"Damned is Love;

and So am I"

By Lucifer's Hell Hound

Universe: Supernatural
Class: Fan Fiction
Characters: Dean Winchester, Alistair. Guest appearances by Sam Winchester, John Winchester, and Mary Winchester (Campbell)
Setting: Hell (between End S03 and Start S04)
Rating: NC-17 (XXX)
Warnings: Extreme violence, torture, homo-erotica, incest (sort of), sodomy, language, disturbing imagery, non-consensual sexual interactions, etc.
Spoilers: Assume you've seen everything up to the end of Season 3

Note: This isn't grandma's fanfic. Be aware that this is a dark, violent, and likely to be extremely disturbing interpretation of some of Dean's time spent in Hell and his interactions/experiences with Alistair. If you find the above warnings to be not to your taste please don't waste your time or mine with reactions of horror.
Consider yourselves warned.
Feedback is appreciated; although there is no need to tell me how fucked up I am, I am fully aware (as are my therapists).

Disclaimer: "Supernatural," and all associated names, characters and titles are the sole property of CW Broadcasting, Inc. and its subsidiaries; including Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Ben Edlund, and any other various sorts who might have a controlling copyright interest. The names of characters, certain plot sequences, and mythological universes are used without permission and without monetary gain. No harm is intended by the use of said intellectual property and no copyright infringement is implied or intended.

Please Note: This fanfiction is protected under the International Copyright Act of 2009. Copying and Re-Posting of this fanfiction qualifies as copyright infringement of intellectual property. If you wish to recommend this work, post it to another site, or in any other way copy, display, or represent this work to another, please contact me first via e-mail. Thank You.

As promised, I present to you: Mary Winchester...

"Mom!"

Dean squeaked in utter shock at the figure of Mary Winchester standing before him. He had opened his eyes as he always did expecting the dark and the cold and the loneliness and instead had found his mother. It had been months, probably closer to a year since he'd seen anyone. No demons, no spirits, no hallucinations… Alistair was gone. He'd been alone, alone, alone for so long he couldn't recall a living face. He'd been wrapped in memories, both old and new, reliving his moments of breathing and moments of this horror-filled nightmare he'd been living for years he could no longer count. He had screamed into the darkness, begged and pleaded until his voice had given out. He'd held conversations with himself, with Sam, with John, even Bobby had made an appearance in Hell to have a chat with him. He was chained, immobile, and in a room devoid of anything but memory. He had been alone when he passed out.

Yet she was there; wearing a white sun-dress and filling the room with a radiant white light, standing barefoot and oblivious in Hell - simply looking at her son. Dean was ashamed and horrified. His mother, his angel, his ever-present damsel-in-distress from before he could even walk… His reason for being had been to avenge her death. His entire life had been shaped by the choices her husband made when she was so cruelly murdered. She was love personified and every person he had ever saved had had her face. But he could never bring her back… Yellow-Eyes, you fucking bastard!

For what seemed forever she simply stood there staring at him, eyes wide with horror at the sight of her first-born hanging by wicked claws on an iron cross suspended above the floor. What she was thinking Dean couldn't imagine, but he was terrified by the sight of her.

"Mom, why are you here?" he managed to ask, his voice full of sand.

"Dean," she said in that voice, instantly melting his heart. "Why are you here?"

"I…uh…" he struggled. "I had to save Sam," and that was explanation enough, wasn't it? He was in Hell because he had to save his little brother, her baby, her son. Did she not know? Was she completely oblivious to the horror that had been their lives since she died? His mind ran over the possibilities… Mary probably had no idea what they had been doing since her death. But then…

"Mom, how did you find me? How did you know?"

"Dean, sweetheart, everyone knows where you are and what happened to you. Every spirit and demon can talk of nothing else. 'Dean Winchester is in Hell, didn't you know?' 'Dean followed John into the Pit.' 'Sam Winchester is the Antichrist, he's going to lead the Legions of Hell.' Really, son, how could you do this to yourself?"

It was what he had feared, she was disappointed in him. "I'm sorry," he choked. "We killed Yellow-Eyes…we killed the bastard that murdered you," he didn't know why that mattered. This was his mother, not some vengeful spirit…at least he hoped so. God only knew, he was in Hell after all, perhaps all your ghosts came back to haunt you eventually.

"I know what you did," she said, calmly. "I am avenged and you freed John from Hell. It was a great deed. But why did you do this?" she gestured around them with her hand. "You followed in his footsteps more thoroughly than I would have wanted. I never wanted any of this for my sons. I would not have asked for this…" Her eyes were filling with tears and it broke Dean's heart.

"Mom, please, don't cry…" he rasped. "I had to save Sammy, mom. He was dead! I had already lost you and dad, I couldn't live without him, too." She always had made him feel like a child, now he sounded like one; but it was okay.

Mary's hands came up and cupped his face, her thumbs wiping away the tears streaming from his eyes. Her hands brushed over his ears and back through his sweaty hair, smoothing the sides, then down either side of his neck and back to his face. They were so soft.

"Dean, my son… What have they done to you?" She sounded completely heartbroken.

He wanted so badly to hug her, comfort her, but he was firmly bound and had nothing but his voice and he was never very good with words. "I'm sorry…" he repeated for the umpteenth time. "I'm so sorry." He shook his head, sadly, repeating the words again and again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"No, Dean…" she corrected quietly. "No, no, no, no, baby… Stop. I'm not disappointed, I know you saved him. You've always saved everyone, no matter what it cost you. I'm just so sad to see you here, like this."

Feather light her hands brushed over his brow, smoothing away the lines of distress. Her fingertips ran over his eyebrows, his temples, his cheek bones, and along his jaw. He sighed at the sensation, tears flowing down his cheeks he hadn't the strength to stop. She leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss the salty streams on each side of his face. He felt her breasts, firm and supple pressed against his chest and her hands pressed to his collar bones, bracing herself.

"Mom…" he sighed, breathlessly, as she pulled away to look into his eyes. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to meet her gaze, the feel of her breasts through the thin linen of her dress had brought about some uncomfortable stirrings low in his belly. It had also brought to mind that he was naked…

"Dean, sweetheart, please don't cry," her voice cracked with emotion and she slid her hands up to rest on either side of his neck. "I could never be disappointed in you, baby. You're my son, my first-born, I love you. Forever. No matter what."

Finally he looked up to meet her eyes, his green meeting her blue and suddenly he fell. His legs collapsed on impact and he landed hard on his knees, the stony floor tearing at his skin. There was no moment in which to think of how it happened; he blinked and she was there in front of him, and with free arms he hugged her legs pulling her hips toward him so he could snuggle his face into her belly. She responded by hugging his head, pressing his cheek deeper into her abdomen.

"You are my son, Dean. I love you without boundaries. It doesn't matter what you achieved or what you failed to achieve, baby. Not to me." Her voice hummed through her flesh and he sighed again as her hands stroked his hair.

"God, I miss you," he said holding her tighter.

She came down, slipping through his arms to kneel in front of him, curling her legs under herself but never letting go of him. He bowed his head as a sob broke free and he felt her lips on his sweaty brow. Putting a hand under his chin she lifted his face to look into his eyes once again. He brought his own hands up to frame her face, repeating her gestures from a moment ago he traced the contours of her eyebrows, her eyes, cheeks, jaw; he brushed her long blonde locks back behind her ears and finally leaned in to kiss her mouth.

He felt her sigh as he did so and fell to kissing her face everywhere his hands had been. He covered her face, her neck, her hair…his hands and lips frantic through a veil of tears. She sighed again as his lips brushed over hers and suddenly she was kissing him.

He was stunned but the heat of the moment carried him on. His hands drifted down to her back, arms pulling her tight against his chest. He pressed harder and she parted her lips, her tongue gently slipping in to taste the heat of his mouth. What the hell was he doing? He jerked back, bracing his hands on the ground behind him as he fell backwards, startled beyond words at his own actions. His breathing was heavy and his heart pounded in his chest pumping blood to all the wrong places, especially not his brain. Jesus Christ! What was he doing?

Mary sat motionless before him, her pale skin delightfully flushed, lips red and slightly swollen from his, her blue eyes misty. "Dean…I…" she whispered, unsure. She took his hand carefully in both her own. Gently she began to trace her fingertips along each of his fingers, unknowingly mimicking the cuts of Alistair's razor, then brought it to her lips to kiss his palm. She looked straight into his eyes as she guided his hand to cup her breast…Dean closed his eyes…

"Dean," she said hoarsely. "Dean, please… This is what you want, is it not?" She squeezed his fingers, forcing him to feel the soft, yielding weight. "Take it, baby. If this is the love you need, take it from me. Please… I want to help you. I love you…"

God help him, he did. With a groan he came up, pressing her back onto the hard stone floor with a kiss. One hand came down beside her head while he forced his tongue between her silken lips and tasted his mother. After a second her tongue met his and they twisted around each other as his other hand kneaded the soft firmness of her breasts. His thumb swirled over her nipple through the thin cotton until it was a hard nub. He disengaged from her lips and traveled over her jaw, blowing wet breath up to her ear. She moaned quietly when he pressed his lips to the hollow below her ear and licked at the back of her earlobe. His hand switched to the other breast and he trailed kisses down her throat to suck and bite at her collar bone.

Dean felt the blood flowing under his skin, making him sensitive to the slightest of touches, and his mother's hands stroked up and down his back, fingernails scraping lightly over his shoulder blades making him shudder. The blood flowed downward, he could feel himself filling up with it. Impatient, he yanked hard at the collar of her dress, busting several buttons and exposing Mary's full breasts to his eager mouth. He took a nipple full into his mouth, sucking hard, and squeezed the other breast roughly. It occurred to him how utterly wrong this was, how ridiculously iconic that he should be sucking the breast of his mother at this stage of his life… Then his mother's hand slid down the rippling flatness of his abs and tangled into the curly hair surrounding his cock and his mind left him again.

He finished ravishing one breast and moved to the other, greedily sucking as if she were still full of milk for him to take. He slid his hand over her belly, delighting in the firm tautness of it as he clawed his way downward. Her pubic hair was fine and soft between his fingers as he gently parted her nether-lips to feel the moist heat within. He pressed her clit between his fore and middle fingers before pushing inside her. Mary's reaction startled him with its violence, her back arching off the floor as a strangled moan escaped her lips. He pressed deeper, eager to push her further, while his thumb rubbed intently at the hardening nub of her clitoris. She cried out, her nails raking his back with such sudden violence that he found himself moaning.

Mary's hand closed around the shaft of his rock-hard cock and the other went to the back of his head, pulling him down to breath a desperate moan into his mouth.

"Dean…" she breathed between his lips. "My son, I want you inside me… Now."

Dean's breath hitched as her grip tightened on his throbbing dick and he groaned his assent. God, but it was so wrong… She pulled on him, guiding his cock down as she spread her legs wide, one calf coming up to wrap around his hip. He leaned back on his knees breathing heavily, one hand going automatically to grab the firm muscle of her thigh where it rested on his own.

"God help me…" he breathed, lowering himself onto her. With his loose hand he guided himself to her entrance while she watched him in anticipatory silence. Ever so gently he slipped inside her, her back arched and she cried out again as he continued to force his girth into her hot tightness. He put a hand to her belly, pressing her down as he glided smoothly all the way in, glorying in the heated contractions of her stunned body. Her narrow tunnel squeezed him like a virgin's and he moaned loudly as he began to withdraw, intentionally not giving her body the chance to truly adjust to his size. Mary's eyes were huge, her pupils dilated so there was hardly any blue and she panted as pain and pleasure warred within her.

It may have been cruelty, but to Dean a little pain had always heightened pleasure and he was far from inconsiderate when it came to his partner. He slid out until just his head remained inside his mother and paused there while she panted, her hands gripping his shivering biceps. When she took a deep breath he drove into her with all the force his hips could provide and was rewarded with a stunned cry from her. Without a break he began to thrust, sliding almost all the way out then driving his long thick shaft all the way in, watching the pleasure and shock play across his mother's face. With each re-entry he brought more force, angling his hips to provide more friction to her clit as her breath came in gasps and moans.

He continued the merciless rhythm until the muscles in his hips and back burned and his mother was crying out with every thrust, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pulled back over her teeth in a grimace. He could feel her building beneath him, her silken tunnel contracting around him, her back arching… He adjusted his angle again, driving into her with all he had and pressing the base of his cock into her hard.

"Come on, Mary…" he growled, turning to her name so he wouldn't have to think too hard about who she really was to him. "Cum for Dean, baby…" He gave a final thrust, driving himself into her and holding it, pressing his throbbing burning shaft into her clit and she broke.

"God! Dean!" she screamed, nails digging into his biceps, back arching she came like a whirlwind. Her tunnel convulsed around him and he threw back his head, grunting with the effort of holding back his own climax.

"That's it, baby…" he moaned, pulling out of her slickness and driving home again. His balls clenched and he felt the fire in his lower back, sliding steadily through his pelvis and up his shaft. He felt his mother's hand on his face and looked down to see her gazing at him with all the love and passion he could never have known in life.

"Dean… Son… I want it…" she moaned. He gave another hard thrust in response. "Cum for Mommy…" she commanded.

He did. Pressure and fire and unspeakable pleasure so acute it was like a blade crashed through him and he roared in triumph as he emptied himself into her. Again and again the waves knifed through him and he collapsed, shuddering onto her. She was laughing as her arms enfolded him, gentle hands stroking his hair.

"I love you, my son…"