entrancelogs | We're All Mad Here

"You so sure about that, darling? It would seem that they are just letting anyone in." She stepped closer to him, blowing gently on his neck. "I don't think you are going to complain completely, after all...you have always found me a little attractive. Remember our time in Hell? When I would come and visit you on the rack? The small respite you could receive from Alastair."

She grins, shaking her head. "So does that mean you would sic your brother on me again? How courageous. Needing your brother to protect you from little ol' me."

She's so much closer than he thinks, and whatever is happening here, in this place-- he doesn't like it. Dean's whipping around to face her a moment later, not about to let her get under his skin. Not even with talk of Hell.

"You really think bringing up that shit's gonna work?" She was just as bad as Alastair at the end of the day, no matter what might have gone on in the Pit.

"Cram it with walnuts, Lilith, unless you want this to get ugly."

"Oh, so fierce." She said, pushing him backwards telekinetically, though careful not to harm him. It was a similar situation to when she had come to collect Dean's soul. The taunting, the pinning against the wall. She did love repeating certain tricks.

"You were always the pretty one, Dean. Those eyes, those smoldering looks. A girl could get rather attached to you." Her hand reached out to caress his cheek. "And part of you loves the idea of the dark side. Of being wanted by something powerful and dangerous...I could give it to you...and so much more."

She paused, a strange look coming into her eyes. The surroundings slowly beginning to influence her mind. "It's one of the reasons you hate yourself so much." The tone in her voice switching to more knowing and serious, the flirtation leaving slowly as she assumed a position of power and nurting.

Dean's used to being slammed into things by a demon's power, but the gentler touch doesn't exactly leave him smiling either. There's something so off about this, something more than just the fact that he's messing with Lilith, something that the place around them is doing.

But Dean tries to shake it off, concentrates on her taunts instead, on the anger she's so effortlessly sparking inside of him. Except, she says something so unexpected, something he wants to deny immediately, because it's none of her business, none--

"You don't know anything, I don't--"

He does hate himself though, yet the power of denial is strong.

She looks over him, trying to push herself back to her normal behavior. In the back of her mind, she felt herself watching, realizing that something is off. She didn't care about the Winchesters. Not this way. But somehow, she wants to help him, to treat him and bring him some mental clarity.

"You don't need to pretend, Dean." Lilith said, pulling up a chair next to him, letting him go from the wall. "Not while you are here. We both know the truth. You have a great deal of self loathing and you attempt to self medicate with alcohol and sex."

The power of her hold lets up, but instead of baking away, of cussing her out or going for a weapon, Dean slumps against the wall instead, watching her pull up next to him. What's odder are her words, the way they draw at him, make him want to talk-- how they pin the truth so easily.

"Not like there's any better way." It's weird to hear himself admit as much, something he never does, not even with Sam.

"No way to fix it."

"Isn't there?" She says gently, surprising herself at the level of caring she seems to offer him. This is far from the norm with her and instead of using this to taunt him, she is trying to help.

"Sometimes talking about it will offer results. You have a brother that loves you. I imagine he would be more than willing to listen to any grievances." She said, watching him carefully. "If not that, you have other outlets to help you see your value. The lives you save, the people you look out for."

Dean knows this is entirely wrong. Her voice, her everything-- it says gentle and understanding, rather than the ruthlessly cold demon he knows her to be. And the same change is reflected in him, where he's finding himself not wanting to cut her right open, to gank her right there and now. Instead, he almost wants to talk about this, to open up to her about these things-- knows she can help him.

A hand presses over his face, fighting for his thoughts to stay his, to remain free of the building's influence.

"What the hell do you know about love?" It's snapped, partly at Lilith, the real Lilith, and in part at this woman she's playing.

"Even I know my other outlets ain't that healthy."

Her mind grasped at the retort, trying to claw its way free of the influence of the building. But the hold was too strong and the Doctor was used to his comments. He was lashing out to hide his fears.

"Of course you know they aren't." She said gently. "You are smart enough to see these things, but it doesn't make you any less strong to succumb."

She gave him a genuine smile. "Talk to me. I am a safe outlet."

We're All Mad Here

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