Sick sonuvabitch never changes, Dean hissed in the back of her mind. Every warning sign in her head was going off, causing him to become nothing more than a buzz growing more and more quiet. All she wanted was her son. She wanted to get him safe, needed to know he was alive. Her fingers tightened as he spoke. She wriggled in her restraints, ignoring his monologue, the very sound of his voice causing her stomach to quiver with sick. It wasn't until she saw the knife that her body stopped, frozen in panic. This is it, she thought, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna fuckin' die. She watched the blade, his words steadily causing the bile in her throat to rise. As he drew closer, she suddenly felt the blade on her neck.
Then he spoke about her son.
Annie swallowed tightly, but it was no use. Instead, she hocked up what she could from the back of her throat and spat it out in the demon's face. At the sight of his eyes, she set her jaw, looking straight into yellow. The knife stung her flesh just barely, causing her to let out a soft whimper. But she set her jaw again, eyes still boring into his, into the demon's.