Fic: The Garden of Unearthly Delights
Author: Seraphim
Grace
Fandom = Supernatural
Pairing = Castiel/Girl!Dean
Rating
= R
unbeated
Soundtrack - The Story - 30 seconds to Mars
"Half
angel and half bird. And all a wonder and a wild desire."
Robert
Browning- O lyric love
Dean couldn't tell you what Hell is. It's different for everyone, it changes constantly. It lurks around the edges of her vision, she can smell it faintly in the wind, taste it in the food she has no interest in. She has seen it in the faces of the people she talks to, a momentary variation of horror. She has heard it in the static on the radio, laughing at her, calling her home.
The voices, the smells, the sights, the tastes, they all have one thing in common. They can't understand why she'd wanted to leave.
Afterall Hell has some singular pleasures.
The irony is she isn't sure she wanted to.
When she eats she remembers the unique delight of sitting at a table as nameless figures flayed the meat off her back, careful of the muscles she needed to lift her arms.
When she sleeps she remembers lying in beds made of corpses, rotten and slimy as wave after wave of unrelenting orgasm crashed over her with the inevitability of the sea.
When she showers she remembers the rains of acid that stripped the skin from muscle and sinew and left her exposed and raw.
When she looks in the mirror she sees the slow decay of her face.
When she sees Sammy she sees horrors the likes of which he cannot comprehend and in the heart of the morbidity a single flower that blossoms only at night and whose smell could drive you mad.
She drinks, wanting to feel the slow dissolution of her liver, the way the vinegary cheap whiskey burns and scalds like she were drinking liquid oxygen. She scrapes broken nails over the skin of her thighs, trying to recreate those feelings. She remembers the languid joy of having her hands in someone else's intestines as they fucked her, bleeding out on some rock, the pain as important as the pleasure.
She chews the inside of her lips.
She cuts her toenails to the quick for the delicious sliver of pain.
She pierces her ears and then lets the holes heal to do it all over again.
She misses it, and that is devouring her alive, and there is no pleasure in the pain, only anguish and misery and it is a waste. She doesn't want to hurt; she wants to soar.
So when they ask her about Hell Dean is evasive, she sips her scalding hot black coffee and worries the ulcers on the inside of her lips. "It's a trip." She says finally, and hopes that they can't tell from her eyes that she needs to go back.