InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Manage your damage!"

Crowley went and got attached (sinbroker) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2014-01-04 20:12:00

Entry tags:

adrian ivashkov, dean winchester, diana prince/wonder woman, hal yorke, harry lockhart, loki, lydia bennet, martha jones, niklaus mikaelson, parker, radical edward, rebekah salvatore, regina mills, rose tyler, ruby winchester, sam winchester, sidney prescott

WHO: EVERYONE!
WHAT: Mission: Rescue Hellbound
WHEN: Tonight- sunset.
WHERE: Cemetery of Doom
RATING: who the hell knows?!
STATUS: Possibly exploding!

This be the post for reactions post Hell.

For those who haven't read it yet THIS is what happens in the cemetery for the ritual to get people back.

For those in the Cage, THIS is what Hell has been like for you!

I shall now do a couple of subheadings for things, lemme know if you think we need another one (comment on my OOC post about the ritual to keep things neat!) Go forth and enjoy!

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CAGE NARRATIVES - Dean Winchester (1/2)

withgunsdrawn
2014-01-06 05:33 am UTC (link)

Michael had made it clear, from the start, that Dean Winchester was of no use to him. That the only thing he needed from Dean was the shell of his skin to wear. The being that was Dean Winchester was merely a placeholder for something greater, a piece needed to assemble the perfect armageddon.

“This isn’t arts and crafts time for Archangels,” Dean had argued, then in dreams, to a specter wearing his face, wearing his father’s face, wearing his son’s face.

“I’m not some piece of your stupid jigsaw puzzle,” he’d growled, “Neither is Sam.”

He’d believed it, believed they’d find something else, for a while. He had hope that they would come out of this on top. That they wouldn’t have to play the sacrifice card again. Hadn’t they done that enough? They’d saved so many people, lost everything - and now they finally had something of their own. So they would win this without losing it all. He believed it.

At first.

And then Michael told him that even if he didn’t say yes, he would tear everything down around them if he didn’t get his battle.

And then, Michael said he would break Ben, go down the bloodline, It won’t be perfect, but it will suffice. He will hold... at least, he should hold, long enough for it to end.

He belived they could do this. And then he didn’t.

“Yes, you feathery son of a bitch,” he’d said, through gritted teeth, standing in a circle of holy oil - and he was too slow, too damn slow; when he dropped the match he was already shoved roughly to the back of his mind, both he and Michael gone before the flames ever caught.

Michael kept him pressed towards the back of his own mind for a long time. It wasn’t until the fight that he was able to come up for air, Juliet’s voice giving him the tether he needed to pull himself forward and through the haze of angelic power long enough to-

-well, to throw himself into this mess.

They’d won. He knew they’d won, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. At least, Lucifer wouldn’t. Sam. He saw Sam, sometimes, and there were others... he knew they were there in a distant sort of way. Michael had mentioned it, Look what your foolish actions have done and he’d argued back, “You show up, wanting to end our world, and you expected anything else?” and he’d bled for that one, wiping streams of red from his face and spitting out teeth. Michael had demanded he keep his mouth shut, and Dean had just laughed.

“Gonna take more than that, Mikey.”

It did take more than that, but Michael had the time, if not the patience, to do it right. A round in the outer rings (See what your little allies are experiencing. See what you could have spared them all if you’d listened to me), a few years spent watching Lucifer tear Sam apart (real or not, he wasn’t sure, but he knew whenever he said a word, Sam’s screams silenced him. Whenever he called his brother’s name, Lucifer seemed to tear deeper into him. Dean stopped calling, tried to stop, but sometimes he couldn’t help it, trying to break through whatever invisible barrier kept them apart so he could help (even if it was just to distract Lucifer for a moment). Michael just held him in place, froze him where he was and refused to allow him to look anywhere else. Day after day, hour by hour, minute after agonizing minute.

If you had let me do what I had to do, this would not have happened. You would be at peace. Sam would be at peace. Everyone would be at peace, Michael hissed in his ears, This is what you caused. Your arrogance, your... foolish stubbornness...

“Have you looked in a mirror, lately? You’re like the poster child for arrogant and stubborn.”

Then he would tire of his game, and of Dean’s mouth, and he would throw him back to join the others in their endless rounds in the levels of horrors, only to retrieve him and strip him of his skin, tear his memories out and dismantle them in front of him, just to shove them back in, blood-stained and twisted and painful.

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CAGE NARRATIVES - Dean Winchester (2/2)

withgunsdrawn
2014-01-06 05:33 am UTC (link)

For the first forty-ish years, Dean had his hope. He had Castiel’s promise he’d get them out; he had a wedding to get to. He tried to keep track of time, turned each day into hours, turned each hour into minutes, tried to remember how long it was, topside. He wasn’t sure, though - and even if he could remember, or keep track, he didn’t know if this place was different from the rest of Hell, as far as that went. It was certainly different in other ways.

Forty-three and he broke. Three years longer, this time, but he did break - it wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t - he’d never touched another soul, here; there was no real rack, no demons and no souls to rip to shreds, no one to give him a pat on the back and tell him how good at this he was. There was just Michael, his endless impatience and anger, and then there was Sam’s screams and Lucifer laughing with Sam’s face, and there were strange, warped areas in Hell that preyed on his weaknesses...

Dean Winchester broke in hell for the second time. This time, though, he just gave up.

The next time Michael fished him out of one of the circles (round... four? five? The angel appeared just as Juliet tore his heart from his chest, literally reached in and pulled it from him, her eyes cold and hard; Don’t talk to me, she’d said, It’s over. You shouldn’t have come back and just that, she was done and she killed him; the last thing he saw before Michael’s light blinded out everything else was a bloodstained flash of gold on her finger), Dean had no smart greeting for him. He watched Sam’s torment without a word, took his own punishment without more than instinctive sounds of pain. No talking back, no is that the best you can do?

He was done; eternity stretched out before him, and he wasn’t going to fight it.

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