Hell's Bitch [29 May 2008|03:25pm] Character(s): Dean Winchester Synopsis: Living life in Hell; what else can he do? Setting / Date: Hell . May 29, 2008 Rating: PG-13 COMPLETE Somebody, help me! … Sam! … SAAAAAM!! One phrase and one word were all that echoed within the endless abyss. Dean Winchester, the eldest brother and only brother of Sam, had finally met his time. The only problem that Dean faced while he writhed in pain was trying to remember was whether or not it was still the same day. Had a day passed since his time in Hell? A week? How long had been here? He remembered being suspended on chains and hooks that pierced his flesh, he remembered the agony and pain it brought – so when was he freed? Freed, what a joke. He was still in Hell. The only thing that had changed was his punishment. Dean recalled bits and pieces of what Ruby had said to him when she described this place to him. He should have given her the benefit of the doubt; but, he was alive then and she was a demon – so why did he have to believe her? The air she breathed came out crooked, that was he believed and continued to do so, anyway – right now, Dean was in denial over the fact that Ruby had been telling him the truth. When that bitch breathes the air comes out crooked. Sam. Sam. Where was his brother? What was he doing in the world of the living? Fighting the good fight? Trying to find a way to bring Dean back to life? Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean, every time one of us is up the creek; the other is begging to sell their soul. Dean remembered telling Sam not to save him, because, they were each other’s weakness. They knew it, so did everyone else – humans and demons alike. It was a hard thing to overcome, though; he knew that. Even if he was dead, Dean wanted to live life again, and not take certain things for granted. Life was valuable and he got that. Right now, however, it was hard for Dean to fight to keep his sanity – his humanity; hope. It was hard. Especially when, “AAAAAAAAAAH!” It felt, as if, he had a thousand of needles trying to rip through his flesh – from the inside. Skin burning and sizzling from the eternal heat, razor sharp talons that tore into him. He was being tormented, but only in hopes that he would be broken. Dean was a Winchester; he was a fighter; he was not going to lose his humanity to these sons of bitches. If Ruby held onto hers, why could not he do it? Could not be that hard, could it? It was damned hard. “B.. Bela?” That bitch was in Hell too. It was hard to forget; her own screams of pain resonated into his eardrums, forcing him to look toward her. She was nearby; at least, that is what it sounded like. From what he could see, Bela was not in that bad of shape as he was. Not like he was surprised. He was Dean Winchester; the trophy of Hell. But still, even though he hated her for what she had done, Dean could not keep his heart from going out to her. “LEAVE HER ALONE! Demonic, motherfuckers; it’s me you want!” How did that saying go? Where there was a will, there was a way? Or some shit like that? He could not remember clearly. All Dean knew was that he would find a way out of here. He needed to get back to Sam. Bobby. Sammy, how you doing up there? save

Companion piece to Hell's Bitch [29 May 2008|04:38pm] Character(s): Bela Talbot Synopsis: El torture Setting / Date: Hell . May 29, 2008 Rating: Verging on R-ish COMPLETE Days. A matter of days. That’s how long she’d been there, just a few days. It already felt like an eternity, only with forever to go. For hours, for days, she’d been a fresh piece of meat while they awaited the appearance of their trophy; their crowning glory. At first an unseen force broke her toes, then her fingers, slowly moving onto her limbs. Broken legs, broken arms, broken back leading to a broken body and a broken will. The crying only spurred them on further. Without the ability to laugh without a body, and yet laughter still pierced her ears. The more she tried to hold back her tears and her cries of pain (who did she have to call out for?), the harder they rode her out, leading to a broken neck while tears, snot, and saliva covered her once pristine and beautiful face. It was dying all over again, only to open her eyes, alive to die all over again. This time there were fewer creatures, less vultures, there to torture her and revel in that torture. They’d finally received their real plaything. Dean Winchester. His voice was unmistakable as he screamed for his brother. She couldn’t see him—she didn’t want to see him, nor him to see her—but his screams only caused her body to shudder in regret. All of this could have been helped. No. She belonged here. It wasn’t her doing that had put Dean here, but her indifference had allowed him to fall, where once, he could have been saved. She’d been preparing for this since birth. She wondered if she’d see her parents. Even with their focus put onto Dean, it didn’t lessen the joy they found in torturing her. They weren’t breaking her limbs this time, and instead, she felt small, sharp pains piercing her skin all over her body. They were like needle points at first, digging through her tender skin. But they got bigger, and the cuts got deeper. Whenever she attempted to move her arms or her feet to try and kick away whatever it was implementing this searing pain, she was reminded of the leather binds holding her down and digging into her skin, causing her ankles and wrists to bleed. Bela? It was the first time she’d heard that name since she’d been down here. It wasn’t her real name, but hell, it was the one she’d gone by for ten years. Tilting her head on the slab she was strapped down to, Bela looked through bloodshot eyes for Dean. She could hear him more than she could see him, but he was nearby. Now that he’d noticed her, had said her name, had told them to leave her alone, the demons’ vigour was only renewed. A sharp, burning hot implement was driven through her abdomen, and then torn out just as quickly. She screamed, louder than she’d ever screamed before in life or in death. She wanted to yell at Dean, to tell him not to talk to her or about her, but her lungs were no longer working. She wanted to die again, if only it wasn’t a desire that was going to slowly be fulfilled for the rest of forever. And as the implement, stone and coal and previously doused in fire, was raised about her throat, she could only look back. Why she was here, what she was here for, her bastard father and his hands and his eyes and the smile on his face all the while. Abby’s eyes were full of tears and blood as she looked up at the implement, willing the creature, the demon, to show himself and face her. He didn’t disappoint, and he seemed to hover there, waiting for her to say, to do, to let go of whatever it was she wanted to get out before he killed her yet again. “It was worth it.” And it was all gone. save

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