Fic: Not That Final Meeting (SPN, Gen, R)
Summary: A different point of leverage.
AN: An alternative version of what makes Dean break in hell, inspired by a comment giandujakiss made. Dean in hell naturally implies disturbing imagery.
Not That Final Meeting
He can see the knife, its sharp wandering point. If he closes his eyes, they cut out his eyelids. So he sees the knife.
There aren't words for how demons look down here, a shape, a vast presence. Eyes. Huge sharp teeth.
He sees the knife.
Something rips open and he screams. The sound they make isn't laughter but he understands all the same.
There's a flickering image, a crossroads at night, pale moonlight, Sam kicking dirt into a hole.
"Are you more afraid that it's true, Dean?" The sharp point wanders closer. He can't blink. "Or that it's not?"
The hooks you can see aren't the ones that hurt. The barbed metal twists into his flesh and he only flinches a little. He's kneeling, stripped bare. If he moves they rip them all out and start again.
But those aren't the hooks that hurt.
God, it's vast and more barbed than he can understand and he feels it slip in deeper, pushing into some vital place inside. He is a sack of meat with a soul and everything, everything is on offer. God, when they tear this out what else will come with it?
"God?" They laugh. "God? God?"
He has been impaled here forever, slumped forward, is losing a sense of the edges of his not-body that he isn't wearing. Someone screams. He watches the person next to him scream, who is impaled and slumped forward and losing the edges of their not-body.
They sew his eyes shut and all he can see is Sam scrabbling at soft crossroads dirt. But demons lie. Demons lie. Demons lie.
"Bargaining got you here. Remember that." There aren't days, aren't units of time, he is always being asked this question.
"This is hell, Dean. You can always bargain. Think on it."
There are screams. Someone is bleeding. Sam wavers on his feet, kicking dirt into a hole.
"Your brother is meeting a demon at the crossroads. We could say yes or we could say no."
There is a not-touch that isn't a caress and someone screams, a tug on the huge barbed hook. When they pull this out... When this gives...
"You still have something I want. And I have something you want. That's the secret to bargaining."
Sam kicks dirt into a hole.
There isn't a bottom to this, you just sink down and down and down and
Dean breaks.
AN: An alternative version of what makes Dean break in hell, inspired by a comment giandujakiss made. Dean in hell naturally implies disturbing imagery.
Not That Final Meeting
He can see the knife, its sharp wandering point. If he closes his eyes, they cut out his eyelids. So he sees the knife.
There aren't words for how demons look down here, a shape, a vast presence. Eyes. Huge sharp teeth.
He sees the knife.
Something rips open and he screams. The sound they make isn't laughter but he understands all the same.
There's a flickering image, a crossroads at night, pale moonlight, Sam kicking dirt into a hole.
"Are you more afraid that it's true, Dean?" The sharp point wanders closer. He can't blink. "Or that it's not?"
The hooks you can see aren't the ones that hurt. The barbed metal twists into his flesh and he only flinches a little. He's kneeling, stripped bare. If he moves they rip them all out and start again.
But those aren't the hooks that hurt.
God, it's vast and more barbed than he can understand and he feels it slip in deeper, pushing into some vital place inside. He is a sack of meat with a soul and everything, everything is on offer. God, when they tear this out what else will come with it?
"God?" They laugh. "God? God?"
He has been impaled here forever, slumped forward, is losing a sense of the edges of his not-body that he isn't wearing. Someone screams. He watches the person next to him scream, who is impaled and slumped forward and losing the edges of their not-body.
They sew his eyes shut and all he can see is Sam scrabbling at soft crossroads dirt. But demons lie. Demons lie. Demons lie.
"Bargaining got you here. Remember that." There aren't days, aren't units of time, he is always being asked this question.
"This is hell, Dean. You can always bargain. Think on it."
There are screams. Someone is bleeding. Sam wavers on his feet, kicking dirt into a hole.
"Your brother is meeting a demon at the crossroads. We could say yes or we could say no."
There is a not-touch that isn't a caress and someone screams, a tug on the huge barbed hook. When they pull this out... When this gives...
"You still have something I want. And I have something you want. That's the secret to bargaining."
Sam kicks dirt into a hole.
There isn't a bottom to this, you just sink down and down and down and
Dean breaks.