I actually thought this wasn't going to be any good but I really like the way it ended up. I hope you all do too.
Disclaimer: I own neither of them.
Summary: Even the righteous man will fall.
Pairings: it heavier in this chapter, but you don't have to read it that way (Alistair/Dean). Just leave it to Alistair's creepiness.
Please review it brightens my obviously dark mind…
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The spark danced across acrid fingertips. Dean stared deep into the nothingness; his world was black as pitch. Another spark snapped in the silence, like the strike of a match on blackened flesh. His deep green eyes locked on the falling embers waiting for Alistair to emerge. The crackle of lightning drew Dean's eyes through the empty space before him as the sound jumped to the other side of the table.
A shiver ran the length of Dean's body, as the chill table turned his bones to ice. The memory of his scalding flesh raked his body against the frozen metal in an involuntary flinch.
Searching the fathomless depths of Hell's dark pit, Dean waited, trying to control his frantic body. Again the burnt flesh jumped with lightning, producing a camera flash image of the demon face. Dean shuddered at the maniacal grin set below the thunder storm in Alistair's black eyes. The image burned itself to Dean's retinas; even as the spark died, every where the demon grinned at his victim. Alistair stole his only refuge when Dean closed his eyes, his eyelids betrayed his sanctuary.
"Boo," Alistair whispered. Dean's eyes snapped open and caught the demon glaring down at him. Dean was unable to discern the demon from the air. Alistair sent a spark leaping from his thumb to his first finger, briefly illuminating his own face. Dean flinched and scowled as the dark returned. The demon grinned at the man through the clear black between them. He cultivated another weak spark, not allowing to to die. Instead, Alistair nurtured the potentially powerful electricity, and brought it next to Dean's ear. "Greetings, my Dean," Alistair's drawl lingered longingly of his name.
"Screw you," Dean snarled at the demon's possessive tone. His green eyes glowed with a different form of lightning. To this Alistair only grinned a jagged smile. The fierce light only more deeply reflected the demon's black eyes.
"Tisk, tisk, Dean. You know we had a talk about that. You are only deflecting, not dealing with, your situation." The strong spark in Alistair's hand dissipated into smaller ones. The rough flesh of his fingers twitched. He ran his fingers through Dean's short hair, sparks biting at the Winchester's scalp. Dean gasped sharply at the dark lightning. "Every time I leave you alone, you revert to your old ways. We make such progress and now you... you defy me." Alistair's smooth strokes paused to clench hold of Dean's hair. The demon sighed at Dean's stifled groan. "Tisk, tisk."
He let the grimace fade into the searching gaze again. Alistair grinned as he grabbed Dean's ankle. The current rocketed up Dean's leg, sending the muscles into tight knots and spasms. A long yelp ensued as Alistair watched the invisible bonds press Dean to the table. The steady beat of the man's heart became a vibrate cacophony of pulsing blood. The electricity passing into him lit a short expanse of Dean's skin with bright tattooed brilliance. The lightning danced across his flesh. "You are positively glowing." Only Dean's harsh breathing replied.
Alistair released the burnt flesh and the light died. Raw flesh remained in a cuff around his ankle. The muscles continued to twitch will the fading current. Smoke rose into the air with the last bolt of light. Tiny sparks trailed Alistair's fingertips as they ghosted up Dean's leg. Each muscle jerked at the electric pull. The sly demon paused momentarily, listening as Dean's breathing paused with him. A grin split his face before he latches on to Dean's slim wrist. Again, the current over took the man, drawing a cry from his lips. Sparks jumped across his skin before they sank deep within his tightened muscles.
Another ring encircled Dean's wrist when Alistair finally released his grip. A light chuckle filled the air in stark contrast to Dean's gasps of pain. "Do you wish me to stop, Dean?"
Sparks danced before Dean's eyes; he warily watched the only source of light. Without seeing Alistair's face, Dean wasn't able to estimate Alistair's affinity for pain at the moment. All he knew was that his muscles yelped and burned at the thought of enduring any more. "Another than." Alistair placed both rough hands on each of Dean's shoulders. Lightning raced across the man's chest, arcing across his well defined muscles.
A full blown scream tore out of Dean's mouth. The electricity dove into his lungs and rode the air out. The scream hitched and glowed before faltering into a moan of pain. Removing his hands, Alistair revealed to charred hand prints on each shoulder. "Do you wish me to stop, Dean?"
"Please," came the whisper. Dean's scarred throat clenched around the word.
"What was that?" Alistair waited for Dean to say it again, to say it louder, to give in.
"Please," came the tight throated plea again.
Full blown laughter bent the demon in half. He pulled himself together to continue his torture. "Please what?"
Dean grimaced and gasped. "Fuck you." He sneered at his pain, at Alistair's games, at Hell, and at God.
The laughter stopped immediately. The black became darker, pressing on Dean's eyes. Lithe fingers gripped his jaw and pulled Dean's face to Alistair's. Dean's breath sparked and the lightning storm lit the small space between the two beings. The jet eyes held no mirth at the pain clenching his victim. The air became rough and hot; Dean couldn't breath in; he gasped. His face danced with spastic muscles and leaping lightning. The table no longer supported his head as Alistair pulled Dean higher off the cold surface.
"Do you know why you heal from every wound flawlessly, Dean? Do you know?" Alistair's black eyes sparkled in the dim light. "Because I do not mark this body that you borrow. I mark you, Dean. This meat, this flesh, this pulse is temporary. It is an illusion, a tool, a prison. I do not mark it, for it is only a vessel of pain. I mark you, Dean. The pain you feel, the wounds you endure, the blood you shed are not yours. I mark you, Dean. Your soul. I mark you forever with scars that can never truly heal. And as they build one upon another, over and over again, you slowly lose yourself in them." Alistair's drawl dissolved in his growl. He pulled Dean higher, so that his back clenched to support itself as it left the table.
"Slowly, you realize that you are not you any more, but something else... Something angry, hungry, ravenous. Each month on earth is a decade in Hell, and each scar in Hell is a black mark on Heaven." The electric blues currents danced around Dean's wide green eyes. "Heaven allows its children to suffer, burn, retaliate until the end of time. Scar upon scar upon scar, and slowly the humanity in you fades to a rich and lusty black." Dean gazed deep into endless blue black orbs, and saw his reflection. He was a pale conductor to livid blue currents. But his eyes were dark in this image. The green was slowly fading with scar tissue. They still deepened with his pain, but not to the rich, luminous green. Now, they grew dark in the pain.
"You haven't been down here for more than three months. And yet, it has felt like decades hasn't it." The current intensified and Dean's body seized against the electricity. "Will you join me?"
"Yes," Dean breathed. Alistair pulled Dean off the table with a grin. He set the soul on the nothingness next to him. Dean looked back at the table to see the body lying there in repose. Glancing down at his hands, Dean gasped at the scarred soul-flesh before him. The black no longer restricted his vision as he glanced up at his mentor.
"Welcome to Hell, Dean," Alistair grinned. A hand rested on Dean's right shoulder. He glanced up from the deep black-green eyes with a look of accomplishment. Heaven should be pleased with its savior; Hell should be pleased with its seal-breaker; earth should tremble at its destroyer.
