Friday Scent
Hello, everyone. I’m fabrisse and today's theme is Scent. Prompts can be anything related to scent. Does Anne sniff the air for Marilla’s cooking when she returns home to Green Gables? The Duchess of Tremontaine in Swordspoint must know how to plant a garden that intrigues her guests with its scent. The Replicants of Blade Runner can tell each other
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That's why what happened caught him off guard.
He'd heard of PTSD. Even seen it first had in a couple of hunters who'd packed it in and gone back to their "normal" lives. But, he'd never expected this to happen. Not to himself.
They'd been on the hunt for a rather gruesome demon who delighted in leaving its victims not only dead, but very bloody.
After doing a search of the surrounding area, they were confident that no one was watching the abandoned barn. They checked for any hidden traps before entering the barn, guns in hand. Quietly they made their way through the outer area of the barn. Finding nothing, they continued further in. They stopped in front of a makeshift room created from strips of plastic. The plastic was white, but not see through. Some areas were darker then others, stained from the inside out. Overhead a single lightbulb illuminated the stains, making them look harsh against the white.
Dean indicated for Sam to remain where he was as he pushed aside some of the plastic. He stopped, not entering the room. Just looking at the horror in front of him. Wide green eyes looked back at Sam before finally stepping forward. He heard Sam's movements from behind him. He watched as Sam circled around from his left, coming to stand on the opposite side of a table.
The table had been used as a makeshift torture rack. The body still shackled to the table by leather straps. Dean focused on the broken body, trying to figure out if it was male or female. Most of it was covered by a bloody sheet, except the face. There was no face.
Dean took in a sharp breath, smelling the cloying scent of the drying blood. It was as if time stopped for him. He felt sweat trickling down his back. His vision swam and his head felt heavy. His breathing was coming rapidly and he felt his heart hammering in his chest.
He tried to raise his head but couldn't finding himself on the rack, limbs and head held down by leather straps. He tried to struggle. To free himself, but couldn't. A voice called to him. Trying to soothe him. Then the laughter. The sick sound of it, hollow and heartless. The voice whispered in his ear.
"Oh Dean, the fun were about to have. You're my favorite by far." The hollow laughter split the silence. "Open your eyes Dean. I don't want you to miss this.."
His eyes were screwed shut. He knew by opening them he'd see the demon, Alastair standing over him. He was back in hell, being tortured. Oh God, had he ever left? Maybe he'd just awoken from a dream. Sam was a figment of his sleeping mind trying to escape hell and the daily torture he endured.
"Dean, open your eyes or I'll open them for you. Trust me, you won't like it if I do. I'll slice your eyelids off. Sure, they'll be back tomorrow, but the pain will be bad, really bad. But your screams will be music to my ears."
Dean forced himself to open his eyes. The alternative would be much worse if he didn't. He'd learned the hard way before. The last time he refused to listen to Alastair's "request" he'd cut off his ears. Alastair told him it was a way to remind him to listen when spoken to. He looked up into the man's black eyes.
"Hello. There are those pretty green eyes I love so much. They're to beautiful when they're wide open, filled with fear." Alastair patted his cheek almost lovingly. He winced at the touch, trying to move away from it, but held in place by the strap.
Alastair moved out of his line of vision. He tried to track him, but couldn't. He faught against the straps, frustration rising as he was unable to move. The glint of metal caught his attention. He watched as a knife hovered over him before disappearing. He felt the sting as the blade sliced into his forearm. He clamped his lips closed, not willing to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
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He heard movement as the demon shifted to the other side of the table. He starting cutting on his other arm. After the fifth slice, Dean felt his body shaking. Blood loss and shock does that to a body. Dean heard the knife slicing through his jeans, allowing the demon access to the meat of his legs. He felt the cold metal against his thigh as the tip began to sink into muscle. He lost count as it happened over and over.
He prayed for relief. Hoping that the blood loss would result in unconsciousness. But, he knew from experience that wouldn't happen. It hadn't in the past. But, he'd welcome it right about now. He heard Alastair's voice but didn't have a clue as to what he was saying. He watched through tear ladened eyes as his shirt was cut from his body. He'd started from the hem of the shirt, ending at the collar, resting the knife against Dean's chin.
"You've been so quiet Dean. That makes me sad. You don't appreciate my work? Well, tell you what. I'm going to start on your chest. It's a very sensitive area, or so I've been told."
Alastair stepped away, only to return holding a bottle. "I almost forgot to clean the knife." Dean watched as liquid was poured over the blade, washing away the blood. He smelled alcohol drifting up at him. He grunted as the blade started cutting a stripe down his chest. A second stripe was cut an inch from the first. The knife came back to the first cut. The tip inserted and Alastair began to fillet his skin from his body.
He couldn't hold out from the agony any longer. He heard the scream before he realized the sound was coming from him. He tried to stop the sound but it kept coming as more skin was cut from him. He heard his voice, raw from the screams. "Please, stop." His plea was met with the clatter of metal as the knife was dropped onto a table near them. "Dean, that's all I needed. Your screams to show your appreciation."
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively he moved away, throwing up his arm to protect himself.
"Dean, you ok?"
Dean looked over at his brother. "Uh, yeah, fine. Let's salt and burn this poor soul. Give them some peace in death." He turned on his heel, heading back out to get their supplies. Sam watched as his brother disappear.
Shrugging, he went after his brother. "Dean, you sure you're ok?"
Dean threw the salt to Sam. "Yeah, let's just do this and get the hell out of here. This is a dead end." They stayed long enough to make sure the body was consumed by the fire. "Get in the car Sam. We need to put some distance between us and this place."
Dean slid into the driver's seat waiting for Sam to get in the car. Putting the Impala into drive, he hit the gas paddle, stirring up dirt as the tires spun. He watched from the rear view mirror, the fire started to shrink in size as they put distance between themselves and the barn.
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I signed up for the Dean Winchester Big or Mini Bang. We'll see what comes up. I've already finished one for the Mini bang (5,000+).
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