Hello everyone. Sorry for the delay, I have been really, really busy and haven't been able to update as soon as I would like. I hope you enjoy this next round of Dean torment. Feel free to review if you wish and thanks to those who have sent feedback my way! Thanks for reading!
He murmurs a constant denial in his head. No. I did get out. I did leave. I got out. I left this shithole and your ugly mug in the dust, in a glow of light so powerful only an angel could have created it. I am not in Hell. Not... got out... not... not.
"You are a damn LIAR!"
He cringes at the sound. He hates it. So much. The patronizing chuckle that echoes through his ears. He hates it. The whiny, nasally sound of the demon's voice. It grates on his nerves and makes him shudder.
"No. You never left. You have been here, with me, for years. Always right here. Skewered on the rack. My plaything. Over and over again. On display for me. To do with what I please. My property. My pet. But, every now and then you do this. You retreat into your mind and we find ourselves in this same position. You and your denial. Me and my truth. It is really getting old Dean."
No. His mind races. He tries to find some kind of flaw in the messages that his senses are throwing at him. He can smell the sulfur. He can smell the death that is all around him. He can smell and feel the heat of Hellfire on his skin. He just. It can not be. Demons lie. This demon lies. He won't and can't believe anything that spews out of this unholy sack of evil shit. He doesn't buy it. He isn't smart enough. Not to create and invent an alternate reality. The rescue. The reunion with his brother. The hug that they shared. Being back among the living. It was real. He knows it. And the nightmares... those were real.
"but...I...had nightmares...they...why would I have...if still here..." He realizes a moment to late that he muttered his last thought out loud. The demon inches closer to him again and speaks right into his face.
"My dear Dean. You really are sad and pathetic aren't you? Those so called nightmares? They were the reality Dean. They were flashes of the present. Everything else was the dream."
His confusion ramps up and threatens to overpower him. He thinks about Cas. He wonders if it could be true. Maybe. Maybe he was just another figment of his tortured soul. A reaction to his all consuming need to flee the fires of the pit. To escape the torment and torture and pain that had been unleashed on his body and mind as he was plunged into the depths of despair, into Hell itself.
He tries to get the image in his mind. Of Castiel. The more he claws around in his memories to make the image sharper, the more out of focus it becomes. He finds he can't even seem to remember one feature of the angel's face. God. He feels the doubt fill him. He isn't sure. He wonders if the demon is right after all. If he did just make the angel up in his head. He wonders if his brain manufactured it all. Everything. To get away from the truth. That he is here. In Hell. For eternity. That his soul has been made to burn. Over and over again. This whole time.
He gulps and swallows and opens his mouth in desperation. He tries to call out to his feathered friend but his name is stuck in his throat. He opens his mouth again but is bombarded by sound, as it resonates throughout his entire frame. A piercing scream. He wants to cover his ears, to try and drown out the agony conveyed within that noise but his body remains where it is. He is flooded by the truth again. He is impaled. To this spot. He can't move. Another violent shiver runs its course when it finally becomes clear. When he acknowledges the source of that dreadful sound. The sound. The never ending scream. It is coming from him. He is the one. The scream is his own.
"Ah, that's better. There's the Dean I know. I love that sound you know. I love to hear you scream out in agony and loss. I love that I am the one who makes you scream. It does my heart... well, if I had one... good. Music to my ears. And you Dean, you make the most delightful and delicious music."
"Dean? It's Sam. Can you hear me? Don't give up. Don't give in. Keep fighting. Come back. You need to wake up. Dean, where are you?"
That voice. He knows it. It is soft. And faint. And full of concern. But it is there. Isn't it? He is sure of it. He is sure he just heard Sam's voice call out to him. He told him to fight. To wake up. To come back. He searches frantically throughout the darkness for some sign that Sam isn't just a part of his delusions. That he is really out there, reaching out to help him. To get him out of Hell. He tries to focus on the voice. The voice that he feels reach out to him through the blackness and the fire and the souls as they plead and beg and scream in their effort to crawl their way out of the pit.
He spots him. His brother. He swears he can see him. He is right there in front of him. But, he is like a shadow, like a ghost. It's eerie. He can see right through him and behind the vision he sees stands that damn demon. He stares at his brother's features and tries to ignore the smile that has come across Alistairs' face.
"S..s'm? Really you? Here? Are you... are you real?"
His brother nods his head and for the first time he can feel a genuine smile spread across his face. His brother will save him. His brother will get him out. Sam moves his body closer. He sees him reach out a hand towards him. To touch him. He yearns to feel the touch of his brother and he struggles against his restraints to get closer. He can feel his skin stretch and pull and feels the distinctive trickle of blood as it starts to seep from his wrists as he twists and turns in his desperation to get to his brother. "Please...Sam... please."
He is almost there, almost close enough and then in an instant his one chance of salvation is ripped away. His brother's body dissolves in front of him, like a spirit that has just been on the receiving end of a shotgun blast. The demon. Alistair. He has just walked right through Sam and as he stands right in front of his prisoner, the smile once displayed turns into something else.
His head is slammed roughly against the metal rack and he feels his vision blur for a moment and the throb of a concussion instantly form on his scalp.
"Enough Dean! I am starting to lost my patience. These melodramatic strolls down memory lane are getting more than a bit annoying. And boring. Time to have some fun. With me. It is all in your head. You are messed up, riding a wave of denial in that small, teeny tiny brain of yours. There is no one here except you and me. Sam is gone. You left him. You sold your soul for him. He is not real. How could he possibly be here? It's just you and me. For eternity. You can never go back. Your soul belongs to me now. And it is my mission to blacken it to its very core. Until every ounce of your humanity has been stripped away."
He wants to wipe that smirk of the bastard's face.
"Whatever Al... Sam is real. I... I saw him. It's you! YOU are the one who is not real! You are not here!"
"Sorry, wrong again killer. Guess it's time huh? To show you what is real..."
"Dean? Please bro. Please."
He closes his eyes, enjoys the peace he feel at the sound of his brother's voice. He is just about to tell the demon where to stick it when he is hit by an explosion of pain so intense it robs him of his breath and his skin breaks out into a sudden and saturating sweat that coats his entire body in seconds. He gasps and struggles to fight the rising bile as it churns and rides up to the base of his throat. He lowers his head in an effort to ride out the wave of agony, to steady his rapid intake of air. He does not want to give this ass the satisfaction of screaming. He bites the inside of his mouth to keep the sound inside. The demon grabs his chin in a powerful grip and forces his head level again.
"Come on Dean. Don't be shy. I want to hear it. The scream. You can do it. I know you can."
He opens his eyes with the intent of glaring into those black eyes with a flurry of contempt and hatred but falls short when he looks at the demon. The grin displayed on his face is more than a little bit disturbing. He sees it then. Something else. The serrated knife held in the demon's grip. It is covered to the hilt in blood. God. In his blood. Alistair does not look him in the eye but continues to stare off to the area of his body that is pulsating in pain. And the demons smile widens. He feels a shiver ripple through him. Uncontrollably.
He watches Alistair and is sickened at the sight of him as he licks his lips. He tracks his eyes to the same spot the demon seems mesmerized by and instantly regrets his decision. The bile. It threatens to surge out of him as he stares, suddenly morbidly fixated on his own body. On the same thing that has his tormentor's undivided attention. He can see it. The white gleam of it, such a contrast to the darkness that surrounds them. The white gleam. Of bone. Of his bone. As it shines out from beneath his torn flesh.
The demon eyes are on his face again. The smile remains and seems to become more and more sinister as he admires his handiwork and as his fingertips come up to track the sweat that runs down his prisoner's face. "So Dean, still think this is all a dream? Still think this is not real? It feels real doesn't it? You felt the way the knife tore through your skin, your muscle, your flesh as if it was butter. Your blood. You can feel it can't you? Seeping out of your body, making you weak?"
He will not give the demon what he wants. He will not answer. He will not.
"No? Not ready yet to accept the truth? Well, let me try one more time to convince you..."
This time he can not help but moan and writhe as a new crest of pain and sickness drive into him. He glances over through heavy eyes to see the demon dig his fingers into the open wound. He feels like he is having a heart attack. The throb of blood rushes through his veins and spills out, runs along the hands and arms of his tormentor. He watches in horror as Alistair lifts his hand and licks the blood, his blood, off his fingertips, one by one. He can't breathe. He can't talk. But, God help him, he can scream. And he does. His vision starts to swim and fade in and out of focus. He just wants to pass out already.
"Go...to..."
"Hell? Huh, don't mind if I do. Just let go Dean. Join me and all the pain will stop."
"Dean. Settle down bro. You need to slow your breaths. Concentrate. In and out. In and out. Long and deep breaths. Please."
He tries to listen to the voice. Tries to focus on the words. He feels himself start to fade as his essence continues to pulse out with each beat of his heart. As it drips down the length of his arm, onto the metal of the rack. At is spills out and flows down into the darkness of the pit below. He can't. He is lost. He is here. He is in Hell. He never. He didn't. He never left. He feels his body sag in despair and realization. He feels his body start to shut down as the numbness comes on quick. He knows it's from blood loss but he doesn't care. He just wants it to stop. He shivers from the cold and boils from the heat. He is defeated. He really is dead.
"Please bro, don't give up! Fight damn it! Come back to me. I need you. Don't leave me again. You have to fight! Wherever you are, whatever you see, it is not real Dean! DEAN!"
He knows its too late. It's time to accept it. This is his fate. He feels the veil envelop him and as much as he tries to hold on to those words he knows there is no way his brother could be here. He is truly alone. Doomed to Hell for all eternity.
"Please Dean."
He can't tell anymore whether his heart is still beating. He can't hear it. He can't feel it through the numbness that has encased him. He is drenched now. In blood. In sweat.
"Dean."
He shakes his head and lets the tears flow freely down his cheeks. He takes in one last shaky breath as the acceptance of his desiny takes hold.
"S'm.. sorry... want to believe...can't...you...can't be real...bye S'my..."
"NO! DEAN! Breathe damn it!"
He clenches his eyes shut and as he exhales the last thing he hears is that damn demon and his damn cackle.
"That's right Dean. Let go."
He melts into the darkness as it rolls over him in wave after suffocating wave.
With one last gasp and rattle his mind and body go still.
TBC...