Unexpected Destinies Chapter 1
Title Unexpected Destinies
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, torture
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Dean fails to cope with what happened in Stull Cemetery.
PAST
Sam screamed as Lucifer plunged the knife into his chest and, with one vicious yank, pulled it down to his groin. His intestines fell to the ground with a squelch to land in a steaming heap.
"No!" Dean screamed, voice wrecked.
His wrists were raw and bleeding from all of the frantic tugging and straining he'd done, but Dean was still as securely tied to the rack as he'd been when Lucifer had first placed him upon it. Despite the fact that he knew from personal experience that there was absolutely no way off the rack unless his torturers took him down, he continued to try, desperate to get free and help his little brother. Lucifer had been toying with Sam for what felt like hours already and he couldn't stand to just hang there and watch. He'd tried closing his eyes earlier, but the devil had simply cut away his eyelids and threatened to do the same to Sam if he so much as looked away.
The noises Sam was making now no longer sounded human, at least not so as anyone who'd only lived on Earth would understand them. To Dean, however, they were horribly familiar, both from when they'd issued forth from his own throat and from the countless souls from whom he'd dragged them himself when he'd stood in Lucifer's place. And that was the worst of it, knowing that he had done everything that Lucifer was doing to Sam and that he'd done it with a smile on his face and pleasure coursing through his veins.
Even as he watched, Dean could see Sam starting to heal again, being prepared for yet another round with Lucifer. The anguish pulled sounds from his own throat that he hardly recognized. They were different from the noises that he'd made when in physical pain and were a thousand times worse. There had to be something he could do to help his brother, to save him from this. Seeing Lucifer step back towards the rack on which Sam hung, Dean screamed and-
-hit the ground hard as his restless tossing and turning sent him over the edge of the small bed.
The sudden, jarring impact stunned Dean for a moment, the transition from nightmare to reality too abrupt for his mind to process. But then his brain caught up with what was happening and it was all he could do not to retch right then and there. Oh God, it had seemed so vivid, as it always did, and he'd felt like he was right down in Hell with Sam.
Dean didn't know what was worse, actually being there, tied to a rack of his own, or being stuck up here, knowing that his baby brother was down there, being tortured right this very moment. Unable to decide, he pushed himself into a sitting position and reached up to grab the two bottles of Jack standing on the table by the bed. The first was already open and just over half empty, the contents having been his nightcap, a desperate and obviously futile attempt to keep the nightmares at bay.
He wasn't even sure why he tried anymore as experience had taught him that alcohol really didn't ward off dreams. Let it never be said that he wasn't a stubborn bastard though and Dean knew only all too well that he could be more than a little slow on the uptake at times. Not that it really mattered in this case. These past few years he'd found that there was only one reliable way for him to sleep peacefully through the night if he dreamed and that was for Cas to put the whammy on him. And that way was a bust as he hadn't seen the angel since that horrible day where he'd lost everything at once.
In the weeks since Cas had left and returned to Heaven, Dean had not only come to terms with his friend's decision but had come to see and agree with the reasons behind it. How many times had he raged at God for the way he'd allowed everything to get so out of hand up there? For having simply upped and walked out, leaving his kids to muck things up not only in Heaven but on Earth as well? He, for one, had long since lost count and he doubted even God, despite all the expressions people had that boiled down to 'only God knows,' knew the answer himself. Like God even cared what one pathetic and insignificant human who couldn't do the simplest things right thought.
Yeah, he wasn't stupid enough to think that God gave a damn about him, no matter what bullshit prophecies the angels might have believed. It wasn't like they'd been right in the end. Dean snorted at the thought. So much for the one who started it being the only one who could end it. More like the only one who could end it the way they wanted it ended. Dean couldn't believe he'd ever even entertained the mere possibility that he could have any kind of chance of ending the Apocalypse. How could he have, being as broken as he was? Famine was right, there was nothing inside of him, Lisa had seen that clearly enough. He'd done his best with her and Ben, he really had, but there was only so much the shattered shards of a broken soul could do and it hadn't been enough.
Dean didn't really blame Lisa for telling him that it wasn't going to work. There was only so much misery and pain someone could deal with and there really was no reason for herself and Ben to be dealing with his. They'd not really done anything wrong, their only crime being to take him in. He'd be the first to say that it wasn't their burden to bear and it had been pure selfishness on his part to even inflict it on them in the first place. Well that and the promise he'd made Sam.
The thought sent another wave of agony through him and Dean sobbed before he could stop himself. Images from the nightmare and those from countless other nightmares flashed before his eyes and he took a large gulp of the whiskey as he tried to block them out. It didn't quite work, he wasn't even sure if there was enough alcohol in the world to do so, but he was determined to keep trying. It was better than sitting around, doing nothing, as he watched the devil take his brother apart a million different ways and times.
And that was the worst of it, the fact that he hardly had anything else to do but drink to ensure that he wasn't just sitting around doing nothing. All that time he himself had been in Hell, Sammy had been desperately trying to get him out, to save his sorry ass and what could he do in return? Nothing, apparently. He'd done everything he could think of, looked up every source of information about Hell, Lucifer and the thrice damned Apocalypse that they hadn't already explored before and all for naught. There was simply nothing out there on how to save someone from Lucifer's cage.
All the while, Sammy was down there with not only the devil himself, but with that dick Michael as well. There was no telling what was being done to Sam and coming from him, that was saying a lot. Dean had first hand experience of what it meant not only to spent time in Hell, but to be tortured there as well. Yet, for all of that, he wasn't trying to delude himself into thinking he had even a clue as to what his little brother was going through at this very moment. As experienced as Alastair might have been, there was no way he could possibly have had anything on Lucifer when it came to torturing humans.
Dean hardly made it to the toilet before he vomited. It was over pretty quickly all things considered as he had hardly anything in his stomach other than whiskey and he knew that he had no right to grant himself even this little reprieve, not while his brother was suffering so horribly. He pushed himself up and dragged his sorry ass back to the bed and the nearly empty bottle even as Sam's voice echoed through his head. He couldn't quite place the memory, but Sammy was trying to tell him that things were never quite a bad as they seemed.
He wanted to snort, to snarl back some witty retort, but he had to admit that there was a bright side to this situation, hard as it could be to find. Dean had never put much faith in the saying that things could always get worse, but right now he had to admit that it was true.
He could have been completely out of Jack to drink himself into unconsciousness with.
Chapter 2
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, torture
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Dean fails to cope with what happened in Stull Cemetery.
PAST
Sam screamed as Lucifer plunged the knife into his chest and, with one vicious yank, pulled it down to his groin. His intestines fell to the ground with a squelch to land in a steaming heap.
"No!" Dean screamed, voice wrecked.
His wrists were raw and bleeding from all of the frantic tugging and straining he'd done, but Dean was still as securely tied to the rack as he'd been when Lucifer had first placed him upon it. Despite the fact that he knew from personal experience that there was absolutely no way off the rack unless his torturers took him down, he continued to try, desperate to get free and help his little brother. Lucifer had been toying with Sam for what felt like hours already and he couldn't stand to just hang there and watch. He'd tried closing his eyes earlier, but the devil had simply cut away his eyelids and threatened to do the same to Sam if he so much as looked away.
The noises Sam was making now no longer sounded human, at least not so as anyone who'd only lived on Earth would understand them. To Dean, however, they were horribly familiar, both from when they'd issued forth from his own throat and from the countless souls from whom he'd dragged them himself when he'd stood in Lucifer's place. And that was the worst of it, knowing that he had done everything that Lucifer was doing to Sam and that he'd done it with a smile on his face and pleasure coursing through his veins.
Even as he watched, Dean could see Sam starting to heal again, being prepared for yet another round with Lucifer. The anguish pulled sounds from his own throat that he hardly recognized. They were different from the noises that he'd made when in physical pain and were a thousand times worse. There had to be something he could do to help his brother, to save him from this. Seeing Lucifer step back towards the rack on which Sam hung, Dean screamed and-
-hit the ground hard as his restless tossing and turning sent him over the edge of the small bed.
The sudden, jarring impact stunned Dean for a moment, the transition from nightmare to reality too abrupt for his mind to process. But then his brain caught up with what was happening and it was all he could do not to retch right then and there. Oh God, it had seemed so vivid, as it always did, and he'd felt like he was right down in Hell with Sam.
Dean didn't know what was worse, actually being there, tied to a rack of his own, or being stuck up here, knowing that his baby brother was down there, being tortured right this very moment. Unable to decide, he pushed himself into a sitting position and reached up to grab the two bottles of Jack standing on the table by the bed. The first was already open and just over half empty, the contents having been his nightcap, a desperate and obviously futile attempt to keep the nightmares at bay.
He wasn't even sure why he tried anymore as experience had taught him that alcohol really didn't ward off dreams. Let it never be said that he wasn't a stubborn bastard though and Dean knew only all too well that he could be more than a little slow on the uptake at times. Not that it really mattered in this case. These past few years he'd found that there was only one reliable way for him to sleep peacefully through the night if he dreamed and that was for Cas to put the whammy on him. And that way was a bust as he hadn't seen the angel since that horrible day where he'd lost everything at once.
In the weeks since Cas had left and returned to Heaven, Dean had not only come to terms with his friend's decision but had come to see and agree with the reasons behind it. How many times had he raged at God for the way he'd allowed everything to get so out of hand up there? For having simply upped and walked out, leaving his kids to muck things up not only in Heaven but on Earth as well? He, for one, had long since lost count and he doubted even God, despite all the expressions people had that boiled down to 'only God knows,' knew the answer himself. Like God even cared what one pathetic and insignificant human who couldn't do the simplest things right thought.
Yeah, he wasn't stupid enough to think that God gave a damn about him, no matter what bullshit prophecies the angels might have believed. It wasn't like they'd been right in the end. Dean snorted at the thought. So much for the one who started it being the only one who could end it. More like the only one who could end it the way they wanted it ended. Dean couldn't believe he'd ever even entertained the mere possibility that he could have any kind of chance of ending the Apocalypse. How could he have, being as broken as he was? Famine was right, there was nothing inside of him, Lisa had seen that clearly enough. He'd done his best with her and Ben, he really had, but there was only so much the shattered shards of a broken soul could do and it hadn't been enough.
Dean didn't really blame Lisa for telling him that it wasn't going to work. There was only so much misery and pain someone could deal with and there really was no reason for herself and Ben to be dealing with his. They'd not really done anything wrong, their only crime being to take him in. He'd be the first to say that it wasn't their burden to bear and it had been pure selfishness on his part to even inflict it on them in the first place. Well that and the promise he'd made Sam.
The thought sent another wave of agony through him and Dean sobbed before he could stop himself. Images from the nightmare and those from countless other nightmares flashed before his eyes and he took a large gulp of the whiskey as he tried to block them out. It didn't quite work, he wasn't even sure if there was enough alcohol in the world to do so, but he was determined to keep trying. It was better than sitting around, doing nothing, as he watched the devil take his brother apart a million different ways and times.
And that was the worst of it, the fact that he hardly had anything else to do but drink to ensure that he wasn't just sitting around doing nothing. All that time he himself had been in Hell, Sammy had been desperately trying to get him out, to save his sorry ass and what could he do in return? Nothing, apparently. He'd done everything he could think of, looked up every source of information about Hell, Lucifer and the thrice damned Apocalypse that they hadn't already explored before and all for naught. There was simply nothing out there on how to save someone from Lucifer's cage.
All the while, Sammy was down there with not only the devil himself, but with that dick Michael as well. There was no telling what was being done to Sam and coming from him, that was saying a lot. Dean had first hand experience of what it meant not only to spent time in Hell, but to be tortured there as well. Yet, for all of that, he wasn't trying to delude himself into thinking he had even a clue as to what his little brother was going through at this very moment. As experienced as Alastair might have been, there was no way he could possibly have had anything on Lucifer when it came to torturing humans.
Dean hardly made it to the toilet before he vomited. It was over pretty quickly all things considered as he had hardly anything in his stomach other than whiskey and he knew that he had no right to grant himself even this little reprieve, not while his brother was suffering so horribly. He pushed himself up and dragged his sorry ass back to the bed and the nearly empty bottle even as Sam's voice echoed through his head. He couldn't quite place the memory, but Sammy was trying to tell him that things were never quite a bad as they seemed.
He wanted to snort, to snarl back some witty retort, but he had to admit that there was a bright side to this situation, hard as it could be to find. Dean had never put much faith in the saying that things could always get worse, but right now he had to admit that it was true.
He could have been completely out of Jack to drink himself into unconsciousness with.
Chapter 2