Chapter Two
The pain. That was the first thought Dean Winchester always thought when he first awoke each day. There was nothing else to think of. The pain. It was his only concern. He couldn't open his eyes don't want to he knew what was waiting for him if he did. It had only been five months that he had been in Hell, he knew that, but to him it felt like five years. He chose this, he made this decision, and it was the worst mistake in my life.
He heard the footsteps approaching. The footsteps he heard each day. He listened as screams filled the cloud of hate around him. He knew that it was only so long until those screams were his. He never opened his eyes, he never needed to. He knew what was striking him, he saw the images in his mind no matter what. That's what Hell does. You go through torture, torture by whoever may come by and decide to strike at you. Then you get images, horrible things that you would never see in even your worst nightmares. Then comes the few seconds you get of what you may want to call sleep. Then it starts again.
The footsteps came closer with every set of screams. Just a few people away from him now.
Three people until it's my turn.
Two people until I get what I signed myself up for.
One person until it's me getting beat.
The footsteps stopped at him. "It's your choice Winchester. I've asked you this for one thousand twenty-five days. Each time you refuse, as you know, the punishment grows worse. Will this be the day you decide to let the pain stop?"
He was asked this every day. He could endure the pain that was given to him by only one person, or he could deliver the pain to others. It seemed like such a small price to pay to be let off the Rack. It seemed like the greatest trade-off, but everything comes with a price. No matter who he saw, what they did to end up there, Dean had to torture them. He wouldn't do that. It wasn't fair. "Just give me my daily serving of Hell you son of a bitch. Let's get it done and over with."
All of a sudden there was nothing but pain. Pain everywhere. He felt himself scream but couldn't hear anything past the frantic pulsing of his veins that now served no purpose. The pain lasted for what felt like hours. It switched every few minutes. At first the pain could be ice cold like a blizzard brewing within his body. The next, it would be fire. The hottest fire you could imagine coursing through his entire body and striking at any part that seemed weak. Then could be spikes. Spikes that stabbed the most sensitive, fragile, vulnerable, parts of your body. This was Hell. This is what I put myself through for Sammy. This is what I put myself through to bring him back. And now he'd better be living a happy life or so help me God when I get out of here . . .
His thoughts soon ended as they always did. He didn't have a chance to think when there was nothing to feel but pain. Then it ended. As soon as it had arrived it was gone. It was replaced by horrible images. Memories.
He ran. As fast as he could, he ran to him. To where he stood. He shouted his name as he looked at him standing bloody and hurt. There was the bastard that stabbed him, running away like a coward. He couldn't stay to take accountability for his actions. He had to run off and leave Sam dying. He ran to his dying brother, ran to him fast. But not enough. Sam fell into his arms not clear on what was happening. He didn't know that he was stabbed. He didn't know that he was dying. He just died. Unexpected and all too soon.
He opened his eyes weakly looking down at the floor. In his seeing range he saw his body. His arms were stretched onto either side of his head and his legs were just the same. He was in the outfit he died in, only his jacket was removed. He closed his eyes again awaiting the next round of torture. This next pain was more than he could handle. He burst into tears uncontrollably crying out for his brother first. After his brother, he cried for a hunter who worked with them often, Hazel. After that he cried for his dad and soon following, his mom. It was something he did even though he knew he would receive no reply. It was something everyone and everything did when sent to this demonic pit called Hell.
There was one thing he kept in mind, though, when being tortured like this. He kept in mind that no matter what, Sammy was up in the world alive. He was up in the wold fighting for him and protecting the one thing he loved. His car.
But as much as Dean hated to admit it, there was one other thing he loved. Her name was Hazel. Hazel Dythe. And she was up there waiting and fighting for him too. Even if she didn't know the feelings that existed in his heart. She was waiting. And I won't stop fighting until I'm up there. So you keep fighting with me.