Dean tried hard to ignore the screams coming from the basement. He cleaned all of his guns, he gave Baby a tune-up, and he even spent an hour locked in his room doing research before he got bored. Still, none of the walls could repel the sounds drawn from Claire's latest demonic victim. After a while he gave up on distractions and ventured back out into the map room. Sam was sitting at his laptop and Cas was flipping through some crumbling old book. Gryphon was nowhere to be seen, but Dean had already assumed he would be downstairs to stand silently by the door that acted as thin barrier between Claire's monstrous acts and the rest of the world.
Not long after Dean sat down at the map table to thumb through John's journal, Claire came prancing in, white shirt splattered with blood. Dean grimaced at the sight. "You couldn't have changed?"
She took a bottle of water off the table where she had left it earlier and shrugged. "It would just waste another clean shirt. I have to go back down."
"He's not talking yet?"
Earlier that week, Dean and Sam had brought home in the Impala's trunk one of Crowley's demons. Claire had been down trying to pry information from him for the past four days, only emerging back into the world for brief periods to eat as a form of re-energizing. Over the past four days, she had come out exactly three times. The last time was almost twenty-four hours ago. She always got a bit distracted when she was cutting into some hell-spawn.
Claire laughed. "He's talking alright, just nothing useful to us. It is mostly him damning me to hell. He's not the first, doubt he'll be the last. I'm going to up my game when I go back down there."
"You should try to sleep," Sam suggested.
"I can't give him time to heal himself more than I am right now."
No, sleep would not help Claire in any way, shape or form.
Gryphon strolled in uneasily. "I enacted a sigil do the demon could not use his healing powers."
Claire smiled up at him. "You're the best. But you know what would make you better?"
Gryphon rolled his eyes affectionately. "Bringing you food?"
"You know me so well."
Gryphon rolled his eyes again but kissed her forehead and left for the kitchen. Claire watched him go with a sated smile.
Dean chuckled. "You're smitten."
"You're one to talk, Curly Fry," she smirked back at him, sending a sly wink to Cas, who was extremely confused by the gesture, but was wise enough to not ask about it. That would have been an interesting conversation.
"Claire, you really should sleep," Cas prodded, observing the dark, almost-black bags under her eyes.
She shrugged, but something in her eyes tightened. "I don't sleep while torturing."
"Why not?" Dean crossed his arms and shared a quick glance with Cas and Sam.
Claire opened her mouth to respond, but before she got a chance, her eyes focused on something behind Dean's head. "Guys, what the hell is that?"
They all swiveled around to face it, taking on defensive positions instinctively. There was not one there, and when they turned back to Claire's seat, there was no one there.
'Damnit Claire,' Dean grumbled inwardly.
Sam sighed and picked up his computer. "Leave her be for a little while, she'll come back to us eventually. Hell, she probably didn't leave the bunker." He strode out of the room to finish his search in the library. As soon as he was gone, a flutter of wings signified Gryphon's arrival.
If looks could kill, Dean would be able to find Crowley real quick.
"What did you say to Claire? She popped in, took her food and disappeared instantly."
Dean shrugged. "I just asked her why she wasn't sleeping. From the looks of it, she has nightmares on any given night."
Gryphon let out a long, suffering sigh, and ran a hand down his face. "Dean, where do you think Claire learned how to torture?"
Dean struggled for an answer, but Castiel was the first to get it. Realization dawned on the angel's face, followed closely by pity and sorrow. As the emotions paraded across Cas' face, the truth hit Dean like a blow to the chest.
"Observation," he breathed.
"Exactly. Torturing brings up painful memories. The nightmares only get worse. That's why she won't sleep. She barely even stops moving for a few days after. She eats only to keep her energy up enough to not burn out completely."
"But she's a demon," Dean pointed out, an observation Claire had previously ignored. "I thought demons don't need to sleep or eat."
"She's only half demon. The two halves of her genetic code are constantly warring. It drains her energy enough that she has to do one or the other, or both if she wants."
"And the other half is..." Dean had been gently prodding for more information on Claire since she and Gryphon had moved in and this was just another one of his subtle attempts.
The grey-eyed angel gave Dean a knowing smile and flew out of the room.
- - - - - - - - - -
Damn Dean and all of his questions. He can never just let the past be that- the past. He just has to go sticking his nose everywhere. It's my business what I tell them about myself and when. Even if I wanted to tell them about my experiences, I can't. She wouldn't want that and they would never look at me the same. Especially not if I told them the full truth...
Damn it! This isn't fair! I'm not supposed to have emotions, it's not in my genes. I didn't sign up for this human crap.
I glared disdainfully at the picky remains of my food. All of this internal confliction and terrifying humanity banished any form of appetite I had. I pushed the plate away and zapped the dungeon. The demon I had been torturing was where I left him, chained and trapped, bleeding and scarred. Over 50 tally marks littered his skin- one for every question of mine that went unanswered. I felt a wave of satisfaction wash over the lingering pain and horrible memories. That, the scars and fear in his eyes when I approached with my knife, was my own little 'Claire Was Here' sign and oh, did I love it.
I'm a monster, sue me.
I twirled the dripping blade in my hand. If he still wasn't talking, it was time for a tactic change. I moved to stand in from of him, turning his weak head upwards to face me with a strong grip in his hair.
"What is Crowley's next move?"
I was met with a silence pregnant with contempt. Fine, if he wanted to play like that. My turn. I plunged the blade into his stomach, and his scream rattled the bunker.
I healed the wound, but left the pain. Another question. More silence. Another stab. More healing. Again. Again. Again. Over and over, round and round like a very bloody merry-go-round, going nowhere. All of the repeated healing was taking its toll on me now. What would it take to get the demon to talk?
Could I- no, not in this state without serious damage. But I had to get answers somehow. I was running out of patience. This was my best shot.
I steeled myself and got ready to make a really bad decision. That was when the door opened.
- - - - - - - - - -
Dean tried not to let how affected he was by the scene before him show. The reddened girl standing in front of the bloodied and weak demon could not be the same girl he had seen wandering around the kitchen at three in the morning in footie pajamas and eating pretzels. It just made no sense.
"Dean? What are you doing here?" Claire looked very uncomfortable with his presence and Dean could easily guess he had the same look.
"I decided to come and make sure you were okay." He didn't think she was. His tone was stoic and unrevealing, but his mouth was a hard line. He wasn't okay either.
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. So, good-bye." Please, go. Please don't watch this, I'm not as proud as I seem.
"I think I'll stay for a bit." I'm going to be here for you so suck it up. This is what care feels like, get used to it.
"Dean." Please don't see me like this.
"Claire." You can't push me away.
- - - - - - - - - -
Why was he doing this? Why wouldn't he just walk away? I was satisfied with my work, not proud. I didn't want him to see this.
Somehow, I doubted I had a say in the matter.
Sighing in resignation, I turned back to the demon and away from Dean. I stepped as close as I could without entering the devil's trap. I may only be half demon, but in my weakened state, I wouldn't be getting out. I closed my eyes and reached my mind out to his.
He threw everything he had at me. It hurt. Goddamnit, it hurt. I pushed past the numerous defenses and distractions he sent my way, searching out the information I needed. He had buried what I was looking for under all of his thoughts. He was good. I was better.
- - - - - - - - - -
Dean pushed off from the table he had been leaning against. Claire's face was reddening in concentration and she shook with the force of whatever was going on in her head. The hunter approached her cautiously. The air around Claire radiated heat and pulsed with power. An energy swarmed around them, odd and different yet familiar all the same, like an old acquaintance who had been drastically altered through surgery.
"Claire?"
"No response.
- - - - - - - - - -
No. Nope. Not it. Nuh-uh. Where the hell was it? A name, just a name. Wait, it that- Yes! Got it!
- - - - - - - - - -
It seemed like dozens of tense hours before Claire's eyes flew open. She staggered back and Dean rushed to catch her before she completely lost her balance and went tumbling to the ground. Her form went completely limp and Dean carefully brought her down so he was sitting on the floor and she was leaning on his in support. Claire's eyelids fluttered and her head hung weakly, much like the now completely dead demon still chained to the ceiling. Dean watched in horror as her chest heaved and she coughed up a mouthful of blood. What the hell was he supposed to do?
Claire knew, apparently, because she whispered out weakly, "Gryphon." It was a quiet and meek prayer, and though Dean strained to hear it, the angel did not. Before the entire word was out of her mouth, Gryphon was beside Claire with a flutter of wings. He crouched down next to them and Dean helped him transfer the nearly unconscious girl into the angel's arms.
"Oh, Claire," Gryphon murmured. "What the hell did you do now? Come on, stay with me." He continued to mutter sweet nothings and Dean realized that this was what people saw in him when Sam or Cas got hurt.
Suddenly Gryphon lifted Claire off the ground. She instinctively curled into his arms and they flew off, leaving Dean with arms of lead on the ground.
He sat there dumbly for a moment, trying to contemplate what happened, before moving to his feet and leaving the basement, locking the door behind him. Sam and Cas were in the library pouring over some dusty book. Sam was the first to look up, though Dean was sure Cas had heard- or felt- Dean come in much earlier.
"Dean? What happened?"
Dean looked at him oddly for a moment.
"You have blood on your shirt," Castiel observed as way of clarification.
"Oh, yeah, it's Claire's. Well, actually most of it is the demons, but some of it is hers. She worked herself too hard down there, I guess," he explained lamely.
Sam's eyebrows sky-rocketed. "Please, for the love of God, do not tell me you left her down there."
Dean glared at him. "Of course not. Gryphon flew in and got her. I think he brought her to their room. I was about to check on her."
"No need," came a voice from the doorway. Dean looked over his shoulder to where Gryphon stood, looking as weary as Claire had. The angel heaved himself into one of the chairs and sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I gave her some of my energy, just enough to heal her. She's sleeping now."
"Hey, buddy, you okay?"
Gryphon sighed. "What do you think? Dean, you of all people know how it is to see the person you care most about, the person you would do anything to protect, on the edge of death. It's not an okay thing."
Dean sighed and briefly glanced over at Sam and Cas, who were watching on silently. "You really love her, don't you?"
"Of course. I pulled her from hell. We have the same bond you and Castiel have."
Dean shifted nervously. He already had Claire making 'Destiel' jokes, he did not need Gryphon to add in. "What do you mean?"
"A connection is formed when an angel pulls someone from hell. It does not always have to be romantic, if that's what you're thinking, but it just ended that way for me and Claire."
"This profound bond thing, it's pretty strong, huh?" Castiel had never quite explained to Dean what exactly it meant, so he was curious to know, even if he would rather have his angel tell him.
"It's one of the most powerful things in this world. Maybe the most powerful. It forever connects to people. It can stretch and whither and fade, but it can never disappear, not completely. It is stronger than any emotion, stronger than Death, stronger than God himself. So yes Dean, it is 'pretty strong.'"
The angel stood. "I should get back to Claire."
Dean looked back after the angel had flown away and saw Sam had left, probably sometime around when things started to get all weird and angel-y. Castiel was staring at the table with a blank look, but he seemed as nervous as the angel would ever show.
"You never told me that much about the bond," Dean prompted.
"You never really asked." Castiel brought his gaze up to meet Dean's. "Does it bother you?"
Dean shook his head silently, and the part he didn't want to dwell on was, he meant it.