This is my first Supernatural fanfiction so you'll just have to bear with me if it's not very good. I have a few ideas where I'm going to go with this but I might not upload anymore chapters until I'm sure. This is the first chapter and I've spent the past few days on it after roleplaying something similar with a friend on msn. I'd appreciate it if you review the fanfiction once you've read it so I can improve it if necessary. Thankyou, and enjoy reading!
Chapter One: Do you remember Hell?
"Just answer one question Dean." Sam said, as he turned gaze to the floor, not wanting to meet his brother's eyes, his expression showing both his worry and concentration. "Do you remember Hell?" He asked, his eyes lingering from the gravel on the floor up to the hardened face of his brother. Dean had practically raised him, as their father was often out on hunts, convinced that he was going to find the Demon that killed his wife and their mother. He eventually did catch up with him. Oh yes, both the brothers remember the events of that day clearly.
Dean looked up, the smile that had been etched on his face a few moments ago slowly fading to a frown, as he met his brother's gaze, realising it was about time he told the truth. Usually if he was asked this, which was quite frequently lately, he would deny any memories of his time in the pit and would make sure he quickly changed the subject to avoid answering. How could he forget what Sam was like? He wasn't stupid; of course he'd realise he was lying sooner or later.
He cleared his throat before answering, his eyes darting around as he thought of the right words to say, trying to let the memories, that he had tried so hard to shut off, return. There were not words to describe his time in Hell, but he knew there was no other way of getting through to him, other than talking and trying to describe it in as best a way as possible. The constant nightmares, the increase of drinking, the paranoia.. They were all signs that he wasn't coping so well with the pain. But more than anything; the guilt.
"It wasn't four months, you know." He finally said, as he took a quick swig of the beer bottle that was in his hand, as he waited for some sort of interruption from Sam. Luckily, and as much to his surprise, none ever came, so he continued. "Time is different down there. A lot longer, a lot slower. Just one minute feels like a century.." His voice trailed off as his mind drifted back to the memories and he shut his eyes for a brief moment as he saw, yet again, the fires of Hell..
"I knew it wouldn't exactly be a walk in the park. Hell, I've seen all the kids shows with the little red men with pitchforks running round and stabbing people in the ass.. But I didn't expect what happened. The pain was unbearable at first, but you eventually got used to it. If that's possible anyway.. You'd be cut and carved until there was nothing left. No flesh, just bone, merely a pile of bones. Then, as if by magic, it'd all come back. All the King's horses and all the King's men managed to put Humpty back together again.."
A quiet, uneasy chuckle escaped his lips as he mentioned the old nursery rhyme, and he was distracted for a few moments as he, yet again, thought through his words. It had been the first time he had talked to anyone about his experience down there; of course it wasn't going to be easy. But, as Anna had said, he should talk about it; let it off his chest and free the burden that had been bottled up inside him since he had got back.
"It took a lot of getting used to. It was almost like each person had an allotted time, a time where they received his full attention.." He paused for a moment to wipe some sweat from his brow, the thought of the sweltering heat down below returning to him and making his blood boil. "It was always the worst when he got involved.. The Devil. After a day of torture, he'd come to us and make me an offer." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, having to dive deep into his mind to retrieve the memories he had once attempted to block.
"He would take us off the rack if we put others on the rack. My pain in exchange for someone's else's.. Every day I told him to screw it, but after thirty years I just couldn't take it anymore. I had enough, Sammy." His eyes sparkled with tears as he looked to his brother, the memories of the screams of those he tortured filling his ears, making him almost tempted to rip them from his head. The pain was one thing but the guilt was another.
Sam glanced at his brother, the concern clearly in his eyes. He had no idea it had been so bad, well, he hadn't be told much about it before. "It's not your fault. Thirty years is a long time to be tortured, Dean. Don't blame yourself.. You lasted a lot longer than any other person would have done."
The tears began to fall from his eyes and trickle down Dean's cheek, as he looked up at the sky. The clear, blue sky that he knew he would never see again while he was down in the depths of Hell. "Why me, Sammy? Why was I saved?" He asked, brushing the back of his hand against his face to wipe the tears that were falling. "What I did was unforgivable.. I was a frickin' monster, Sam." He bit hard on his lip as he shut his eyes, the sudden flow of emotion taking over him. He didn't know why he was back on Earth, why he had been saved. But he knew one thing; he certainly didn't deserve to be alive after what he'd done. He was as bad as him, as bad as Alistair.
Dean wasn't ready to tell Sam everything. There were some things he just had to keep to himself.. Besides, he didn't want his own brother knowing about his twisted pleasure. Well, a pleasure other than sex. What would he think of him if he knew? What would he say if he knew his big brother enjoyed torturing others? He didn't even want to imagine.
He was supposed to look after Sam, set a good example for him and hope that he follows. Sam was turning into some sort of a monster himself, but he didn't want to admit it. Dean is powerless. Sam is being lead on by Ruby and there is nothing he can do about it. The physic stuff had its limits but this is beyond the barrier of 'normal'. It started as little premonitions and now it has reached a much higher level..
'Your brother is heading down a dangerous road, Dean, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will.'
Castiel's words ran through his head, actually like a warning. 'Stop it. Or we will.' They were going to kill his brother if he continues. He couldn't let that happen, but he had no idea on how he could possibly prevent it from happening. Since he had returned, his and Sam's relationship has not been what it once was. A sign that both of them are unwilling to talk to each other, not letting the other help them.
The pressure on Dean's shoulders to save Sam has increased over the years. He had always been a parental figure at a young age, looking after Sam like he was his father and not his older brother. As their father was often off on hunts, Dean was always the one there to teach Sam the difference between right and wrong, teach him how to ride his bike, let him watch kids shows on the television.. Since he had had as little a normal life as possible as a child, he wanted Sam to experience some form of what a real childhood was like. He would hide the guns and Dad's journal from Sam's prying eyes, making up lies about his father being on a 'business trip' each time he was asked. He'd even joke about checking under his bed for monsters, when truly he was in search for anything that would cause them threat.
Dean loved Sam, as Sam did him, and they had a close bond throughout the rest of their lives, until Sam left. He chose to pursue a life away from hunting. He started University, got new friends, a new place to stay, a girlfriend. What did Dean have? Apart from an old, vintage car and a bunch of guns in the trunk. His father was never around, and even if he was, he didn't look at Dean twice. Sam was the favourite and it broke his heart when he left. If it would have been Dean.. It wasn't jealousy that Dean felt towards Sam. It was almost a longing to be more like him. He would have given anything to live a normal life, despite loving his life as a hunter so much. Why couldn't he be the one that was born second? Why couldn't he have the guts to leave their father?
He just face the fact that he was brought back for a purpose; a purpose he had not yet discovered. He was lucky to be back and he was going to live every day, from now on, like it was his last.