Lilith
"Sick 'em, boy!" My words fill the air, unavoidable in the small space. I spoke quietly but they hear, of course they hear. To not catch my words would be like shoving your head in a beehive and not getting stung. And my sting is a thousand times worse.
I watch Sam with my fingers on the door handle, watch him drink in my words and watch him choke on them like poison which, to him, is just what they are. Tears spike his eye lashes and threaten to run down his face in a vicious flood and his features are contorted with pain and horror and nightmares come true. And I love it. I love that he feels this way. I love that his heart and soul have packed up and left in a sudden torrent of emotion, shining out through his eyes like lights in the night time. With all that emotion shone onto Dean, Sam must be hollowed out in there now, like cobwebs in a dusty attic. And I love that too.
It's pathetic really that they should tie up their lives together in such tight knots, that one life can depend so much upon the other's survival. They think that love is the key to their success but I know that it isn't. Love is their weakness and their destruction. Love is what twists us into ugly shapes until we can't recognise our own soul anymore and love is the knife in our hearts. They think their brotherly bond so special, so righteous.
But I will have the last laugh. Sick 'em boy.
Dean
Liquid fear runs through me, biting like acid through my veins. It scares me to feel so afraid but what can you do when you're pinned to a table by an unseen force and about to be brutally mauled to death? You got it, nothing. Nothing but feel frightened with the ferocity of only a hell hound. Ironic huh? Lilith looks at me, roving her eyes between me and Sam like we're deer in her headlights. Those eyes may be pure white but she's black as midnight in her twisted soul.
And you know what? I wish she'd take her hand away from that door.
She turns.
Her smile cuts like glass.
She twists her hand.
Pushes the door open.
And my death is coming to meet me.
There's the sawing in and out of failing breath. There's failed movement, awful stillness, muscles disobedient of brain. These are the last blood stained seconds of my life and most of all I feel the pain that clouds everything, overshadows everything, encompasses every second, every breath, every lineament of my failing body. Pain tightens its unforgiving fist around my soul, mind and spirit, squeezing the last drop of life from a once animated body. There is nothing but pain now, nothing but the throb of agony and beat of torture. And there is nothing to save me.
Sam
Blood, there's so much blood. It's staining everything and everywhere and I can't stop it, I can't stop anything because I'm useless, useless, useless.
"No! Stop!" Why doesn't it stop? It's tearing Dean's skin like tissue paper beneath it's invisible claws, slashing him into blood soaked ribbons. And I can do nothing. Nothing.
"STOP IT!" Defeat is pressing on me like two tonne weights, dragging me beneath the dark waters of horror. The tears are pushing down my cheeks like torrential rain but I can hardly tell in this suffocating haze of grief. I can't breathe, I can't talk; my voice is just a murmur.
"No. No. Stop it." Dean writhes under the grip, painful agony reflected everywhere in his face. His screams echo through my head like a tolling bell and the coppery tang of blood stains the air as a fountain of deep red bursts from Dean's chest. I break the surface again and the breath rushes from my lungs.
"STOP IT! NO!" My eyes flick to Lilith and she smiles a smile spiced with evil and peppered with victory.
"Yes" She breathes, floating in the sinister hell she calls home.
She raises her hand, palm flat towards me and before I can even wonder, I'm soaked in white light.