#AND THEN LIGHTNING STRUCK RIGHT NEXT TO OUR CAR AND IT HIT A POLE N A TRANSFORM N TURNED THEM WHITE

[jrueships]

yall southern people just do Not give a fuck omg

[sass-cass-writes]

Floating Downtown - Part 2

Title: The Hunters Club

Author: @sass-cass-writes / @sassy-castiels-angel

Description: Sammy its time to face your coulrophobia with Pennywise! With a string of disappearances occurring in Maine, the Winchester Brothers and the reader, a vivid Stephen King fan, try to stop the monster that snatches children and kills them every 27 years. But what will happen when the circus comes to town?

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Beverly Marsh, Demons

A/N: Reader is speech impaired after being tortured by Abaddon’s right hand man and having her vocal cords destroyed. Ive never written mute characters, so this is a first. If anyone has feedback, please give some!

Warnings: brief PTSD of torture, gorey description, angst(?) clowns

tagging: @totallyluckycoffee / @dixonlover1605 , @wonderavian

READ PART ONE HERE, GIFS ARE NOT MINE

You felt the metal on your neck, its chilling tip dripping with death as it dug into your neck. The demon’s eyes were dark and bottomless. You tried to whimper, but how could you? You were scared. The tip of the scalpel dug into your skin cutting through the five thick layers of you neck as his hand expertly dragged down the metal tool as if completing an operation. You screamed, your muscles tensed and pulled making the pain even worse. Thrashing and writhing, your eyes strained at the immense and excruciating pain you felt. They slowly cut your throat, blooding flowing heavily onto the bed and into your lungs as you started to choke on your blood. While taking this opportunity, the demons placed the scalpel under the muscles and flesh that produces your sweet and comforting voice according to Bobby. He started to pull upwards. The scalpel sliced through each stretch of muscle. You tried to screamed but you couldn’t. One muscle, two muscle. The demon smirked evilly. Even worse, the demons were Sam and Dean. SNAP! The final cord and muscle broke as you laid there thrashing weakly.

“Oh sweetheart,” The fake “Dean” said as he stroke your hair gently. You shake as you try to move away. “It hurts us that you’re being put through so much pain.” He smiles cockily exactly like him. “But you have to understand that this is the only way to protect us,” motioning to him and fake “Sam”, “and you care about us, right?” You stay quiet. As much as you want to swear at them, curse and scare them saying the Winchesters, the real, HUMAN ones would skin them alive, you couldn’t. He smirks and mockingly places his hand behind his ear and leans in. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He reaches over and caresses your cheek as you bleed out. This wasn’t the end, they’d bring you back, harass you, get their cursed hands all over your body, cut you up until you die from shock, pain or blood loss. This cycle was repeated daily for the past week. It was even worse seeing that they were also messing with your mind, making you believe Sam and Dean were hurting you. Every bad word they said stung worse than the physical pain. You, surprisingly of all people, started to pray to Castiel. Every night you’d plead him to rescue you and the realisation dawned on you that he wasn’t an angel but a human now. So what could he do? You cried wanting to go home to the confines of the bunker. At least there, demons and monsters were warded off against.

“Y/N?” The question snapped you out of your recollection. You jumped up to see rain drops hit violently against the windshield and slide fast alongside the windows. Lighting struck somewhere in the distance. 1…2…3…4…5- lightning struck again. You sit up and groan, rubbing your head Sam’s jacket draped over you. “You okay?” Sam asked as he drove. The road was pitch black, Baby’s lights illuminating whatever in her path. The radio was on as it played your favourite mix tape. You all had one, you remember Dean making your very own. It was a mix of classic rock, new age and a bit of Australian songs. Dean and Sam had gotten used to your mixtape, even Dean’s favourite collection of Metallica wasn’t favoured as much. Chris Rea’s “Let’s Dance” had just finished with its brass instruments in an upbeat tune and guitar strums played in sync. Prince’s “” started to play, and it was one of your favoruites.

“Dearly beloved,

"We are gathered here today,

"To get through this thing called loved.”

Sam looks at you and smiles a little as you drive in the rain. You nodded in response to his earlier question. He nods and drives tapping the wheel as the techno pop sounds of ‘Prince and the Revolution’ filled the impala. “We’re about forty-five minutes out from Chicago, wanna pop into a motel for the night? OR would our princess prefer a five-star hotel?” He laughs a little as you punch his arm from the pet name and joke. You signed an answer.

“Motel, jackass.” You smile a little. Sam’s phone rang and sure enough it was Dean.

“Get this kiddo’s!"Dean reported into the phone. "I found Abaddon, figure I can take her out."You and Sam looked at each other and sighed.

"Dean,” Sam started. “Wait for us to finish this case and then WE can go kill Abandon.”

“Sorry Sammy, I gotta do this, the Mark’s getting worse.” Your face fell at this. You were there when Dean and Cain exchanged the mark, how it glowed bright red as it formed the cursed seven. Dean reassured you that everything was going to be okay. Last words you ever heard before you got kidnapped. You and Sam sighed, and so did dean after a while. “I’ll wait, just in case something happens.” You and  Sam smile a little. “So where are you guys now? Princes staying in a hotel?” Sam laughs as you flip Dean off and sign to the phone multiple curses. Dean knows what he did, and he laughs a little.

“We’re coming up to a motel now.” Sam said, wheezing from a little laugh.

“Why stay in a motel when your riding in one of the best home on wheels ever? Besides you’re forty five minutes out, don’t waste it.” Dean says, almost offended that any grimy motel was better than the 67 Impala.

“Its 10:43 at night Dean.”

You give a deadpan look a look over at the back seat. And your thoughts were proven right. You signed to Sam your response.

“There’s stains on the apolstry from Dean’s "extracurricular” activities back there!“ Sam snorted a little and laughed. Even though he wasn’t there, you could feel Dean frowning in response to Sam’s giggles.

"Did you just offend my baby, (Y/N)?” Dean almost growled, Sam wheezed and forced his giggles to a halt, you smirking in pride.

“(Y/N) said, from what I understand, that she’d rather spend a night in a grimy motel than a backseat with your cum stains on it. She doesn’t wanna get the clap from you.” Sam said bursting into a tiny giggle as the line went quiet and you couldn’t help but smile widely.  He hangs up as Sam steered the car into a motel lot and got out to book a room.  Whilst he did so, you grabbed the bags and ran inside out of the torrential rain.

-•••-

The next day, you and Sam headed to the office warehouse of Beverly Marsh. Pulling up to the curb in the impala, you stepped out in your FBI suits and walked in grabbing a file and notepad. Walking in, the creek of metal glistened as machines whirred and fabrics torn.

You screamed as they brought the hammer down on your delicate fingers, the force of the steel alloy on the wooden pole impacting with the thin layer of skin and brittle bone. They repeated the motion, until your nerves and bones were broken into nothing but clumps. You screamed and cried as the cold air pierced the open wounds.

“(Y/N)?” Sam asked, grabbing you out of your daze, as your hand felt numb. You looked at him and walked towards the main office a few floors up. The whirring of the elevator above you made you think about the drill.

It spun and whirred quickly as they brought it closer and closer to your face, a scare tactic. You leaned away from it to avoid its impact, until it’s breeze caressed your cheek. The fake “Sam” held you head firmly in place as “Dean” pressed the drill against your cheek. Your skin tore and twisted until in broke from the extreme force as blood splattered and flesh twisted and flew as “Dean"pushed the drill into your skin. The major nerves in your cheek had got caught in the twisting of the metal extension as they tightened and stretched until they snapped making you scream and bite your tongue. Your nails dug into the wooden chair as your gripped it tightly as eyes wide as you whimper. "Sam” held your jaw tightly so you couldn’t cry out. God let this be the end!

“(Y/N)!” Sam gripped your shoulders, gently but concerned as he jolted you awake to the reality. He was kneeled down in front of you as you were cowered in the corner, arms over your face. “Hey, its okay.” You leaned into him as he helped you up and held you. “I got you (Y/N), thats all behind us now.” You nodded as he kisses your forehead and stroked your hair. You looked at him. He didn’t deserve you, he’s too good for you, all you deserved was a translating machine. Not this fucking 6'4" sunshine ray of comfort and sass whom you’re in love with. He tilted your head up and wiped your tears away with the gentlest touch as he gives a small reassuring smile. The elevator comes to a halt as you step back and straighten your dress as Sam does the same. You hear arguing from the office and you instantly raise an eyebrow. A man in a black suit was arguing with a woman wiht fuzzy brown hair, that must be Beverly Marsh. You and Sam walk closer as you knock on the door.

“Who the hell are you?” The man almost yelled.

“Tom, dont talk people like that!” Beverly chastised as he stared at her. You and Sam pulled out your badges and showed them to the couple, Tom’s face falling into one of hidden panic.

“I’m Agent Farris, this is my partner Agent Hutchence. We’d like to talk to Miss Marsh.” Sam said as you both put away your badges.

“We’re about to close a deal with Japanese investors, it can wait.” Tom scowled as he gripped Beverly’s arm and proceeded to the door. You were quick to grab the man’s arm and stop him. “Don’t touch me Agent, I can call you for assault.” He sneered as you stared at him. Sam growled at the man. Nobody ever talked to you like that and walked scot free.

“Five minutes.” Sam growled as he walked to Miss Marsh, Tom reluctantly letting go and walking off pissed. Once he was far away, Sam muttered; “Asshole.” He sat Beverly down as she looked down embarrassed and scared. You gripped her hand reassuringly and smiled. She smiles back as Sam begins the questioning.

“Miss Marsh-”

“Call me Bev.” She requested.

“Bev,” Sam paused. “We came to you because we want to ask you about a string of murders happening in your hometown of Derry.” At that instant, colour drained from her face and swallowed as if a fish swam through her throat. Sam noticing this, softened his face. “I’m sorry-”

“No it’s alright,” Bev reassured. “I just- Derry was a bad moment in my life. I’m sure you’ve heard of psychiatric reports.” She laughs little awkwardly.“

"We know ma'am. But we also know there was an incident with six friends of yours back in the summer of 88’. And people have claimed to have seen a clown.” As if at the word clown, Beverly’s face fell and became scared.

“A c-clown?”

“Yes,” Sam says leaning in. “Bev, just tell us the truth, because we’re going to end it.” She nods and sighs. She began to tell her situation as of 11 years old and how she befriended six male friends. And how he had haunted them. How they defeated him. It sounded so familiar.

“We had went to "It’s” hiding place in the sewers, and we had lost track of Stan along the way. We were scared.“ Beverly said as she fiddled with her fingers, scared of retelling the story.

"Beverly, you said defeated him.” Sam asked as you saw Tom striding towards the office angrier.

“Shit”

“Yes, we had found out tha-”

“I can’t hold off the Japanese Investors time anymore Beverly!” Tom roared, as he looked to Sam. “It’s been well over five minutes Agents.” He strides to Beverly but you once again grab his arm and stand up, giving him a stern look. “Get. Off. Me.” He sneered, the strong stench of alcohol in his breath.

“How about you show her some respect you son of a bitch.” Sam defended as he walked over. “She’s done more good than you ever had. And although she’s mute and lost her voice, she didn’t loose the respect and pride she has.” He stands in front of you and stares at Tom.

“I should go.” Beverly says as she stands, “We’ve been waiting for this deal for a while. If you have any other questions, please ask.” You nod and tap your chin lowering your hand as you sign “Thank You.”  Beverly smiles. “So thats why you didn’t talk, I thought you were shy.” She smiles as she walks out Tom following.

“What a dick.” Sam growled as he turned to you. “You okay?” You roll your eyes and nod closing your notepad full of notes.

“You shouldn’t have aggravated him Sam. As much as he deserves it, he’s not worth it at the same time.” You sign as you look up at him.

“He shouldn’t have talk to you like that (Y/N), you don’t deserve it.”

“Sam…”

“Don’t Sam me, (Y/N). Sam pleads almost. "Men have to respect you, not throw you around like nothing. You’re smart and beautiful, caring and selfless as well as bloody amazing.” Your face softens at his description of you. It’s almost like he’s saying he- NO, he doesn’t. Before you could respond, he walks- no, storms out and to the elevator. You sigh and follow, seeing Tom down the hall gripping Beverly’s arm tightly to bruise her. That would explain the bruises on her legs and cheeks through the make up.

Sam waited for you in the elevator as you walked in. It wasn’t long till you were driving back to the motel.