No hard feelings - Dean

@Dean <333

Earlier he had noticed a poor drug addict getting intimidated by money collectors. The addict didn’t have any money, so Dean tried to interfere and hand the men some cash - but they just shoved him off and grabbed the addict by his throat. That’s when Dean called the police. Probably not the best choice looking back. But he couldn’t help it. He hated injustice. It wasn’t in his nature to stand by and watch some tough guys require money from someone who obviously needed help.

He got thrown on the ground and groaned, before he looked up at the man in front of him. You’d think that Dean would’ve learned by now to keep his stupid mouth shut. After all, it almost killed him last time. Yet he still called the police and made everything worse. “We will never learn unless we live our young life to the fullest,” he said. How would he ever get to be old and wise, if he weren't ever young and crazy? Surely a bad guy like him would understand. Before he could push himself up, the man crouched down to his level and removed some dirt from his shirt. Dean stared back into his eyes. He wasn’t sure what this man wanted to do with him. He just knew that he didn’t want Dean to interfere with their business ever again. “One man got arrested and so what?” it probably didn’t hurt his business to lose one man and let a drug addict get away with his debt. “I suggest you reconsider your clientele because the drug addict was clearly not going to repay his debt unless he robbed a bank,” he pointed out. The amount that the men were demanding was unrealistic. Even if they went to the drug addicts place and took everything, it still wouldn’t cover it. He probably lied about his assets to whoever sold him the drugs in the first place. Anyway, it didn’t matter to Dean. The whole drug business was dangerous and foolish. It ruined so many lives.  
He frowned at the smell of the smoke, but his facial expression quickly changed as the man grabbed his collar and hit him. He closed his eyes and felt the pain in his stomach. He was used to receiving punishment through violence. His alcoholic father had made sure of that. At least it didn’t feel as hurtful when a stranger did it. He moved his face past the man to get a glimpse of his daughter who had asked him to stop. It was clear to see that she hadn’t turned up to be like her dad. She might just be the luck he needed. Dean looked back at the man as he started talking. He doubted that he had much good in his heart but nodded to his question. “Your daughter sounds like a clever girl,” he said and looked down at his hand, hoping he would let go of his shirt.

He looked a bit down while he considered his words. Only a reckless son of a bitch would have done the same, but perhaps he was right. He did like the sound of him being an inspiration to others. It wasn’t a surprise that the man seemed careless of the addict. It only made the price of drugs rise further, when they had to compensate for debtors who never paid back. Not that it mattered. Dean didn't understand anything about the criminal world they lived in.  

He sighed of relief when the man let go of his collar. He got up on his feet but wherever he looked, somebody was walking towards him and he had nowhere to run. He knew what it meant and gulped as goosebumps rushed down his spine. It wouldn’t help to yell and ask for help. He just had to take his punishment. He fought the first guy who got close to him by giving him a fist in his face and grabbing his arms as he tried to hit Dean. As more of them started hitting him, he quickly became helpless. They made him fall to the ground and started to kick him. He wailed in pain as their boots bruised his whole body and he gasped for breath after a guy kicked him in his chest. The drug lord signaled for them to stop and his healing kicked in. Quickly the bruises would disappear and he breathed heavily while his body recovered.
His next words scared him more than anything, as he realized the reason for bringing Dean to a graveyard. “Please! Don’t do this. I’ve learned my lesson,” he desperately begged. How the words sounded familiar. “I’ll do anything,” his daughter screamed but he still didn’t seem affected by it. He sympathized with her, though his father didn’t look all that bad compared to hers. She obviously wasn’t ready to be a part of his drug cartel, but maybe that was exactly why he forced her to see this.
The men started to kick him again, this time harder and longer. He felt lots of hits to his stomach and face, which made him cough up some blood. He tried his best to cover his face and curl up as they kept kicking him. The pain was unbearable, and he had nothing but darkness in his mind. His life was in ruins and no matter what he tried to think about, it was just his own father hitting him until he eventually got free and escaped out through the window and into the woods. Except he couldn’t do that now. Eventually they stopped, and he placed his hands on the ground to try to lift himself up. He spat on the ground to get the rest of the blood out, and felt the healing rejuvenate his body slightly. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice his accelerated healing due to the blood that covered his body. He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. He coughed again. “Yes,” he said in a deep, vulnerable voice as he turned his dark eyes towards the drug lord. It was hard not to focus on anything but the throbbing pain that went through him and it took him a while to find the strength to stand up, but he didn’t want to look weak. Besides he wasn’t going to let them bury him, without trying to escape first. He just stood there, staring at the drug lord, while thinking about how he was going to get the fuck out of there.

His eyes widened as he said it was a warm-up. He had to be kidding. Had Dean not sounded convincing when he said he had learned his lesson? Either way, he had a slight hope of getting out alive. Instead of hitting him, he took out a handkerchief to remove some blood on his face. Dean felt a strong urge to bite him but knew he had to restrain himself. There was no right answer to his question because he knew that the drug lord wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
“How impressive,” he muttered ironically, as the man had found out his name and current occupation. He wondered what the interesting information was. He looked away from his eyes while he was trying to think of which young vampire he hinted to – that was until he said the name Ramsay, and his face turned pale. He damned himself for giving away any kind of expression, because now he probably thought Dean knew something. He was such a bad liar. The lack of this quality didn’t come in handy now.
Apparently, Ramsay and the drug lord were rivals. “We have a common enemy then,” he said in a serious tone. Dean listened patiently until he mentioned the girl again. There was no way that he would as much as mention Karmena’s name, but he had to think fast or else he knew that Dean was hiding something. “How am I supposed to know what a psychopath wants? If anything, a fellow demon like you would have a better understanding of his actions,” he pointed out with a slight anger in his voice. He couldn’t betray any of his friends, not now, not ever. This meant he couldn’t tell him the reason for why Ramsay wanted her, as that would include mentioning Amaryllis. “As far as I understand, Ramsay doesn't care about the victims he tortures. He could just see a special ability, a rare race or a random stranger and use them in his sick experiments or for pure pleasure. I'm not sure there's any reason behind his choice of victims” he kept talking, hoping to give him something useful. After all, he didn't need to feel any more pain than he already had to endure. His body was still recovering. “I. Don’t. Know.” he said firmly as he clenched his fist. “Why are you interested in her anyway?” he asked. Primarily because of the worry that had built up inside of him. Karmena had gone through enough and if there was any way he could prevent anybody from wanting to do her more harm, he would make sure of it.

He hadn’t given it much thought, but it sounded strange that he was so interested in Karmena, if he easily got bored. If the drug lord already knew this, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with any words that had come out of Dean’s mouth. Shortly after this realization he told him that he had to do better than that. He narrowed his eyes while looking at his phone. Wondering what the purpose of it was and whether he really was telling the truth. Either way he wouldn’t let him find her. He kept a straight face, as he couldn’t let his word affect them more than they already had. It was much easier with physical pain than the endless mental manipulation. Dean certainly didn’t believe that this man wouldn’t easily harm Karmena.
 
He gulped at the clap of his hands and started to run to the left, but the men quickly got to him and dragged him towards his designated grave. Dean used everything in his power to stop them and fight against their grip. He dug his feet into the dirt underneath him and yelled for them to stop. He noticed his daughters murder, from what looked like blood magic but that didn’t seem to stop the drug lord in making sure Dean was buried. He panicked and begged the drug lord to stop. He was too young to die and there wasn’t anything scarier than getting buried alive. He fell into the hard wooden casket and struggled to stay up as they shut the casket and hurt his head. They locked it, so he just tried to beat and kick the casket open, however it was to no use as he heard the dirt get thrown on top of him. “DON’T DO THIS. I’LL DO ANYTHING,” the panic took over and nothing but desperate begging came out of him. “HELP ME!” he yelled as the darkness surrounded him and he felt the cold temperature of laying deep under the surface. “Por favor, Dios ayúdame” he prayed and prayed, hoping that if no living creatures heard him, that God would.

As he heard complete silence, he sighed deeply and decided to preserve his energy. If he used up too much oxygen he would only shorten his life. He needed to save his breath for yelling when there actually was a living spirit present at the graveyard. Dean closed his eyes and breathed as slowly as he could, trying to slow down his panicking heartbeats. All he did was beg for someone to come by within the next couple of hours to dig him free, before he would choke and die. He thought about all the people he had met in Gaia, about his family and about what would happen if he died. About who would miss him and whether it had always been his fate to die young. He wasn’t sure of how much time had gone by, before he heard voices above the ground. It felt like a lifetime considering he thought his life was ending. He started to bang on the casket, so they could hear him. “HEY!” he yelled. “PLEASE HELP ME! I’M BURIED ALIVE” he yelled as loud as possible. He sighed of relief when he heard digging and had never felt luckier in his entire life. As the casket opened he narrowed his eyes over the sudden light and barely saw who had dug him up, before he tasted blood in his mouth. He swallowed it slowly and took a deep breath in of the fresh air. When she asked if he needed more, he realized who it was.
“You’re his daughter,” he stated and looked at her with a confusing look. Either way, it didn’t matter seeing as she saved his life. “You came back,” he was still confused about if all of this was really happening or if he had passed out and now was dreaming of getting saved. He cleared his throat before he pushed himself up in a sitting position. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said and embraced her in a thankful hug. “You’re a good person,” he said and couldn’t begin to imagine what her dad would do to her, if he ever found out what she had done. After a few moments, he got up on his feet and pulled himself up from the grave, to land on the grass. That’s when he noticed Baal. “I thought I heard a familiar voice. Thank you for coming to my rescue," he said as he crawled up on his feet. "Seems like death likes to play games with me,” he said with a serious voice and looked down on the casket. This was the second time he had almost died this year. If anything he now had a terrible anxiety from drowning and being buried alive.

He didn’t know what he thought, but after seeing what her father was capable of, he wasn’t so sure she’d come back. “I don’t know. You could’ve thought that I was a bad man and deserved it,” he said, as she could’ve chosen her father’s side and not believed in Dean’s innocence. He looked at her for a while and was utterly grateful for her return. He frowned at her remark about not being good. “No matter what you think, only a good person would save a stranger and put themselves in danger for doing so,” he assured her and smiled faintly.

He looked surprised at Baal. “You mean alive?” he asked not wanting to know how he knew. His eyes turned to look at the other graves and he listened intently to any movement under the earth. “That’s terrible,” shivers ran down his spine from what he had just experienced. It felt like he had been down there for days. Maybe it was the man’s signature way of getting rid of people. Baal warned him about Samuel and he nodded slightly. “I didn’t know. I just tried to help,” he said with a sigh. Gaia was much more dangerous than the city he grew up in. He knew he had to tread more carefully from now on. He was such an idiot for always interfering and securing justice, when he obviously couldn’t handle the consequences. It was only the outcome of luck that he had been saved. Had the girl not been there, he would’ve probably died. He looked back at her as she explained what he should’ve done. He narrowed his eyes in confusion by this information. “Why didn’t he just ask his girlfriend then?” he wondered. He also wondered who his girlfriend was and if he had met her. Either way he wasn’t going to tell him anything. Not if it meant that there was a slight chance that he would harm Karmena or her friends. “Even if I told him, it wouldn’t necessarily change his mind about killing me,” he said with a sad expression on his face. Dean had watched a lot of movies and the bad guys often killed the victim regardless of receiving the valuable information. He wasn’t sure of how merciful Samuel was.

He was about to say he was fine, but he could still feel his body healing as the guys had broken some of his ribs. He knew he needed the blood so he wouldn't slow them down. He grabbed one of the vials to drink the blood and instantly felt stronger. He stared into the forest. The forest was normally where he felt at his best, but there was something about her look that worried him. “Then let's go,” he said and looked at the demons. “Did you walk here?” he asked. He hoped that they drove since it was by far the quickest way out.