Hunger-stricken | Kat/Dean
“What do you know of hell?” Katherine spat, her fingers skimming over her arms. She brushed away the tracks of dirt that marked her porcelain skin, revealing a few scars that Damon had left behind that hadn’t managed to heal yet because of her lack of blood. She traced one that stretched from her forehead, down the side of her face, along her cheek and ended along her chin. It was thin and not nearly as deep as it used to be, but the line was still there, reminding her of how she allowed herself to be weak, to be taken advantage of. Despite that she had told herself to never let that happen again. And now, she was lucky to get even a drop of blood from the hunter in front of her, who seemed very amused by the entire situation. But what could he possibly know of hell? Granted, she didn’t know much about Dean, never brought herself to care enough to find out anything about him besides the necessary facts. But what could be a worse type of hell than seeing her family’s dead bodies in puddles of their own blood and being chased by a psychopath for centuries, forcing you to push away any relationships and the feeling of being loved or the ability to love again. But, she told herself, it was meant to happen this way. It made her strong. And with that, she could never feel that kind of desperation and weakness again. Until now. She frowned at the tears of her pants and jacket, which covered what shreds were left of her shirt. Damon wasted no time with his knife and simply cut through every inch of her skin, destroying her clothes in the meantime as well. For the first time in a long time, she felt vulnerable.
Her eyes hungrily watched as Dean poured the bright red liquid into a shot glass, her mind choosing to ignore the fact that the blood seemed too light and not viscous enough. But she was starving, she would take anything by now. She snatched up the glass that he placed onto the ground and swallowed the contents immediately. But whatever healing that the blood was supposed to cause, didn’t happen. She stared at him in disbelief as she recognized the taste of cherry. “You son of a bitch!” She growled, holding up the empty shot glass. “What the hell is this? You know damn well this is not what I need! Do you think this is funny?” Angered and frustrated, she threw the shot glass through the barrier, causing it to crack and shattered against a tree nearby. She growled at Dean, her eyes slowly turning red with the veins webbing beneath them. “So what is it? I’m guessing you want something for the blood? I knew it.” Her eyes quickly returned to normal as her energy began to fade away, causing her to clutch the rocks behind her for stability. She didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. Either he would give her blood or he wouldn’t, there was nothing she could do anymore. She pressed her back against the jagged rocks, ignoring the pain they caused against the wounds that hadn’t yet healed and sat onto the ground once more.
She turned her head towards him as he started speaking, quite out of context, but she was able to follow what the hell he was talking about. As soon as she understood, she started at him in awe. “Dean.. you actually went to hell?” She asked in a whisper. “So you tortured people. And you dare judge me?” She snapped. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? And why is that? You’re just as bad as I am!” But the expression he had on his face as he told this story stopped her from truly judging him. His eyes seemed empty, as hers were whenever she remembered her past. Typically against her will. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, exhaling quietly. “Why are you telling me this, Dean? Look, I get it, you’ve had it hard. Perhaps this isn’t hell to you, but it is to me.”
Dean waited for her to taste the flavor of cherry, his expression was expectant. Once she realized what he had given her wasn’t what she needed, he sniggered openly. “Hey, let’s keep the insults to a minimum.” The hunter said and took out his lighter and flicked it on and off. There didn’t seem like there was much to do around here but listen to the ring of the church bell which was only a reminded that you were still alive. He wondered what Katherine’s religious views were, and if she was bothered even in the slightest to know she was taking the express train straight to Hell once it was her time. It should have been her time to leave the world a long time ago, but that way he wouldn’t have her to be so amused over. There could have been so many different things Dean could have mixed into the juice, so the vampire really shouldn’t be complaining. “At least I didn’t pee in your little refreshment.” He shrugged and then gave her a guilty look, as if he had done something to her drink she hadn’t noticed. His tendencies to be a smartass and clown around developed as part of his defense technique, without them the job would get to him too fast. Seeing humor where others may not notice it was what kept him from falling to pieces, and it seemed to work every time.
If he chose to ignore everything she had done to his sister, the sight of the helpless woman could have easily won him over. And although he thinks of his efforts as worthless, Dean would have helped the dying vampire if he didn’t know any better. His help only seemed to cause trouble no matter who he helped, or what he did. What’s dead should stay dead, and what’s dying is going for a reason. Everyone was going to leave him anyway. Hearing her whisper, he nodded once as he stared at the ground he was sitting on. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to me! I wasn’t in the right set of mind, you always have been!” He let his anger get the best of him and yelled through the barrier that kept Katherine safe as long as he didn’t step through to her side. “I’ve given my life to defend human from monsters like you, don’t you understand!? I’ve put my neck on the line for the defenseless people you take pride in killing! Just because you’re a cold bitch doesn’t mean you have to go around destroying the lives of other people! Don’t speak of Hell as if you know what it is! You’d be delighted to stay in your little cave if you were being dragged down the fieriest pits of Hell where you belong!” Dean had never yelled at Katherine a day in his life, but it felt good to let her hear exactly how her words and actions affected him. His tone lowered to normal once again, only it sounded too cruel to belong to a level-headed Dean, “How’d you get like this, huh?” The hunter threw his drink at the woman’s face, the shot glass followed. “You’re not enjoying our private tea party or did Daddy not give you enough hugs or something?”