Waiting
Title: Waiting
Author: Tahirire
Characters: Dean and Sam, Gen
Rating: Mostly pg, but does contain some gruesome imagery
Category: Hopeful angst?
Word Count: 2924
Spoilers: May contain spoilers for all aired episodes (USA)
Summary: This is dedicated to all of those out there who *hate* waiting. And to Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Eric Kripke, genuis, and to the CW, a bunch of morons.
Thanks: Many thanks to
lotr_lemmyfor the beta.
Dean's always hated waiting.
'Man, come on, Sammy, Dad's gonna be pissed!' Dean muttered under his breath. The freshly mowed grass of the school yard stretched away from him, running under the feet of hundreds of milling children, all trying to escape the building at once. Ah, recess. He stood as tall as he could, trying to see over the swarm, looking for that bushy mass of brown hair and goofy unbalanced walk that meant Sam was on his way. He knew the kid wasn't going to be happy, getting yanked out of his life in the middle of the day like this ... again ... but there was nothing for it.
Dean flinched as one of the junior high kids ran past him, dragging his backpack dangerously close to the gleaming hood of the Impala. The second Dean had turned 16, his dad had tossed him the keys, and the very next week when Dean dropped out of school for once and for all, (Dad can teach me everything I need to know) he wasn't sorry because he didn't want his baby near all those freakin student drivers. Dean had been driving for years by then. To him, she wasn't freedom, she wasn't escape - she was home, and love, and family. She was their protection.
And right now, they needed to be protected. Dean hadn't been able to get a hold of Sam on his cell. He didn't know what building Sam's classes were in. He didn't think Sam was in danger, but his frustration was mounting with every passing second. He had parked directly in front of the main exit, but there was no guarantee his shy 12 year old geek boy of a brother would actually come outside for break like all the other kids. Maybe I should check the library. The thought made him shudder. He wished he could just call Sam with his mind, like on one of those sci-fi shows. That would make his life a whole lot easier.
'Dean, what's wrong? Where's Dad?' Sam's voice came from almost right behind him. Dean let out a small sigh of relief and turned.
'Dad's fine, but come on, we gotta go.' He was half expecting Sam to sigh, or to argue, but Sam just nodded, reaching for the passenger door handle. As Dean climbed inside, he smiled. 'It's a good thing you showed up, man, I was thinking about checking the library.' Sam snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching up into an incredulous smile. 'How'd you know I was here, anyway?'
Sam shrugged. 'I dunno. Just had a feeling I guess.'
Dean nodded. It was true. They didn't need telepathy; Sam always knew where to find him.
-----------------------
Dean knew that by the time John found out they were gone, he was going to be in some deep shit, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He loved the man, but he was starting to wonder if his obsession with the hunt had irreparably damaged his grasp on reality. Oh God, please ...
Dean paced the hospital waiting room like the Engergizer Bunny, the pounding of his heart louder than any set of drums as he waited for those doors to open and Sam's Doctor to come out. His hands were shaking. He'd never defied a direct order from John before, he'd never really wanted to. But some things were just over the line.
'Just because you don't think it's bad enough doesn't mean we should just let him suffer, Dad!'
'Dean, stop.' John's voice had been stern and unyielding. Anger and fear had surfaced immediately to the forefront of Dean's emotions, blocking out all sense of childly duty. (This is why he hates you, you bastard) He clutched Sam tighter against his chest, holding up his swaying body. One look into Sam's eyes, too wide and swimming with pain, told him all he needed to know. He made a show of settling Sam into the bed, taking up his seat like he was going to keep watch, nothing more.
As soon as John left for the pharmacy, Dean had hauled Sam up by the shoulders, wrestled him into the Impala, and made a beeline for the nearest E.R. 'Excuse me, nurse?' Dean asked as he stopped at the front desk, hiding his frustrated impatience behind his patented Winchester Smile of Disarmament. She was older, maybe old enough to be his (not mother, never mother) aunt or something, but the bored look melted off her face the second she saw Dean's gleaming hazel eyes.
'Can I help you, young man?' He glanced at her name tag. Candice.
'Yes, please, Candice, my kid brother, they took him back,' Dean glanced at the clock on the wall (son of a bitch) in response, 'about 2 hours ago, and I just ...' He trailed off. (Sam's ok, it wasn't that bad, I'm overreacting) 'Uh, I just wanted to know what's going on.' She smiled gently and began pulling up info on a computer screen.
'What's your brother's name, sweetie?'
'Sam. Sam Castle.' Dean resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the cold counter top as he waited, the click-click-click of the keyboard counting out the seconds in time with that same drum that the damn bunny was using.
She smiled bracingly. 'Well, Sam is still up in radiology, but it looks like they should be done anytime now. Why don't you have a seat?' He nodded, mumbled his thanks and headed back towards the waiting room.
It wasn't soon enough, but eventually the Doctor met with him, said something about a concussion and some swelling, giving steroids for inflammation and we'll need to keep him overnight, and the next thing Dean knew, he could finally breathe again as he sat down in the hard plastic chair next to Sam's bed. Sam looked beat to hell. 'How ya holdin' up, kiddo.' Dean murmured, trying not to look at the I.V. line plugged into Sam like he was a friggin light socket.
Sam groaned. 'I'm not a kid anymore Dean, and it's a good thing too, otherwise I don't think I'd have a skull left.' Dean's heart froze for a moment, but then Sam laughed weakly. 'Man, Dad is gonna kick your ass, you know that, right?'
'Yeah well. He'll have a hell of a time with that.' Dean leaned back, trying to settle into his chair. No way was he leaving Sam alone in this joint. 'Get some sleep, I'll wake you up if it looks like you're doing too good of a job,' he quipped.
Sam closed his eyes, sinking into the pillow. 'Hilarious.' Dean just smiled. Sam would be ok. Sam always came back to him.
----------------------
Great, fantastic. Think, dammit, THINK. Dean was losing feeling in his hands, he'd already lost track of how long they had been there in the woods. The girl kept asking him what the plan was, and hell if he knew; his plan was always the same - ask Sam what the plan is. And there wasn't any Sam, and it was all his fault, and there was nothing left to do but get killed. Awesome.
The sun slipped down behind the trees, darkness seeping into the forest. Dean's adrenaline rush tore through his bound body, found no good place to direct itself, and overloaded his heart until he felt dizzy with the beats. Thinkthinkthink. His senses heightened as the nightlife of the forest began to move, soft footfalls and rustles of animals in the undergrowth. Animals ... and maybe something more. He tried to still his breathing, to focus his thoughts. Dean pulled uselessly for the hundredth time against the ropes holding him to the apple tree, and tried to crane his neck to look for any sign of the scarecrow.
The hours moved on with an agonizing slowness as they watched the moon rise. Dean still had hope that they would find a way out of this, but the hope was starting to be tinged with regret. If I die tonight, Sam will never forgive himself. It wasn't Sam's fault. Dean sighed and bit back frustrated tears at this whole damn helpless situation. Even if there was a way to call Sam, he was thousands of miles away. Looking for Dad, and order or no order, Dean should have gone with him.
The girl was wimpering now, and instead of fueling his own fear it just annoyed him. He felt bad for her but now wasn't the time to panic. It was time to pull out some awesome idea to get them both out of this. Emily's voice cut through the night, deafening to him even though it was a whisper. It was like she was reading his mind. 'You don't have a plan, do you?'
'I’m workin’ on it. Can you see?' Dean tried hard to keep the rising desperation out of his voice, but he didn't feel very successful.
'What?'
'Is he moving yet?' Dean could hear her struggle against her own ropes, shifting for a better view.
'I can't see.' Suddenly she gasped, body becoming still as they both heard the soft snap of a footstep in the underbrush. 'Oh my God,' she breathed. 'Oh my God!'
Screw not panicking. Dean pulled with all his strength against the ropes, curses flowing freely through his mind, heart pounding like it was going to beat the crap out of him. The footsteps grew nearer, and Dean shut his eyes, waiting. Waiting to see if this was going to be the one, the one hunt he screwed up that finally got him killed.
'Dean?'
Sam. Sam's voice. Dean had never heard anything so sweet in his life. 'I take back everything I said, I’m so happy to see you!' Relief flooded his senses, dispelling the buildup of adrenaline and leaving him feeling weak and drained. 'Come on.' He moved his numb arms back and forth. Logic dictated that this wasn't really possible, but there was no such thing as logic when it came to Dean and Sam. 'How’d you get here?'
San grinned sheepishly as he untied the ropes holding his brother. 'I, uh ...' He ducked his head, cleared his throat, and spit it out. 'I stole a car.' Dean rubbed his sore wrists and grinned up at Sam's smiling face, relief just as evident in his brother's features as they were in his own.
'That's my boy,' he said. No matter what rules he needed to break, or how much he hated breaking them, Sam was the one person he could count on to back him up. Sam always found a way to rescue him.
----------------------
"How did this happen?" Dean fidgeted behind the wheel, craning his neck to try to see over the long lines of cars. When he received no response from the peanut gallery, he pulled his head back from the window and cast a disbelieving look at his obnoxiously serene younger brother. "Sam!" he barked, smacking his passenger in the arm.
Sam didn't open his eyes, he just smiled a resigned sort of smile. "Yes, Dean?"
"How'd this happen, Sam?" His hand kept reaching towards the gear shift, like the thing he wanted most in the whole world was to pull the Impala out of park.
"Dean, I told you, GPS is not 100 percent accurate all the time. There was probably a wreck or something." Sam repeated patiently, having resigned himself to listen to Dean's endless bitching about a half hour ago.
Dean blew out a sigh of epic proportions. They had already been on the road for 18 hours, only stopping for gas and food, and he wanted (needed) a shower, and somewhere relatively soft to sleep. He thought that he really should have seen this coming; after all, he'd always heard that if a person was going to go to hell they'd have to go through Atlanta first, (I'll find out) but usually the bypass was clear at this time of night. Dean hit the steering wheel in frustration, only to follow it up with a growl and I'm sorry baby, and turned his wrath on Sam with an "I can NOT believe I let you talk me into this!"
At that, Sam's eyes finally snapped open, and he sat up straight, holding out his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Ok! Ok, I know! Look ... think of it like this - if it doesn't check out we'll ..." he paused, casting around for words, and finally settled on a few, a sly smile spreading across his face. "We'll go to Disney World!"
Dean just stared in shock. "Excuse me?"
Sam's eyes sparkled mischievously. "We'll go to Disney World. At Epcot it's like 5 different countries, you can have food from anywhere in the world, all in one place."
Dean blinked.
"It'll be like a whole world tour of food. And beer." Sam raised his eyebrows in question.
Dean considered seriously. "....Beer?"
"Yeah, hundreds of kinds."
Dean's eyes narrowed to slits. "Sam, don't toy with my emotions." Sam just laughed. At the sound, something seemed to loosen in Dean's chest, easing the tension he'd been feeling since ... well, since they'd royally screwed up and lost the Colt. Suddenly he grinned. "Hey, maybe while we're there I can bang one of those Princesses, huh?" Sam just rolled his eyes and went back to leaning against the window.
Dean realized with a start that the traffic was on the move. Launching the Impala into drive, he locked eyes with the road. They would never go to Disney; he knew that. There were way too many other important things to tend to, too many quests to finish, before ...
Forget it. He focused instead on thoughts and memories of great food, good booze, and hot women, and he smiled. Sam knew him better than anyone, always knew just what to say to distract him. Sam could always help keep him sane.
----------------------
No love. That's what Hell was. No hope. Dean was lit with pain, agony assaulting every sense. The brightness of the fire blinded him, it licked his skin, searing him but never finishing the job. The smell of sulfur choked him, the taste of it filling him with bile and grief. He screamed, but his screams did nothing to drown the echoes of a million screaming souls; the sounds of weeping and eternal despair surrounded him, louder than the flames, louder than his shattered, restless thoughts.
There was no time in Hell. The torture just kept going on, (forever) and Dean knew he had been through pain in his lifetime, but nothing he had ever seen or felt upstairs had prepared him even a little bit for this. He didn't know how long this had been going on, the endless rolling agony, the cycles between writhing against the pain and struggling to hold still and just take it so the hooks holding him into place would stop tearing his body apart.
The monsters whispered to him in his mind, telling him lies, or worse - telling him the truth. He tried to block them out but they were always there, cutting him deeper than the hooks, tormenting him more than all the pain. You're down here, you failed your family, Lilith killed Sam the second you were gone and this is all for nothing ... Dean struggled, crying out again as he fought the emotions that the words always brought. 'You're LYING!' His thoughts were hard to focus, he clung to his sanity with a tenuous grip, stubbornly refusing to just let himself go; to become a part of the nightmare. No one's coming for you, Dean. This is it. Eternity down here, and your family destroyed, and our Queen all set to end the world; all because you were weak ... Dean screamed, his chest tearing as he tried to breathe. Scream all you want, Dean, there's no one here that can hear you. You're all alone, Dean. Forever ... 'No!' he cried, and the voice was gone, at least for a few precious seconds, but the words resonated back and forth across Dean's fragile mind.
As much as the words hit home, he didn't believe them. Underneath the pain, the fear and panic, the anguish and regret, Dean had something that no one else in this prison had. It was small, it was weak and struggling, but it was there. Hope. (Sammy) He clung to it with every shred of his being. Pulling it around him like a blanket, he readied himself for the next attack.
When then voices returned, they didn't sound quite so convincing. And some small part of him, (Maybe I'm going crazy) thought that he could sense an uncertainty from them that hadn't been there before. The voices seemed unfocused, and as Dean struggled to breathe, to think, to hold on - without their confidence to distract him there was no way to miss the sudden rumble that shook through the plane. It rattled the chains, sending Dean's agony spiking off the charts. All around him, the cacophony of screams escalated at the new torture, this new unknown fear, but this time, Dean didn't scream.
Dean closed his burning eyes tight and smiled. He wouldn't be here much longer.
Sam would always come for him.
But man, Dean's always hated waiting.
Author: Tahirire
Characters: Dean and Sam, Gen
Rating: Mostly pg, but does contain some gruesome imagery
Category: Hopeful angst?
Word Count: 2924
Spoilers: May contain spoilers for all aired episodes (USA)
Summary: This is dedicated to all of those out there who *hate* waiting. And to Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Eric Kripke, genuis, and to the CW, a bunch of morons.
Thanks: Many thanks to
lotr_lemmyfor the beta.
Dean's always hated waiting.
'Man, come on, Sammy, Dad's gonna be pissed!' Dean muttered under his breath. The freshly mowed grass of the school yard stretched away from him, running under the feet of hundreds of milling children, all trying to escape the building at once. Ah, recess. He stood as tall as he could, trying to see over the swarm, looking for that bushy mass of brown hair and goofy unbalanced walk that meant Sam was on his way. He knew the kid wasn't going to be happy, getting yanked out of his life in the middle of the day like this ... again ... but there was nothing for it.
Dean flinched as one of the junior high kids ran past him, dragging his backpack dangerously close to the gleaming hood of the Impala. The second Dean had turned 16, his dad had tossed him the keys, and the very next week when Dean dropped out of school for once and for all, (Dad can teach me everything I need to know) he wasn't sorry because he didn't want his baby near all those freakin student drivers. Dean had been driving for years by then. To him, she wasn't freedom, she wasn't escape - she was home, and love, and family. She was their protection.
And right now, they needed to be protected. Dean hadn't been able to get a hold of Sam on his cell. He didn't know what building Sam's classes were in. He didn't think Sam was in danger, but his frustration was mounting with every passing second. He had parked directly in front of the main exit, but there was no guarantee his shy 12 year old geek boy of a brother would actually come outside for break like all the other kids. Maybe I should check the library. The thought made him shudder. He wished he could just call Sam with his mind, like on one of those sci-fi shows. That would make his life a whole lot easier.
'Dean, what's wrong? Where's Dad?' Sam's voice came from almost right behind him. Dean let out a small sigh of relief and turned.
'Dad's fine, but come on, we gotta go.' He was half expecting Sam to sigh, or to argue, but Sam just nodded, reaching for the passenger door handle. As Dean climbed inside, he smiled. 'It's a good thing you showed up, man, I was thinking about checking the library.' Sam snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching up into an incredulous smile. 'How'd you know I was here, anyway?'
Sam shrugged. 'I dunno. Just had a feeling I guess.'
Dean nodded. It was true. They didn't need telepathy; Sam always knew where to find him.
-----------------------
Dean knew that by the time John found out they were gone, he was going to be in some deep shit, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He loved the man, but he was starting to wonder if his obsession with the hunt had irreparably damaged his grasp on reality. Oh God, please ...
Dean paced the hospital waiting room like the Engergizer Bunny, the pounding of his heart louder than any set of drums as he waited for those doors to open and Sam's Doctor to come out. His hands were shaking. He'd never defied a direct order from John before, he'd never really wanted to. But some things were just over the line.
'Just because you don't think it's bad enough doesn't mean we should just let him suffer, Dad!'
'Dean, stop.' John's voice had been stern and unyielding. Anger and fear had surfaced immediately to the forefront of Dean's emotions, blocking out all sense of childly duty. (This is why he hates you, you bastard) He clutched Sam tighter against his chest, holding up his swaying body. One look into Sam's eyes, too wide and swimming with pain, told him all he needed to know. He made a show of settling Sam into the bed, taking up his seat like he was going to keep watch, nothing more.
As soon as John left for the pharmacy, Dean had hauled Sam up by the shoulders, wrestled him into the Impala, and made a beeline for the nearest E.R. 'Excuse me, nurse?' Dean asked as he stopped at the front desk, hiding his frustrated impatience behind his patented Winchester Smile of Disarmament. She was older, maybe old enough to be his (not mother, never mother) aunt or something, but the bored look melted off her face the second she saw Dean's gleaming hazel eyes.
'Can I help you, young man?' He glanced at her name tag. Candice.
'Yes, please, Candice, my kid brother, they took him back,' Dean glanced at the clock on the wall (son of a bitch) in response, 'about 2 hours ago, and I just ...' He trailed off. (Sam's ok, it wasn't that bad, I'm overreacting) 'Uh, I just wanted to know what's going on.' She smiled gently and began pulling up info on a computer screen.
'What's your brother's name, sweetie?'
'Sam. Sam Castle.' Dean resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the cold counter top as he waited, the click-click-click of the keyboard counting out the seconds in time with that same drum that the damn bunny was using.
She smiled bracingly. 'Well, Sam is still up in radiology, but it looks like they should be done anytime now. Why don't you have a seat?' He nodded, mumbled his thanks and headed back towards the waiting room.
It wasn't soon enough, but eventually the Doctor met with him, said something about a concussion and some swelling, giving steroids for inflammation and we'll need to keep him overnight, and the next thing Dean knew, he could finally breathe again as he sat down in the hard plastic chair next to Sam's bed. Sam looked beat to hell. 'How ya holdin' up, kiddo.' Dean murmured, trying not to look at the I.V. line plugged into Sam like he was a friggin light socket.
Sam groaned. 'I'm not a kid anymore Dean, and it's a good thing too, otherwise I don't think I'd have a skull left.' Dean's heart froze for a moment, but then Sam laughed weakly. 'Man, Dad is gonna kick your ass, you know that, right?'
'Yeah well. He'll have a hell of a time with that.' Dean leaned back, trying to settle into his chair. No way was he leaving Sam alone in this joint. 'Get some sleep, I'll wake you up if it looks like you're doing too good of a job,' he quipped.
Sam closed his eyes, sinking into the pillow. 'Hilarious.' Dean just smiled. Sam would be ok. Sam always came back to him.
----------------------
Great, fantastic. Think, dammit, THINK. Dean was losing feeling in his hands, he'd already lost track of how long they had been there in the woods. The girl kept asking him what the plan was, and hell if he knew; his plan was always the same - ask Sam what the plan is. And there wasn't any Sam, and it was all his fault, and there was nothing left to do but get killed. Awesome.
The sun slipped down behind the trees, darkness seeping into the forest. Dean's adrenaline rush tore through his bound body, found no good place to direct itself, and overloaded his heart until he felt dizzy with the beats. Thinkthinkthink. His senses heightened as the nightlife of the forest began to move, soft footfalls and rustles of animals in the undergrowth. Animals ... and maybe something more. He tried to still his breathing, to focus his thoughts. Dean pulled uselessly for the hundredth time against the ropes holding him to the apple tree, and tried to crane his neck to look for any sign of the scarecrow.
The hours moved on with an agonizing slowness as they watched the moon rise. Dean still had hope that they would find a way out of this, but the hope was starting to be tinged with regret. If I die tonight, Sam will never forgive himself. It wasn't Sam's fault. Dean sighed and bit back frustrated tears at this whole damn helpless situation. Even if there was a way to call Sam, he was thousands of miles away. Looking for Dad, and order or no order, Dean should have gone with him.
The girl was wimpering now, and instead of fueling his own fear it just annoyed him. He felt bad for her but now wasn't the time to panic. It was time to pull out some awesome idea to get them both out of this. Emily's voice cut through the night, deafening to him even though it was a whisper. It was like she was reading his mind. 'You don't have a plan, do you?'
'I’m workin’ on it. Can you see?' Dean tried hard to keep the rising desperation out of his voice, but he didn't feel very successful.
'What?'
'Is he moving yet?' Dean could hear her struggle against her own ropes, shifting for a better view.
'I can't see.' Suddenly she gasped, body becoming still as they both heard the soft snap of a footstep in the underbrush. 'Oh my God,' she breathed. 'Oh my God!'
Screw not panicking. Dean pulled with all his strength against the ropes, curses flowing freely through his mind, heart pounding like it was going to beat the crap out of him. The footsteps grew nearer, and Dean shut his eyes, waiting. Waiting to see if this was going to be the one, the one hunt he screwed up that finally got him killed.
'Dean?'
Sam. Sam's voice. Dean had never heard anything so sweet in his life. 'I take back everything I said, I’m so happy to see you!' Relief flooded his senses, dispelling the buildup of adrenaline and leaving him feeling weak and drained. 'Come on.' He moved his numb arms back and forth. Logic dictated that this wasn't really possible, but there was no such thing as logic when it came to Dean and Sam. 'How’d you get here?'
San grinned sheepishly as he untied the ropes holding his brother. 'I, uh ...' He ducked his head, cleared his throat, and spit it out. 'I stole a car.' Dean rubbed his sore wrists and grinned up at Sam's smiling face, relief just as evident in his brother's features as they were in his own.
'That's my boy,' he said. No matter what rules he needed to break, or how much he hated breaking them, Sam was the one person he could count on to back him up. Sam always found a way to rescue him.
----------------------
"How did this happen?" Dean fidgeted behind the wheel, craning his neck to try to see over the long lines of cars. When he received no response from the peanut gallery, he pulled his head back from the window and cast a disbelieving look at his obnoxiously serene younger brother. "Sam!" he barked, smacking his passenger in the arm.
Sam didn't open his eyes, he just smiled a resigned sort of smile. "Yes, Dean?"
"How'd this happen, Sam?" His hand kept reaching towards the gear shift, like the thing he wanted most in the whole world was to pull the Impala out of park.
"Dean, I told you, GPS is not 100 percent accurate all the time. There was probably a wreck or something." Sam repeated patiently, having resigned himself to listen to Dean's endless bitching about a half hour ago.
Dean blew out a sigh of epic proportions. They had already been on the road for 18 hours, only stopping for gas and food, and he wanted (needed) a shower, and somewhere relatively soft to sleep. He thought that he really should have seen this coming; after all, he'd always heard that if a person was going to go to hell they'd have to go through Atlanta first, (I'll find out) but usually the bypass was clear at this time of night. Dean hit the steering wheel in frustration, only to follow it up with a growl and I'm sorry baby, and turned his wrath on Sam with an "I can NOT believe I let you talk me into this!"
At that, Sam's eyes finally snapped open, and he sat up straight, holding out his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Ok! Ok, I know! Look ... think of it like this - if it doesn't check out we'll ..." he paused, casting around for words, and finally settled on a few, a sly smile spreading across his face. "We'll go to Disney World!"
Dean just stared in shock. "Excuse me?"
Sam's eyes sparkled mischievously. "We'll go to Disney World. At Epcot it's like 5 different countries, you can have food from anywhere in the world, all in one place."
Dean blinked.
"It'll be like a whole world tour of food. And beer." Sam raised his eyebrows in question.
Dean considered seriously. "....Beer?"
"Yeah, hundreds of kinds."
Dean's eyes narrowed to slits. "Sam, don't toy with my emotions." Sam just laughed. At the sound, something seemed to loosen in Dean's chest, easing the tension he'd been feeling since ... well, since they'd royally screwed up and lost the Colt. Suddenly he grinned. "Hey, maybe while we're there I can bang one of those Princesses, huh?" Sam just rolled his eyes and went back to leaning against the window.
Dean realized with a start that the traffic was on the move. Launching the Impala into drive, he locked eyes with the road. They would never go to Disney; he knew that. There were way too many other important things to tend to, too many quests to finish, before ...
Forget it. He focused instead on thoughts and memories of great food, good booze, and hot women, and he smiled. Sam knew him better than anyone, always knew just what to say to distract him. Sam could always help keep him sane.
----------------------
No love. That's what Hell was. No hope. Dean was lit with pain, agony assaulting every sense. The brightness of the fire blinded him, it licked his skin, searing him but never finishing the job. The smell of sulfur choked him, the taste of it filling him with bile and grief. He screamed, but his screams did nothing to drown the echoes of a million screaming souls; the sounds of weeping and eternal despair surrounded him, louder than the flames, louder than his shattered, restless thoughts.
There was no time in Hell. The torture just kept going on, (forever) and Dean knew he had been through pain in his lifetime, but nothing he had ever seen or felt upstairs had prepared him even a little bit for this. He didn't know how long this had been going on, the endless rolling agony, the cycles between writhing against the pain and struggling to hold still and just take it so the hooks holding him into place would stop tearing his body apart.
The monsters whispered to him in his mind, telling him lies, or worse - telling him the truth. He tried to block them out but they were always there, cutting him deeper than the hooks, tormenting him more than all the pain. You're down here, you failed your family, Lilith killed Sam the second you were gone and this is all for nothing ... Dean struggled, crying out again as he fought the emotions that the words always brought. 'You're LYING!' His thoughts were hard to focus, he clung to his sanity with a tenuous grip, stubbornly refusing to just let himself go; to become a part of the nightmare. No one's coming for you, Dean. This is it. Eternity down here, and your family destroyed, and our Queen all set to end the world; all because you were weak ... Dean screamed, his chest tearing as he tried to breathe. Scream all you want, Dean, there's no one here that can hear you. You're all alone, Dean. Forever ... 'No!' he cried, and the voice was gone, at least for a few precious seconds, but the words resonated back and forth across Dean's fragile mind.
As much as the words hit home, he didn't believe them. Underneath the pain, the fear and panic, the anguish and regret, Dean had something that no one else in this prison had. It was small, it was weak and struggling, but it was there. Hope. (Sammy) He clung to it with every shred of his being. Pulling it around him like a blanket, he readied himself for the next attack.
When then voices returned, they didn't sound quite so convincing. And some small part of him, (Maybe I'm going crazy) thought that he could sense an uncertainty from them that hadn't been there before. The voices seemed unfocused, and as Dean struggled to breathe, to think, to hold on - without their confidence to distract him there was no way to miss the sudden rumble that shook through the plane. It rattled the chains, sending Dean's agony spiking off the charts. All around him, the cacophony of screams escalated at the new torture, this new unknown fear, but this time, Dean didn't scream.
Dean closed his burning eyes tight and smiled. He wouldn't be here much longer.
Sam would always come for him.
But man, Dean's always hated waiting.