possible graphic violence, maybe some language.
Pitch Black – sn fic. chpt 1.
Disclaimer – you can't see it, but it's raising its hand
Love – Ever Present.
...help me... please... someone... breath snagged out of his throat in the same way the undergrowth snagged the raw, jaggedly torn flesh of his naked torso and arms, well the one he could still coerce into pulling him along the needle carpeted, decaying forest floor. The other, his left continued to spasm, to flop and twitch as if possessed, each motion a throb so deep he could barely remember to breathe when it struck. Blood marked his passage as he dragged himself along through the dark. Surrounded by blackness that felt as empty and alone as his heart he wondered if he could have walked, then knew he couldn't. He was already doing everything he could.
In his fevered delirium he thought about calling out, begging aloud instead of just inside his head for help, for rescue, for someone to come and save him, so long as it's not Sam... anyone but my boy... or my girl... wouldn't want her to end up like this either... that'd be bad... dried brittle pine needles slid under his fingernails but he barely felt them. Heh...she'd prob'ly kill 'em.
The darkness spun around him, the only saving grace was that he couldn't see it, but he could feel it, that was for sure.
Just gotta rest for a minute... just a minute is all... as he collapsed, the sensation of something sliding between the layers of his flesh via one of the myriad slices over his chest and belly did not go unnoticed. In response a grunt slid from his cracked and bloody lips as whatever it was slid sideways, deflected from his exhausted heart by his breastbone. As it slid beneath the skin, rubbing against either bone or muscle, but with his weight atop it, the thing cracked, splintering jagged edges into raw and exposed nerve endings that had more important things to do at the moment than to feel pain. Hell no... that'll come later... if I survive... he snorted a chuckle then gasped for the agony it caused. A paroxysm of coughing doused him in flames as a particle of floral debris tumbled crookedly into him, choking him as it tried to enter his lung.
Got offered a choice once... he remembered somewhere deep inside but couldn't place the specifics, stay and become one of them... or go... leave it to someone else... I'm ready now I think... really... please... could you come back? please?
Fever stole his dreams, turning, twisting and perverting them, but the reality remained and while he clutched, bit and breathed the earth beneath him, the first of his bit of hell replayed in his mind, mmm popcorn would be good... and raisinets... good combo...oooh I know that guy... hey! that's ME!
Oh my God!...that ungh!... that... oh my...I, I, can't...nuaahhhh, he screamed, his body trying to fold for the pain, his breath tearing from his lungs until every inch of him burned, "STOOOOP!" he screamed, panting, this is worse than the cabin... this is worse than the CAR...
"Stop? Now why would I do that?" she asked standing before him, the tip of the four inch nail between her fingers pressed hard against the exposed flesh of his inner forearm.
"Cause I asked you to?" he panted, his lip curling upward feeling the heavy dripping from his hair, running down his neck, he shook his pounding head as salt from his pink sweat burned his eye, "Please..." he added watching out the corner of his eye as she drew to a halt, holding the point of the nail at the crease of his elbow.
"Say it again..." she licked her ruby painted lips.
"Please stop," he breathed feeling his heart hammering, heat burning from inside. His left hand spasmed against the wet dank brick where she'd sunk the first nail into him, fire burned up the path of his nerves or veins, either way it didn't matter, it hurt like hell and he was relatively certain it wasn't going to stop any time soon.
"No," she pressed the tip of the nail into his elbow, leaning deep into it, watching it sink into his skin, feeling it press against bone, then begin to crack the outer shell. She watched his naked chest heave beneath the rivers of sweat that poured out of him, she listened to him scream and pant, then luxuriated in it as the mewling started. So it begins... she smiled, this was her forte, this was what she did best. The first strike had been fast, sharp, hard, and just to make sure she had his full attention. This one was for pleasure.
The groan grew out of him as she pressed her palm to the flat nail head and grinned watching his face twist, his body writhe, his blood run as she leaned harder feeling the point pierce the bone finally.
"I'm gonna rip your goddamned heart out and eat it for breakfast you bitch!" he screamed just before she bent her own elbow and thrust the nail the rest of the way through his until the point stopped against the stone behind him.
"I don't think so," she smirked holding the hammer up before his eyes again, grinning as he shook his head, his beautiful luminous green eyes nearly glowing with fear.
"No! No don't... please..." he ground his teeth feeling himself light on fire once again until the metallic 'clinking' was drowned out by the screaming both within his head, and rolling around the dank oubliette he'd awoken within.
Every twitch of his pinned hand, every muscle spasm rubbed raw nerves, each giving rise to another until his arm shook from his pierced palm all the way to the elbow, jerking of its own accord, it's like a fish flopping around on a dock... he thought with distant wonder. Vision blurred for the blood laced rivers that flowed unceasingly down his head, seeking it seemed to blind him with his own body's salt and he wondered if the brackets that held him to the wall by his wrists, ankles and neck were actually there at all, If I squint my eyes just right... yeah like that... it looks like there's nothing there... maybe I could just... he tried to pull away, his body held in place by the nails he'd almost forgotten about, until another fiery lance shot up his arm making his teeth chatter and giving rise to another volley of pins and needles inside, Oh yeah... I got a fever in the making... I got a fever of a hundred and three... c'mon baby do you do more than dance... hot blooded, I'm hot blood ded... yeah... what's dead should stay dead... I shoulda been dead so many times that this almost actually makes sense... but where's Sam? Please let him be safe... please if there's anything out there, or up there, or anything that gives a damn... please let Sammy be safe... he nodded against the sharpened edge of the bracket that held his neck to the wall while the thought of anyone doing something like this to his baby brother began to fill him with panic.
"What the hell do you want?" he asked breathless, feeling a run of hot sour bile in the back of his throat, don't think about it... don't think about it and I won't puke... oh my GOD it freakin' hurts!
Faster than Dean could have guessed, the hammer came down almost perfectly between the nail in his palm and the newest addition at his elbow. His radius snapped under the force of the blow but the nails held fast, shooting spear-like agony up his arm. His knees trembled, nausea rose up into his throat and he was fairly certain his entire nervous system had just misfired.
"Ooh God... Oh my God... you psychotic fuh... aaahhh," he strained, "you don't know what you're doing!" he ground through chattering teeth.
His heart skipped several beats while breath locked in his throat then burst out with a surprised bark, it seemed even the motion of breathing was going to conspire against him now. Around him the world went hazy and he wondered what was going to happen if he passed out. Oh yeah... this is so many levels of not good... Sammy... if you're crazy enough to come for me and not here already... be careful. Shoot to kill little brother. Please, shoot to kill.
"It's okay, drink... it's just water..." she assured him while tilting the cup to his dry cracking lips. His eyes flicked over her face, a quick measure of whether or not she was telling the truth even though he had little choice.
"Too bad... wouldn't mind a shot of whiskey or ten right about now..." he muttered, to his chagrin making her smile softly as he swallowed down the slightly cool fresh water. "Oh God that's good..." he gasped, I never tasted anything so wonderful in my life... he smiled, then groaned and shuddered as a shiver ran through him. His left arm throbbed, hot and swollen and stretching under the skin where his body was working on fixing the wounds as best as it could. Oh man... please let me get out of here before infection sets in... I can't cock a shotgun with only one arm...
"Why are you doing this?" he ground through a wave of nausea, the small sips of water not sitting well in his tummy, though he knew he probably couldn't stay conscious if he threw up. Slowly he breathed through his mouth, focusing on keeping it down. Besides, he needed the fluid to continue to survive.
She smiled softly, her eyes closed as caressed his cheek tenderly, "Someone has to, but don't feel bad... you're not the only one..."
"What?" he breathed, She knows about Sam... Oh man... please no... not my Sammy... don't think about him, just in case she's got some freaky power of her own, I can't think about him, it'll put him in jeopardy... "... is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked angrily. Who's gonna be left to fight? Don't you know there's a WAR on you freak!
His memories of each of the nights that brought each of the armies into his world were hazy at best. The first night because he was doped up and being tortured by an imposter creature that had made a suit out of the stuff of his little brother. That was the thing that opened a gateway between worlds that had loosed an unseen plague into their universe. That memory was followed by another, the one that still made his heart ache, his brother, so distraught, so agonized, so nearly crushed by despair that he'd been seconds away from putting a bullet into his brain made him shudder and subsequently sent another flaring rocket of hot throbbing up his arm, "Guuuuh...please... you don't know what you're doing!"
Then there was the night at the cemetery when Jake opened the gates to hell and a slab of quartz took a chunk from his skull. That was also the night his father's spirit distracted the demon bastard just long enough for Dean to put the last of Samuel Colt's own bullets into it, ending one family quest but beginning another.
That night he'd watched an army of demons unleashed onto the world and he knew whatever was to come, this time it was for keeps, he could feel it in his bones.
She stepped closer, her eyebrows furrowed and those ruby painted lips pursed, she smiled tracing her hand down his neck, over his chest to his trembling belly, Great... bitch nails me to a freakin' wall, and now she's gonna tickle me too! That's just wrong! She leaned in, her lips warm and full against his cheek. He felt a tiny pull of her mouth against his skin and did his best to keep the disgust from his expression.