it's been two weeks. you've been in this hell for two weeks. every three days, adam allows you one cup of water, teasing you with it. putting the boiling hot water close to you, but not allowing you to drink it. then he pours the burning water down your throat. your stomach aches, eating itself in attempt to find food. you're starving. you're exhausted. you're thirsty. adam lets you sleep every five days, and every other day or so he lays your limp body on the ground and puts himself inside you. every day, you get slowly bled. what you wouldn't give for death... you're out of snarky comments. you're out of hope. you're out of love. your thoughts are consumed with sam... your sam. the sam who abandoned you. but... you deserve it afteral, don't you? it's your fault gabe and mom died... you might as well die too.
meanwhile, sam...
sam dug a small whole, about a foot deep and half a foot wide. he placed a small wooden box down in the hole, then covered it gently with the box. inside the box lay a tattered polaroid of him, half a cup of graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, and a large trimming of yarrow. after covering the box in dirt, he looked up. expecting the demon any minute.
"a winchester!" he turned around to see a young women with dark skin and black hair, her eyes a deep crimson. "now you must really be despriate, tell me what's the matter? deanie gone rouge again?" sam's eyes slanted, his jaw clenching. the demon rolled her eyes. "well for gods sake, what do you want? i've other people to see, you may be famous for your hunting skills but you sure don't rush to the point?" she had a loud voice and a heavy british accent, reminding sam slightly of bela...
"i need you to find y/n."
"oh! your little girlfriend? i'm afraid i'm not at liberty to say." sam pulled out the colt, pointing it to her head.
"no more fucking games! where the hell is she?" the demon scoffed.
"you know, i really don't like you boys. you never know when to take a joke." she mumbled. her back straightened. "18234 everett road, virginia city. now pucker up-" before she could finish her sentence, sam shot her straight in the forehead.
"thanks." he said, repeating the address in his head as he walked back to the impala and began to drive.