I suppose with how short this part is I could've just added it on to part three, but that would've felt weird. I don't know. I'm weird, don't ask me questions about my writing because I probably won't be able to answer them. But yeah last part. Enjoy.
I take just about the most massive gasp of breath I've probably ever taken since I was born and my eyes snap wide open. The lights are too bright. My breathing is labored and quick as I take in my surroundings. Either Meg has found some new even more cruel way to torture me, or my angelic dad finally dragged me out. I see said angel out of the corner of my eye. I'm apprehensive of him. I can't be sure if he's real. He sits down across from me and I tense, moving away a bit. He places his hand on mine and I flinch.
"It's okay, Mason. Demons can't cause powerful hallucinations. You're home." I relax a bit, half expecting to be thrown back onto the rack as soon as I do. A brief squeeze of my hand though as that all too familiar feeling I've been dying to feel for lord knows how long washes over me, and I know I'm home. I actually laugh in relief, grinning wildly up at my savior.
"And I didn't break the seal. No repeat of the apocalypse." I add. One of Cas' rare full smiles is given to me in return. Before I can say anything else, my dad and uncle are bursting through the door, six packs in both hands.
"M'boy's out of Hell and there's no looming apocalypse. I'd say that's occasion for a fuckin' party!" My other father's enthusiasm is contagious, causing me to leap up and snag one of the packs for myself.
"Since I'm the one that was getting sliced up for months, this whole thing's mine." I shoot a glare at everyone, and Dean is about to say something, but Sam gives him his signature bitch face, and he backs off. I smirk. No doubt Daddy dealt with Hell the same way I am if his brother's face is anything to go by. Besides, if it gets too out of hand, they'll tell me.
We all laugh, and the party begins.
Screaming. So much screaming. Even after Meg cuts out my throat, I try to scream, try to call out for help that I have less and less hope each day is even coming.
I want to give in. So badly, I want to give in. A few more agonizing slices later, and she's asking me the same question.
"C'mon, baby. Just pick up the knife for yourself, and it'll all be over." She smirks. I spit in her face with a smirk of my own.
"Go fuck yourself." A snap of her fingers, and my body's whole again. My face pales, and my breathing becomes increasingly erratic the closer she saunters over to me. She leans down to whisper in my ear.
"What a fantastic idea." she all but purrs. My eyes widen and I start to struggle, what is about to happen dawning on me.
"No…no, no, no, anything but that." Her eyes turn black, and she straddles me. Her lips move to my ear and she grazes it with her teeth. I bite my lip to suppress a whimper and turn my head away from her, trying to ignore her advances. When she hovers over me, though, that's it. That is fucking it. I'm done. Barely been in a year, and I'm done.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it just fucking stop!" I wail, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
That same insane laughter is heard again, along with a roar of approval from basically the entire demonic population of Hell, and somewhere, I swear I can hear my dad, the original righteous man, crying.
I awake shouting myself hoarse, panting, and sweating profusely. I take a moment to ponder the idea of that actually happening. Would I have given in had she used those sorts of cheap moves? Sure, being hacked to bits daily was no picnic, but it's better than what she tried to do in my nightmare. They come every night now, without fail. Every single night I find myself giving in because of something else, something she never bothered to try until she was sure I wouldn't give in any other way. And each night, I say yes. I disregard Earth and all who inhabit it because I cannot fucking take it. I silently thank a God I am fully aware doesn't care that it was just a dream, and am about to lie back down when I see a shadow across my bed. I reach under my pillow for the knife I keep hidden, but I feel familiar hands grip my shoulders and my head whips around to see my father, the one who'd also been to Hell (and remembered it…Sam had absolutely no recollection of his time down under), staring down at me, concerned.
Embarrassingly enough, I break down completely, falling over on him with a choked sob that turns into gross violent sobs loud enough to wake the whole of whatever city we're camped out in. It's as if I've reverted to being five, clinging to Daddy after a bad dream. He runs one hand through my hair and one in slow circles on my back that glistens with sweat.
"Shh…Shhh…I know, I know." he whispers, and I sob harder, knowing this man I love so much, this man who's done so much for me had to endure the same fate.
"Is it always this bad?" I choke out. He holds me tighter and kisses my forehead before answering.
"No, not always. They're not gonna be this bad forever. Promise." Wetness that's not my own falls onto my head, and I realize he's crying as well. I throw out any possible shred of dignity I have left and hold my father tightly as humanly possible (well…making sure he can still breathe at least), and cry even harder, myself.
"What if it is like this forever?" I ask, more like whimper. He pulls away slightly to look me straight in the eye, confirming my suspicions that he, too, has tears running down his face.
"It won't be, okay? I won't let it. I got you, Mason." he says, moving his hand to wipe away some of the stray tears on my face. He pulls me in close again, clinging to me as if his life depends on it. "I got you and I'm never gonna let go."
The amount of love pouring out of my father is insane, way too intense for me to handle, but I take all of it because I need it. I need his love and reassurance that everything's going to be okay, that things won't be this bad forever, because if I don't get that, I'll go insane. I won't know what's real and what's not anymore. I won't be able to understand the difference between being back in Hell, and simply being trapped in my own head. The very thought terrifies me, so I just grab hold of all of the emotions being thrown at me that no one's ever bothered to even try to give me before him. Before all of them. Before I met my actual family that comforts me, protects me in a way I didn't even know was possible. It's more than I believe I deserve, but I lose myself in it. I lose myself in his embrace, his whispers telling me that it's all right, that he's here, that I'm never going back there, and you know what? I just might believe him.