Hello! I have returned with another chapter!
"Your angel friend better hurry or so help me..."
Dean was resting in the corner of the Pit, hands around his ears, attempting to block out the noise of Lucifer's endless complaints.
"Just shut it," Dean exasperated, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "For once, just be quiet."
Lucifer stood from the corner he was sitting in and chuckled. "What's the matter Dean?" He taunted. "Feeling under the weather?"
Dean didn't respond, unwilling to admit that Lucifer was right. His head was pounding, a never ending ringing in his ears. It felt like every organ in his body was shutting down, leaving only skin and bones behind. Even his muscles were degrading. It was at the point where he could barely walk. He knew that this wasn't like the first time he was in Hell. Something was very very wrong this time.
"Don't worry, it's probably got nothing to do with the fact that your human body can't stand the lovely conditions down here," Lucifer suddenly revealed.
Dean's head snapped up, and he stared directly at Lucifer. The following dizziness and throbbing proved that he shouldn't have moved so quickly.
"What?" Dean breathed out, scarcely enough energy to sound shocked or angry.
"Oh don't you know? I can't get out of here with just a soul. I needed something more... solid."
There was a long pause before Dean spoke up. "Sorry... what?"
Lucifer rolled his eyes, clearly becoming impatient. "Are you losing your hearing now too, or what? I needed a vessel to carry my, for lack of a better word, soul. Except human bodies aren't exactly meant to be in Hell. They shouldn't exist down here. Surprised you lasted this long."
Rage began building inside Dean. He tried to prop himself up, but his arm gave out underneath him.
"You son of a bitch," he muttered.
"How long have you been stuck in here with me?" Lucifer pondered aloud. "2-3 weeks? Really thought your little angel friend would have been here by now."
Dean lay in the corner, refusing to acknowledge that final comment.
Suddenly, the ground began to quiver. Both Dean and Lucifer fell silent and cautiously glanced around the Pit. As a narrow light began to glean from the centre of the Pit's roof, Lucifer flashed a malicious grin.
"It sure took long enough!" Lucifer shouted above the growing rumble inside the Pit.
"What the hell is this?" Dean shouted, an alarm rising in his voice. "What are you doing?"
Lucifer had a look of annoyance on his face when he turned around.
"Do I have to spell everything out for you? It's your little angel."
Before Dean had time to react, Lucifer turned and speed towards a corner opposite of him. He bent down and started feeling around. The corner was shaded, and whatever he was looking for wasn't visible to Dean.
"Come on, come on.." Dean heard Lucifer muttering under his breath. The rumbling was now deafening, shaking the Pit to the point where even Lucifer had trouble standing up straight.
"Yes!" Lucifer snapped around with an object clutched in his hand. Awkwardly, he tried to make his way over to Dean, hugging the wall as he attempted to avoid falling from the shaking.
"Use it!" Lucifer cried as he approached Dean, thrusting the object into his hand. Dean glanced down at the solid, metal thing. It was a small fragment of a mirror. "Do it now!"
Dean stayed quiet, and simply stared at the fragment in his hands. Even if he wanted to obey, he was just too weak to make the cut.
Letting out an impatient grunt, Lucifer snatched back the piece of the mirror and sliced Dean's arm a couple of inches from the Mark of Cain. Dean visibly winced, despite his efforts to hide it.
Lucifer started muttering something, but the thundering noise echoing throughout the room preventing Dean from making out any words.
As the white light began to consume the two, Dean was able to make out a couple of words Lucifer was uttering.
"Find someone, and be quick."
Suddenly Lucifer began to seemingly dissolve in front of Dean. His arm exploded in a burning pain as Lucifer's essence flowed through the open wound. Sealing the cut as the essence settled inside the arm, a dim red glow remained, signalling the process had worked.
The pain was unbearable. The pain he had felt when he brought Benny back was nothing compared to this. As the pain intensified, the Mark slowly began to radiate a brilliant red.
"Son of a bitch," Dean grimaced. He attempted to grab his arm, but his hand barely moved more than a couple centimetres.
The light swallows him, and the last thing Dean feels before losing consciousness is a hand abruptly grabbing his shoulder, and a temporary sense of relief.