Author's note: Heyyyyy. So apparently when I can't sleep, I write short decent Hell!Fic? Hmmm... and yes, I do feel a little guilty for giving this the same name as a song from Godspell. But not guilty enough to change it.
Sorry if my day counts are wrong… I was using the calculator on my phone at like 12:30 am, so… yeah. Enjoy. Read and review please, it's my first hell!fic. (But probably not my last because I cannot seem to stop writing about Dean Winchester. And he did spend 40 years down there. Which is 14,400 days. If you were wondering.)
The pain is worse than anything Dean has ever felt, the hooks in his ankles, wrists, and shoulder stretching him past what he thinks he can endure. He howls Sam's name at the red sky full of lightning and chains. The poisonous green fog swirls around him, suffocating him, but he continues to shout Sam's name. He knows his brother isn't there, that he's alive and safe on earth, but that just makes him yell all the louder. Dean finds it oddly comforting that even though he screams until his throat tears open and he chokes on his own blood, Sam can't hear him. (1 day)
Dean had thought he was done screaming, but as the meat-hooks are torn from his flesh and he plummets through darkness, he finds a little more breath to shriek with. The wires slice into him as he bounces off of them, and it looks as though drops of his blood spin away above him. His landing is not pleasant, and he wonders vaguely where they managed to find so much barbed wire and broken glass in Hell. More souls land on top of him, grinding him into the sharp edges until he feels like he has been cut to ribbons. Then he breaks through to the other side and continues to fall. (3 years, 111 days)
The demon introduces himself as Alistair, and for the first three years he does nothing but take Dean apart in every way he can think of. He keeps up a running commentary as he goes, describing to Dean exactly how he maneuvers the scalpel as he carves out Dean's eyes and switches them with his testicles (after all, Alistair explains, they're almost the same size). He describes in detail all two thousand and sixty five ways to make a man's insides his outsides, and demonstrates each one slowly and carefully on Dean so that he understands.
"And please do pay attention Dean. There will be a test," Alistair whispers into Dean's blood-filled ear. (8 years, 12 days)
Sometimes Alistair has what he calls "Quiet Time". Dean hates it worst of all. He doesn't know where they take him, but they find a corner of Hell that is totally noiseless, totally dark. The air is dead and still, the only movement where it is being dragged painfully in and out of Dean's lungs. His ears are soon filled with the rattle of his breath through punctured lungs, the thunderous beating of his exposed heart. Every swish of blood through his veins, every drop that falls onto the floor, every painful rasp of bone on bone as he shifts is magnified until the cacophony is deafening, and Dean wants to scream so that he can drown it out. But Alistair always takes care to remove his vocal cords first. He doesn't want Dean to ruin the mood. (14 years, 219 days)
Sometimes, when Alistair shows Dean a tool and Dean can identify it and what Alistair does with it, Alistair won't use it on him. If Dean can guess which method Alistair is going to use to skin him that day, he sometimes earns a reprieve. Never for long though. Pain is a powerful motivator, but there are still one thousand five hundred and twenty seven ways that Dean doesn't know yet, and once again his screams fill the air.
"I have to say Dean, you're a very quick learner." Alistair's breath is hot on Dean's face, but he hardly notices the stench anymore. (21 years, 118 days)
Now Alistair plays a different game with him, though the rules are the same. Another soul is strung up directly opposite Dean, a different one each day. If Dean can guess the torture before the other soul, he only has to watch. Some days Dean is always fastest, some days he hardly gets a word out. No matter what the day, Dean feels a sick relief every time Alistair smiles and tells him he's correct.
"You're so good at labeling everything Dean. Why not try some hands-on action?" The only response Alistair gets is a noise halfway between a sob and a sigh. Alistair grins when Dean can't see him- it wasn't a no. (25 years, 180 days)
Dean almost never gets tortured now, no matter who Alistair hangs across from him. He is proud of his accomplishment, although he feels like in the past there was a reason not to be. The heat and the smell are behind him now, and he thinks that the other souls are screaming less. Or maybe he's just getting used to it. He makes the discovery that if he adds to Alistair's ideas in any way, he is healed slightly. Only his shattered ribcage and visibly palpitating heart and lungs are left damaged, and he thinks the pain is not so bad now. Secretly Dean wishes that Alistair would be a little more creative, because sometimes he gets bored. There are only two thousand and sixty five ways to make a man's insides his outsides, after all. (29 years, 314 days)
Alistair does something new today. When Dean blurts out his suggestion that Alistair force feed the razor wire through the soul's mouth and out the other end, (he half-remembers an anatomy class where the teacher described the digestive system as one long tube,) Alistair steps back and holds out the coil of wire to Dean.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Dean-o. Care to demonstrate?" He sounds proud, and Dean realizes that he's whole again, and free of the rack. Something inside him shatters when he takes the coil of wire from Alistair, but he's too busy enjoying the use of his legs to notice. (30 years, 1 day)
PS- should I do a little bitty day 14401, when Cas shows up? Let me know! :P