didn't even bother to get a good look at the bartender as I ordered. "Get me a double shot of scotch, will ya, sweetheart?"

"Sure thing," her sensual voice replied.

A small glass of the amber liquid was set before me and I threw it back eagerly, wincing slightly as it burned down my throat. It had been quite a while since I had anything stronger than a beer and it went down way too quickly.

"You can go drink now."

Tapping the empty glass on the wooden surface of the bar, I signaled for another. The bartender didn't disappoint. "Rough night?"