Then and now, a tale of two hunters.

[Gildarts]

Suffocating breaths rasped in her throat.

Defiant yet defeated, the reaper remained alive, much to her own dread. She hadn’t realized the mistake she made. Dean was a demon, one who swore suffering and wove wrath into every ounce of his being. Even his words sneered villainously into her bones.

The deputy was no where to be seen, not around to witness this inhumanity. So-called man of justice. The humans were nothing but fiends. Tolerating such evil made the deputy only less. No one entitled to justice could ever find it within him to look away when a person was being brutalized. Sure, Mary Lou had gotten on their bad side, but did that merit torture? Sure, she had killed a few people, but, she was just coping and doing what she did best. She was a reaper and he, a demon. Perhaps that was what made this whole situation, all the more... Supernatural.

”I don’t actually care about that anymore...”

“Looks like you’ve got me there, Dean.” She responded as she looked down at the chains which bound her. And the streaking lines cut all across her now bare flesh. At the seams of her clothing, the sleeves of her red dress were sliced away. It was... Strange, how the crimson blood she was spilling in her less-than-holy form could not be seen because of the blood-like shade of the garment she had chosen to wear that night.

“Any last words?” Her enemy scowled, a demon’s face contorted under the shade cast by his black eyes.

“You can torture my body, but you can never have your soul back from the pits which you were flung... You’ll pay, Dean Winchester. And it is not just your blood that will be shed to pay your debt. You will learn to fear all which you can not know. You, a demon, but also a hunter, are an abomination to your kind. Both your kind. Man and beast. So go ahead, send me back to heaven. I’ll send you a postcard when I get there. I'll even kiss the envelope.”

Mary Lou had the audacity to threaten the Deanmon -and his family's bloodline- on her deathbed. The knife grew near, but his eyes narrowed as it closed in near her throat. He was going to savor every second of the suspense. He thirsted for the fear in her eyes, the scent of blood-spilt pain, the drain of her consciousness. She wondered if he could see the reflection of a monster in her misty eyes. To Mary Lou -a natural born reaper- her killings had rationality, Dean's only had brutality. So, in the last way she could, she showed it. Unarmed and drained of power. She had been trapped and tortured. Now, she prepared for the slaughter. A song came to mind, along with the pungent fragrance of cigarette smoke and women's flowery perfume. She was reminded of her favorite era.

The familiar rhythm hummed with the now-softness of her voice. “That no one can deny... It’s still the same old story... A fight for love and glory... A case of do or die... As.. Time.. Goes... By...” In her ears she could hear the piano keys over the roar of blood slowing with the tempo of her pumping heart. He had already plunged the dagger deep into her ribs and the angel at that point, hadn't felt a thing.