Grace

Fighting

You took your frustration out on the room. Pounding on the champagne colored walls, you tried to find a weak spot, a hidden escape. Knocking pictures off of the walls, overturning tables, you rushed through the room, your heart pounding when you came up empty. Breathing heavily, you placed your hands on the gilded table in the middle of the room, turning your attention to what could be used for a weapon. 

You knew your lore, but you weren't sure how to protect yourself from Angels. You figured they weren't easy to kill, and that normal items like guns or knives wouldn't work against them. This means that your only weapon was your mind, and maybe you could try to outsmart them. 

Sitting down in the padded chair off to the side of the table, you nervously tapped your fingers. You were a sitting duck, stuck here until someone rescued you, or they came to talk to you. 

With nothing to look at, no way to gauge time, you had no idea how long you were stuck in the room. It could have been only minutes, or hours later when you heard the slight flapping of wings coming from behind you. It was the perfect timing, your bladder was beginning to make itself known, as was your stomach. You were more than a little surprised to see someone besides Uriel standing in front of you. 

The woman was dressed in a simple black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. Her hair was smooth, a dull brown that curled slightly at her shoulders. Her face was pale, no make up adorning it, and she had a no nonsense schoolmarm type of attitude.

"Y/N, I presume." She said, her voice crisp and precise. 

"Yeah, what do you want?" You asked, your tone full of snark, trying to hide your nervousness and fear.

She pulled out a clipboard, before sitting down on the chair across from you. "Uriel sent me. My name is Naomi and I'm here to ask you some questions."

You turned the chair so you were sitting in it backwards. "Questions? Why ask questions? I figured you'd get to the torturing and killing right away."

She never looked up from her clipboard. "I do not torture. My job is to get your information, and give it to Uriel. Now, how old are you?"

You considered your options. You could be a good little girl, answering her questions. Or you could make their lives a living hell, and refuse to do anything they asked. You figured they probably already knew everything about you they needed. It was then you remembered that Cas said he could hear your prayers. Just maybe he could hear them from in here, and would help Sam and Dean rescue you.

"Cas, they've got me in a little room with no windows or doors. They haven't done anything yet, but I can't escape!" You prayed.

"Y/N, we don't have all day."Naomi muttered, dissatisfied that you weren't helping out. It was then you made your decision. 

"Sure we do. What else do I have to do? I'm locked in her. A prisoner. And you haven't even asked if I need to use the bathroom, or want something to eat." You pointed out, and she finally looked up, frowning in annoyance.

"Fine, do you need to use the bathroom?" She asked, and you nodded. Snapping her fingers, a door magically appeared on the wall opposite you. "It's only a bathroom. No way out of it. Be quick, we have much to discuss."

You rushed into the bathroom, doing your business, wondering the entire time if it was plausible to lock yourself in. You didn't want to cooperate at all, because you knew in the end your death was imminent. 

"Y/N, you can come out now." She ordered, but you stayed in there. Feeling as if you were a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, but you refused to move. You heard her shuffling around, and then all of a sudden the door was gone. "We are angels, we have our ways."

Frustrated you slunk out of the bathroom, standing with your arms crossed. You noticed she had brought in food, a simple bottle of water and a sandwich. "Eat." She ordered, and even though your stomach rumbled, you refused.

"Now, back to my questions. We'll skip past the simple ones. How long since you've known you have Angel grace inside you?"

"None of your damn business." You retorted back, and you could tell she was getting annoyed. 

"Listen, you can talk to me, tell me what you want to know. Or Uriel is going to bring in someone bigger, and badder, and they won't be as nice as me." She suggested, but you had had enough. Grabbing her clipboard out of her hands, you broke it over your knee. 

"I don't have to answer your questions." You flung back, and with a snap of her fingers she was gone, leaving you alone once again. It wasn't for long, and before you knew it, another person was back. This one was male, his hair a dark reddish brown. He was tall, though not as tall as Sam, with wide shoulders.

"Let me guess, you're here to ask me some questions." You said, more than a little scared of this man.

"No, I'm here to get you to talk. I'm not nice like Naomi." He said, his voice deep and raspy. Just then he was joined by the man who had killed your parents, Uriel. You were now completely terrified, and you slowly began to back up, trying to get as much space between you and them as possible. 

"I'm not going to talk. I have nothing to say." You told them, but they both moved forward, the first one cracking his knuckles. 

"Haniel, do whatever you think best." Uriel told him, standing back, a smile on his face. You were cornered now, and he came rushing forward, grabbing your hair before you could move, holding it tight above your head so you had to stand on tip toes to relieve the pressure.

"I don't normally use my powers like the other ones. I like my fists better." He said, before proving his point. He took the hand not holding your hair, punching you in the jaw, and your head would have snapped back if not for his grasp. "Now, are you going to tell us how you got that Grace inside you?"

"No." You spat the word out, along with some blood.

"Fine." He said, and this time his punch hit you in the gut. Letting go of your hair, he dropped you to the ground, but before you could stand up, he started kicking you in the ribs. You felt at least one shatter, but you could only lay there, the pain controlling your body. Uriel took that moment to walk over, a weird silver blade in his hand. 

"Now's the time. Tell me what you know before I cut it out of you." He said, bringing the knife down to your neck.

"I don't know anything!" You pleaded, but he didn't listen.

"Maybe this will job your memory." He said, pressing the knife against the bare skin on your upper chest, dragging it down. Over and over again he moved it over your skin, drawing in your skin, and you screamed out in pain. "Now?"

"No!" You yelled.

"Fine, I guess we will just cut it out of you then." He said, bringing the knife back up to your neck. "I guess it doesn't matter where it came from."

Just then the wall burst apart on the far side, and Cas, Sam and Dean came striding through. Cas had the same weird looking blade in his hand, and Sam's hand was dripping blood.

Uriel looked their way, as Haniel charged Cas. "Not again!" He muttered, just as Sam pressed his hand to the outside of the wall. A bright light expanded, and you heard the screams from the Angels as they were forcefully removed from the room. 

When the light cleared, you, along with Sam and Dean were the only ones left in the room. Dean came rushing forward, gently cradling you in his arms. "Hey." You muttered, the effort of speaking costing you.

He quickly took in all your injuries, cussing Uriel loudly. "Damn it. And we sent Cas off too. She needs healed." He said, his eyes darkening when he saw the lines sliced into your skin.

"Dean, let's get her back to Bobby's. Cas can meet us there, and heal her. But we need to leave here, now."

"This might hurt." Dean warned you, gently picking you up. It jostled your broken ribs, and you groaned, missing the look of guilt on both Sam and Dean's faces. Sam rushed forward, holding the door open as Dean carried you out to the Impala. He slid you into the backseat, pulling a blanket out and wrapping it over you. "Just try to relax, it won't be long until we reach Bobby's."

You nodded, extremely tired, letting your eyes close and the Impala lull you to sleep.