'And I'll Rest My Bones on the Throne of Hell'
Summary: Dean would do anything to save his brothers from Hell. Even rule it.
- NC-17 Eventually
- Michael/Lucifer/Dean Eventually.
Sam and Adam are gone down a hole into the worst reaches of Hell and there’s nothing Dean can do about it.
Cas has gone off to Heaven to re-establish order.
At least Bobby is okay; or okay as he can be in all of this.
And Dean is alone again; alone when he had promised Sam that he would get them out of the mess that was the Apocalypse, promised Adam that he would get his life back when it had been taken from him just for being a son of John Winchester.
He had failed on both accounts, with his brothers-his little brothers-paying the price for his failure.
But he would not let it pass this time. He would get his brothers back.
No one would pay for his mistakes but him.
Knowledge earned by a lifetime of hunting and another lifetime in Hell burned in his mind.
He had a will and he would find a way.
And if no way could be found he would make one.
xxx
There was a doctor who owed him a favor, and Dean needed to die for awhile.
He wasn’t afraid anymore; fear was what had led them all to this point, and he couldn’t go on that way.
“This is a most unexpected and unwelcome surprise, Dean.” Was Death’s first comment upon his arrival.
“I needed to talk to you; this seemed like the fastest way to get your attention.” He restrained himself from looking at his body, lying pale and unresponsive on the slab.
“And what is it you think is so important? I’m very busy you know.” Death stared at him piercingly, perceiving in a single moment everything that had brought Dean here.
“I can’t do what you want me to.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” Dean looked squarely into Death’s eyes, trying to read the horseman like Death could read him.
Death gave him the barest of nods, the bare bones of a smile seeming to insinuate themselves around his mouth. For a moment Dean wondered why Death was always so patient with him; if it was because Dean never seemed to succumb to him or in spite of it.
“Won’t,” his voice was approving, “If I did it would damage the cage irreparably.”
Dean let out a slow breath; that would put them right back where they started, and this time neither Michael nor Lucifer would underestimate them. He asked the question that had been bothering him since his brothers’ bodies were missing.
“They were alive when they went into the cage,” he began tentatively, and when he saw the spark in Death’s eyes he knew he had managed to impress the horseman again, “Their souls would have been pulled into the pit, but their bodies are still alive aren’t they?”
Death nodded, “They’re running around soulless,” he paused and considered something, “which, I think, is a very bad state for them to be in-at least where everyone else is concerned.”
Death waited for Dean to connect the dots.
“You know a way they could be restored-without damaging the cage-someone who could do it.”
“I do,” Death looked at him appraisingly, “but I don’t know it they’ll be able to.”
Dean waited, knowing Death was still holding something back.
“The throne of Hell is empty,” Death pronounced, “Lucifer is the King of Hell, and he will always be the King, but he cannot rule from the cage. As such there is a Regent, who rules from the Gates of Hell down into the deepest reaches of the pit-the cage itself-they have dominion over every soul and demon in that place. The Regent could reach into the cage and snap your brothers’ souls back into their bodies, all without disturbing its integrity as my interference would.”
“It’s not that simple is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Death said, “Lilith was Regent, but, as her death freed Lucifer-who took his rightful place as King-it wasn’t a problem. It is a problem now; with Lucifer back in the cage Hell is without a leader.”
Death paused, pinning Dean with that piercing stare.
“As such, the position of Regent is open to whoever is eligible and would claim it.”
“You want me to become the ruler of Hell?” Dean’s tone was incredulous.
“You are eligible, Dean. You killed Azazel, and are Alistair’s heir, and killed Lilith’s heir. It would solve a lot of problems; you would restore your brothers, Hell would have a ruler, balance would be restored-such as it is.”
“That’s why you’re interested in this isn’t it? The balance? Sam and Adam are alive but without souls, Hell has no one to run it; I take the job and all accounts are squared.”
Death just looked at him, there was an alien quality to his gaze and Dean knew that for Death that was all this really was-bacteria standing up and making a fuss.
He had a chance to save his brothers, and had promised he would do anything. He had found a way.
“How do I do it?”
Death looked at him approvingly.
“Hell wants a new ruler. Acknowledge your willingness to be that ruler, open yourself to it, and you’ll know what to do.” With that Death faded away and Dean came gasping back to life.
He had found a way
xxx
Dean took Death’s instructions to heart.
He meditated upon what ruling Hell would mean, he asked himself if he could stand it.
Dean knew that once he became Regent he would rule until someone wanted it for themselves badly enough to kill him for it or Lucifer was free again.
He would be bound to Hell.
He could do it; to save Sam’s life he had been willing to face an eternity of torment, and to save Sam and Adam he was willing to spend an eternity in Hell again.
When he startled awake-drenched in sweat and shaking at 3 a.m.-two weeks later he knew that Hell thought he could do it too.
xxx
There was more than one type of Devil’s Gate; Samuel Colt’s Gate was one of the first and most common type-common being a relative term when applied to Devil’s Gates-the second type was even rarer, smaller than the first, these were special, and you had to be special to use them; or at least Hell had to think you were special.
Dean stood before one of these gates now; he had put the Impala in storage and called Bobby to say he would be out of touch for awhile-the only connections he had to the world anymore, all tidied up.
It was time for his trial to start.
Hell would judge him; and if he were worthy he would become Regent, if he were not he would be destroyed.
Dean stepped forward, gently opening the gate; the door swung open soundlessly, revealing forbidding darkness that not even the sunlight seemed to lessen.
He steeled himself; he had found a way.
Dean walked himself body and soul into the abyss, and the gate shut behind him of its own accord.
No matter what happened now, Hell was keeping Dean Winchester.
xxx
xxx
This is more an incomplete set of drabbles than a real story, and these are the first four of many.
My ridiculous amount of recent creative energy can be blamed squarely on my lovely internet-wife, Beashark.
1,205 words if anyone's interested.
- NC-17 Eventually
- Michael/Lucifer/Dean Eventually.
Sam and Adam are gone down a hole into the worst reaches of Hell and there’s nothing Dean can do about it.
Cas has gone off to Heaven to re-establish order.
At least Bobby is okay; or okay as he can be in all of this.
And Dean is alone again; alone when he had promised Sam that he would get them out of the mess that was the Apocalypse, promised Adam that he would get his life back when it had been taken from him just for being a son of John Winchester.
He had failed on both accounts, with his brothers-his little brothers-paying the price for his failure.
But he would not let it pass this time. He would get his brothers back.
No one would pay for his mistakes but him.
Knowledge earned by a lifetime of hunting and another lifetime in Hell burned in his mind.
He had a will and he would find a way.
And if no way could be found he would make one.
xxx
There was a doctor who owed him a favor, and Dean needed to die for awhile.
He wasn’t afraid anymore; fear was what had led them all to this point, and he couldn’t go on that way.
“This is a most unexpected and unwelcome surprise, Dean.” Was Death’s first comment upon his arrival.
“I needed to talk to you; this seemed like the fastest way to get your attention.” He restrained himself from looking at his body, lying pale and unresponsive on the slab.
“And what is it you think is so important? I’m very busy you know.” Death stared at him piercingly, perceiving in a single moment everything that had brought Dean here.
“I can’t do what you want me to.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” Dean looked squarely into Death’s eyes, trying to read the horseman like Death could read him.
Death gave him the barest of nods, the bare bones of a smile seeming to insinuate themselves around his mouth. For a moment Dean wondered why Death was always so patient with him; if it was because Dean never seemed to succumb to him or in spite of it.
“Won’t,” his voice was approving, “If I did it would damage the cage irreparably.”
Dean let out a slow breath; that would put them right back where they started, and this time neither Michael nor Lucifer would underestimate them. He asked the question that had been bothering him since his brothers’ bodies were missing.
“They were alive when they went into the cage,” he began tentatively, and when he saw the spark in Death’s eyes he knew he had managed to impress the horseman again, “Their souls would have been pulled into the pit, but their bodies are still alive aren’t they?”
Death nodded, “They’re running around soulless,” he paused and considered something, “which, I think, is a very bad state for them to be in-at least where everyone else is concerned.”
Death waited for Dean to connect the dots.
“You know a way they could be restored-without damaging the cage-someone who could do it.”
“I do,” Death looked at him appraisingly, “but I don’t know it they’ll be able to.”
Dean waited, knowing Death was still holding something back.
“The throne of Hell is empty,” Death pronounced, “Lucifer is the King of Hell, and he will always be the King, but he cannot rule from the cage. As such there is a Regent, who rules from the Gates of Hell down into the deepest reaches of the pit-the cage itself-they have dominion over every soul and demon in that place. The Regent could reach into the cage and snap your brothers’ souls back into their bodies, all without disturbing its integrity as my interference would.”
“It’s not that simple is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Death said, “Lilith was Regent, but, as her death freed Lucifer-who took his rightful place as King-it wasn’t a problem. It is a problem now; with Lucifer back in the cage Hell is without a leader.”
Death paused, pinning Dean with that piercing stare.
“As such, the position of Regent is open to whoever is eligible and would claim it.”
“You want me to become the ruler of Hell?” Dean’s tone was incredulous.
“You are eligible, Dean. You killed Azazel, and are Alistair’s heir, and killed Lilith’s heir. It would solve a lot of problems; you would restore your brothers, Hell would have a ruler, balance would be restored-such as it is.”
“That’s why you’re interested in this isn’t it? The balance? Sam and Adam are alive but without souls, Hell has no one to run it; I take the job and all accounts are squared.”
Death just looked at him, there was an alien quality to his gaze and Dean knew that for Death that was all this really was-bacteria standing up and making a fuss.
He had a chance to save his brothers, and had promised he would do anything. He had found a way.
“How do I do it?”
Death looked at him approvingly.
“Hell wants a new ruler. Acknowledge your willingness to be that ruler, open yourself to it, and you’ll know what to do.” With that Death faded away and Dean came gasping back to life.
He had found a way
xxx
Dean took Death’s instructions to heart.
He meditated upon what ruling Hell would mean, he asked himself if he could stand it.
Dean knew that once he became Regent he would rule until someone wanted it for themselves badly enough to kill him for it or Lucifer was free again.
He would be bound to Hell.
He could do it; to save Sam’s life he had been willing to face an eternity of torment, and to save Sam and Adam he was willing to spend an eternity in Hell again.
When he startled awake-drenched in sweat and shaking at 3 a.m.-two weeks later he knew that Hell thought he could do it too.
xxx
There was more than one type of Devil’s Gate; Samuel Colt’s Gate was one of the first and most common type-common being a relative term when applied to Devil’s Gates-the second type was even rarer, smaller than the first, these were special, and you had to be special to use them; or at least Hell had to think you were special.
Dean stood before one of these gates now; he had put the Impala in storage and called Bobby to say he would be out of touch for awhile-the only connections he had to the world anymore, all tidied up.
It was time for his trial to start.
Hell would judge him; and if he were worthy he would become Regent, if he were not he would be destroyed.
Dean stepped forward, gently opening the gate; the door swung open soundlessly, revealing forbidding darkness that not even the sunlight seemed to lessen.
He steeled himself; he had found a way.
Dean walked himself body and soul into the abyss, and the gate shut behind him of its own accord.
No matter what happened now, Hell was keeping Dean Winchester.
xxx
xxx
This is more an incomplete set of drabbles than a real story, and these are the first four of many.
My ridiculous amount of recent creative energy can be blamed squarely on my lovely internet-wife, Beashark.
1,205 words if anyone's interested.