Death Omen - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Death Omen
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: the only characters who are mine are the ones I made up.
Warnings: spoilers for "The Usual Suspects"
Pairings: various het non-incestous relationships
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 670
Point of view: third

She knew it was a mistake, getting involved with a cop. She knew it with every bone in her body. But he let her off and he got her drugs to deal, and she needed the money, badly.

Bobby had taken Cole and Lizzie back, told her she would never see them again. All she needed was some money, a few thousand dollars, and she could start over, have a new life, prove she was a fit mother.

But Sheriden hadn’t told her that part of the deal was sex. He demanded and she said no, and then he said he’d bust her if she didn’t. So she gave him what he wanted and hated herself for it, but soon she’d have enough, soon she’d be out of this life, away from drugs and dirty cops and being a whore.

Her goal was within reach; she could practically taste the freedom, could feel her babies in her arms. She called up Bobby, told him she was clean, away from drugs and the street. He listened and said her chances were up, that neither he nor their children had the strength to hope anymore.

After Bobby hung up, she cried. She cried for hours. Then Sheriden called, told her to meet with him.

Lost within grief and dying dreams, she told him that it was over, that she was done. She’d turn them both in.

Sheriden completely lost it. She feared for her life so she fled her apartment, ran to her hideaway. But somehow he found her there, he attacked her, beat her, bound her hands—she felt the knife against her throat, felt it bite deeply, then she only felt cold.

And then she woke up. She was in someone’s bedroom, at the foot of the bed; a couple slept beneath the sheets. The man saw her, she knew that, but then it all went dark again.

She didn’t know how long it was, but when she woke next, she was in a living room, watching a woman. The woman saw her and ran; she followed her to a bedroom, trying to speak, to say where she was, to say Sheriden would be for her next.

This time, she saw Sheriden kill. Inside her, rage surged. But she couldn’t cling to the world and fell asleep again.

Within the blackness, she could hear or see little, but she felt that someone was trying to decipher her message. And that Sheriden had a new mission, someone else he’d try to kill. She followed that tendril to a woman—one of the cops that had originally busted her, months before her murder.

She tried to warn her, just like the other woman; but everything was hazy and it was so hard to think. This time, when the blackness came, she fought hard, fought tooth and nail, and she clung to the world.

She followed the cop to the bathroom, continued trying to speak. The cop saw her and she let the dark claim her, sure that she would seek out the two who understood her message.

In the dark, the cold, she felt them near her body, the cop and the hunter. She fought to appear again, to show the way, and when their hands touched her corpse, she surrendered, sure that now she could truly rest.

But something blocked her. A voice whispered on the wind in the tunnel, murmured in the air around her.

He was going to get away with it. Sheriden was going to kill again.

Rage and hate swelled with in her, mingled and grew, and she followed it to the bastard that killed her. She saw one of the hunters on his knees, a gun pointed at his head; the female cop with her gun pointed towards Sheriden; and the second hunter, the one who found her body, poised for action.

The woman’s eyes widened when she saw her and Sheriden spun around.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, Claire smiled and sank into the darkness.