Popplagið
Creeno

Named for the song I was listening to that inspired this. In actuality, it sounds a good deal less sinister than this fic, literally from hell. This Lucifer is brought to you by Movie!Constantine as that is the best Satan out there. Dean is brought to by the letters C W and the words Eric Kripke. This wtf-fic is brought to you by Creeno, who'd like your feedback as to whether or not to continue this...thing brought to life by Icelandic bands and avoiding, ironically, her Latin II homework.

Ya'll have fun.

Fucking bitch lied.

Lucifer's there, in hell, when you finally come, slipping from your brother's grasp, right into the white hot flames. He smiles at you in a white suit, bare feet on smoldering earth. You try to grin, say Fuck you very much, but you can't because suddenly you're reliving everything you've ever hated in a few quick seconds:

Cassie's disbelieving, angry glare magnified a hundred times, saying, No, No, NO.
Sam's cold dead body in your arms, tears dragging down your face with rain, everything twenty times darker
The knowledge that it was your fault, your fault that Dad was dead
Sam's last words, tears to you as you slipped away and died, left him there even if was for his own good
Your mother's burning corpse haunting your dreams
The Crossroad Demon's laughter in a new form as the hellhounds drag you down, down...

Lucifer smiles at you as you lie on a table, little demons you've never seen before picking at your dead body, puling parts of you in and out and resealing them whichever way they feel is best and not what's right. They have eyes of innocent people that have died and blame you, slip their long, skeletal fingers in and out of you like it's nothing.

Then a barefoot makes contact with your head and your head screams.

You want to believe you've taken worst, but fuck. This is Lucifer, and he looks down at you like it's fucking Christmas, Halloween, and Easter all at once, sharp teeth glinting and sparking, his white suit pristine among ashes.

Clearly, you've gone poetic in your shit death.

"Dean-o," he says cheerily, and you have some smart ass comment in the back of your throat, but it's dislodged at the sight of your mother, Sam, Dad, all assembled on crosses behind him, dead, more than dead. Nailed to the crosees apparently just don't do it in Hell, oh no. They're tied, gutted, sealed onto the damn things and shit, you can't look away. "Welcome to my little carnival. Glad you could finally join us,"

He laughs, drags his sharp nails through your face and suddenly you want a woman, any woman, right then----no, wait, no, you're hungry, god you're starving----

"This is my little welcoming feast for you. Like it, you little self-sacrificing shit?" his voice distorts and suddenly it's Sam, angry, disappointed Sam who's talking. No, No! Your leg suddenly gets a jolt of life, tries to go for Lucifer's own, but fails. Then it just falls, goes numb again. He smiles and some fucking goblin tears out your voice box right then, but somehow, the pain doesn't really register very well. You hurt all over, what difference does it make?

"Oh, oh, ohhh," He slaps you and suddenly all your nerves spark to life and shit, shit, shit, you don't know how to ride this pain out. "Can't have you leaving us so early, Dean-o. I got a whole amusement park of fun waitin' on you,"

You don't doubt him for a second and you don't whether that's bad or not.

366 words on my original file and... 518 on here. Huh. Review, let me know if I should continue this thing or what. Ciao.