RIGHTEOUS ⁴ - DEAN WINCHESTER

One

Jenny couldn't remember what it was like not feeling pain. Every minute of every day, someone would come over to her, tugging on the hooks that were dug into her skin, laughing as she tried to hold back her painful cries.

She couldn't remember what it was like not feeling so weak. How long had it been? Thirty years now? Maybe it was longer. She lost track of time, but she knew it had been decades. She hadn't aged. But she always healed. Only to be torn apart again. Literally.

"Given up yet?" A demon asked Jenny, whose head was hung low. Her frail arms where chained above her head, blood trickling down to her neck as she had, once again, tried freeing herself.

Jenny said nothing. She couldn't. The demon before this one had torn her throat right out. How was she still breathing, even while she was dead? She just wished for the pain to be over.

"No? Well, then this will be fun." Jenny didn't move, but she heard metal scrape against the concrete before being lifted.

A metal pole slammed into her gut and she grunted loudly, gasping as blood splattered out of her throat, which was slowly being reformed so another demon could tear it out. The demon only laughed. He did it again, stopping when Jenny didn't make any attempt to beg for her mercy.

"You're getting boring. I was hoping that you'd beg again. I love hearing it." The demon knelt down, lifting Jenny's chin up so she'd look at him. There were bruises all over her face. Her lips were split and dried blood covered most of her chin. Her nose was broken. "I can still enjoy how pitiful you look."

"F..." Jenny tried to speak, but nothing could come out. Only more blood. The demon wrapped his hand around Jenny's bleeding throat, squeezing tightly. She continued to gasp, but eventually, unconsciousness took over.

She hoped it would end soon.

———

Dean sat in Bobby's living room, a half empty beer bottle in his hand, staring out the window.

Bobby watched him from behind. Both of them had let themselves go the past few months. Bobby let his beard grow out. Dean had barely showered. He reeked of beer and distress. His eyes were even puffier than usual. It was coming up to four months since Jenny had died.

"We can't keep doing this, Dean." Bobby finally spoke up as the Winchester boy took a long swig of his beer. He stayed quiet, going back to staring out the window.

He hoped Sam would visit. Neither of them had talked since Jenny had died, as if they were back to 2003, when he got into Stanford. But this time, instead of Jenny and John and Dean... It was just Dean.

He was by himself, even with Bobby taking care of him. The one thing he feared most. They never spoke much without losing it. Not anger or lashing out... Just one of them leaving the room because they reminded each other of Jenny.

Dean couldn't stay in her old room. It smelled so much like her, and so many memories in there that he ended up sleeping in that damn chair every time he. And he barely slept now.

"I'll keep doing this until I rot, Bobby." Dean spoke with a dejected voice. Bobby shook his head, taking a step into the living room.

"At least go out for a drive? Get some fresh air? Maybe take a damn shower." Bobby suggested as Dean slowly looked behind him to Bobby, sighing.

"Alright. I'm going out for a beer run." Dean groaned slightly as he sat up, taking his car keys and walked out.

———

Jenny gasped hard for air, looking around in the darkness in a panic. She fumbled through her pockets, sighing in relief when she pulled out her lighter. She flicked it on, eyes widening when she realized she was in a pine coffin.