You can't die in Purgatory, but neither can you heal -- so every injury Dean gets in Purgatory remains with him. When Sam finally saves him (because he willll), his brother is a mess of cuts and scrapes and broken bones, some of them quite terrible.
Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 1/?honeylocusttreeMay 22 2012, 00:03:02 UTC
While not doing my Japanese homework. This isn’t the fic you’re looking for.
Straight-up horror images. Might be disturbing.
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Flesh on Bone
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Dean paws at his face with his left hand, the ruined stumps of two missing fingers leaving rust-colored trails down his cheek. Sam grabs at his wrist, forces it away, and down. He dabs at the blistered skin at the corner of his brother’s mouth with an alcohol-damp cotton ball. Dean doesn’t move or even really register the touch. He blinks at odd intervals, and occasional tears leak from one eye or the other, and drip unacknowledged from the base of his jaw.
There’s so much blood, so much fluid. Pussing ruined skin, mottled and leathered in places, not scarred but simply changed, made into something other. His right hand is too badly damaged to unwrap from the handle of his weapon, fingers broken and wrapped securely around the hilt with a leather that reeks of decay. Sickness. He finishes swabbing his brother’s face, at least for the moment. Presses lightly on the sides of his jaw, as if Dean
( ... )
Re: Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 2/?honeylocusttreeMay 22 2012, 00:03:44 UTC
--
He walks, at least. Or, Sam walks and Dean trails awkwardly after him. His leg is shredded, literally, skin hanging off, muscle glistening and blood pulsing with every step. He’s been out of purgatory for fifteen minutes, just enough time for Sam to assess the damage, clean up the worst of the dirt. Enough time for him to vomit in the corner of the shack. Enough to say, “Hospital, Jesus, hospital,” over and over like a mantra.
He can’t carry his brother and he won’t drag him. Can’t risk laying hands on him, for the wild fear that if he misjudges some part will drop off. And so he coaxes Dean toward the car and his brother-what’s left of his brother-follows, left hand clutching the right to his stomach, broken fingers twitching.
Sam imagines Dean’s mind must be a white inferno of agony. He wonders if Dean’s even aware of himself. He turns away from the shambling mess of bones and skin behind him and keeps moving forward and its only when he’s reached the car that he turns back and realizes Dean’s stopped. Has sunk to the ground,
( ... )
Re: Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 3/3honeylocusttreeMay 22 2012, 00:04:42 UTC
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He dreams, in the dark, of the plain and the distant tree line, and something shambling toward him, barely human and dragging its leg, skin hanging in rags.
It’s a dream. He knows it’s a dream. But he sits up gasping in the uncomfortable chair and the moonlight through the window shows his brother’s features, jaw taped shut, skin as pale as dust. His hands rest on his chest and the weapon’s been cut away and Sam doesn’t know what they did with it.
He pushes forward, to the edge of the chair, leans over and digs his fingers into the edge of the bed. The snow-white blanket.
“Dean,” he hisses. “Dean.”
His brother’s eyes open, slowly. They’re filmed over, gummed up, and they roll around wide and terrified before settling on Sam’s face. Sam swallows.
“I had a dream,” he whispers, doesn’t know why he does. “You were f-following me. Chasing me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Dean stares at him for a long time, eyes fixed. Unmoving. And then he makes some long distressed noise and shuts his eyes and tilts his head back and
( ... )
Re: Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 3/3honeylocusttreeMay 22 2012, 01:43:38 UTC
I didn't really mean to write that. There's not even anything in particular to really account for it. Somebody else should probably write the nice fill for this.
Re: Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 3/3honeylocusttreeMay 22 2012, 21:13:10 UTC
Well it's supposed to be h/c. So I feel a little bad when it's, y'know...not.
Also the prompt said something like 'scrapes and scratches,' not 'flesh falling off in great bloody chunks.' So I kinda hijacked it into something grotesque. I was feeling a little guilty.
Re: Filled: Flesh on Bone, PG13, disturbing imagery, horror, gore 3/3mad_serverMay 22 2012, 15:42:24 UTC
Holy shit, dude. That was fascinating and sooooo uncomfortable. Monstrous can't-speak falling-apart Deeeeean. Shocky guilty terrified Sammehhhhh. You brought the vivid and I bow to you.
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Straight-up horror images. Might be disturbing.
--
Flesh on Bone
--
Dean paws at his face with his left hand, the ruined stumps of two missing fingers leaving rust-colored trails down his cheek. Sam grabs at his wrist, forces it away, and down. He dabs at the blistered skin at the corner of his brother’s mouth with an alcohol-damp cotton ball. Dean doesn’t move or even really register the touch. He blinks at odd intervals, and occasional tears leak from one eye or the other, and drip unacknowledged from the base of his jaw.
There’s so much blood, so much fluid. Pussing ruined skin, mottled and leathered in places, not scarred but simply changed, made into something other. His right hand is too badly damaged to unwrap from the handle of his weapon, fingers broken and wrapped securely around the hilt with a leather that reeks of decay. Sickness.
He finishes swabbing his brother’s face, at least for the moment. Presses lightly on the sides of his jaw, as if Dean ( ... )
Reply
He walks, at least. Or, Sam walks and Dean trails awkwardly after him. His leg is shredded, literally, skin hanging off, muscle glistening and blood pulsing with every step. He’s been out of purgatory for fifteen minutes, just enough time for Sam to assess the damage, clean up the worst of the dirt. Enough time for him to vomit in the corner of the shack. Enough to say, “Hospital, Jesus, hospital,” over and over like a mantra.
He can’t carry his brother and he won’t drag him. Can’t risk laying hands on him, for the wild fear that if he misjudges some part will drop off. And so he coaxes Dean toward the car and his brother-what’s left of his brother-follows, left hand clutching the right to his stomach, broken fingers twitching.
Sam imagines Dean’s mind must be a white inferno of agony. He wonders if Dean’s even aware of himself.
He turns away from the shambling mess of bones and skin behind him and keeps moving forward and its only when he’s reached the car that he turns back and realizes Dean’s stopped. Has sunk to the ground, ( ... )
Reply
He dreams, in the dark, of the plain and the distant tree line, and something shambling toward him, barely human and dragging its leg, skin hanging in rags.
It’s a dream. He knows it’s a dream. But he sits up gasping in the uncomfortable chair and the moonlight through the window shows his brother’s features, jaw taped shut, skin as pale as dust. His hands rest on his chest and the weapon’s been cut away and Sam doesn’t know what they did with it.
He pushes forward, to the edge of the chair, leans over and digs his fingers into the edge of the bed. The snow-white blanket.
“Dean,” he hisses. “Dean.”
His brother’s eyes open, slowly. They’re filmed over, gummed up, and they roll around wide and terrified before settling on Sam’s face. Sam swallows.
“I had a dream,” he whispers, doesn’t know why he does. “You were f-following me. Chasing me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Dean stares at him for a long time, eyes fixed. Unmoving. And then he makes some long distressed noise and shuts his eyes and tilts his head back and ( ... )
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Sorry.
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Also the prompt said something like 'scrapes and scratches,' not 'flesh falling off in great bloody chunks.' So I kinda hijacked it into something grotesque. I was feeling a little guilty.
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