For Every Sacrifice, A Supernatural Fanfiction
Title: For Every Sacrifice
Rating: PG for...hell, I guess?
Word Count: ~575
Characters: Dean, Alastair, gen.
Summary: Written for the hoodie_time prompt: Dean's first time on the job as torturer, if you please. I think maybe just as he's about ready to get to work he realizes that he's still being tortured himself - just his heart, soul, and everything that makes him Dean instead of his hell worn flesh. Obviously, he cuts anyway. I bet it's always that first cut that he remembers later in bad dreams. Somewhere along the line this became...different. Hopefully it's still somewhat close.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
An eternities-old lullaby, Alastair whispers every night. The noble always burn so bright. He hears the screams of human rending into laughter, souls burning into demon smoke happy ever after. Why are you still caring, Dean? Another slice in the routine.
A slice for every sacrifice the blade whispers on his skin. Blood leaks salty, crackles, burns, outside and within. Alastair shudders with delight, blade pressed under ribs, tight, metal heating up to sear, blood-red heart-meat turning black and yes is all I need to hear.
You’re mine now, you know burned in tattoo pinpricks in his eyes, no Dean left because humanity is all lies.
A burn for every care you gave scorched into his soul, every space cauterized so he’s a calloused whole. And for every human thought he’s forged by fire, blood becoming iron-wrought.
You’re sliced and burned so many times Alastair hums within his mind, there’s nothing of the first draft left, you’re something more refined.
Look at you, the whisper comes in the dark of night, there’s nothing human left at all, no Alastair in sight.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
You’re made for this escapes in a hiss, blood trickles down his throat, his choking cough exhaling a quote: a slice for every sacrifice and this would be his only vice.
His blade is forged by fire, his blood is iron-wrought, he forgets the world entire, says yes without a thought.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
The rhyme circles in his head, human human human so he slices himself instead.
Strung upon the rack, iron-wrought blood spilled down his back, Alastair whispers lovingly in his ear it’s okay, we’ve all the time we need here.
He hears the screams with every breath, another soul burned past death. Hears the sizzle, feels the heat, but they can do anything to a suit of meat. His mind is his and this is his soul, this alone in his control.
He’s sacrifice and care and human, this a body’s curse, because, Alastair says, there’s another verse.
A death for everyone you loved
Heed my every whim
If you don’t say yes to me
I’ll do it all to him.
He stands before a soul bound tight, fire-forged blade raised to the light.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
Iron-wrought blood still in his veins, body and soul free from chains. Hears the sizzle, feels the heat, but they can do nothing to a suit of meat. His mind is his and this is his soul, this alone in his control.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
A press of blade to tender skin, sees the blood rush from within. Says the words he’s known so long, knows they were right all along.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
End.
Rating: PG for...hell, I guess?
Word Count: ~575
Characters: Dean, Alastair, gen.
Summary: Written for the hoodie_time prompt: Dean's first time on the job as torturer, if you please. I think maybe just as he's about ready to get to work he realizes that he's still being tortured himself - just his heart, soul, and everything that makes him Dean instead of his hell worn flesh. Obviously, he cuts anyway. I bet it's always that first cut that he remembers later in bad dreams. Somewhere along the line this became...different. Hopefully it's still somewhat close.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
An eternities-old lullaby, Alastair whispers every night. The noble always burn so bright. He hears the screams of human rending into laughter, souls burning into demon smoke happy ever after. Why are you still caring, Dean? Another slice in the routine.
A slice for every sacrifice the blade whispers on his skin. Blood leaks salty, crackles, burns, outside and within. Alastair shudders with delight, blade pressed under ribs, tight, metal heating up to sear, blood-red heart-meat turning black and yes is all I need to hear.
You’re mine now, you know burned in tattoo pinpricks in his eyes, no Dean left because humanity is all lies.
A burn for every care you gave scorched into his soul, every space cauterized so he’s a calloused whole. And for every human thought he’s forged by fire, blood becoming iron-wrought.
You’re sliced and burned so many times Alastair hums within his mind, there’s nothing of the first draft left, you’re something more refined.
Look at you, the whisper comes in the dark of night, there’s nothing human left at all, no Alastair in sight.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
You’re made for this escapes in a hiss, blood trickles down his throat, his choking cough exhaling a quote: a slice for every sacrifice and this would be his only vice.
His blade is forged by fire, his blood is iron-wrought, he forgets the world entire, says yes without a thought.
A slice for every sacrifice
A burn for every care you gave
And for every human thought
To the bone I will engrave.
The rhyme circles in his head, human human human so he slices himself instead.
Strung upon the rack, iron-wrought blood spilled down his back, Alastair whispers lovingly in his ear it’s okay, we’ve all the time we need here.
He hears the screams with every breath, another soul burned past death. Hears the sizzle, feels the heat, but they can do anything to a suit of meat. His mind is his and this is his soul, this alone in his control.
He’s sacrifice and care and human, this a body’s curse, because, Alastair says, there’s another verse.
A death for everyone you loved
Heed my every whim
If you don’t say yes to me
I’ll do it all to him.
He stands before a soul bound tight, fire-forged blade raised to the light.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
Iron-wrought blood still in his veins, body and soul free from chains. Hears the sizzle, feels the heat, but they can do nothing to a suit of meat. His mind is his and this is his soul, this alone in his control.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
A press of blade to tender skin, sees the blood rush from within. Says the words he’s known so long, knows they were right all along.
A slice for every sacrifice,
A burn for every care you gave.
And for every human thought,
To the bone I will engrave.
End.