Fic: The 10,951st Day, SPN
Title: The 10,951st Day
Author: Piratelf
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural, specifically episode 4.10
Spoliers: Episode 4.10 Heaven and Hell
Summary: The reasons Dean finally agreed to get off the rack.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters are not owned by me. I make no money from this.
WARNINGS: Uh, it's about Hell. Kinda dark.
Author's Notes I don't really know where this came from. I just sat down and started writing. It's not that I don't feel that what Dean described was more than enough to justify what he did. But here this is anyway. The ten thousand, nine hundred fifty-first day.
It wasn't just the pain. The pain was excruciating, yeah, worse than Dean could have possibly imagined it would be. And it was endless. There was no passing out, no deadened nerves, no paralysis. They pulled his spine out of his skin and crushed each vertebra, from the top down, and he felt every one. There is no sleep in hell, no unconsciousness, no relief of any kind. And once they'd destroyed every bone, shredded every nerve, sliced and diced every muscle, and he was just pulp, nothing but a mass of blind, deaf, dumb pain, it wasn't over. He'd be whole suddenly, and it would start again. The pain alone was enough to drive a man insane, certainly. But there was more.
There was the fear. What would happen next? How horrifying would it be? How much would it hurt? What was behind him? What was it doing? How long would it take? What was in his eye? Did something just slither up his ass? Was something in his ear? Was it eating his brain?
There was the desolation. He screamed to a God he didn't believe in. He screamed exorcisms, but the demons just laughed. "We're already in Hell, Dean. Nowhere else for us to go." He begged his mother, his father, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Layla and any and everybody he ever knew who might be up there to help him, to intercede for him, to save him. He even begged Sammy and Bobby. It just amused the demons more. They told him no one would listen. They told him he was worthless. No one was going to lift a finger for him. He'd disappointed everyone, and even if he hadn't made the deal, he'd have ended up in Hell. It was what he deserved.
There was the pointlessness. What was he doing this for? He was in Hell, Sammy was alive, nothing he did was going to change that. Why was he resisting? To show what a good person he really was inside? Apparently that didn't matter. To show that they couldn't break his will? His will to do what, be tortured? Because he really didn't want to torture another soul? Why not? This was Hell, not Disneyland. They did something to be here. They were just as guilty and worthless as he was. How was it really different from hunting? And if he didn't do it some demon would, his refusal wasn't saving anybody, it was just keeping him on the rack. Why? What good would it do in thirty more years, or thirty thousand more years, that he never tortured anyone? He was in Hell. This was the last stop, there was no further down to go and there was no going up, at least not for him. What was he martyring himself for? This wasn't a test, this was it, this was reality, forever. Better to be off the rack, doing anything, than to be on.
Finally, it was his only hope of survival that broke him. He didn't know what demons crawled out of Hell and up to earth, but it sure as hell wasn't anyone on the rack. There was only one way off the rack, and that was the first step to getting out. Once he got out, he could find Sammy, make sure he was okay. He'd be fifty-five by now. Might be slowing down, need some back up. Bobby would be in his eighties, he might even be gone. And once he got back up there, maybe he could ask for forgiveness. . . well one step at a time. For now, he had to fight in whatever way he could. This was war, and war had casualties. Priorities, Dean. Keep your eyes on the prize. A man has to do what a man has to do.
"Dean, are you ready to get off the rack? All you have to do is put someone else on."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it."
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Author: Piratelf
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural, specifically episode 4.10
Spoliers: Episode 4.10 Heaven and Hell
Summary: The reasons Dean finally agreed to get off the rack.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters are not owned by me. I make no money from this.
WARNINGS: Uh, it's about Hell. Kinda dark.
Author's Notes I don't really know where this came from. I just sat down and started writing. It's not that I don't feel that what Dean described was more than enough to justify what he did. But here this is anyway. The ten thousand, nine hundred fifty-first day.
It wasn't just the pain. The pain was excruciating, yeah, worse than Dean could have possibly imagined it would be. And it was endless. There was no passing out, no deadened nerves, no paralysis. They pulled his spine out of his skin and crushed each vertebra, from the top down, and he felt every one. There is no sleep in hell, no unconsciousness, no relief of any kind. And once they'd destroyed every bone, shredded every nerve, sliced and diced every muscle, and he was just pulp, nothing but a mass of blind, deaf, dumb pain, it wasn't over. He'd be whole suddenly, and it would start again. The pain alone was enough to drive a man insane, certainly. But there was more.
There was the fear. What would happen next? How horrifying would it be? How much would it hurt? What was behind him? What was it doing? How long would it take? What was in his eye? Did something just slither up his ass? Was something in his ear? Was it eating his brain?
There was the desolation. He screamed to a God he didn't believe in. He screamed exorcisms, but the demons just laughed. "We're already in Hell, Dean. Nowhere else for us to go." He begged his mother, his father, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Layla and any and everybody he ever knew who might be up there to help him, to intercede for him, to save him. He even begged Sammy and Bobby. It just amused the demons more. They told him no one would listen. They told him he was worthless. No one was going to lift a finger for him. He'd disappointed everyone, and even if he hadn't made the deal, he'd have ended up in Hell. It was what he deserved.
There was the pointlessness. What was he doing this for? He was in Hell, Sammy was alive, nothing he did was going to change that. Why was he resisting? To show what a good person he really was inside? Apparently that didn't matter. To show that they couldn't break his will? His will to do what, be tortured? Because he really didn't want to torture another soul? Why not? This was Hell, not Disneyland. They did something to be here. They were just as guilty and worthless as he was. How was it really different from hunting? And if he didn't do it some demon would, his refusal wasn't saving anybody, it was just keeping him on the rack. Why? What good would it do in thirty more years, or thirty thousand more years, that he never tortured anyone? He was in Hell. This was the last stop, there was no further down to go and there was no going up, at least not for him. What was he martyring himself for? This wasn't a test, this was it, this was reality, forever. Better to be off the rack, doing anything, than to be on.
Finally, it was his only hope of survival that broke him. He didn't know what demons crawled out of Hell and up to earth, but it sure as hell wasn't anyone on the rack. There was only one way off the rack, and that was the first step to getting out. Once he got out, he could find Sammy, make sure he was okay. He'd be fifty-five by now. Might be slowing down, need some back up. Bobby would be in his eighties, he might even be gone. And once he got back up there, maybe he could ask for forgiveness. . . well one step at a time. For now, he had to fight in whatever way he could. This was war, and war had casualties. Priorities, Dean. Keep your eyes on the prize. A man has to do what a man has to do.
"Dean, are you ready to get off the rack? All you have to do is put someone else on."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it."
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