Lost!Dean: Final part
Finally an update! I hate losing progress. It tends to knock me off my entire game.
Prompt: Lost!Dean
Characters: Dean/Gabe
Warnings: emotional beating! Whoo! And a little language
The new corridor was mercifully short when compared to the miles and miles of maze he had walked, ran, and crawled through over the past couple of days trapped in this nightmare of a game. But despite how short of a distance it was, Dean still felt entirely exhausted stumbling down the hall to the next room, the colored patterns decorating the carpet and wall swam nauseatingly in front of his eyes. The only things keeping him moving forward at this point were his arm on the wall and the hope that soon this would all be over.
It only took a few minutes for the hall to end, opening into a large extravagant room, complete with wall paintings, thick pillars, and decorative marble flooring. Other than that the room was entirely empty save for one lone dingy, over stuffed armchair. It was covered in messy stitching and hasty, dull, multi-colored patches; stuffing peeked out of thin tears. The whole chair seemed to be bursting at the seems with the weight of the man sitting in it.
With the dim lighting illuminating the room, and his vision still swimming, Dean couldn’t focus on him. He sat bathed in shadows, facing the door, and he could feel his eyes boring into him. Judging.
“Welcome to the end.” The man said, and Dean frowned. The voice was keenly familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t place where it came from. “It took you a long time to reach this point, Dean. For a while there I actually thought you would never make it at all, but you are a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?”
The man pushed himself to his feet and Dean felt a sick sense of déjà vu when he recognized himself standing in front of that ratty old over stuffed armchair.
He stared at his clone for several minutes before he could push aside his exhaustion long enough to think up a decent reply.
“If this is another freakish Dream root trip, so help me God I will stab myself in the face, and not feel bad about it afterwards,” he threatened, groggily, words slightly slurring together.
His Other let out a low snort, and shook his head, tsking softly at him. “Dean, Dean, Dean. This is not just a figment of some crazy acid trip, and I’m a part of you that you can’t just wish away.” Moving slowly, he stepped forward, and then round Dean. Circling him like a lion stalking his prey.
Dean refused to turn with him. He was too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, and too exhausted to follow him even if he did want to. “This isn’t funny, let me go.”
“What are you so afraid of?” He didn’t answer, tilting his head to watch his Other as he walked around in front of him. “Poor Dean, such a scared little boy, wandering around all alone. Not so easy without your powers, or your all powerful lover, is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last time we were here? I was in your place. You were human. You wanted nothing more than to stay human. Yet now look at you. Depending on the demon inside you instead of fighting to remain normal. Thought I guess Sam always cared about normal a hell of a lot more than you did.”
Dean snarled at him. “I am not going to stand here and listen to this crap.”
An amused hum from behind him as Other Dean circled behind him again. “Of course you are. Your powers are useless here, and you can’t do anything. You couldn’t leave even if you had the strength.” As he came around front, his eyes slid up towards the ceiling, and Dean followed his gaze, tilting his head up.
Painted elaborately across the ceiling, glowing slightly in the dim lighting, was a strong, incredibly detailed devil’s trap. The likes of which he had never seen before. “What is this?”
“It’s a devil’s trap that’s powerful enough to hold every kind of demon. Even pathetic half breeds. You’re going to be here for eternity.”
Dean glared at his Other, concentrating and tapping into his power despite what he knew was going to happen. As predicted, he veins erupted in fiery electricity, shocking pain through his body with every rapid beat of his heart. Groaning, this latest shock definitely not helping his growing exhaustion, he pitched forward, barely able to brace his fall as he hit the marble floor.
Panting, he pressed his forehead against the cool marble, feeling hot and shaky, not to mention viciously sick to his stomach. His Other just watched him, his smirk clearly projecting his amusement. “You just never learn, do you? You have no power. Now, let’s talk.”
“Go to Hell…” Dean spit out, voice hoarse.
“Already did, and look at the result.” He nudged Dean hard in the ribs with the toe of his boot. “Cowering in the face of all our fears.” Dean doesn’t reply, too busy trying to remember what it was like to breathe clearly. His Other crouched down next to him, continuing on as if this was just a normal every day conversation. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Me? You’re afraid. Terrified. You can’t decide what you want to be. Shall I put it all in perspective for you?”
He threaded his fingers in Dean’s hair, and gripped, pulling his head up to look him in the eyes. Dean saw his own familiar green eyes staring at him critically, judging him, and he just knew instinctively that his were as black as pitch, hiding his thoughts, his emotions without even having to think about it. A sharp contrast between himself and his past self.
“I know what your worst fear is, demon. It’s not losing your family, or you lover. It’s being the cause of their destruction.” He looked almost kind, compassionate, until he slammed Dean’s head into the marble. Normally the force would have been too weak to hurt him, but on top of everything else wracking his body it just reinforced the headache that was making it increasingly harder to think.
“You are the cause of so much pain, you know? You’re nothing but a filthy demon now, and you should have ended yourself long ago. But no. You had to poke the one Archangel who you could actually connect with, and now you’re ruining him.
“His brothers despise you. They think less of him for being with you. If he was forced to choose, he would choose you, and it kills you to know it. He would Fall and be damned for all of eternity and it’ll be all your fault.
“The worst of it all is that if you really wanted to? You could fix this. This demon stain on your soul. No threat of hurting anyone. Of alienating anyone. You could be as close to human as you can possibly get, considering you’re dead. Gabriel can remove your demon. Completely. You know that even though there are risks he won’t let any harm come to you.
“And yet? You can’t do it. You say you’re afraid of leaving him alone, but I know you better than you know yourself. It’s addicting, isn’t it? The power. The darkness. You feel it inside you. Swirling in the molecules of smoke that animate your corpse. You can’t give it up. That’s why you’ll never be human, Dean.”
Dean moved without thinking, a sharp flash of adrenaline boosting energy though his body. He grabbed his Other and climbed to his feet, lifting him into the air, finger tight around his throat. He was breathing hard, shaking. “Now you listen here, you worthless self hating son of a bitch. I am human. Whether you want to admit it or not, I’m human. Screw the fact the my soul is a clump of smoke. Forget that I don’t even belong here anymore. I’m human because of the choices I make. Not because of what I am. You were weak. You were deluding yourself so badly that you relied on the darkness outside to ignore that which was on the inside.”
He dropped him to the ground, wavering on his feet. “So don’t…don’t preach to me just because you were mortal. That doesn’t make you better.”
Huh, that was funny. His vision was blurring. He looked around, the room suddenly seeming very noisy, filled with the muted buzz of voices. He covered his face with one hand, losing his balance and dropping back to the floor. Dizzy, Dean stared at the ceiling, unable to make out what it even looked like anymore- “Dean?” -body twitching.
“Co- … -ean…”
Suddenly he was cold, and he curled up on his side, shivering.
“Dean!”
When did the light get so bright?
“Dean, come on, look at me, baby.”
Gabriel?
He reached out with one hand, unsure when he was confined. Confined by what he quickly learned was blankets. Instead of marble beneath him, he felt a mattress. A hand gripped his, and finally, after what felt like too long, he heard what he’d been missing though out his whole ordeal.
Dean. Answer me, please?
Squinting at how bright it was, he cracked open his eyes, vision still quite blurry, but he couldn’t mistake the blob in front of him for anyone else. “Gabe,” he croaked, throat painfully dry.
After a few careful sips of water, and a little time to adjust, Dean sat up in bed, clinging to Gabriel’s hand as if it were his last lifeline. “How did you find me?”
His question was rewarded with a furrowed brow. “Find you? You didn’t go anywhere. Your fever came back. You’ve been unconscious for days.”
It took him several moments, but Dean remembered. The fairy, it’s spell. It had all been a dream after all. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. “I called for you. I called for you and I couldn’t hear you,” he said, voice breaking.
Gabriel pulled him into a hug. “I know, Dean. I heard you. When you stopped calling, I didn’t know what happened.”
They sat there for a long time before either of them spoke again, just soaking in each other’s warmth and comfort. “Dean…what did you see? You got weak there for a bit before your fever finally broke again. What happened?”
Dean twisted to look at him, and he licked his lips, coming to a decision. “Uhm, nothing. Just memories of Hell,” he lied.
Prompt: Lost!Dean
Characters: Dean/Gabe
Warnings: emotional beating! Whoo! And a little language
The new corridor was mercifully short when compared to the miles and miles of maze he had walked, ran, and crawled through over the past couple of days trapped in this nightmare of a game. But despite how short of a distance it was, Dean still felt entirely exhausted stumbling down the hall to the next room, the colored patterns decorating the carpet and wall swam nauseatingly in front of his eyes. The only things keeping him moving forward at this point were his arm on the wall and the hope that soon this would all be over.
It only took a few minutes for the hall to end, opening into a large extravagant room, complete with wall paintings, thick pillars, and decorative marble flooring. Other than that the room was entirely empty save for one lone dingy, over stuffed armchair. It was covered in messy stitching and hasty, dull, multi-colored patches; stuffing peeked out of thin tears. The whole chair seemed to be bursting at the seems with the weight of the man sitting in it.
With the dim lighting illuminating the room, and his vision still swimming, Dean couldn’t focus on him. He sat bathed in shadows, facing the door, and he could feel his eyes boring into him. Judging.
“Welcome to the end.” The man said, and Dean frowned. The voice was keenly familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t place where it came from. “It took you a long time to reach this point, Dean. For a while there I actually thought you would never make it at all, but you are a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?”
The man pushed himself to his feet and Dean felt a sick sense of déjà vu when he recognized himself standing in front of that ratty old over stuffed armchair.
He stared at his clone for several minutes before he could push aside his exhaustion long enough to think up a decent reply.
“If this is another freakish Dream root trip, so help me God I will stab myself in the face, and not feel bad about it afterwards,” he threatened, groggily, words slightly slurring together.
His Other let out a low snort, and shook his head, tsking softly at him. “Dean, Dean, Dean. This is not just a figment of some crazy acid trip, and I’m a part of you that you can’t just wish away.” Moving slowly, he stepped forward, and then round Dean. Circling him like a lion stalking his prey.
Dean refused to turn with him. He was too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, and too exhausted to follow him even if he did want to. “This isn’t funny, let me go.”
“What are you so afraid of?” He didn’t answer, tilting his head to watch his Other as he walked around in front of him. “Poor Dean, such a scared little boy, wandering around all alone. Not so easy without your powers, or your all powerful lover, is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last time we were here? I was in your place. You were human. You wanted nothing more than to stay human. Yet now look at you. Depending on the demon inside you instead of fighting to remain normal. Thought I guess Sam always cared about normal a hell of a lot more than you did.”
Dean snarled at him. “I am not going to stand here and listen to this crap.”
An amused hum from behind him as Other Dean circled behind him again. “Of course you are. Your powers are useless here, and you can’t do anything. You couldn’t leave even if you had the strength.” As he came around front, his eyes slid up towards the ceiling, and Dean followed his gaze, tilting his head up.
Painted elaborately across the ceiling, glowing slightly in the dim lighting, was a strong, incredibly detailed devil’s trap. The likes of which he had never seen before. “What is this?”
“It’s a devil’s trap that’s powerful enough to hold every kind of demon. Even pathetic half breeds. You’re going to be here for eternity.”
Dean glared at his Other, concentrating and tapping into his power despite what he knew was going to happen. As predicted, he veins erupted in fiery electricity, shocking pain through his body with every rapid beat of his heart. Groaning, this latest shock definitely not helping his growing exhaustion, he pitched forward, barely able to brace his fall as he hit the marble floor.
Panting, he pressed his forehead against the cool marble, feeling hot and shaky, not to mention viciously sick to his stomach. His Other just watched him, his smirk clearly projecting his amusement. “You just never learn, do you? You have no power. Now, let’s talk.”
“Go to Hell…” Dean spit out, voice hoarse.
“Already did, and look at the result.” He nudged Dean hard in the ribs with the toe of his boot. “Cowering in the face of all our fears.” Dean doesn’t reply, too busy trying to remember what it was like to breathe clearly. His Other crouched down next to him, continuing on as if this was just a normal every day conversation. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Me? You’re afraid. Terrified. You can’t decide what you want to be. Shall I put it all in perspective for you?”
He threaded his fingers in Dean’s hair, and gripped, pulling his head up to look him in the eyes. Dean saw his own familiar green eyes staring at him critically, judging him, and he just knew instinctively that his were as black as pitch, hiding his thoughts, his emotions without even having to think about it. A sharp contrast between himself and his past self.
“I know what your worst fear is, demon. It’s not losing your family, or you lover. It’s being the cause of their destruction.” He looked almost kind, compassionate, until he slammed Dean’s head into the marble. Normally the force would have been too weak to hurt him, but on top of everything else wracking his body it just reinforced the headache that was making it increasingly harder to think.
“You are the cause of so much pain, you know? You’re nothing but a filthy demon now, and you should have ended yourself long ago. But no. You had to poke the one Archangel who you could actually connect with, and now you’re ruining him.
“His brothers despise you. They think less of him for being with you. If he was forced to choose, he would choose you, and it kills you to know it. He would Fall and be damned for all of eternity and it’ll be all your fault.
“The worst of it all is that if you really wanted to? You could fix this. This demon stain on your soul. No threat of hurting anyone. Of alienating anyone. You could be as close to human as you can possibly get, considering you’re dead. Gabriel can remove your demon. Completely. You know that even though there are risks he won’t let any harm come to you.
“And yet? You can’t do it. You say you’re afraid of leaving him alone, but I know you better than you know yourself. It’s addicting, isn’t it? The power. The darkness. You feel it inside you. Swirling in the molecules of smoke that animate your corpse. You can’t give it up. That’s why you’ll never be human, Dean.”
Dean moved without thinking, a sharp flash of adrenaline boosting energy though his body. He grabbed his Other and climbed to his feet, lifting him into the air, finger tight around his throat. He was breathing hard, shaking. “Now you listen here, you worthless self hating son of a bitch. I am human. Whether you want to admit it or not, I’m human. Screw the fact the my soul is a clump of smoke. Forget that I don’t even belong here anymore. I’m human because of the choices I make. Not because of what I am. You were weak. You were deluding yourself so badly that you relied on the darkness outside to ignore that which was on the inside.”
He dropped him to the ground, wavering on his feet. “So don’t…don’t preach to me just because you were mortal. That doesn’t make you better.”
Huh, that was funny. His vision was blurring. He looked around, the room suddenly seeming very noisy, filled with the muted buzz of voices. He covered his face with one hand, losing his balance and dropping back to the floor. Dizzy, Dean stared at the ceiling, unable to make out what it even looked like anymore- “Dean?” -body twitching.
“Co- … -ean…”
Suddenly he was cold, and he curled up on his side, shivering.
“Dean!”
When did the light get so bright?
“Dean, come on, look at me, baby.”
Gabriel?
He reached out with one hand, unsure when he was confined. Confined by what he quickly learned was blankets. Instead of marble beneath him, he felt a mattress. A hand gripped his, and finally, after what felt like too long, he heard what he’d been missing though out his whole ordeal.
Dean. Answer me, please?
Squinting at how bright it was, he cracked open his eyes, vision still quite blurry, but he couldn’t mistake the blob in front of him for anyone else. “Gabe,” he croaked, throat painfully dry.
After a few careful sips of water, and a little time to adjust, Dean sat up in bed, clinging to Gabriel’s hand as if it were his last lifeline. “How did you find me?”
His question was rewarded with a furrowed brow. “Find you? You didn’t go anywhere. Your fever came back. You’ve been unconscious for days.”
It took him several moments, but Dean remembered. The fairy, it’s spell. It had all been a dream after all. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. “I called for you. I called for you and I couldn’t hear you,” he said, voice breaking.
Gabriel pulled him into a hug. “I know, Dean. I heard you. When you stopped calling, I didn’t know what happened.”
They sat there for a long time before either of them spoke again, just soaking in each other’s warmth and comfort. “Dean…what did you see? You got weak there for a bit before your fever finally broke again. What happened?”
Dean twisted to look at him, and he licked his lips, coming to a decision. “Uhm, nothing. Just memories of Hell,” he lied.