A lil follow on from 'Heaven or Hell' 4:10 … I was gonna try and make this all heroic, but it didn't really work. It ended up … well, I won't spoil it for you, but I guess it just shows what a sick, twisted sonofabitch I am ;)
Disclaimer – I don't own

'Damn it, Sammy, I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.' That's what you said to him. To placate him. He is so worried about you – it isn't right. You're awesome-best-big-brother-in-the-world-invincible-Dean. He shouldn't worry about you. But he has every right to. Like Hell he does. Down there … it was unimaginable. And you tried to describe it to him, but only half-heartedly. He doesn't need your nightmares too. Huh, you almost wish you couldn't sleep, just so you couldn't dream those horrors night after night after night. You wish Sam wouldn't give you those sidelong looks in the car, you know, the ones which secretly wander if you're losing it. The ones which silently ask if you if you're alright whilst silently praying that you'll say yes so he can drop it. Because, although he knows you're not okay, he doesn't want to face your demons either. But most of all you wish that what you'd said to him hadn't been a lie. You wish you could wish not to feel a damn thing. But you can't. Nothing – that's not what you want to feel. Numbness, blankness – that's nothing compared to the vindictive satisfaction you get from other people's pain. Pain - that's what you want. You want to drown in it, be flooded by it, relish in it. Like you did in Hell. You almost wish you could go back there – you know for certain that you'd accept Alistair's offer on the first day. And you'd maul those poor, damned souls. You'd tear them to pieces and you'd enjoy it. And then it would almost be like being in Heaven, in a twisted sort of way.

I know, I know, I'm a bad person. But review me anyway?
xx