(no subject)
characters. dean winchester and buffy summers
verse. until we bleed
summary. dean's got a death wish. here's hoping it pans out.
timeline. a year after 5x22 swan song.
Cleveland, fun town. Or that is what he told himself the moment he woke up hanging from the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. Surrounded by what he believed were guys in the same position as he was. Believing they were going to get laid and ending up -- not. Only thing that separated Dean from the other guys was that he wasn't looking for tail. He was looking for this moment, right here. He could feel the chains that kept him in place pull from weight as another man down the assembly line got plucked away by some demonic bitch. Not that it wasn't a bad way to go out. Fuck and die. Then again, from what he could tell by the bodies across the way it wasn't exactly a good thing either. Bugs came to mind in big BOLD letters or something to a similar effect of bugs when they were...mating or whatever. He was sure there was an example somewhere on Animal Planet that he could have pointed too. Needless to say, the worst thing that he could point out was that they ended up dead and their bodies were recycled. The hippies would be proud of the demons. Not so much about the men that hung from the ropes, tied back and staring down their immediate futures. Oddly enough, Dean wasn't such a whimpering mess as much as his buddy strung up next to him was as he watched the young man try to wiggle out of his binds just as many of the others were doing. They were giving up a fight.
Dean really just didn't give a damn. The hunter rolled his eyes when they guy down the line started spilling out "oh God"s and "please don't". It figured. Most of these schmucks were dying on the badside of being raped. If any of them got away. And he was hopeful that someone did. They'd probably get back at the female population by killing someone, raping, or even the best sort of hit -- meaningless sex with said partners. He really couldn't label which would be better for all of them, he just knew that it was potentially better than this. Everything was better than this. Though he didn't believed that most people wouldn't argue with him on this opinion especially when they were all facing the same sort of end right at the moment. To think, nearly twenty-four some odd hours ago he was in some random bar. Pretending he was a light weight once again even if he was sure by how he drank his body had to have composed of 50% of alcohol. Dean drowned in it. Not so much to save himself as much to save the mental health of having to face the world alone. Not with anyone but himself. He figured this was how his old man handled life after his mother died even if it wasn't really quite a real love. The angels had engineered it for them. For Sam to end up in Hell and for Dean to end up right here. Only he was sure their idea was to make everything go one step forward with the Apocalypse and bring forth Paradise. A paradise he didn't believe existed anymore. What existed was Hell. And Hell was going to be a reprieve. If he was lucky, Sammy would be there to be his tormenter. Punish him for letting him rot, Dean believed he deserved that much.
The research into discovering what he was hunting was gruelish and tactless. When he wasn't in a library, suffering from the hangover from Hell and scaring off a could coeds who didn't seem to get the meaning of "on a bender" when he curtly muttered it underneath his breath. Sex wasn't exactly a bad thing to him. Meaningless sex was just that...meaningless. It fed the black hole inside him that just seemed to get wider as every day passed on. Things were just difficult now. Empty. The days were long and blurred together. Before he knew it, he was "celebrating" Sam's anniversary by visiting the place he'd died. Lighting a couple cigarettes and setting off some fireworks with the idea that he'd be closer to him as he allowed them to fire around him while he laid in the middle of the area. Staring at the star-filled night sky and remembering how his brother's eyes used to shine when he used to attempt to count the stars when they were young, passing out right around a hundred and thinking he was almost done. The kid was depressed when he found out there were billions of stars. Dean helped him out by counting each by 1,000 and by the end of the night they were sure they had counted them all. It all seemed to end up in one place. All the missing men had gone missing in seven year intervals and all going to the same bar the night before. What else could go wrong from using himself as bait? It was the most immediate way of getting the results that he wanted to get.
Too bad he got really bad results. He was sure he'd get picked up immediately but it wasn't really slim pickings at the bar. That was until it was just him and some fatass named Roberto as he generally introduced himself to the women who stood near him. By that time, Dean was already way more wasted than he intended when she walked in. Probably the last of the demons scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Dean would have checked down a lot of things about how they hunted out their prey but he didn't really catch anything she had to say. He knew her name started with a 'S' but that was far as common knowledge went for him but that was about to it.
From what he was observing out of his post-drunk haze, they stuck to the men they'd picked up. Figured. Dean was sure that he was going to get butchered or something to that effect as he continued to hang from the ceiling. Sam would have shaken him like he was some sort of crazy motherfucker. He knew he hadn't done what was a good thing for the most part. Most people wouldn't accept this as a final product of how they would spend their final moments. He definitely didn't want to spend--no, that was a lie. If it hurt the most that's what he wanted out of his death. For it to hurt the most. For him to feel every moment of it and regret ever being born. To curse the names of his parents and everyone who had sacrificed their lives to save him because he didn't exactly like living there anymore. Was there a reason for it all, after all? Dean's entire life revolved around Sam. Sammy this, Sammy that. He was his mother, his father, his big brother. He was the one who sat in the parent-teacher conferences after getting special permission from the school officials and charmed the pants off them. He was the one who changed his diaper and took care of him. The first name that he said was Dee. The first smile was at him and he got to listen to the first laugh. If someone had to think of who was a better parent to Sam between him and John -- it would have always been him, or that was his opinion.
He was brought back to reality when the guy next to him started tugging on the lapels of his jacket, crying out for him to save him. Dean gritted his teeth together as the man was ripped off of him and pulled over to the table, stripped and...forced into pleasing their demon partner. Dean looked down at the ground when the man started screaming at the top of his lungs before everything sort of died out and they dragged him where they were keeping the rest of those that had been chosen. Dean's stomach churned with a nervous look on his face before he was lifted from the hooks. Bitches were strong. They were talking, in English, but the hangover he was suffering from made it nearly impossible for him to focus on anything that wasn't dark and silent as he was splayed out on the table. The complenant ones weren't roped down. Probably because they believed they'd checked out, resigning themselves to the fate they were going to have to face one way or another the moment they were pulled into the warehouse as he looked up at the girl, who had all but shedded her human visage. It wasn't exactly a pleasant face either. Not even her mama would like her as he tilted his head to the side with a curious look on his face. "So you gonna make an honest man outta me?" He looked up at the oval, fist sized black eyes that peered down at him. Her face a reminder of a changelings suction cupped mouths and he smirked a little. "Cuz I gotta say, my mind is going to bad places when it comes to a mouth like yours. You don't even have a face a mama could love. But I can overlook that, we can paperbag it though."
He figured that they could still understand English by the growl that ripped from the demon before she slashed at his face cutting open his cheek a little and he cried out in pain before she ripped at his shirt, throwing it open and pausing. He could see the light bulb flicker on as he lifted off his head when the others started chattering loudly and he glanced down at the C4 strapped to his chest. "Fuck. I forgot about that. My bad." He headbutted the demon before pushing her off of him and ripping off the taped C4, hissing under his breath as he dropped one where he was lying and moving to pull out the knife he hidden in his boot. "You bitches don't even check your victims. Are you idiots? This was easier than escaping prison." He barked out a laugh as he one of them came at him and he shoved the knife into her face before ripping it out and stuffing another C4 there, tossing her among the man-shaped incubators before sliding another couple C4 bombs there before dropping the rest on his way out. Fighting the demons as they came while his head became dizzy from the blood loss as he slashed at another throat and headed for the door, setting a bomb at the enterance and pulling out the detonator from a pocket in his jacket as he walked away from the building and flickered the red switch before it blasted, killing all the men and demons instantly before he tossed the detonator into the canel he was walking near before digging through his pockets for his flask and taking a quick swig as he walked down the dark road.
The inner city wasn't really all that amazing for someone who was wounded. Bleeding was just like wearing a target on his back as he searched absently through his pockets for a cigarette before he was pulled closer to someone from behind. Still, there wasn't that much of a struggle as he was held still by what he suspected was some fricking vamp by the way it was sniffling around him. Not to mention he swore he got a little tongue from the hole in his face before before elbowing the thing and staggering to keep on his feet, glancing over his shoulder. He knew he really couldn't put up a good enough fight before he started down the alley at a full sprint. The vampire not too far behind him. The most he had to do was get an upperhand as he kept moving.
verse. until we bleed
summary. dean's got a death wish. here's hoping it pans out.
timeline. a year after 5x22 swan song.
Cleveland, fun town. Or that is what he told himself the moment he woke up hanging from the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. Surrounded by what he believed were guys in the same position as he was. Believing they were going to get laid and ending up -- not. Only thing that separated Dean from the other guys was that he wasn't looking for tail. He was looking for this moment, right here. He could feel the chains that kept him in place pull from weight as another man down the assembly line got plucked away by some demonic bitch. Not that it wasn't a bad way to go out. Fuck and die. Then again, from what he could tell by the bodies across the way it wasn't exactly a good thing either. Bugs came to mind in big BOLD letters or something to a similar effect of bugs when they were...mating or whatever. He was sure there was an example somewhere on Animal Planet that he could have pointed too. Needless to say, the worst thing that he could point out was that they ended up dead and their bodies were recycled. The hippies would be proud of the demons. Not so much about the men that hung from the ropes, tied back and staring down their immediate futures. Oddly enough, Dean wasn't such a whimpering mess as much as his buddy strung up next to him was as he watched the young man try to wiggle out of his binds just as many of the others were doing. They were giving up a fight.
Dean really just didn't give a damn. The hunter rolled his eyes when they guy down the line started spilling out "oh God"s and "please don't". It figured. Most of these schmucks were dying on the badside of being raped. If any of them got away. And he was hopeful that someone did. They'd probably get back at the female population by killing someone, raping, or even the best sort of hit -- meaningless sex with said partners. He really couldn't label which would be better for all of them, he just knew that it was potentially better than this. Everything was better than this. Though he didn't believed that most people wouldn't argue with him on this opinion especially when they were all facing the same sort of end right at the moment. To think, nearly twenty-four some odd hours ago he was in some random bar. Pretending he was a light weight once again even if he was sure by how he drank his body had to have composed of 50% of alcohol. Dean drowned in it. Not so much to save himself as much to save the mental health of having to face the world alone. Not with anyone but himself. He figured this was how his old man handled life after his mother died even if it wasn't really quite a real love. The angels had engineered it for them. For Sam to end up in Hell and for Dean to end up right here. Only he was sure their idea was to make everything go one step forward with the Apocalypse and bring forth Paradise. A paradise he didn't believe existed anymore. What existed was Hell. And Hell was going to be a reprieve. If he was lucky, Sammy would be there to be his tormenter. Punish him for letting him rot, Dean believed he deserved that much.
The research into discovering what he was hunting was gruelish and tactless. When he wasn't in a library, suffering from the hangover from Hell and scaring off a could coeds who didn't seem to get the meaning of "on a bender" when he curtly muttered it underneath his breath. Sex wasn't exactly a bad thing to him. Meaningless sex was just that...meaningless. It fed the black hole inside him that just seemed to get wider as every day passed on. Things were just difficult now. Empty. The days were long and blurred together. Before he knew it, he was "celebrating" Sam's anniversary by visiting the place he'd died. Lighting a couple cigarettes and setting off some fireworks with the idea that he'd be closer to him as he allowed them to fire around him while he laid in the middle of the area. Staring at the star-filled night sky and remembering how his brother's eyes used to shine when he used to attempt to count the stars when they were young, passing out right around a hundred and thinking he was almost done. The kid was depressed when he found out there were billions of stars. Dean helped him out by counting each by 1,000 and by the end of the night they were sure they had counted them all. It all seemed to end up in one place. All the missing men had gone missing in seven year intervals and all going to the same bar the night before. What else could go wrong from using himself as bait? It was the most immediate way of getting the results that he wanted to get.
Too bad he got really bad results. He was sure he'd get picked up immediately but it wasn't really slim pickings at the bar. That was until it was just him and some fatass named Roberto as he generally introduced himself to the women who stood near him. By that time, Dean was already way more wasted than he intended when she walked in. Probably the last of the demons scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Dean would have checked down a lot of things about how they hunted out their prey but he didn't really catch anything she had to say. He knew her name started with a 'S' but that was far as common knowledge went for him but that was about to it.
From what he was observing out of his post-drunk haze, they stuck to the men they'd picked up. Figured. Dean was sure that he was going to get butchered or something to that effect as he continued to hang from the ceiling. Sam would have shaken him like he was some sort of crazy motherfucker. He knew he hadn't done what was a good thing for the most part. Most people wouldn't accept this as a final product of how they would spend their final moments. He definitely didn't want to spend--no, that was a lie. If it hurt the most that's what he wanted out of his death. For it to hurt the most. For him to feel every moment of it and regret ever being born. To curse the names of his parents and everyone who had sacrificed their lives to save him because he didn't exactly like living there anymore. Was there a reason for it all, after all? Dean's entire life revolved around Sam. Sammy this, Sammy that. He was his mother, his father, his big brother. He was the one who sat in the parent-teacher conferences after getting special permission from the school officials and charmed the pants off them. He was the one who changed his diaper and took care of him. The first name that he said was Dee. The first smile was at him and he got to listen to the first laugh. If someone had to think of who was a better parent to Sam between him and John -- it would have always been him, or that was his opinion.
He was brought back to reality when the guy next to him started tugging on the lapels of his jacket, crying out for him to save him. Dean gritted his teeth together as the man was ripped off of him and pulled over to the table, stripped and...forced into pleasing their demon partner. Dean looked down at the ground when the man started screaming at the top of his lungs before everything sort of died out and they dragged him where they were keeping the rest of those that had been chosen. Dean's stomach churned with a nervous look on his face before he was lifted from the hooks. Bitches were strong. They were talking, in English, but the hangover he was suffering from made it nearly impossible for him to focus on anything that wasn't dark and silent as he was splayed out on the table. The complenant ones weren't roped down. Probably because they believed they'd checked out, resigning themselves to the fate they were going to have to face one way or another the moment they were pulled into the warehouse as he looked up at the girl, who had all but shedded her human visage. It wasn't exactly a pleasant face either. Not even her mama would like her as he tilted his head to the side with a curious look on his face. "So you gonna make an honest man outta me?" He looked up at the oval, fist sized black eyes that peered down at him. Her face a reminder of a changelings suction cupped mouths and he smirked a little. "Cuz I gotta say, my mind is going to bad places when it comes to a mouth like yours. You don't even have a face a mama could love. But I can overlook that, we can paperbag it though."
He figured that they could still understand English by the growl that ripped from the demon before she slashed at his face cutting open his cheek a little and he cried out in pain before she ripped at his shirt, throwing it open and pausing. He could see the light bulb flicker on as he lifted off his head when the others started chattering loudly and he glanced down at the C4 strapped to his chest. "Fuck. I forgot about that. My bad." He headbutted the demon before pushing her off of him and ripping off the taped C4, hissing under his breath as he dropped one where he was lying and moving to pull out the knife he hidden in his boot. "You bitches don't even check your victims. Are you idiots? This was easier than escaping prison." He barked out a laugh as he one of them came at him and he shoved the knife into her face before ripping it out and stuffing another C4 there, tossing her among the man-shaped incubators before sliding another couple C4 bombs there before dropping the rest on his way out. Fighting the demons as they came while his head became dizzy from the blood loss as he slashed at another throat and headed for the door, setting a bomb at the enterance and pulling out the detonator from a pocket in his jacket as he walked away from the building and flickered the red switch before it blasted, killing all the men and demons instantly before he tossed the detonator into the canel he was walking near before digging through his pockets for his flask and taking a quick swig as he walked down the dark road.
The inner city wasn't really all that amazing for someone who was wounded. Bleeding was just like wearing a target on his back as he searched absently through his pockets for a cigarette before he was pulled closer to someone from behind. Still, there wasn't that much of a struggle as he was held still by what he suspected was some fricking vamp by the way it was sniffling around him. Not to mention he swore he got a little tongue from the hole in his face before before elbowing the thing and staggering to keep on his feet, glancing over his shoulder. He knew he really couldn't put up a good enough fight before he started down the alley at a full sprint. The vampire not too far behind him. The most he had to do was get an upperhand as he kept moving.