I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of this.Fandom(s):
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/SupernaturalRating:
Buffy Summers/Dean WinchesterPrompt:
Table #3 “The only thing I’m sure of.” at Route 66: Destination SunnydaleSpoilers:
BtVS post Chosen, SPN Post season 3 “No Rest For the Wicked”Summary:
How does a soul heal after being in Hell? How does a man learn to live again?Author’s Notes:
So, I have the worst headache ever and that seemed to lead to brokenDean fic. I want to thank Nicole for betaing this and Mel for turning my crappy day around and inspiring this piece. With friends like them, well, I am scared for my enemies lol (not that I have any of course, I am harmless and cute).
His breaths came in ragged pants and he could still feel the fires of hell searing the flesh from his body. He could still hear the screams of the others who were damned ringing in his ears until it was all he could remember.
His voice was too broken to scream, too hoarse, and so were the others, but the screams never stopped. Hell’s gates never stopped admitting new souls. There was never a shortage of agony and despair in the pits of damnation.
His skin still burned, this time with fever, and the silence around him was deafening, painful in its absence. It him hurt just as much as the cool sheet against his bare skin.
He had spent what felt like an eternity screaming inside his head, burning alive in flesh that was torn and torn again until all he was nothing but a shredded mess of a human tragedy. Each touch on his skin was gentle and more painful in its gentleness than any of the beatings had ever been.
The cool liquid pushed between his lips.
The soft hands cradling his head.
It was the sweetest agony because he knew it couldn’t last.
He was damned, always damned, betrayed, punished. For what, he couldn’t remember anymore. He had remembered it all once, there had been a reason for why he suffered, a purpose that had been noble and had held him together longer than most of the others.
For him, he had consented to eternal damnation for him. Green eyes, dark hair, family, brother, him
But those memories hadn’t been able to sustain him. Betrayal had seeped into his thoughts, burned there, because he still suffered, because he hadn’t been saved. Because he hadn’t saved him and when all the memories couldn’t be held onto as a shield, all that he remembered was that he was supposed to come for him and he hadn’t.
No one was ever coming for him.
Then there had been the coolness against his skin and it had to be a trick. The softness of the sounds around him, no screams, no cries, no despair, an illusion. But it hadn’t faded away. With each day, it grew solid and real and he remembered.
Sam, he remembered Sam. Sam hadn’t betrayed him. Sam could never betray him because he hadn’t asked him to save him, because all he had ever asked for, all he had ever wanted was for Sam to be safe, to live and be safe.
Sam, green eyes, brother, family, Sam
And then there was her. When he trusted his eyes again he could see her but the first thing he had trusted was her voice, soft in his ear. He remembered that too, the flames of Hell still burned brightly around him when he had heard it. It was her soft touch on his skin and her green eyes that he could see.
She knew, knew what he had been through, what he had seen. She had seen it too. She had been there, she had dragged him out. She was soft and golden, strong and safe. He clung to her, believed the words he was now beginning to understand again.
That this was real, that he was real. Not skin torn apart, not a twisted masterpiece of blood and chaos. Human, Dean, he was Dean Winchester. That had meant something to him once, it had been important but it slipped easily from his thoughts to be replaced by Sam and the golden girl.
The golden girl with the green eyes and soft voice, Buffy, beautiful, strong. He was sure of her. Everything else didn’t make sense. Memories fractured and broken, pain, fear, but he knew that Sammy was safe and alive and he knew that she was here, holding him still.
He was sure of that.
With that, he could rest, he could believe, he could let her hold him.