Plunging headfirst. First SPN fic eva
Ooooookay. So my brain just won't find it's way out of the sandbox today, huh?
This little something just sort of 'wrote' itself (like it so often would), while I was pondering a different matter altogether, fic-wise. In the hindsight, though, I do remember bumping into a screencap of Dean's teary confession of the atrocities he'd endured in Hell, earlier today. So, guess, that's how the memory of Dean being utterly broken and secretive over the whole hellish ordeal stirred. And - voila! - this teeny-tiny drabble by way of my very first SPN fic since the dawn of time.
Title: Inside out
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: fairly harmless, but let it be T, just to be on the safe side
Summary: Dean's out of Hell, keeping his cards close to himself, but Hell's a long way from being out of Dean. Set within the early premises of season 4.
Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot-points mentioned / alluded to belong to me.
Inside out
Dean’s vaguely aware of the noises he makes, while passed out over the covers - grunts, gasps, wails. The soft drone of TV he remembers Sam still watching, when sleep crawled dangerously close, drowned into fuzzy surreality by now. What is real is the heat. And the pain. The pain he endures, the pain he inflicts. Alastair’s crooked grin. Devious first. Content, all but proud later. The kind that makes Dean want to scream louder than any of those razors of choice ever could.
His feverish reality shifts, extra weight added on the blurred margin. Extra warmth seeping in. Not burning this time. Soothing. Enveloping. A voice invading the cacophony of Hell, branded into his memory. A voice he knows doesn’t belong there.
‘Shhhh, Dean… s'okay… I gotcha, brother… Just let me in. Wish you just let me in…’
He urges to cover his ears so much it aches.