30 Days of Hell - Boundaries
Title: Boundaries
Author: yourrighteye
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Rated R overall
Wordcount: 684
Warnings: AU from "No Rest for the Wicked", graphic torture, gore, death
Spoilers: Major spoilers up to and including 'All Hell Breaks Loose, Part 1'
Disclaimer: All characters represented in this fic are not mine and are only being played with for my own enjoyment. So, no profit is being made from coming up with inventive ways to torture Dean! Yay! (I don't know what I was thinking, honestly).
Summary: He's running.
A/N: Okay, so I wrote this for Mini-Nano. And I did one every day for most of the month. But half of them really sucked and I decided not to post until now, because I suck. They'll be coming up sporadically as I polish and rewrite them, and then I will have a shiny, shiny masterpost. *glee* They do not have to be read chronologically, because they have not been written chronologically.
Boundaries
He's running.
His muscles are burning, his lungs breathing fire; an empty field yawns into the distance around him, ringed by a permanently predawn sky. He's running toward something, something important, but damn if he knows what it is, and he needs to keep running because there's somewhere he needs to be, someone...someone he needs to save.
Someone he needs to save.
He can't stop, he can't, but damn it, he's slowing down, and if he's slowing down he won't get there in time, he won't be able to save - Sam. Sam.
Sam. His brother. His brother, Sam.
As soon as this thought forms, a figure appears in the distance, a tall, familiar silhouette against the rosy sky, loping toward him in a slow, easy gait. Dean's breath hitches, burns his throat, and he pushes himself now, have to get to Sam, his strides lengthen and he keeps watching as the figure looms closer and he can see the fox-canted eyes and little-boy smile, so close and distant all at once.
And then he keeps watching, as the grin begins to droop, being pulled down as a slab of skin starts to peels slowly off his brother's face.
No.
Another, bigger chunk this time, is starting to come off Sam's arm, as he reaches out to Dean with his lopsided smile and sad, sad eyes; it slides off just as Sam takes a step forward, moving slower, seeming to grow more distant each passing moment Dean struggles to get to him.
"Sammy!" His cry is torn, desperate, wrenched from him in pieces and he struggles to remember to breathe because he can't stop, can't pass out, give up now when he's so close. Sammy's right there and coming apart and Dean has to get there, has to make it better. He has to.
God.
Sam is falling apart in earnest now, pieces of him sliding off, blood beginning to pool in his wake from the gaping holes left in him from the disjointed flesh. He's reaching for Dean, wanting him to come closer, but goddamnit Dean can't, he isn't fast enough and it's almost as if the land is moving faster than he can run.
A darkness, now; it's starting to swallow the distance around him and Dean knows, knows he can't outrun it, but damn him if he isn't going to try. Nothing wlse matters right now but Sam...Sam. His brother. Sam.
He's getting closer, he's sure of it, but then, just as he's within shouting distance, Sam's eyes, soft eyes, the colour of hazelnut and pine bark and warmth, grow hard. Cold. And then black is flooding them, like a demon's, and Dean is helpless as he tries to stop, to pull back, but it's too late. He's too close and Sam's grinning now, a sly grin that sends shockwaves of heat up Dean's spine that he can't ignore, and now he's in Sam's grasp and he knows he won't be able to get away. Maybe he doesn't want to.
As Sam leans down, lips brushing Dean's neck with a grip like a vise on Dean's hips, Dean shudders and turns away. Blood smears over him, dripping onto his face, his shoulders from the gaping holes in his brother, and soon it's over his lips, and Sam is licking it off him like a sin.
"I've missed you, Dean," he breathes, voice low, dark, full of promise, as he sucks at Dean's collarbone, cleaning it of his own blood. "I've missed you so much. Missed how you feel. How you taste."
A light nip, and Sam is moving down, tangling his hand into Dean's hair, snaking it around his hips. It elicits an involuntary huff of breath from Dean, and Sam chuckles lightly, humming as he draws his brother in closer.
"I've missed how you smell, Dean. You've always smelled so sweet. God, do you know how long I've waited to do this? So long. Now that you're in Hell..." A lick of the lips.
"No more barriers, right?"
Dean shudders, his eyes close, and it's a relief when the darkness finally swallows them.
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Author: yourrighteye
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Rated R overall
Wordcount: 684
Warnings: AU from "No Rest for the Wicked", graphic torture, gore, death
Spoilers: Major spoilers up to and including 'All Hell Breaks Loose, Part 1'
Disclaimer: All characters represented in this fic are not mine and are only being played with for my own enjoyment. So, no profit is being made from coming up with inventive ways to torture Dean! Yay! (I don't know what I was thinking, honestly).
Summary: He's running.
A/N: Okay, so I wrote this for Mini-Nano. And I did one every day for most of the month. But half of them really sucked and I decided not to post until now, because I suck. They'll be coming up sporadically as I polish and rewrite them, and then I will have a shiny, shiny masterpost. *glee* They do not have to be read chronologically, because they have not been written chronologically.
Boundaries
He's running.
His muscles are burning, his lungs breathing fire; an empty field yawns into the distance around him, ringed by a permanently predawn sky. He's running toward something, something important, but damn if he knows what it is, and he needs to keep running because there's somewhere he needs to be, someone...someone he needs to save.
Someone he needs to save.
He can't stop, he can't, but damn it, he's slowing down, and if he's slowing down he won't get there in time, he won't be able to save - Sam. Sam.
Sam. His brother. His brother, Sam.
As soon as this thought forms, a figure appears in the distance, a tall, familiar silhouette against the rosy sky, loping toward him in a slow, easy gait. Dean's breath hitches, burns his throat, and he pushes himself now, have to get to Sam, his strides lengthen and he keeps watching as the figure looms closer and he can see the fox-canted eyes and little-boy smile, so close and distant all at once.
And then he keeps watching, as the grin begins to droop, being pulled down as a slab of skin starts to peels slowly off his brother's face.
No.
Another, bigger chunk this time, is starting to come off Sam's arm, as he reaches out to Dean with his lopsided smile and sad, sad eyes; it slides off just as Sam takes a step forward, moving slower, seeming to grow more distant each passing moment Dean struggles to get to him.
"Sammy!" His cry is torn, desperate, wrenched from him in pieces and he struggles to remember to breathe because he can't stop, can't pass out, give up now when he's so close. Sammy's right there and coming apart and Dean has to get there, has to make it better. He has to.
God.
Sam is falling apart in earnest now, pieces of him sliding off, blood beginning to pool in his wake from the gaping holes left in him from the disjointed flesh. He's reaching for Dean, wanting him to come closer, but goddamnit Dean can't, he isn't fast enough and it's almost as if the land is moving faster than he can run.
A darkness, now; it's starting to swallow the distance around him and Dean knows, knows he can't outrun it, but damn him if he isn't going to try. Nothing wlse matters right now but Sam...Sam. His brother. Sam.
He's getting closer, he's sure of it, but then, just as he's within shouting distance, Sam's eyes, soft eyes, the colour of hazelnut and pine bark and warmth, grow hard. Cold. And then black is flooding them, like a demon's, and Dean is helpless as he tries to stop, to pull back, but it's too late. He's too close and Sam's grinning now, a sly grin that sends shockwaves of heat up Dean's spine that he can't ignore, and now he's in Sam's grasp and he knows he won't be able to get away. Maybe he doesn't want to.
As Sam leans down, lips brushing Dean's neck with a grip like a vise on Dean's hips, Dean shudders and turns away. Blood smears over him, dripping onto his face, his shoulders from the gaping holes in his brother, and soon it's over his lips, and Sam is licking it off him like a sin.
"I've missed you, Dean," he breathes, voice low, dark, full of promise, as he sucks at Dean's collarbone, cleaning it of his own blood. "I've missed you so much. Missed how you feel. How you taste."
A light nip, and Sam is moving down, tangling his hand into Dean's hair, snaking it around his hips. It elicits an involuntary huff of breath from Dean, and Sam chuckles lightly, humming as he draws his brother in closer.
"I've missed how you smell, Dean. You've always smelled so sweet. God, do you know how long I've waited to do this? So long. Now that you're in Hell..." A lick of the lips.
"No more barriers, right?"
Dean shudders, his eyes close, and it's a relief when the darkness finally swallows them.
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