Alastair dragged the blade agonizingly slow across Dean's chest, causing him to scream. In the beginning of the first year that Dean was tortured, he held in his screams, not giving Alastair the satisfaction of knowing that what he was doing truly hurt. Now it had already been 12 years, and Dean had long since given up trying to hide his pain. There was no point, after all.
After Alastair finished making the incision across Dean's torso, exposing some of the muscle underneath, he quickly slashed his chest the opposite way, not giving Dean the time to scream, just gasp in pain. The demon smiled at the obvious pain his prisoner was in. He continued to slash randomly and deeply across Dean's chest, until there was almost no skin left on the front of his torso, and blood was gushing out of the wounds.
Alastair snapped his fingers, and the blade in his hand was replaced by a metal rod that was bright red on the end of it, indicating it was obviously burning hot. Dean tensed up at the sight of the rod, even though Alastair had been using it since his second year in hell. Every time he had used it, it was always in the worst spots. Sometimes it was against his eyeball, which was as bad as it is, but other times it was where the sun didn't shine. Except, there was no sun to shine in hell, just darkness and the occasional torch here and there.
Alastair slowly moved the end of the rod towards Dean's chest, but not in any specific area yet. Right as it was an inch away from the skin of his chest, Alastair moved his arm to the right and pressed it hard against Dean's bare breast area. Dean screamed louder than he had before, and tears streamed down his face more than they already were. Alastair repeated the motion on Dean's left side. Dean screamed equally as loud, and Alastair smiled again.
The torture session lasted for six more hours, each hour as painful as the other. Dean was returned to the web of bindings that his arms and legs were attached to. He wanted to leave. He wanted to die, except he was already dead, and this is where he would be forever. Instead of crying, he always just called out the one name that was always in his mind, even after the years he'd been gone.
"SAMMY!" He screamed, even though his brother would never hear him.
Sam woke up on the motel bed, fluttering his eyes open. At first, he thought his eyes wouldn't open, but then he realized the room was just dark. He glanced over to the clock on the nightstand that was between the two beds, and it read 3AM. Sam had no idea why he woke up so early, as he'd only been asleep for three hours. He decided he wouldn't be falling asleep again, after laying in the darkness for about five minutes. He sat up and flopped his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching before standing up.
He did what he usually would do in the morning, even though it wasn't even close to the time him and Dean normally woke up.
The night before, they took out a small vampire nest, so it was fairly simple. Sam almost got bit a couple times, but other than that, it went well. Dean had decapitated the first two vamps, while Sam took care of the other three. After the successful hunt, they went to a small diner in town, and had dinner. It wasn't long before they had realized they were both equally exhausted. Not from killing the vampires, but from searching for two days with only a couple hours sleep every night. Sam had gotten more sleep than Dean, because his brother insisted he wasn't tired and that he didn't need to sleep yet. Sam automatically called it out as crap, and made him sleep the nights that he didn't want to.
He was just relieved that Dean was still sleeping at 3AM. Sam had expected that no matter what his brother said, he still didn't sleep throughout the nights that he'd forced him to.
The younger Winchester brother walked into the bathroom, taking care of himself and washing his face. Then he heard it, the scream from outside the door.
"SAM!" He rushed out of the bathroom, and saw Dean writhing on his bed, breathing heavily. He was still asleep, and Sam went to his bedside, shaking him to hopefully wake up his brother. He flinched when Dean screamed again. "SAMMY!" What was he dreaming about? He suspected it was the usual nightmare where Sam was in trouble, and couldn't save him. "Dean, hey, hey, I'm here." Sam soothed, grasping both of his brother's shoulders. Dean jolted into a sitting position, almost smacking his forehead against Sam's. His chest was moving up and down extremely fast, and he was covered in sweat. Sam swore he was a few tears stained on his face.
"I'm here, Dean. It's okay. Just breathe." Dean's breathing evened out, and he put his face in his hands. Sam set a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, and waited for Dean to calm down. Dean looked up and at Sam, tears still left on his cheeks which he quickly wiped away. It wasn't right if Sam saw more of his weakness. Even if he had already heard and seen his initial terror, he shouldn't have to see him with tears running down his face. That was the limit. If he was hurt, fine, then that was a simple case of getting his wounds taken care of and denying any further pain. Emotional issues, though, were different. If he broke down at all, then Sam would know something was wrong. It was even harder to keep a secret when almost every night he had nightmares about hell.
"What was it about?" Great, Sam was starting the interrogation already. It would only be a matter of time before Dean got annoyed by his younger brother's constant questioning, and actually tell him the truth. That was where he would most likely be revealing his weakness again. Pathetic.
Dean shifted so that he was leaning against the wall behind his bed, and sighed. He might as well just get it over with.
"Hell." He admitted. Sam frowned immediately, not able to even begin to imagine what horrible experiences his brother had in hell. "Do you want to talk about it?" Stupid question. He already knew that Dean would deny any other questions to avoid 'chick-flick moments', as he called them. To his surprise, Dean replied with a 'fine'. He stared at his older brother expectantly, waiting for him to describe what happened in his nightmare.
"I...In hell, I had a single demon that was assigned to torture me. The sessions lasted for a day each, with only short breaks in between. My demon's name, was Alastair." Dean shuddered at the memory of his torturer. "In my dream, I-Alastair was-he was torturing me and...Just, the pain Sam. The pain felt so real." He took a second to take a deep breath, and keep himself from shedding any tears in front of Sam.
"Are the nightmares why you refuse to sleep?" The younger Winchester asked, struggling to keep himself composed. It was terrible to imagine that his brother had spent so many years being tortured, practically nonstop. He felt slightly ashamed that he wasn't aware of how much time was passing for Dean, while only a few months had gone by for him. It wasn't fair.
Dean hesitated for a second, and then , he just admitted one of the things he would have preferred to keep from Sam. Now, he was most likely going to pester him at night, asking if he wanted to be tucked in or some other mushy shit. Okay, that was unlikely, but Sam would still be bothering him, and worrying about him. People worrying about him was one of Dean's least favorite things in the world. It was suppose to be the other way around. Protect your brother, Dean. His father's voice echoed in his head. Take care of Sam. Except, now Sam was taking care of him. It just wasn't right.
"I'm so sorry, Dean." Was all Sam could think of to say. Dean just smiled a reassuring smile, and rolled over a bit onto his side. Sam took it as a hint that the conversation was over, and was both disappointed and relieved. He was disappointed that his older brother refused to talk about his feelings more than just a little bit every now and then, but he was also relieved that he opened up about hell at all.
Sam stood up, took his laptop out of his duffel, and plopped onto his bed. He still didn't feel tired at all, and he also wanted to be awake in case Dean had any more nightmares.
Dean got more comfortable on his bed, and closed his eyes. It only took about five minutes for him to fall asleep, as he was still exhausted from the past couple days of searching for the vampire nest.
The last thing Dean remembered seeing before he woke up was Alastair standing over Sam's dead body, smiling that twisted fucking smile of his, and then he had jolted awake, sobbing uncontrollably. His younger brother was immediately at his side, saying soothing words that Dean didn't quite hear over the sound of his own sobs.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, Dean doing the same, and the eldest of them was still shaking. He was no longer sobbing, just breathing heavily.
"You good?" Sam asked, patting his brother's back. Dean just nodded, and layed back down. Sam sighed, and went over to his bed as well.
"Can you tell me what it was about?" Sam wished Dean would open up to him. The dream had obviously affected him very badly. Dean rolled over to face Sam. "No." He said, and rolled back to his original position. Sam decided there was no point, and just focused on going to sleep.
Dean threw his duffel into the trunk of the Impala, and slammed the top back down. Sam was leaning against the passenger side of the car.
"What are you doing?" Dean impatiently asked. He just wanted to leave and go to a bar or something.
"Dean, please just tell me what your nightmare was about." Sam insisted. Dean ignored him and walked over to his side of the Impala. "I'm not getting in until you tell me." Sam crossed his arms. Dean shook his head and rested his arms on top of the car.
"Fine." Dean sighed.
"I-I saw you. You were dead." He took in a breath. "And?" Sam waited for a larger explanation, but it never came.
Both Winchester brothers got into their seats of the Impala. Dean looked at Sam. "I'll...I don't want to talk about hell, Sammy." He swallowed the lump in his throat. Sam nodded.
After a moment of silence, Sam said, "Jerk."
"Bitch."
They both couldn't help but smile at their familiar exchange, and Dean started the Impala. The comforting revving of the engine sounded, and Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot.