AN: alright, so you should all thank Glittergoddess for this fawesome chapter! if it weren't for her, you wouldn't have it so quickly, or so grammatically correct! haha. really, it was bad. Dean felt tits (sorry, it'll make sense when you read) anyway, without further ado, here ya go! thanks, as always, for the support, reviews, and reading!
Dean was wrenched from his innermost core by the searing jolt of a thousand hooks. Agony washed through his mind-body as he appeared to his captor.
"Urgh, you bitch!" The deep timbre of his thoughts betrayed the pain Dean felt as the biting barbs embedded themselves further into him. There was no place to put the pain, no area to categorize it, as Tiffany exerted her power over the young man's body and mind. His very essence was attacked, needles digging deep, not into flesh, but something more insubstantial. There was no mouth for Dean to verbalize the insults he longed to throw. He simply became those thoughts and hurled himself at his high-jacker.
He could see her standing in the middle of the softly lit plane, but as the sharp pain began to burn like white-hot steel, Dean could find no limbs to place the torture. His soul cried out, seeking the solace of his mind's sanctum, as glaring javelins of power rent itself through his being, shredding holes near that core.
"No!" The witch bellowed, echoing through Dean. "You cannot escape what is already inside you, boy! You will learn the meaning of control when I've finished with you."
With the rapidity of a second, the power changed to a dull force, squeezing Dean. He felt like a foot jammed into a boot, a thick liquid in a tiny bottle. She was compressing his life force, beating him to fit in her pocket.
"Holy Jesus," Dean worked to pull his being into a shape, to find himself like he had first appeared. A dull ache soon matched her continuous pressure as he fought to control his form. "You'll...never...teach me...control!" His thoughts, sluggish as they were, held the bite and stubbornness born to him by his father. Submission was no option, not for Dean Winchester.
Power surged and slammed into him, threatening to squash the hunter out of existence altogether. "You will bow! You are mine!" Tiffany's voice screeched through the pounding domination.
"I...Will..NOT!" Dean put all the energy his body and soul possessed into one solid push, creating a metaphysical upper-cut targeted at Tiffany.
Shrieking incoherently, the witch's projected mental image flew through the plane, blinking out of vision as she reached some sort of boundary.
Taking a deep energizing breath, Dean found his body was back on this existence, his mind creating an image of himself in an everyday outfit. Jeans, boots, t-shirt and maroon over-shirt fit his body like they always had. Even his necklace shone through, actually letting off a dull glow. Relieved to have a moment's peace and his projectional body back, Dean fingered the gold gently.
"Ho, boy, last time I did this, there was a bit of trouble." He grinned down at his own amulet. "but not from you, my friend."
Laughter sent a shiver down Dean's spine as he felt it all around and in him. He could feel Tiffany like she was just behind a curtain. Her voice whispered, wrapping around him in a suffocating bond. "I'm not done with you yet, little hunter."
Focusing his energy once again, Dean lashed out. Tiffany's pain was lace with pleasure, emotions lingering on his tongue like bad milk.
"You are one freaky bitch, you know that?" Dean shouted, "But you're not getting me! Nah, I like my dames on the sane side up. You'll feel a fight like no other! Besides," he added, "you picked the brother with anger issues."
He turned his thoughts to Sam, confident that Tiffany couldn't be making an appearance in his mind. So this is what possession felt like, huh? Gotta hand it to ya little bro, you carried it off pretty well. He knew Sam was in full research mode, no doubt clacking away at his laptop and probably freaking out in true Sammy fashion. He knew they now had a litany of exorcisms at their disposal, thanks to the airplane, Meg, and Sam's own possession of the same demon. Dean had full faith in his brother would see Tiffany back to hell.
But the twinge of doubt burrowed its way into Dean's thoughts. What would Tiffany force Dean's body to do in the meantime? What terrible things would be uttered using his lips? She knew they were close; would Tiffany work the emotional torment same as she worked her magic? Of that, Dean was certain. He only prayed Sam would stand through it.
"Your brother is weak." Though still formless in the small room that went for miles, Tiffany's conscience was ever present. Dean kicked himself. Of course she could hear his thoughts. He scrambled to think of anything, anything but-
"Oh, you traded your life for his?" Amusement played across Dean, leaving behind an uncomfortable prickling. "That has to hurt dear Sam. I wonder how kindly he would take to hearing his brothers' wishes that he hadn't done such a feat?"
Loosing control, Dean forced his spirit in all directions, shoving with enough gusto that he felt a dull repercussive ache. Before he could re-gather into an immaterial ball, Dean felt a ripping in his abdomen that was akin to a cannon being shot through his gut at point-blank range. There could be no breath drawn because there were no lungs. His heart didn't beat, becoming only a solid black fragment of dead cells. He watched in horror as his organs plopped out of the hole that was his torso. Dean knew it was a trick. His body was still intact in the corporeal world, but the pain-unimaginable, wrenching, seething pain- as his intestines shriveled and dropped onto his boots. He tried to speak, but the only thing expelling from his lips were blood and other gray bits. His body tore at itself, inside out. A deep moan echoed through the space, barely recognizable as his own. Invisible claws ripped his stomach to pieces, a bizarre pain that nausea was too weak a word to describe.
Dean tried to dissolve the form, to once again become the thought-mass. The resistance he met was like the insurmountable walls of Troy. He had nothing, nowhere to go, and no trojan horse.
Tiffany once again amalgamated, head held high and hands making ripping motions, "You see, Dean? I control all here. You are no match. Brawn will get you nowhere. Are you ready to submit? Give me this glorious body, the pain can end." Though her face showed kindness, Tiffany's eyes were alight with a fervor devoid of human emotion. She wanted him, all and whole. Dean felt the noxious energy sweep up through his throat to his nasal passages. As he choked on his own ruination, the young hunter had a brief instant where he wished she would complete her offer. Whisk him off to death where peace would come. "Come love, the pain will stop. You can be with your father. I'll take care of Sam, and soon, he too can join your family in hell. Perhaps sooner than you think. I don't think he'll last as long as you."
A great and terrible rage began to build itself in Dean. There was no way this scum of a woman was touching his brother. She had forgotten the most important thing to Dean was not life, but the life of Sam. However, this emerging beast was not without thought. Remembering that the last time he lashed out without notice, Dean had allowed her in, he let great blocks of cold fury build slowly. He stored and assembled, pain becoming a secondary feeling. Dean created a fortress of wrath. When the last brick was placed, he ground himself into the very center of his being and struck.
Dean's carefully cataloged dark emotions formed a battering ram and with shattering determination knocked Tiffany to her own deepest corner. She couldn't laugh, couldn't taunt. The only thing she was capable was to cling to Dean's body, to make sure she continued her possession. Gripping by her metaphysical fingernails, Tiffany laid dormant to re-gain her strength.
Dean felt himself drift too. In control still, he allowed his mind to float along the transcendent river of his soul, deep calming waters carrying him to yet another presence. Dread filled him as he reached it, mind worn out from his last encounter.
But this being didn't feel like the witch. No cold seeped in, no malcontent poisoned Dean's body, no dull pain swept through. This caution, concern, warmth, a playful hint of joyous laughter.
"Hey Dean." A voice of clear Spring echoed, "It's Kerry. You remember, me right? Um, I talked to Sam. He's okay." She said quickly, seemingly also able to sense the emotions running rampant through Dean's mind. "He said Tiffany- she's back. And in your body." The voice laughed, bells ringing, at his psychological eye-roll. "My power can keep her dormant, keep you asleep. Sam's taking you to Bobby."
Dean's alarm at her growth in power was superseded by the mention of Bobby's. Good, Bobby would know what to do. He continued floating towards her, a greenish light that was neither abstract nor distinct. It was like the other plane, but felt warmer, safer.
"Don't worry Dean. My power is not like Sam's. We don't share the hellish nightmares of demons with gross eye problems." Her voice held a melancholy edge, "Your brother's power is far worse, I'm sorry to say. But rest now, big brother. Let me take over as protector."
you thought this chapter was twisted? wait for the devil horns to appear, cause we're twistin' some more in the next chapter!
Til then, later days!
