Halfbreed: Destiel's Daughter

Eleanor is no ordinary teenager. First, she's a Winchester, that should say it all. But there's so much more... She's been killing the supernatural her whole life, and by 17 years old, she thinks she knows everything, except, she still doesn't know that angels exist. Funny, considering that one of her fathers is Castiel, an angel of the Lord...


19. Suffering

(A/N: Some of this chapter gets a bit disturbing... Sorry if you don't like it... Let me know?)

Eleanor's Pov.

Uncontrollable tears streamed down my face as the nameless demon flayed me. He was better at torture than Crowley was. I screamed more when he took over. Every day those two would do their best to make me suffer for twenty three hours. For the last hour they let the wounds close- by the end I'd be as good as new. Each new day they'd give me the option of cooperating, and every time I told them to go fuck themselves.

Then they'd start right on in again. In the hour I got to heal I always considered giving in, but I couldn't. I would never give those dicks what they wanted, even if it meant being tortured every damn day for eternity. I couldn't describe how awful it was... Not in words. Time worked a lot different in Hell too, Crowley explained it to me, he liked to talk while he sliced me open.

“You see, for every month upstairs, it's ten years down here. So we've been doing this dance for 2 and a half years now, correct?” He said. I didn't answer, I almost wouldn't have been able to over the pain. Not just the physical... Facing the fact that my family hadn't found me by then, only added to how much I hurt...

“Well, to your daddies up stairs, it's only been one week.” I almost gave in at that. Almost decided to be on Hell's side. I'd spend 10 years down there, being tortured every day, for every month that my family couldn't find me.... But I didn't, they went on carving the next day and the next and the next. I prayed every day that someone would find out about me being here, that I would be rescued, or that Crowley would just give up. But that never happened.. 

“What if we tried a new kind of torture?” The nameless demon grinned. He and Crowley were standing over me, deciding where to start. They'd never worked as a team before, and I knew it would be awful...

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Crowley asked, intrigued.

“Let me show you.” The demon said. He slowly positioned himself so that his legs were straddling my waist on the edges of the torture chair. He brought his head down to my neck, kissing and biting it. His hands came up and palmed my chest.

“Ah, smart. I'll leave you to it.” Crowley winked at me before he exited the room. The demon was smart, because this was much, much worse than being cut up like a thanksgiving turkey. I'd take the searing pain over what he was doing to me any day.

“Get. The Hell. Off me.” I seethed.

The demon laughed, “Seems I've come on to something here.” He went on like that for what seemed like forever. It was the worst thing I'd ever experienced in my life, but I think it did just the opposite for him. The demon thought that I would give in because it was so horrible, but it made me even more sure that I would never give those douche bags what they wanted.

Every once and a while he would take a break from the usual torture and try that again. He knew it wouldn't work, but told me it was for his own amusement.

After a few years in Hell, I could honestly say that it lived up to it's reputation.

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