44th Hunt [Dream Action] When the Levee Breaks
Your nightmare might be complex. It might involve a dozen different kinds of monsters. It might involve harm and murder and terror. Dean's dreams have always been simple-always straight forward. He has one job-take care of Sammy-and he fails. Sometimes Sam dies, a knife in his back. Sometimes he gives in to Ruby. Sometimes it's Gordon. Sometimes it's a reaper or a spirit or a demon or a thousand other things they hunt. Today that failure takes the shape of Lucifer in a suit of blinding white.
"I suppose I should thank you, Dean. But if you don't mind, I'd like to find my daughter now."
Grief and horror are almost overwhelming. His mind scrambles to make this right and desperation rushes over him because he knows that there is nothing that will ever make this right.
"Ruby? The bitch we kill back home? Man, I know you're supposed to be proud of your kids no matter what they do but I'm gonna jump out on a limb here and say you gotta be so damn disappointed." His smirk turns to a growl. "Now give me back Sammy or I swear to God I will call Michael down, let him jump in with a few conditions and we'll see how that battle royale goes."
Sam's answer is laughter and a smile that couldn't be more innocent if he tried. "Dean. Dean." He's shaking his head and giving Dean that smile that makes Dean sick because it's so very Sam and yet nothing left of him at all. "You never understood. You never got it. You're too human. Or at least you pretend. We both know what went on in that pit and I think it's time you got in touch with the real you."
He lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise, hard enough to keep Dean from getting away. Dean can feel everything inside of him burning away, bleeding out and being replaced by something darker, by something that was only beginning to be hinted at during his stay in Hell. Dean fights. He screams. He curses and he yells all while Lucifer smiles and holds him right where he wants him; like a bug pinned down. Then he's quiet, still and Lucifer is gone.
When Dean looks up at you, the grin is the same, twisted just enough to be a bit more wolfish, a bit more predatory. In fact his entire stance screams predatory and hunter. It's all Dean. It's all behavior he has and will exhibit but Dean's not home. His eyes are pitch black and you...well you're in for a treat.
There's a cross shaped table in the center of the room. There are implements of torture on another table. Have a seat. Let him get you a drink. We're going to have fun.
[ooc: This is a continuation of Sam's nightmare here. Each thread will be treated as individual iterations of the dream. If there's something particular you'd like to try, email me or IM me. I'm open for anything. It is possible some replies will come from Sam as well.]