Stopping in front of a chair, she pushed you down until you were sitting stiffly in the wooden chair. Your arms and legs still, you could only watch as she tied you to the chair. Once she was satisfied with her work, she snapped her fingers, and suddenly you were once again in control of your body. Not that it mattered much since you couldn't leave the chair, but you still liked being able to move your body, not having someone else controlling it. 

"There, that's better. That spell is so taxing." She told you, dusting her hands off as if she had done manual, dirty work. "And for you, you have a front row seat of what I am about to do." She told you, a huge smile on her face as she turned towards Sam. Walking over to him, she ran her hand down his face, and you watched as he turned his head, his disgust evident at being touched by her. Her hand continued down, stopping on his chest, her fingers splayed over his skin. He was shirtless, his body unmarred, but taught with tension. 

"Leave him alone." You ordered, studying the room you were in closely. The warehouse had been abandoned for quite a while. Dead machinery lay on it's side, rusted and falling to bits. It would be the perfect place to cut the rope tying you to the chair if only you could get close enough. Boxes were stacked in the corner, covered in at least an inch of dust. The windows were cracked and full of grime, barely letting in the setting sun. Not much to help you escape the crazy witch, and get your gun from the backseat of her car.

You didn't want to be the damsel in distress. You wanted to show Dean that you could handle yourself, saving yourself in situations like this. That wasn't who you were, and it was about time Dean noticed that. He needed to realize he could have a relationship with you, and be focused on his brother as well. You were hoping you could save Sam, and show Dean that he was just being foolish. 

"Why would I leave him alone? He's the best specimen so far." She purred, her hand wrapping around Sam, cupping his butt, and you felt horrible for him. "So firm, so tall. He should last the spell where the others couldn't."

"What do you even want him for? There is no such thing as a perfect man." You told her." You're just going to keep killing more and more men. Give it up already."

"You see, it's bigger than that. We work for a higher force, a goddess in her own right. We do what she asks." The witch purred, finally stepping away from Sam.

"A goddess? You do realize they usually use you and toss you to the side, right?" You told her, watching as her face contorted in anger.

"Not Brigid. She would never do that." The witch assured you, striding over to you, her face still full of rage. 

"Brigid? Are you sure you're working for a goddess because I've never heard of her before." You asked, right before her hand swung out and she slapped you across your face. 

"Don't you dare say her name. You are not good enough to even think it." She growled, striking you again, hard enough that your chair went tipping back, knocking to the ground. Wincing as your head connected with the sharp metal behind you, you blinked your head a couple of times, trying to clear your vision.

"You're going to regret ever working with a supernatural boss." You warned, leaning your head back, feeling blood trickle down your neck.

"Y/N!" Sam exclaimed, and you could hear the chains holding him up rattle as he fought them.

"You're wrong." The witch spat, leaning over you. "Brigid is kind, and sweet. She's the Irish Goddess of healing and fertility. By finding her the perfect man she will grant me what I've always wanted. A child of my own."

"You've really lost it, haven't you?" You asked, wincing as she brought her foot up, kicking you in the stomach.

"I can't wait to use you as a sacrifice." She muttered. "It will bring me great job to watch the life slowly leave your eyes."

With that threat, she walked away, heading straight back to Sam. Pulling a table from the far corner, it was covered in ritual ingredients including a wicked looking knife. As she began measuring ingredients into the clay bowl, you felt around the area, relieved when your hands came into contact with a piece of sharp metal. Ignoring the cut on your hand, you began sawing at the rope, trying to keep your movements hidden.

You didn't have to worry. The witch was so caught up in her ritual she didn't pay attention to anything else. Feeling the rope give, you pulled your wrists apart, hearing the frayed material ripping under the pressure. Reaching down, you quickly untied your ankles, your head pounding. With the witches back still turned to you, you had a quick decision to make. You could attempt to tackle her, to take her on without your gun and it's witch killing bullet. Or you could attempt to sneak out of the warehouse, get your gun and make it back before she realized you were gone or she went after Sam.

You could see Sam's gaze on you, his subtle tick of his head telling you to get the hell out of dodge. Of course Sam would be willing to risk his own life just to keep you safe. With a glance towards the door, you made your decision. A stupid decision, but you couldn't just leave Sam when her ritual could be finished at any moment. Hopefully Dean would be on his way, his gun loaded with the bullets as well. 

Rushing forward, you threw yourself at the woman just as she turned around in surprise. Having the momentum, you knocked her to the ground, falling on top of her. With your hands around her throat, you held her down. 

"It's already over." She cackled. "The ritual is done, Brigid is on her way. She will see I found him, and everything will be right. She will kill you, and save me."

As the two of you fought, the wind picked up in the room, blowing the dust and debris around, creating some sort of funnel. Lightning cracked, before everything stilled. "Elenore, you call me again?" A deep and booming woman's voice filled the room. Stilling for a moment, it was enough for the witch, Elenore, to get the upper hand. Throwing you off of her, she rose, before curtsying to the woman levitating above the dusty ground.