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fandomweekly2019-05-26 05:00 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote in fandomweekly2019-05-26 05:00 pm
Entry tags:
[#015] I was Left to My Own Devices (Supernatural)
Theme Prompt: #015 – Fever Dream
Title: I was Left to My Own Devices
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 600
Summary: Dean mulls the mistakes that got him into this position. Set during 407: Yellow Fever.
Dean Winchester currently regrets everything he’s chosen to be.
Normally he wouldn’t consider his arrogance a detriment to his life as a whole, but given that his arrogance is what currently made him the target of this particular ghost, he’s beginning to give it second thoughts. He feels overheated and raw, everything is making him jump out of his skin, and he doesn’t even think he has the means to get done what he needs to get done.
Friggin’ ghost sickness.
The air around him is getting hazy as he tries to control is breathing. The enclosed space of the motel room he’s sharing with Sam isn’t really helping, but at least its keeping him contained, away from the dangers of the outside world and hopefully the ghost that inflicted this on him in the first place. Sam is supposed to be taking care of it. Dean just needs to sit still, and breathe, and ignore the hallucinations surrounding him until Sam takes care of the ghost, just like they always do.
So far, things don’t seem to be too bad. Sure, his arm itches. Sure, his brain feels like it’s going a million miles a minute, but he’s not dying. He just needs to focus on that. Not dying. Not going back to Hell. Not going back to face each and every single one of the people he tortured in the time he spent there. Four months was forty years, and each body that landed on his rack had been more meat for him to slip away. He never wanted to believe he was the kind of person who was capable of hurting people for the sake of it, for the power and control of it, but Dean Winchester has always been an exceptional liar.
Especially to himself.
He reflects back on every time he raised a machete to strike down a monster. Every time he hunted down the latest target and relished in the kill. All the anger, bottled up in relation to all the things he couldn’t have because of the life he lead, and releasing it on those he thought deserved it for the things they had taken from them.
Of course, he broke in Hell. Of course he took the opportunity to give back just as good as he got. He didn’t deserve to be in Hell. He wasn’t a bad person. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and his is inlaid with the gold of his brother’s life. He walked willingly into the gates to save the life of the person he loves most, and he doesn’t regret that. But that didn’t mean he had the right to take it out on other people, whether they deserved to be there or not.
He could very nearly be going back there very soon. It was the last thing he wanted, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t get off the rack quite so easily this time. As his heartbeat thunders in his ears, he hears the small child’s voice that he never wanted to hear again, for as long as he lived.
“Hello, Dean.”
She’s dressed up, pretty as a princess. Her blond hair is pulled back in a half ponytail, held in place by a ribbon, and her purple dress hangs neatly at her knees. Lilith’s smile stays perfectly sweet and innocent, almost as though the body in front of him wasn’t holding the spirit of a millennia old demon.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Haven’t you missed me?”
Just like that, his heartbeat starts pounding louder, sealing his fate.
Baboom baboom.
Title: I was Left to My Own Devices
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 600
Summary: Dean mulls the mistakes that got him into this position. Set during 407: Yellow Fever.
Dean Winchester currently regrets everything he’s chosen to be.
Normally he wouldn’t consider his arrogance a detriment to his life as a whole, but given that his arrogance is what currently made him the target of this particular ghost, he’s beginning to give it second thoughts. He feels overheated and raw, everything is making him jump out of his skin, and he doesn’t even think he has the means to get done what he needs to get done.
Friggin’ ghost sickness.
The air around him is getting hazy as he tries to control is breathing. The enclosed space of the motel room he’s sharing with Sam isn’t really helping, but at least its keeping him contained, away from the dangers of the outside world and hopefully the ghost that inflicted this on him in the first place. Sam is supposed to be taking care of it. Dean just needs to sit still, and breathe, and ignore the hallucinations surrounding him until Sam takes care of the ghost, just like they always do.
So far, things don’t seem to be too bad. Sure, his arm itches. Sure, his brain feels like it’s going a million miles a minute, but he’s not dying. He just needs to focus on that. Not dying. Not going back to Hell. Not going back to face each and every single one of the people he tortured in the time he spent there. Four months was forty years, and each body that landed on his rack had been more meat for him to slip away. He never wanted to believe he was the kind of person who was capable of hurting people for the sake of it, for the power and control of it, but Dean Winchester has always been an exceptional liar.
Especially to himself.
He reflects back on every time he raised a machete to strike down a monster. Every time he hunted down the latest target and relished in the kill. All the anger, bottled up in relation to all the things he couldn’t have because of the life he lead, and releasing it on those he thought deserved it for the things they had taken from them.
Of course, he broke in Hell. Of course he took the opportunity to give back just as good as he got. He didn’t deserve to be in Hell. He wasn’t a bad person. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and his is inlaid with the gold of his brother’s life. He walked willingly into the gates to save the life of the person he loves most, and he doesn’t regret that. But that didn’t mean he had the right to take it out on other people, whether they deserved to be there or not.
He could very nearly be going back there very soon. It was the last thing he wanted, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t get off the rack quite so easily this time. As his heartbeat thunders in his ears, he hears the small child’s voice that he never wanted to hear again, for as long as he lived.
“Hello, Dean.”
She’s dressed up, pretty as a princess. Her blond hair is pulled back in a half ponytail, held in place by a ribbon, and her purple dress hangs neatly at her knees. Lilith’s smile stays perfectly sweet and innocent, almost as though the body in front of him wasn’t holding the spirit of a millennia old demon.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Haven’t you missed me?”
Just like that, his heartbeat starts pounding louder, sealing his fate.
Baboom baboom.
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