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21 November 2008 @ 01:55 am
Supernatural Fic - Send Lazarus to My Father's House  
Wheee, dark!fic time! I love you, hell mythology. Even when everything else about the mytharc is bleh, I still love you. So! Er, this is not appropriate for...anybody. It's basically just Dean-whumping of the most sadistic and gory kind I've written to date. That's hell for ya, though. Oh god, I really shouldn't write things about hell when I've been awake (and writing papers) for four days straight. I'm sorry in advance.

Title: Send Lazarus to My Father's House
Rating: M for violence and dark themes
Pairing: None
Spoilers: 4.10 Heaven and Hell
Status: Complete
Summary: Four months in hell is a long time, and what doesn't bend breaks.

--

He doesn't remember getting here, doesn't remember anything but heat and dark and suffocation. Then the blinding pain of metal going through flesh and muscle and bone, and the weight of his own body making the hooks rip out of his skin.

He spends four days alone, screaming for a god he never believed in before this, suspended above endless nothing below endless nothing. He feels blood run in slick droplets to the small of his back, pooling, dripping away. A few seconds later they land on his stomach again, returned to him.

On the fifth day a wire jiggles, like there's something on it, far beyond his range of vision. He can feel the vibrations through his humerus to his spine, and he shuts up.

From then on, a wire moves occasionally, twitches like something's moving across it. Never the same one twice, and never for long.

It's a spider, his mind says, a frantic tinge to the thought that makes the muscles in his back spasm in panic. A spider coming for a fly. So he lies still as he can, not moving except for the shivering, even as the meat hooks slide deeper into his flesh.

Doesn't matter in the end, though. The spider comes anyway.

--

"Fuck you," he says every day. "Fuck you and die."

Alastair just chuckles and lets the demons go back to stripping his bones clean.

Your father lasted three days, Alastair smiles. Three days and he begged us for someone to flay alive. Would've done it to you if we'd asked.

"Fuck you," he says.

See that man over there, Dean? Alastair says sometimes. When he was alive, he raped and killed eight little boys. Left their bodies in dumpsters all around Philly. All we want you to do is give him what he's got coming.

"Fuck you" is all he says.

The days turn into months, the months into years. Sometimes they draw pictures in his skin with knives. Sometimes they eat pieces of him raw. Sometimes they tilt his head back and stick a length of metal down his throat, notching how far they get it in before they rupture something in his guts.

Every day, at the changing of the shifts (it never stops, no, not for him—he just gets new torturers every so often), Alastair comes to him with the same offer.

Every day he tells them all to fuck off, but now every day he starts wondering why.

--

Dean, Alastair whispers, sliding a hand up his throat until a single nail gouges the skin under his chin. I know you want to come off of that rack. Everybody wants to come off of that rack.

"Fuck you," he says, but there's no venom in it. He doesn't think he remembers what it's like to not be exhausted, to not be in pain. He feels old.

Dean, Alastair whispers again, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, pinching the muscles there until he can't see straight. Dean, how do you think your father got out of hell? Do you think he somehow broke free of his restraints?

He's been trying to break these restraints for twenty-nine years now, since the spider scraping the skin off his scalp found him in its web and brought him down to these racks. And, after that long, he knows it's impossible. "Oh," he says, and whatever was left of his heart flares brightly once and goes cold like a doused coal.

Oh, Alastair mocks him before reaching into his mouth and pulling out his tongue whole.

--

Oh, darling, he says, smooth and sweet like he's picking someone up in a bar. Oh, sweetheart, don't you wanna come off that rack? Don't you wanna get comfortable again?

"Fuck you," she whispers, her voice an echo of something he doesn't quite remember now.

If you insist is his response and help him if he doesn't love to hear her scream. It hurts, he makes sure it does, and she shrieks like a little girl. And when she doesn't scream any more he takes one of her small white hands (only it's red now, red with her blood and red with his, where she'd clawed at him, trying to get him out, get him off, begging for god to make him stop) and he starts to bite. He can feel the delicate bones of her fingers shatter as he grinds his teeth together, and then she starts screaming again.

--

It's not comfortable, not by any means. He still hates this place, still wants to be anywhere else. He'd do anything to be anywhere else. But now? Now he's not the one strapped down.

Say what you will of morals—that's an improvement.

--

He's slicing thin strips from a man's chest and making him eat them when he hears the commotion. It's a shrieking, like a million voices rising as one, and he sees light descending. It's the sort of light that makes him screw together his eyelids and hide his face. But it's getting brighter and closer and the single voice of rage and terror rising from all sides around him intensifies until he's shrieking too.

Then there's pain, a horrible flashing burning pain in his shoulder, and his screech turns into a snarl as he tries to fight back. He swore he'd never feel pain again, never, and it hurts oh god it hurts.

There is no fighting. There is only immobility as he is held fast, pinned to the side of the rack as he listens to the man strapped to it gag on wet little bleating sobs of pain. And he hears a voice, a voice that makes every nerve in him ring, buzz with a horrible painful static energy.

Vile little thing, the voice says. I wonder how long you lasted.

And then he's going up and up and up until he can't breathe any more.

--

He wakes up in a dark box a few feet underground, crawls out to see everything taller than three feet flattened.

He knows it's not hell because he feels like his whole body's wrapped in gauze, soft and safe and healed.

That wasn't me, some small voice says as he walks along a dust road, tasting dry earth on the roof of his mouth. That wasn't me.

And the longer he's topside, the more he believes it. He chooses to forget peeling the skin back from a teenage boy's face, leaving nothing but wet and glistening muscle behind. He chooses to forget popping a woman's eyeball out with his thumb, crunching it until the juices flowed down his chin while she watched with her good one. He chooses to forget the countless people whose bodies he'd defiled in every horrible, painful, crushing way he could imagine.

He's always been good at repressing. By the time he finds Sam, he's starting to see people as people and not as playthings anymore. By the time they go on their first case after he gets back, he can smile at a waitress without imagining her intestines all over the floor. By the time they meet Anna, he can look at Castiel and almost forget vile little thing.

Almost.

Because when he fucks her, trying so hard to be gentle, it's all he can do not to crush the bones in those thin white fingers between his teeth. Angel, huh? He wants to hear her squeal.

Never going back, the voice in his head says. Never.

 
 
Current Location: Dorm
Current Mood: shocked...Probably shouldn't post it.
Current Music: Rumors - Josh Ritter
 
 
 
(Deleted comment)
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:28 pm (UTC)
Re: ohhhhhhh
Erg. Damn me with praise why don't ya. -feels guilty to that to Dean-

But thank you so much for liking it enough to comment!
emeraldusemeraldus on November 21st, 2008 08:05 am (UTC)
VERY GOOD. And it ties in quite nicely to the first episode of the season.
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:29 pm (UTC)
Thank you!

(I have issues with the thought that apparently Dean's been really fucked up inside for months now and we're only now seeing that. Repression and alcohol, I say.)
emeraldusemeraldus on November 21st, 2008 05:34 pm (UTC)
I figure Dean is all fingers in the ears la la la can't hear you repression, all this has been shoved into a box somewhere in his head and there's so much of it that it's been leaking out the last few months. Having Alastair pop to say HOWDY has gotta be some kinda catalyst.
Specialagentldyspecialagentldy on November 21st, 2008 09:09 am (UTC)
Oh, ow. :-(
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:30 pm (UTC)
-offers bandaid?-
a glowing young ruffian: SPN - Lilith!Ruby with Samunreckless on November 21st, 2008 12:56 pm (UTC)
Oh.

Oh.

Okay, you totally. Um. Okay. Win.

I adore your hell. I told you this a few days ago, it's even more true now. And the mentions of John! And John only lasting a few years. And... just, yeah. I want all hellfic to read like this, too.

Oh, darling, he says, smooth and sweet like he's picking someone up in a bar. Oh, sweetheart [...]

This. This is why Dean would be one of the most horrific demons, because he's Dean. *shivers*

Because when he fucks her, trying so hard to be gentle, it's all he can do not to crush the bones in those thin white fingers between his teeth. Angel, huh? He wants to hear her squeal.

I have a teensy problem with that and I'm not sure why. I love the language of it, but... I don't know. That's why the sex was so slow and careful, of course. It totally makes sense. Horrible, gorgeous sense. But it still catches at me when I read it.

Oh, and 1:55 am, huh? So that's why I checked Alex out to the sound of your alarm still going off at 7:45, huh? *grins*

ETA (because I can! I love my paid account!): I love your new tags. genre: gore, "fluttery wings and horny things?" You rule.

Edited at 2008-11-21 01:11 pm (UTC)
a glowing young ruffian: SPN - Mary lightunreckless on November 21st, 2008 02:51 pm (UTC)
Oh, and Joo wants Chipotle at noon.
pinch Estelle, dance with Jane: Supernatural - Cries His Way Through Sexpyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:23 pm (UTC)
Om nom nom!

Er, Chipotle. Not Joo.

Time to take a showwwer!
pinch Estelle, dance with Jane: Supernatural - Demon John Will Kill Youpyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:11 pm (UTC)
Two kinds of demons: the brutal ones and the slick ones. ...'Course, the slick ones are brutal, too--they just have brains and charisma, which makes them all the more dangerous.

-shrugs- Yeah, I dunno about the Anna scene. I really didn't like it on the show (oh, at all), so I guess I wanted to rectify that situation. What exactly about it bugs? I might be able to clean it up.

What? I don't know what you're talking about. I went to bed at 10:05. Somebody must've hacked my journal and posted random bits of violence.

New tags are love. I need to go back and retroactively tag some entries. (Like, oh...tria prima, I think.)

Have I mentioned lately how very much I adore you? No? Let me reiterate: I adore you. <3
unplugged32unplugged32 on November 21st, 2008 01:47 pm (UTC)
Wow, horrible and gorgeous and heartbreaking and just..wow...
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:32 pm (UTC)
Well, thank you! "Horrible" is what I was going for, so the others are like icing on my rather sadistic slice of cake. ;D
filmedinsepia on November 21st, 2008 02:19 pm (UTC)
Delicious and chilling and very well done. Such disturbing imagery, I shuddered. A lot.
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:33 pm (UTC)
Really? That's so cool! Um. I mean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you shudder. I'm very honored to have written something that got that reaction of you, though. Thank you so much!
a rearranger of the proverbial bookshelf: Dean - anguishembroiderama on November 21st, 2008 02:49 pm (UTC)
Oh, gah! *flails* This is so horribly vivid, all sharp edges. Awesome!
pinch Estelle, dance with Janepyrebi on November 21st, 2008 03:35 pm (UTC)
Yes, sharp. I think that's what I was going for. (A line that got cut from the fic proper was about everything feels less real on earth. That everything in hell is so clear and sharp and painfully honed that simply living on earth is like being comforted.)

Thank you very much for your praise! I'm glad you liked it enough for that!
like a child dizzy on lemonade.: {spn} sam; quicker easier and smokin hotcredulesque on November 21st, 2008 03:55 pm (UTC)
Oh.my.god, this was...this was awesome, dark and wrong and twisted and just REALLY what I needed after this episode. Because srsly, Dean going through that? He should be permanetly in a corner shaking and sobbing or something!
vanillafluffy: Macramevanillafluffy on November 21st, 2008 06:21 pm (UTC)
That was agonizing.
Meretmeret on November 21st, 2008 10:28 pm (UTC)
Excellent story!
Beckyewanspotter on November 22nd, 2008 10:33 am (UTC)
*shudder*

Vile little thing, the voice says. I wonder how long you lasted.

It hurts to hear Castiel say that, but god, it's kind of true.

Wonderful (creepy) job.
brigid_tanner: Dean-ARGbrigid_tanner on November 22nd, 2008 02:28 pm (UTC)
Almost wish i hadn't read this, cause it's going to be in my head for a long time. You made it all too real and horrifying.
Mel: s. dean emo in hell (by vamptastica)thatotherperv on November 22nd, 2008 03:20 pm (UTC)
ohhhh. yes. yesyesyes. this is what happened.

and I've been wondering ever since the close of the episode how John took it, how long he lasted, how he got out. I haven't really come to any conclusions of my own yet, but I definitely think Alastair would have taunted Dean with how his own hero gave in.
redrikkiredrikki on November 23rd, 2008 02:07 am (UTC)
Damn. That was almost too intense for coherent thought and comments. I did note your use of John though. I've been thinking about that since the show. I love that even if it isn't true, Alastair managed to plant a nasty seed of doubt. And the vile little thing comment, just ow.
Rachel: SPN - a road paved with good intentionsaki_san on November 23rd, 2008 04:37 pm (UTC)
Wow, this makes so much sense to me. Creepy, chilling, terrifying sense. Loved the spider imagery, the mentions of John, Castiel's contempt, and the way that Dean's memories can't quite stay buried. Amazing job!
Kminxuskminxus on November 24th, 2008 08:56 am (UTC)
Studders
This is just what I was needing. I'm gonna have nigthmares of hell now. Better yet nightmares of the thoughts in Dean's head now that he is out of hell. This was wonderful. Thank you. -K:)
oxoniensis: fandom: spn a ten second ghostoxoniensis on December 4th, 2008 08:25 pm (UTC)
Not an easy read, but wow, it was powerful.
Amalthiaamothea on December 5th, 2008 01:16 am (UTC)
wow your story packed a punch.
Jamilaaja_evenstar on December 6th, 2008 01:44 am (UTC)
Holy crap.

As torturous and dark and tormented as this was, I LOVED IT.

Everything was so raw and real, i can't even pick out a favourite part or line - it was all amazing. This description of Dean in Hell is the best i've read.

Thankyou so much for posting =| *is shocked*