Quick warning: Moderate use of offensive language is used in this chapter and quite some mention of torture.
oooOOOooo
As Dean began to toss and turn again, besieged by his nightmares, Sam knew what he had to do. If for no other reason he had to know what it was that tormented his brother so. He was certain it may be their only chance to get him back…
Sam sat on the other bed, across the room from Dean's, as he had done every day since they'd brought him back to Bobby's. And, as had become a Winchester way of late, Sam was about to attempt a last minute clutch at straws… He knew Fred was right about Dean, if he didn't return to a hospital soon there was every chance he'd simply waste away in a frenzied fit of terrified torment. And Sam couldn't just let him die, not again… But he knew, without a doubt, that Dean would rather die than spend the rest of his days restrained in some straight jacket, whilst being force fed hospital mush, possibly down some kind of feeding tube, given sponge baths by unattractive nurses… and wearing adult diapers! And he knew there wasn't a mental institution or psychiatrist that existed, that could ever hope to help his brother.
He held the coffee cup up and frowned with uncertainty. Dean would be mighty pissed at him for what he was about to do, he knew that. But Dean majorly pissed, beyond any measure of pissed that Dean had ever been before, would be a welcomed alternative to the hysterical, horror struck proxy brother he currently had. And he knew it would be risky, possibly mortally so, if anything went wrong, for him and Dean both.
"Bottom's up…" Sam muttered, toasting Dean as he raised his coffee mug into the air. "…best of luck." Not that he was superstitious (well about anything he'd already proved a fallacy, of course) but he could use all the luck he could beg, borrow or steal!
He dropped Dean's hair into the steaming brew and then sat back further upon his bed. He gazed at Dean as he writhed beneath the bed covers, arching his back up with a stifled groan of torment and agony and he knew he had no other option. With a huge breath and a lungful of courage Sam guzzled the Dream-root down in rushed gulps.
Then Sam was falling backwards… into darkness…
~~~oooOOOooo~~~
Sam fell to the ground and found himself lying on a hard, rough surface in a dingy, dark cave of sorts. It was stuffy and hot, and smelt of sulfur and putrefied flesh. Sam cautiously raised himself up, as he surveyed his surroundings. He staggered cautiously to his feet as he pondered where Dean could be; it was after all his nightmare…
It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the murkiness he found himself in. The only light came from random pits of flaming pitch that cast long convulsing shadows, intermingled with the dancing flicker of fire-light against the cavern walls. Everything was dark and shadowy, and blood-red, from the radiant glow the fires created. And he knew this was where Dean's nightmares held him prisoner, even if he still wondered if this was what Hell looked like.
As he searched he feared he had passed Dean by in some dark, shadowy corner, or missed the entrance to some smaller grotto. The multitude of tunnels and adjoining caverns, every nook and cranny, had Sam searching wildly for his brother. His ears were filled with a constant, unwavering squalor of screaming and groaning. The bawl of agony and misery came from thousands, even tens of thousands, of tortured souls. It echoed through the labyrinth of dim grottos and cut through the constant crackle of fire. The walls and ground alike, of the dark cavern, were littered with semi-decomposed corpses. Or so Sam thought, until one emaciated, almost mummified body, chained to a wall, moved and groaned as rats and bugs ravaged what was left of its putrefying flesh. Sam had to remind himself that they weren't dead at all… well actually technically they were... If this was Dean's recollections of Hell, then every last damned soul was already long dead and buried, even if their souls still lingered, condemned to Hell's eternity. Hence it wasn't their real bodies he had passed by, simply their souls in an echo of their mortal forms… or more precisely, Dean's recollections of their souls… Even so, the stench of death was overwhelming, and Sam had to raise his hand over his mouth and nose in a vain attempt to filter out the overpowering reek. He reminded himself it was all just Dean's nightmare although he gagged none-the-less, and he was amazed at how intense Dean's delusion really was. He forced himself to step over the remains of the damned souls, knowing there was nothing he could do to help.
He reminded himself this was all a dream, and the only soul he could possibly save here was Dean's… if only he could find him…
The resonance of torment and pain swam through Sam's head; amazed that so much pain and suffering, could be concentrated and condensed into one singular dream… He jogged aimlessly, turning and spinning around in frantic confusion. Dean's presence remained illusive…
He began to run, only pausing when he heard a long howl of agony echo forth from the dark shadows of a rocky chamber. He moved down a short tunnel and then spied around the corner of the rock face. He gazed at what was once a human being, now a gnarled and twisted corpse, impaled over a huge timber spike that had smashed through its chest and erupted out through the back. Weights hung from a multitude of huge hooks, piercing through the almost mummified flesh, dangling from the entire body. Rats sat atop its crumpled form gnawing away at its back, revealing splintered ribs and vertebrae. The figure moaned again, and an arm spasmed briefly as nerves and tendons were gnawed through. Amazingly, the man seemed to have survived; to groan and struggle in agony.
Sam sighed with relief when he confirmed the wretched soul wasn't Dean.
He turned around suddenly upon hearing the harsh rasping of frantic forced breaths and groans of agony, accompanied by the clanging of chains. A fleeting glimpse of a figure caught his eye, off to his right. A naked man; dirty, bruised and bleeding, with chains manacled to his wrists and ankles, staggered along the cavern wall in a frantic endeavor. The man stumbled in his haste, obviously having escaped some dungeon of torture, falling to his already grazed and bloodied knees. For a brief instant Sam caught sight of the man's face before he darted down a darkened grotto, leaving bloody hand prints across the obsidian rock face in his wake.
"Dean?" he called after him, certain it was his brother. Sam took chase after him. "Dean!" However, his repeated attempt to attract Dean's attention went unnoticed. All the while he feared he would find out, far too soon, Dean's all-too-real fate during his brief incarceration in Hell.
A shrill screeching, from behind him, startled Sam. As he slowed, and cast a hesitant glance over his shoulder, he gasped in horror at the sight that greeted him. Then he was forced to leap out of the way as two huge harpy-like creatures half bounded, half flew, down the confined grotto, presumably in pursuit of Dean. Sam scuttled to the side, however the creatures' focus was solely on Dean, and they leapt past him, apparently oblivious to his presence. Sam pursued them through a myriad of winding tunnels and passage ways. In a twist upon the usual appearance of a text book harpy, these creatures had elegant, if not beautiful female bodies, splattered with fresh, red blood, however their heads resembled that of a vulture. Their massive black beaks were blood stained, as were their huge taloned, bird-like feet. The creatures' immense black, leathery bat-like wings glistened in the flickering fire light, flapping spasmodically as they clambered in leaps and bounds, taking flight where possible, or scaling the rocky walls, in their scramble to reach their prey. They squawked and screeched with a deafening, high pitched tenor, thrusting their sooty, vulture heads back in mock battle cry. Their eyes glistened like smoldering embers, and feathery black tresses flowed like hair down their backs. As Sam took after them in pursuit, he heard as the creatures caught their prey…
Sam charged down the grotto in desperation, his chase halted in horror as he witnessed the two beasts clawing at the already mauled body of his brother. Sam stood atop a cliff, with no apparent means of lowering himself to the cave bottom, several meters below him. Instead he was forced to watch, helplessly, as the harpies attacked Dean.
Other damned souls lay cowering in the darkened shadows of the cave bottom. It was the nest of a whole flock of harpies, and many were feeding; ripping flesh, organs and intestines from their prey, and screeching with culinary delight.
And Dean was obviously fresh meat…
They swarmed upon him. One harpy had its beak clamped firmly on Dean's forearm, another had its claws embedded in his thigh. They fought over him, squabbling like true scavengers after the last bloody morsel. With a defiant heave, one clutched Dean's writhing body up in its huge taloned feet. It took flight, soaring upwards into the heights of the massive, vaulted ceiling of the cavern, heaving Dean up with it. A half a dozen others soared upwards in quick pursuit. They snapped and clawed at their quarry, eagerly trying to snatch their prize from their greedy cohort. For some minutes it would seem they were intent on dismembering him mid-flight. Their huge wings flapped, emitting quick, successive cracks of sound, like thunder, echoing through the grotto. The sudden bursts of wind turbulence threatened to extinguish the numerous pits of flaming tar beneath.
One harpy fastened its beak around Dean's calf, shaking its head in an effort to pry him from the other's grasp. However neither relinquished its grip upon him. They tugged at Dean's limbs, for ultimate possession. Dean screamed as their huge talons shredded his flesh, and their beaks shattered bone in their vice-like seize. When they failed to procure sole custody, they snapped at each other with equal viciousness. In their voracious one-eyed battle their trophy was dropped…
And Dean was falling… screaming in both agony and fear as he plummeted towards the black, charred ground beneath him of the rock cavern.
He crashed, with a bone crushing thump, onto the harsh rock floor, limbs askew and shattered by the impact. Blood and grey matter splattered from his shattered skull. Deep, bleeding gashes littered his body, and Sam was sure his entrails had spilled out from a deep evisceration to his abdomen. Survival was an impossibility…
Sam was instantly swamped with distraught mourning and utter grief… his quest had failed.
Dean was most certainly dead.
Sam scoured the rock face, desperate to reach Dean. His brother remained motionless, his only movement was caused by the scavengers as they ripped into the hunter's exposed flesh. And still the harpies fought for sole possession over his mangled corpse.
The harpies squabbled and bickered amongst themselves, momentarily sidetracked as they scuffled further away from their prize. And Dean miraculously moved! He forced his bloodied, crushed torso to crawl desperately away, leaving a glistening trail of blood and what appeared to be chunks of flesh behind him. Sam was awestruck. And he had to remind himself that if this was Dean's recollections of Hell, then Dean couldn't die. He simply couldn't: Certainly not in Hell, and hence not here… Ruby's words echoed in his thoughts; that there was only never-ending torment and pain, without the hope of death to put an end to it all.
Darkness quickly descended upon the damned Winchester, in a thunderous whooshing of flapping wings, as the harpies swooped back down upon him. Dean cowered from their instantly snapping beaks, as they began tearing at his torso again; ripping strips of flesh from his ribs, whilst their huge inch-long claws sank deep into his chest and limbs to restrain him. Dean fought desperately, trying to fend them off, smashing his fist into their bird-like heads, at risk of loosing his limb to the retaliating snaps and bites from their crushing beaks. The creatures hew the flesh from his failing limbs, until the stark white of bone was revealed. Dean's screams gurgled and hacked as their taloned feet clawed deep into his chest, and his lungs were crushed within their grip.
Sam began to scale the precipice in desperation, clambering down as best he could, seeking what few foot and hand-holds he could on the glassy black rock face. He was prepared to tackle the creatures barehanded, if need be, because somehow he had get Dean to wake up.
However as he neared the bottom, the harpies flinched away from Dean. Without warning they ceased their squabble and screeched in defense as a thunderous noise approached from behind them. Sam backed away, with equal trepidation. A dark figure loomed from out of the darkness of the huge grotto. The harpies hissed and raised their wings up, threatening the intruder.
From the shadows emerged a huge minotaurian creature as it cantered into the grotto, obviously in pursuit of their quarry. The half man, half bull, towering a good ten feet tall, came to a skidding halt, its huge hooves gouging deep ravines through the black earth beneath it. It had a black bull's head, upon the muscular torso of a man; it legs returning to bovine from the calves down. The harpies snapped at the beast, ferociously guarding their quarry. The bull roared with anger at them, its intentions clear that it wanted Dean for itself. The minotaur snorted as it stomped aggressively at the black dirt beneath its hooves, leveling its horns menacingly at the harpies.
In three long strides the bull had dashed towards them. With a swift lunge of it's massive, horned head it impaled one of the scavengers with ease. The winged-creature screamed and squirmed to extract itself from the minotaur's horn. The bull shook the harpy free, casting it several feet away with a colossal thrust. The harpy convulsed and screeched in agony as thick wine-red blood gushed from the piercing wound. The remaining scavengers cowered back from the defiant attacker, ever more respectful of the bull's strength and aggressive claim upon the hunter's damned soul. The harpies, with reluctant defeat, took flight, disappearing into the darkness of the endlessly high cavern ceiling above.
The immense minotaur claimed its prize with a resounding roar that echoed through the grotto and even caused the flames to flicker in response. The beast grabbed Dean by the shackles around his wrists and dragged him to his feet.
The creature snarled at Dean, in a succession of grunts and howls that may actually have resembled speech. Dean certainly seemed to comprehend the beast's verbalizations.
"You wish! You foul smelling excuse for prime rib!" Dean ground out, with a splattering of blood and groans, his glare defiant and repugnant. "Beat your sorry ass once before… will again… freakin' BBQ ya!"
The damned Winchester lashed out at his newest captor; however the superior strength of the minotaur was no match for the battered and beaten hunter. The bull clutched him up with ease, raising him high above his blood glistening horns and tossed him to the opposite side of the cavern. Dean's battered body smashed into the rock face and he bounced off with such force he crashed some feet away. The minotaur barked with what resembled laughter, followed closely by more undecipherable grunts and howls.
Dean winced with the overwhelming pain he was enduring; however his eyes remained glaringly defiant as he glowered back at the minotaur with hatred and loathing. Dean summoned the energy to lift his torso off the rough, black rock beneath him.
"Fuck you!" He ground out through tightly clenched teeth. The minotaur continued to laugh at Dean's paltry insolence, as he charged at him with horns lowered. The bull rammed into Dean, the breadth of its horns piercing through his shoulder and thigh. In one swift maneuver the minotaur tossed Dean back up into the air, its horns tearing back out through flesh and bone. Dean somersaulted several feet above the creature and then plummeted back into the awaiting cradle of the bull's horns.
Dean grasped the horns, with all his might, preventing the minotaur from repeating the act. He wrapped his dangling chains around the bull's neck, desperately trying to strangle the beast. The bull roared angrily, tossing its head about violently in an attempt to dislodge him, however Dean had effectively lashed himself to the creature. The minotaur raised its huge hands, grappling to tug the hunter from his firm position upon his shoulders. Dean's grip remained firm on the rusty chains encircling the minotaur's neck. However, Sam theorized, one could only presume that just as Dean could not die, in Hell, neither could the beast. Having failed in its endeavor to pry the hunter from its horns the minotaur changed strategies. It galloped towards the cave wall, where it slammed Dean into the rock face, repeating the task until he slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap, his chains clattering over him in testament to his final defeat.
The minotaur grabbed him by his ankle shackles and dragged the battered hunter away into the darkness. Despite his horrendous injuries Dean struggled and fought against the minotaur's grasp. He tried to lash out at the beast with a wrist clearly fractured. The minotaur continued to drag Dean, by the shackles, over the rough terrain. Dean bumped and bounced over the razor-like rocks, as huge gashes appeared down his torso, adding to the blanket of lacerations inflicted by the harpies.
Sam cautiously dropped to the ground, and quickly followed, acutely aware that he was at even greater peril in Dean's dream-scape than Dean himself. Even in his nightmares Dean knew there was no reprieve, no death to free him of his incarceration in Hell. In Hell he was already dead, so he could not die again. And maybe that was why he couldn't escape his nightmares; his mind had already accepted that he could never, ever escape. His nightmares would simply continue, on and on.
And maybe that's how the demons were created… by tormenting the soul to such an extent it willingly relinquished every last trace of humanity and the memories of any other life, simply to have all the torment stop.
Sam on the other hand knew perfectly well that if he died here, he died full stop…
The beast and its captive disappeared into the darkness. Sam struggled to find them as he charged along the gloomy passageways. He listened for his brother's cries again, both longed for and detested the sound. For, as much as he wanted to find where Dean's sub-consciousness had now imprisoned him, he feared what other horrors Dean had faced.
Sam passed into a gloomy passageway through the labyrinth. Dean's explicit retorts alerted him to which path to follow. The light was even less here, and Sam had to squint into the shadows to see anything at all. The bull moved with a rapid pace, and Sam had to resort to following the blood trail on a number of occasions when he lost sight of them. As he crept though the grotto, amid the constant shrieks of pain and agony from the multitude of other tortured souls, he heard the minotaur's distinctive roar, echoing from through a crevasse far too tight for either Dean or the bull to have passed through. How they had come to be on the other side Sam had no idea, for he could see no other access. As he gazed through the fissure Sam caught sight of Dean, and the bull...
Somehow Dean had found his feet, his fractures and wounds seemingly repairing, only to have new injuries swiftly metered out by the minotaur. Sam realized this was how Hell functioned: as a never-ending succession of torture and torment, one just leading to another, as the inflicted wounds miraculously healed, so that more pain and suffering could be exacted.
Now the minotaur and Dean were facing off, as the bull sought to crush Dean's lingering hopes of a reprieve to his torment. The minotaur charged, its horns gouging at Dean's chest with a loud, accompanying roar. Dean hissed with the pain as his side was ripped open. The bull turned immediately and charged again. It used its horns most effectively to torment Dean as he struggled back to his feet. The minotaur galloped at Dean, like a perverted Spanish Bullfight, only in this instance it would seem the bull held the upper hand. The minotaur thrust its horns at the hunter, dealing out painful, gory slashes in its game. Dean ducked and weaved trying desperately to avoid the bull's cutting attack.
Sam grimaced with the sight, trying to claw his way through the narrow fissure, but to no avail. Even his attempts to mentally alter the dream-scape failed. He apparently had no powers of persuasion over Dean's nightmare. He scanned the grotto for another way, but found the darkness far too obscure. He returned to his vigilant observation point, to watch Dean's fate.
In a brash endeavor Dean lunged at the bull as it charged at him once more. He almost straddled its broad shoulders, clasping onto its thick black pelt as he lunged sideways. His sheer momentum managed to unbalance the beast, toppling it to the ground. The minotaur roared with anger. Dean snatched his split second opportunity, to flee as the beast clumsily scuttled back to its feet. He searched for an escape, which served to be as obscure as Sam's search for an entrance. The bull swiftly took chase and charged. Its nostrils flared with aggression, its eyes burning with fury as it galloped, in a thunderous attack. Dean quickly realized the futileness of his escape. Instead he raised the chains manacled around his wrists defiantly, hoping to use them as a weapon. However as he tried to lasso the beast the shackles glanced of the bull's shoulders and Dean was propelled several feet into the air by the beast's horns. He landed heavily on the ground and quickly tumbled beneath the charging bull's hooves as it stampeded over him. The minotaur snorted with satisfaction as it swiftly trampled its quarry.
Sam's attention roamed past the battling foes, to a strange glimmer of red light, from two small orbs, emanating from the shadows. Sam was certain another creature dwelled in the darkness, observing the minotaur's cruel amusement, with only its glowing fiery-red eyes revealing its presence. A scrapping noise from the shadows confirmed Sam's suspicions revealing another observer to the bull's torment of Dean.
With the minotaur distracted by its torturous scuffle with the hunter, the creature made its move to challenge the bull for its prize. From the shadows a huge black scorpion, something the size of the Impala, emerged, scuttling quickly from the shadows with a loud clicking noise as the steel-like plates of its exoskeleton smashed against each other. Its immense tail swooped over its torso and smacked into the minotaur, sending the beast tumbling across the floor. The bull leapt to its feet in astonishment, prepared to charge at its challenger. As it galloped towards the scorpion the arachnid arched its flanged tail up and struck the minotaur through the chest. The bull wailed and grunted in pain, until the scorpion shook it free and duly claimed its prize. The minotaur skulked away, its huge hands gasping at the thick blood gurgling from its wounds as it disappeared into the darkness.
As Dean struggled to stand the scorpion pounced upon him, thrusting its immense tail clean through his chest. Blood erupted from Dean's mouth, spluttering in a steady flow down his naked torso. The creature lifted him up until his feet dangled spasmodically in the air. His whole body convulsed and trembled with the pain. The wound should have been fatal… had this not been Dean's nightmare… of Hell.
The scorpion seized him up in its gigantic claw, sliding him off its tail with a blood curdling slurping sound, intermingled with the brittle sound of smashed rib bones grinding together. All the while Dean remained conscious, hissing back his screams of agony, whilst glaring with waning defiance at his next tormentor. Behind the scorpion stood its master; a gnarled, age weathered old man. He peered at Dean, circling him and the scorpion, in his examination. Sam couldn't quite hear what was said by the frail looking demon, however Dean seemed to reply. Sam wondered if it was the true form of a demon Dean, or both, had at some stage exorcised back to hell. Dean's responses did not seem like casual conversation, and as Dean yelled some kind of abuse, the scorpion tightened its clawed grip about his waist, threatening to sever him in two. The demon laughed and the scorpion thrust the hunter to the ground. In an instance the arachnid thrust its tail back at the hunter, smashing through Dean's shoulder, effectively impaling him to the ground. The old man waved his hands and the ground came to life in a sea of bugs. Spiders, scorpions, cockroaches and a multitude of ants and flies filled the chamber. Dean was swiftly blanketed by the bugs, gnawing at his exposed wounds, feeding of his blood and burrowing under his skin. He screamed as they bore into every bodily cavity until he gagged on the mass of creepy-crawlies invading his mouth and throat.
The old man laughed and gloated as he scuttled around his victim. The bugs eventually covered Dean totally, until the insects lay several feet deep in the cave and Dean was lost in the churning, scuttling mound of glistening black movement.
Then the ground beneath seemed to open up and, in an avalanche plunging downwards, swallowed Dean and copious bugs whole. As swiftly as the human-like mound of creepy-crawlies dispersed, bugs swarmed over the vacant area in a frenzy.
With a wave of his arms, the demon parted the sea of bugs to reveal the black rocky ground beneath. Dean was definitely gone. The demon roared with anger at the devious theft of its captive. He snarled at the scorpion, presumably commanding the arachnid to find his captive. The scorpion thrust its tail high into the air and then smashed it downwards into the impenetrable ground beneath. Huge chunks of rock exploded from the creatures repeated thrusts, striking like a jack hammer, into the ground. However the rock refused to relinquish its captive.
Eventually the demon scurried swiftly into the darkness, with a screech of fury. The scorpion circled several times, antagonized by its masters high pitched squeal, then retreated into the grotto behind him.
Sam searched again for an entrance, running along the cave tunnels in his desperation. The rising heat was overwhelming. When he found a passageway that he hoped led in the right direction he hastened his pace. A cloak of black befell him as he staggered along the tunnel, using his hands to guide him forward. When he eventually stumbled into the cavern he found it empty, save for a multitude of lingering bugs… He dropped to his knees and desperately shoved the insects aside with his bare hands, repeating the notion to himself that they couldn't harm him, even as they bit and stung him. He found nothing but the cavern floor beneath…
Almost as he gave up hope of ever finding Dean again the earth beneath him softened and gave under his weight. Sam was falling again.
He thudded to the ground with a lung bruising thump; and he was sure he had himself fractured several bones… upon closer inspection he found that his foot lay painfully at an unnatural angle. And the familiar shooting stabs of pain in his arm left him with no doubt he'd fractured his wrist again. And then he reminded himself it was just a dream, and he hoped he had the power to influence what happened around him. With determination he willed away the pain… He stood up, confident no harm had come to him, flexing his repaired limbs with satisfaction. He grinned to himself: Finally, one point to Sam… at least he could control what affected him, even if he couldn't apparently change the solid fortifications around him, conjured by Dean's dream.
As he surveyed his surroundings he found he had been dumped into an immense cavern. Huge chains hung from somewhere in the uppermost, heights of the cavern's ceiling; far too high for him to discern, the chains disappearing into pitch black. Tortured souls hung, suspended by the chains, dangling precariously over a vast sea of lava.
Suddenly there was screaming, and a clattering of more chains…
Sam glanced up to see a body plummeting out of the darkness, like some kind of demonic bungee jump. Only there was no bungee rope, or precautionary bed of water beneath. Just chains and a sea of lava. Chains clattered and jangled as they unrolled in the descent. However, once the chains came to an end, when the rapid plummet came to an abrupt halt, there was no stretch to the chains, no absorption of the impetus. And Hell's victim was jerked to a screaming halt, dipped into the surrounding magma, and then rebounded upwards only to plummet back down again. The damned soul had been fixed by way of impalement, by huge iron spikes, to a weathered timber plank, spanning from one wrist to the other, which was then suspended from the chains. A wail of excruciating agony erupted from the tortured man's screaming mouth. The huge spikes, nailed through each wrist, ripped through flesh and bone, almost severing his hands from his forearms with the sudden inertia. His feet splashed into the sea of molten lava beneath him with an explosion of flames and displaced magma.
It was Dean that hung from the large, age-gnarled timber plank, to which his wrists had been pierced by huge spikes. The whole torture instrument remained suspended from the cavernous roof by rusty chains. He remained, stripped naked, his face was almost unrecognizable; he'd been so brutalized. Blood streamed down his body in fresh and dried rivulets, from hundreds of lacerations, the huge gaping holes of the scorpion's impalements still visible in his gut and shoulder. His limbs and torso were battered and bruised. His feet that dangled above the molten lava below him were blackened with burns, and mangled and swollen with abuse, scorched up to his calves where burnt skin had peeled away in sheets to reveal raw flesh beneath.
Sam tried to reach Dean, however the floor around his brother was a moat of molten lava, hissing and bubbling like a witch's cauldron. As huge bubbles exploded across the surface, scorching splashes of magma exploded up against Dean's calves and seared his naked flesh. Masses of fires burned in varying pits, emitting a flickering red glow through the cavern, the only lighting as such, and casting long blackened shadows across the ground.
A huge, grotesque, hunched-back being with a ragged, blood-stained hood, covering most of its face, emerged from the darkness. It chuckled to itself, chortling with anticipated glee. It paced briefly before Dean. Somehow the lava-like ground obeyed the needs of Hell's own, miraculously solidifying beneath the creature as it traversed the breadth of the cavern. It carried a long staff in its gnarled and twisted hand, from which three long leather cords were attached. Sam realized it was actually a long bone of sorts, still covered in a mummified hide, from which long leathery tentacles had grown in some unnatural mutation. The leather thongs each sprouted a succession of curved, black, talon-like claws, akin to a saw blade. Each tendril ended with an inch long talon, curling back on itself like a grappling hook.
"Get away from him!" Sam yelled at the creature; however it, and Dean, remained oblivious to his presence. As he skirted the molten moat he tentatively told himself it was all a dream, Dean's dream. That nothing here was real, just a creation of Dean's sub-consciousness. Hoping his ability to alter his surroundings had strengthened he tried to imagine the moat away, controlling the dream-scape with his own will, just as he had his own injuries… however as he ventured to step out across the lava bed, his boot hissed and smoldered. He could feel the sole of his foot burning within. He stepped back. Dean's delusions were incredibly strong, far too potent for Sam to apparently alter. And he had to remind himself that if he died here, in Dean's nightmare, he died in real life too…
The demonic-torturer hunched, in a slow stilted motion. The deformed, sub-human creature lashed at Dean's legs with the whip of spiked leather straps, leaving angry red welts and deep lacerations in lines across Dean's thighs and buttocks. His torturer spat out accusations and loathing, in a strange brusque dialect, only barely comprehensible. Dean was already so traumatized he barely flinched with each flogging; instead he glared at his attacker, with repugnance and abhorrence. The creature angrily lashed out at Dean's chest, where the spiked thongs embedded themselves into his ravaged flesh. The creature ripped the whip-like instrument down across his torso, tearing open long ragged wounds in its wake. The being received its desired level of torment. Dean screamed in agony as he flinched backwards, propelling himself away from his assailant, with his bruised and fire-blacked feet, until his wrists twisted and turned upon the spikes threatening to amputate each damaged appendage. Every struggle lowered Dean further into the lava beneath him. The creature cackled with delight, resuming its torture with further lashings.
Dean swore a string of explicit obscenities at the creature as it resumed its task, to which the hunchback retaliated by lashing out at Dean in a frenzy. The whip cut to the bone with the creature's ferocity. One lash ripping Dean's cheek open, from temple to jaw. The ragged skin flapped as Dean screamed with the ongoing excruciating agony. Sam could see his cheek bone and upper mandible as clearly as a university display skeleton. Blood streamed down his face and torso to join many other rivers of red. It fuelled the creature's frenzy, spurred it to flog him with a repetitive, age-honed, expertise.
"NO! You son-of-a-bitch!" Sam exclaimed. "DEAN!" He tried to break through Dean's delusion, to make contact. However Dean's nightmare remained steadfastly fortified from disruption.
Sam's mind rallied, even this, his desperate measure to save Dean seemed doomed to failure. For Dean knew Sam could never exist in this place, so his mind apparently refused to acknowledge his presence. Sam collapsed to his knees in anguish. He had to remind himself Dean was only dreaming…
And that he simply no longer existed in Dean's mind.
He searched the cavern for a means to reach his brother. If he could just make contact, touch him, hold him, king hit him if he had to... He knew it was his only, meager hope at reaching Dean. Somehow how he had break through Dean's impenetrable nightmarish walls.
Instead, as Sam inspected the huge cavernous cave they were now in, he gasped in horror. The cavern was endless… The random pits of flames had increased in size and number; some pits of fire as large as a swimming pool. He staggered around and into the enormity of the cavern. Small lakes of molten lava hampered his progress, camouflaged by the poor lighting and the crusty black surface that only cracked to reveal its true liquid magma form beneath when he attempted to stand upon it.
Sam had to shield his eyes, from the heat emitted from the flames. He had entered a fantasy-scape, of a vast cavern, its roof so high it appeared like a black sky above a sea of lava, in places it was walled by plunging cliffs, from which a huge rock bridge spanned from one side to the other. However as he gaped in awe at the scene, it was like standing at land's end, peering out onto an endless ocean, without end. Thousands, upon thousands of chains hung from the upper limits, from which the damned hung, slowly being emerged into the magma sea beneath. Others were being tormented by Hell's torturers, by way of flogging or flaying. Somehow, he was sure; he was privy to Hell's mass torture dungeon, a monumental slaughterhouse of damned souls.
And the damned screamed; in a long, continual howl of pain and sorrow. Each voice was swallowed by the next, until the noise became a constant, hackle raising, wail. It was an enormous sea of suffering and torture.
As Sam turned back around he realized with a terrifying awareness that he'd lost Dean in the throng of tortured souls. So many damned hung from chains, some semi-immersed in the molten lava sea beneath them. Some souls were fully engrossed into the molten rock, whilst others continued to be tortured by Hell's minions.
Sam searched for Dean, his eyes bouncing from one brutalized victim to the next, without result. As he carefully negotiated his way through the sea of tortured souls and precarious pits of hellfire, he willed Dean into sight…
And he appeared before him.
Dean's broad shoulders and his still defiant posture were unmistakable. Just meters away, Sam caught sight of his brother. Dean was almost fully immersed in the lava lake in the center of the cavern. He dangled, like the innumerable others, from the thick chains, still secured to the timber to which his wrists had been impaled.
Dean hung with his ankles brushing across the fiery pool of lava beneath him. Flames ate their way up his calves, searing the flesh away in large flakes, exposing charred and blackened skeletal feet. His torturer continued to circle him, persisting with the flogging. Sam gagged and began to retch at the sight. Dean struggled desperately, attempting to lift his legs from the magma; however every wriggle only served to inch him further into the molten rock. He screamed endlessly, the agony only intensifying with his desperate struggle, as he dropped further into the magma as it charred his knees. The hunchback continued its torment, intent on brutalizing Dean until the lava completely consumed him. The thick raging red molten rock was quickly swallowing Dean, bubbling up around him and searing away what flesh remained on his thighs. Dean began sinking into the intense molten rock, as flames erupted around him, enveloping his writhing agonized form in an explosion of fire.
Sam leapt across the pools of lava, scampering along a trail obviously never intended as a causeway, for the beasts of Hell did not seem to require such means. He stood at the edge of the lava lake, only to witness as fiery arms reached out through the molten rock and latched onto Dean's waist. Dean was yanked down with such ferocity the chains that bound him shattered entirely and he was pulled completely into the lava. An explosion of fire and a blazing splash the only thing left in his wake.
Sam screamed for his brother, aghast by the sight of watching Dean seemingly die again. And yet he knew it wasn't so… he knew Hell couldn't kill the dead.
As he staggered about aimlessly, with a growing sensation of defeat, by the futility of his endeavor, Sam realized all too late that the ground beneath him had cracked and liquefied. He was being swallowed by the molten lava that surrounded him. 'Only a dream, only a dream!' He reminded himself as the scorching sludge cremated his flesh. He screamed in agony as he was dragged through Dean's nightmare as sure as if he had been physically tethered to his brother by the same chains that had Dean bound. The agony consumed him as swiftly as the magma. 'Can't die… can't…' He tried desperately to believe…
Unconsciousness, or death, swallowed him and darkness prevailed.
As he awoke he hoped his conscious determination had succeeded, and not death, in transporting him there. For he woke to find himself in the same Hellish grotto he'd first woken to. Uncertainty reeled about his thoughts. How could he know for sure if this was still Dean's illusion, or had he really died, only to have been condemned to Hell for his past misdemeanors?
He rubbed his palm over a razor like outcropping of stone until his flesh flayed and bled. Then he willed the wound away… his heart pounded in his chest, hoping against all the odds that Dean's nightmare hadn't succeeded in claiming his life… Relief washed over him as the lacerated flesh on his palm, closed and disappeared. "Oh Thank God…" He muttered, as he realized he was still in Dean's delusions. Although he was still cautiously aware that Hell could just as likely use such relief to simply torture him later…
But for now his greatest torture was in knowing the horrors Dean had faced during his imprisonment. And knowing that Hell had been Dean's entire eternity. No wonder he couldn't sense the reality of his freedom. His mind had already decreed that there would be no reprieve from his incarceration. Sam became even more determined to release his brother from his self-imposed illusion of Hell that, even beyond the confines of damnation, continued to keep him captive. He scoured the grotto, once again beginning his desperate search for Dean.
The unrelenting screams through the grottos echoed and taunted him. The weight of the suffering that the wails carried was near unbearable. Never had any living soul witnessed such a vast magnitude of anguish and misery. Or the pain and agony, steeped so deep in hopelessness and despair that he felt he was drowning in a sea of blood and tears. His own hopes, of saving Dean, were eroding as his futile mission seemed only to drag him further away from any means of liberation for his brother. He had failed…
However, through the screams, Sam startled at one, very familiar tenor. And he knew Dean was there somewhere. Thoughts of abandoning his quest evaporated and Sam ran down the cavernous corridor.
His heart pounded in his rib cage, stopping altogether when Dean's attempt to stifle yet another scream of agony fell well short. He was close. Sam ducked down another corridor that meandered and turned into complete darkness. Sam smacked his head on the roof as the tunnel constricted and tightened. Then another scream. Sam began to jog, with his hands out stretched, as his heart resumed its racing pace.
The tunnel opened up into another of Hell's dungeons. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Screaming filled his ears.
He ran down another of the infinite tunnels, in desperation, searching every nook and cranny. Somewhere, Dean's gurgled screams echoed through the maze of burrows, and Sam took flight. He proceeded down a narrow, darkened tunnel, that twisted and turned, passing several forks and cross roads in the endless labyrinth of grottos. Sam passed numerous tortured souls along the way, impaled and chained, some merely skeletal corpses, gnawed at by devilish rodents. Others were immersed in pools of boiling blood, most dangled in head first.
He passed by a number of cloaked, deformed and haggard brutes, Hell's torturers, as he searched for Dean. However Dean was not among the tortured. And thankfully the sadistic minions remained focused on their own tasks; of flogging, disemboweling and hacking at the damned with whips, hooks and knives. He could hear yet other tortured souls screaming in torment, from the darkness of other tunnels and passageways, and he wondered what other horrors lay in wait for the ill-fated souls. More screaming and agonized groaning filled his ears, although now he had ceased to respond to the sound. It had become almost unnoticeable to the hunter, like a constant white noise. All except one…
"Fuck you…" Dean's voice gushed, from somewhere in the darkness, his voice strangled and muffled. "Eat… fucking… shit!"
The gurgled, adamant remark, harsh coughing and a loud groan had Sam turn on a dime and duck down a narrow tunnel.
"Now, now, Dean Winchester, we've been expecting you! Waiting in… an-tic-i-pation!" A male voice laughed with amusement. "We knew it was only a matter of time, until you arrived, and that can be just a fleeting moment down here." The chuckling voice taunted. "We have some amends to extract…"
"Yes my pretty." A distinctly female voice added. "I have some definite plans for you…"
"Get ya damned hands off me!" Dean clearly rebutted.
Sam continued to follow the echoes of the conversation through the darkened passage way. The voices sounded so very close, however every twist and turn of the grotto led him no nearer…
"That's what I like to hear!" A loud, terse voice snarked. "You wanna kill her? Maybe you wanna tackle her to the ground… Have your way with her… Take your frustrations out on her?"
"Fuck Off!" Dean snapped back angrily.
"Ohhhh… why don't you make me?" The terse voice taunted. "Come on, you can do it…" There was a short pause before the voice continued, obviously with greater annoyance. "You pussy! Does this make you angry? Or this?" Sam recognized the unmistakable grunts and muffled groans that followed the succession of noise of fist upon flesh.
The beating and the taunting continued. Brief rips of electric-like shocks filled the air with muffled, agonized screams… electrocution Sam realized. And intermingled with the cries was the sounds of hacking or clawing, the ripping and tearing of… flesh.
"That's gotta hurt?" The terse voice queried sadistically. "You wanna cry yet?"
Pain and suffering was extracted amidst amused laughter. Sam recognized every agonized moan as Dean's… But not the sadistic mirth that belonged to someone, something, else…
"Hmmm… that's it, now I can feel your anger welling, it's like a pulsating wave of exhilaration, pouring off you." The terse voice commented.
"Fuck you!" Dean panted; a slight moan tagged his statement.
"Let it loose…" The demon demanded. "Show me your wrath…"
Silence ensued. Sam knew that however angry Dean may have been he'd fight any and every emotion to suppress what the demon so openly craved…
"Ohhh no. He's a lover…" The female voice piped up. "… not just a fighter." Her remark was followed by what Sam could only decipher as an amorous advance.
"Don't!" Sam heard Dean reply angrily.
The terse voice laughed with satisfaction. "That's it… teach her a lesson… What are you waiting for? It's not like you have any respect for the more gentile sex anyway…"
"No… Poor Dean. Sam got all the gentlemanly qualities…" Another smooth, low voice remarked. "He got all the right attributes, didn't he? The smarts, the character, the camouflage of normality… Everything he could use to fit into a regular life…"
Sam paused at the accusation and wondered; 'Had he? It certainly didn't feel that way…'
"Yeah, I guess families are like that." Dean retorted in the distance. "Everyone has their qualities… Some get the brains, some the brawn. Me, I got the dashing good looks, and the know-how on how to exterminate the likes of you!"
"Well not quite all of us!" The smooth voice sniggered.
"No… We had been a family for many millennia…" The female voice announced with anger of her own. "Until you and yours!"
"They got what they deserved!" Dean distinctively replied. "Shoulda killed your asses too! Let me loose and I'll fix that little oversight!"
"Yes, let's!" The terse voice demanded. "I want to see more of what he's got!"
"You'll have your turn!" A rough voice remarked. "He's mine first!"
"Why's that?" The female demanded.
"Because I found him first!" The rough voice replied. "And I say he drinks now!" The voice commanded.
"Your methods are so benign!" The terse voice complained. "No passion, no color!"
"I'll show you color!" The rough voice replied.
Sam heard as Dean gagged and coughed violently, explicit obscenities intermingled with strangled attempts to breathe. Sam began to run through the never-ending labyrinth of tunnels and caves, passing innumerable dungeons and tortured, damned souls…
He wearied quickly; the suffocating extreme heat had intensified the deeper he proceeded into the grottos. He was forced to slow and catch his breath, in fear of passing out from heat exhaustion… if that was even possible in a dream-scape. Blood pounded through his ears like a thunder storm, and he had to calm himself to hear Dean again. It took what seemed like eons before he realized once more that he was actually dreaming, even if it was Dean's nightmare… his heart had no need to be pounding like he'd run a marathon, even if it also pounded with trepidation and fear for the tribulations his brother had most likely endured…
As his heart calmed he heard Dean's gagged choking, as it echoed through every passage way. Even so, Sam was still at a loss as to where he had disappeared to.
He searched for his brother, confident that Dean's dream must surely have led him in the right direction. He could never have imagined the sights he'd seen so far, they could only have been drawn from Dean's own memories. His journey, and his search, was tied to Dean's experiences, and Dean had dreamt this… had possibly had to endure this… he hoped the tether that bound him to Dean still existed.
"I'm sure Samuel has embraced his freedom by now…" Another male voice chortled. "He don't even know ya here. Thinks he's saved ya… damned fool! Word is; Sam's livin' it up. Partying, with his brother! Only he ain't partying with his real brother, that's for damned sure, ain't it Winchester! Just who d'ja think is walkin' round in your boots?"
"NO!" Dean objected, still coughing and spluttering. "He wouldn't…"
"Let me play now…" The female voice interrupted. "Just let me have him for a while… I want to party too! Before you mess him up!"
Sam finally staggered into the right grotto. He'd passed it by, he didn't know how many times, hadn't even noticed it was there… or it hadn't been. Dean was shackled to the craggy cave wall, by his hands. Although he had been given enough chain, Sam suspected, to try and 'hang' himself with. Even as Sam watched in horror, acid dripped from stalactites on the roof, spilling in succession in raw rivers down his torso, eating away his flesh in acidic erosion. He'd obviously been beaten again, tangled with one of the four demons that circled him. They appeared human enough, except for their oily black eyes of course…
An attractive brunette, clad like a high class hooker, was pawing at his naked brother, running her red-lacquered fingers over his bruised and bloodied biceps, as one leg straddled his thigh in nothing short of seduction.
"Not yet!" A tall weighty man, with the rough voice, boomed. "He hasn't finished drinking yet!" With that the man raised his hand and blood began to gurgle from Dean's mouth. Dean attempted to spit the vile fluid from his mouth, splattering the woman in crimson. However the weighty demon's will forced him instead to gulp it down. Sam speculated it wasn't actually Dean's blood coming up from within, the demon had created it solely so that Dean had to consume it. As Dean gulped and gagged on the crimson liquid the brunette stomped away angrily, wiping the splash of blood from her face. "You have all eternity…" He added to the woman with a grin.
"Sam should be the one here, shouldn't he Dean?" A fair haired, slender man smirked from a darkened corner, where he leaned contently back against the grotto wall with his arms folded across his chest. "This is, after all, supposed to be his realm, his kingdom… you surely don't deserve all this? What with you being the self-sacrificing, ever-protective big brother… your father's good little soldier…"
Dean glared back at the man with vehement. His eyes glimmered pure green in anger. "Fuck… off!" He coughed out as the other continued to force him to drink down the copious pints of blood.
Sam recognized the demons; it wasn't a hard identification at all. They were the remaining Seven deadly Sins: Envy, Gluttony and Lust. Plus one more: Wrath, Sam was pretty sure. The few that they; he, Dean and Bobby, had exorcised. Ruby had executed the remaining three… Pride, Sloth and Greed. They were no longer in the hosts he had last seen them in, but distinguishable none-the-less. He staggered into the grotto, a little unsteady from exhaustion and the chase. However his presence remained unnoticed. As he approached Gluttony he attempted to tackle the demon to the ground, however he found himself falling through the delusion like he'd tackled a ghost.
The demons' conversation persisted undeterred…
"Why, Dean?" The fair-haired man, Envy, continued. "Why are you the one condemned here? We all know Sam's the evil one… And even ya daddy deserved his damnation, for the life he stole from you, the lives he corrupted with his insane need for revenge, and yet he got a get-out-of-jail-free card. But you Dean, you did nothing to warrant your damnation… Ya had a gold pass Dean, straight to the land of milk an' honey, and ya gave it away… just like ya life… ya gave up everything, ya childhood, ya dreams, ya future, ya soul… all to save ya self-satisfying, always-got-what-he-wanted, daddy's favorite, evil spawned brother…"
"Fuck Off!" Dean ground out through gritted teeth.
"Don't you just want to rip his head off?" Wrath demanded, his black eyes glimmered in the half-light with excitement, playing off Envy's taunt.
"NO!" Dean gagged. His stomach was painfully swollen and extended by the quantity of blood he had been forced to swallow down. His mouth, chin and chest were painted red by the overflow. He groaned with the agony of his distorted organs, and he gagged with repulsion and over-consumption, although he was unable to spew the offending blood up from his guts. "He's… not… evil!"
"'Course not… Azazel just took a fancy ta his placid demeanor and rugged good looks…" Envy laughed with amusement. "But I know ya want ta know 'Why Sam?' Why is he the special one? All these years, you've always been the better hunter, the obedient son, the one who always had to sacrifice… the better looking…" Envy grinned with delight as he taunted Dean. "… And yet one of the most powerful entities in the universe still picks Sam… over you. Even ya father always put Sam 'afore you. Your only worth was as his protector!"
"No!" Dean objected. "He'd do the same…"
"Really, would he? I mean it didn't seem to bother him that you were going to die… and go to HELL… because HE stuffed up – BIG TIME!" Envy accused. "He coulda bailed ya out of your deal, and died, like he should'a all along. And yet you're the one dead, hacked and ripped at by the master's hounds… and Sam's living it up."
Gluttony paused his forced feeding. Taking amusement from Envy's scathing words… words that seemed all too true.
"It was you, Dean, like always…" Envy continued. "You had to pay for his mistake, like you have your whole life. And the damnation of your whole life, it's because of Sam: Azazel killed your mom, set your daddy on his one-eyed road of vengeance. All because of Sam! We all know he's why you're here!" Envy paused for effect, smirking at the scowl he'd forced upon Dean's angered brow. "HE got sloppy, HE let his guard down and HE got himself killed. And yet you've had to pay for HIS mistakes not just with ya life, but with your whole-eternity!"
"I'm betting now you'd happily let him rot! In Hell, or otherwise…" Wrath added with a smirk of satisfaction. "Damned coward that he is, he obviously wouldn't do the same for you! You're simply not worth it! Still, with his deceit he'll probably get some good seats down here, when his time comes! He is afterall… Hell-tainted! He's damned through and through! Evil to the core!"
"NO!" Dean snapped back with the anger Wrath had sought. Dean lunged at the demon, pulling on his restraints as far as he could to lash out. Wrath laughed with amusement, side stepping Dean's clumsy blow; Dean's mind and body queasy and clumsy from Gluttony's forced consumption of blood.
Wrath continued to chortle as his fist smashed into Dean's over-extended abdomen and exacted an agonized groan from the damned hunter, and Dean slumped to his knees. Dean glared back with restrained rage, only to be met with a swift knuckle to his jaw. Wrath exacted his pleasure with brutal glee: His fists and boots, pounding at their downed victim with no mercy what so ever.
Envy joined the party, not wanting to be out done of course. Churning balls of electricity burst forth from his palms, lighting the entire cavern as he tossed them at Dean. Dean froze with the impact, then gagged and shuddered uncontrollably as the electricity surged through his body.
Sam forgot the rules; the laws of the dream-scape, and lunged towards Wrath with clear intentions of doling out retribution in kind. His retaliation was met with no obstruction at all, as his fist flew through Wrath's skull like a magician stepping through smoky dry-ice .
It was an intruder who put a stop to the beating. Ruby had been right again; it would seem every damned soul the Winchesters had exorcised back into Hell, were after Dean to extract their own revenge…
Loud thunderous footsteps boomed through the grotto, sending shock waves of vibrations through the rocky ground. Dean's head snapped up, startled into terrified consciousness, as he recognized the sound of another tormentor. Even the sadistic Deadly Sins cowered at the noise; their eyes flickered into the dark in fear, awaiting the arrival of what must be a much more potent tormentor.
Sam scoured the long pitch-black tunnel in search of the cause behind the approaching noise. With caution he scuttled across the sweltering floor, into a darkened corner. He nestled in the safety of the shadows, flicking away the numerous creepy crawlies there. After his experiences so far he wasn't certain he had any discernable control over Dean's nightmare. He simply didn't know what would, or wouldn't materialize as real to him; and he had no desire to face one of Hell's own torturers.
As the shadows gave way, a huge demon entered the grotto. And 'Devil-like' best described the creature. It was well over eight feet tall, with a ruddy, thick, leathery hide. It had huge broad and muscular shoulders, spanning a good three feet, bulging biceps and beefy forearms that attached to immense, taloned-hands. Its huge head was goat-like and affixed on a neck that was barely distinguishable from its shoulders. Two massive spiraling horns sprouted from each temple, and goat-like eyes, burning red like hell's own fires peered into the darkness of the grotto. Its back and shoulders were covered with a thick shock of chestnut fur that ran down its chest into a V at its waist, and then expanded out over the groin and buttocks and down its legs. Its legs were also that of a goat, like some demonic faun, with a thick cherry coating of fur and broad black cloven hooves the size of buckets. The ground shuddered beneath its steps, and black dust erupted with every footfall. It grunted as it approached, seeking attention.
The demon back-handed the semi-defiant Wrath, like he was no more than a midget, tossing the demon aside. Lust, Gluttony and Envy backed away. Sam was startled to think there were obviously demons far more powerful than the likes of The Seven Deadly Sins… or four of them… They scampered away, cursing with abuse in a language unknown to Sam.
Dean was visibly terrified, struggling against his restraints until fresh blood streamed down his wrists from the aggravation. The incarcerated hunter shook his head, pleading for a reprieve, muttering softly, 'No, please…' however no mercy or abstinence was forthcoming. The creature roared an amused response; its strained version of a laugh most likely.
"Doest thou still bleed, Bestial?" It queried in an articulate, booming voice. It reached for Dean's chest and ran its taloned-fingers down his chest. Lacerations burst open, the demon's claws flaying the flesh apart like a surgeon's scalpel. It didn't seem to mater that Dean's physical body was absent, his soul most certainly bled. And he screamed with agony. The creature chuckled with satisfaction.
"Doest thou still breathe, Bestial?" The demon leaned forward, standing menacingly close and curled its lip in a malicious smile. It snorted as it sniggered, its rank breath blustering through Dean's hair.
"No… please…" Dean pleaded. "Not again…"
It broke Sam's heart, because Dean never begged…
The demon placed its huge hand over Dean's chest, the breadth of its appendage almost as wide as the elder Winchester's bare torso. As it chuckled contently, Sam's knees almost buckled in horror. The creature proceeded to sink its talons into Dean's chest, forcing its claws through flesh and bone. Sam could hear as Dean's ribs snapped in succession with the intrusion and his brother gasped for breath. Blood spewed from his mouth and poured from the wounds to his chest. Dean's gasped shriek gagged in his throat as the creature constricted his lungs and heart, slowly shattering his ribcage. Squeezing its hand closed about the hunter's vital organs and simulating an agonizing death. Dean's eye's bulged with asphyxiation and blood loss, his face paled and his lips rapidly turned blue. But he couldn't die. He could only suffer through the excruciating torture of it.
Dean screamed again as the demon withdrew its bloodied claws from his chest, with a blood curdling slurping sound. Blood gushed from the wounds, and Dean was left gasping painfully for breath his body did not need. Blood gurgled and bubbled from his mouth, streaming down his chin to create crimson rivers down his chest. His blood hissed and dried as it splattered across the scorching ground beneath his feet.
Sam could only conjecture that the beast apparently seemed to be testing the progression of Hell's effect on Dean's perceived human mortality and humanity… testing just how much still remained. As yet Dean still bled, still breathed, still felt, and still reacted to the torment of the flesh. He was still more human, than not.
Sam sprang from his hiding place yelling at the creature. "Get the fucking hell away!" He shrieked desperately, almost ploughing through the lava lake between him and the creature. He stopped short as his foot reached the edge of the molten barrier and his boot ignited into flames. "STOP! I swear to God…" He stomped the flames out. Only God was nowhere to be found…
However neither Dean, nor the creature acknowledged his presence. Sam was desperate. How could he convince Dean everything he was suffering was of his own mind's making? That it was all a dream? Certainly not if he couldn't make himself known… Somehow he had to get Dean to acknowledge him, to actually realize he was there…
"Doest thou still remember, Bestial?" The beast chuckled with malicious delight. The demon wrapped both its hands around Dean's head in its immense grasp until his cranium was lost in its clutch. Again the creature forced its talons into Dean's flesh, his skull shattering with the force of the demon's intrusion. Its fingers disappeared into Dean's skull, and the tortured hunter howled with an ear piercing shriek as taloned fingers delved deep into his mind.
Sam wasn't quite sure how, or when, but in the blink of an eye, the demon had suddenly transformed.
It was Meg…
"I'm sure you remember me now!" She cooed with her seductive velvety voice. Her fingers clenched tighter around Dean's skull. "Don't you Dean?"
Dean's eyes opened wide like saucers, as she fed him images of horror.
She showed him, in techni-demon-color, more than realistic, high definition, blood and gore detail, the deaths of everyone Dean had ever loved. He had front row seats as Azazel ripped his mother's abdomen open, pinning her to the nursery ceiling where he kept her alive long enough for her to feel the searing flames of Hell consume her. Then he witnessed as Azazel rammed his demonic fist into his father's chest, crushing John's heart until he died, without leaving any trace of injury or intrusion. And the continued torture he faced when his soul was dragged into Hell's depths. When John was hung by his feet, and dangled over the fires of Hell… and regularly immersed into the hungry flames until his flesh was cremated… over and over again. It was a cruel reminder that it was Dean's soul he'd saved, only to have Dean throw his father's sacrifice away, and sell his own soul into the very same damnation.
Meg chuckled, although Sam wasn't sure why. He was oblivious to the images she was feeding Dean… almost. Sam raced forward, hoping there was some way he could reach his brother…
"Sammy…" Dean panted with trepidation and anguish.
And finally Sam had hope…
Sam continued forward again, hopping over the lava pools, skirting where necessary, inching closer and closer.
"No… please… no… not again…" Dean continued. "Not Sammy…"
Sam had no idea what the demon was doing, that Dean hadn't actually seen him at all, but was lost, further in his mind, trapped in a memory of horror. But it was enough to prompt him into an act of desperation. Sam raced forward with complete disregard for the moat of lava that had separated them before. Somehow he had managed to avoid being devoured by the boiling molten magma…
Only he wasn't in the grotto any longer…
Sam halted and gasped as he recognized his surroundings. It was the deep of night, in the open air that was fresh and cold… He was in Cold Oak, South Dakota…
"SAM!" Dean suddenly screamed as he ran forward towards him.
As he continued his way towards Dean, Sam realized for the first time Dean actually saw him. He was finally real, and he hoped desperately that at last everything was going to be ok…
"Dean, this isn't real…" Sam pleaded, not wasting any time in attempting to release Dean from his tortured mind's nightmarish clutches. He jogged towards his brother. "Dean, this is all just a nightmare! It's not really Meg… it's just a dream. You brought me back! You saved me, Dean. Don't you remember? Jake can't kill me anymore. I'm alive… see? Bobby and I saved you too, saved you from your deal… with the Crossroad Demon. We pulled you out, Dean. You have to remember. Ruby, she kept you alive… You're really safe now, you have to believe me. This is all just a dream, a nightmare, and you can wake up! Please Dean." His words babbled uncontrollably as he neared Dean. Because finally Dean really could see him, and hear him!
"Sam?" Dean seemed confused. He knew something was off. This was new. With all the times Meg had forced him to endure this moment, over and over again it had always played out exactly the same… Sam always died… silently in his arms.
"Dean, you have to wake up!" Sam pleaded.
Dean paused cautiously, hesitant about approaching any closer. He appeared to ponder Sam's words; however his blank expression revealed his skepticism. It was a new tactic, Dean had to admit, but nothing was beyond Hell's torturers…
But if Meg thought that forcing him to relive Sam's death, however much she had managed to pervert the true reality of the memory, would wear him down, she would be sorely disappointed. Instead of breaking him, it gave him the strength to endure… no matter how often she made him relive it, it always reminded him that his sacrifice was worth every tormented moment. Sam's life really was worth it. Even if his firm resolve never lessened the grief and heartache of it all.
"I drank the dream root, Dean, that's how I'm here." Sam explained. "Jake can't hurt me anymore, you have to believe that! And nothing can hurt you! You have to wake up!"
"Dream-root?" Dean queried. He gazed at Sam like it was the younger that was delusional.
"Yes, you're safe… this is just a dream…" Sam reiterated.
Dean contemplated the notion once more, doubts plagued him, and yet somehow it seemed plausible…
"Sam, look out!" Dean shrieked desperately glaring at something beyond him.
Something slammed into Sam from behind, thrust into his back like he'd been hit by a bus. He felt his vertebrae grate and shatter with the brute force of the thrust. There was an intense agony as the pain bloomed upwards through his back, whilst all sensation to his lower limbs ceased. His body flared with a fiery surge of agony from the waist up. His legs deceived him, and his knees buckled beneath him. He was falling… Dean was running towards him, skidding in the muddy sludge… and he was tumbling forward… into Dean's arms… and he realized: Jake must have been there somewhere too, and just like before he'd let his guard down.
'A dream…' He repeated to himself, over and over… but it wasn't… panic welled up from his tangled guts. He'd messed up big time, again! He was trapped in Dean's formidable dream-scape now, and what ever Dean dreamed, he would be resolutely bound by… Sam felt as Jake administered his all conclusive twist of the dagger to ensure maximum damage… Everything was playing out just as it had happened a little over a year ago… he was going to die! He panted with terror; because he really could die again!
'No' He thought to himself. 'I can stop this… it's a dream… it's not real!' But he knew he had to convince Dean, because with the strength of Dean's delusions he knew, for him, it very well could be real… He was dying all over again… Sam fought to remain conscious long enough to keep reminding himself it was all Dean's dream… he tried to force the false reality of the experience away…
"Your… apparitions… are too strong… for me… I can't… fight you." Sam pleaded with his last breaths. "Please Dean… don't let me… die again… you have to… WAKE UP!"
Suddenly Sam couldn't breath, the world went hazy. Icy cold replaced all sensation. And he was falling… There was darkness, or more precisely there was nothingness. And overwhelming cold… Somewhere through the darkening haze someone was calling his name.
"No, no, no, no, no! Oh, God!" Dean pleaded. "SAM!"
It was almost in slow motion, as Dean was forced to witness the instant Jake slammed the dagger into Sam's spine, twisting enough to know his spinal cord would sever… He watched again as the life was extinguished in his baby brother's eyes…
"SAMMY!" He called desperately.
~~~oooOOOooo~~~
A long chapter I know, but I wanted to justify Dean's apparent hysteria and continuing nightmares. And I figured if Hell was a never-ending carousel of torture and torment, Dean's dreams would be too. So I wanted to reflect that. And although Dean would always fight, 'to the death'… he would also know that his damnation was for all eternity and redemption completely impossible. So even though Sam and Bobby managed to save him, his mind simply wouldn't let him believe it to be true. And, even after his release, his body was still painfully ravaged by horrific injury so there was no reason for him to believe his torment of never ending pain and agony had ever ended. And if there's anything Dean Winchester does well, its build impenetrable walls around himself, keeping his own fears and nightmares within, whilst banishing everything, and everyone else out. (And I couldn't make saving Dean too easy for Sam!)
I realize I could have gone all out on what creatures probably reside in Hell's depths; the Winchesters have banished so many. (And I had a little fun and did create a few of my own.) I wonder if that's where ghost go too, once they've been salted and burned? But I had to rein the story in at some point, besides Sam's intrusion into Dean's dreams is only meant to be a brief insight into the much greater eternity of Dean's damnation. At any rate, I figured demons would top the feeding chain, and therefore the first to seek retribution upon the damned hunter. Reflecting on past episodes there weren't a lot of Demons I could find that were named and exorcised, so I took a little liberty with them… especially the seven deadly sins. I had to hypothesize just who the remaining four deadly sins were. Lust, Gluttony and Envy, I'm pretty confident of, the forth was a little hazy, so I picked Wrath, because Wrath would make an excellent tormentor. I hope you agree?
And Meg, she's like the Terminator isn't she? She crops up from the dead, and Hell's damnation, over and over. But I always liked Meg (especially Demon Meg) so I'm glad she was exorcised and not killed so that I could play with her once more… and who else but Azazel's daughter would be the most feared by Dean? I just hope she doesn't mind me making her demon alter-ego a huge hulking (goat-like, of course) devilish creature, and seemingly male… but then again, she didn't mind hoping into Sam and seducing Jo…
I hope you have enjoyed my fic so far… its close to completion, so I hope you'll stick with it to see what will become of the Winchester brothers.
Thank you for reading,
chrissymi