I was feeling in need of some Dean whumpage and came up with this little one shot about his time in hell. Warning for torture, although not prolonged or too graphic, and some bad language.

Betrayal

Dean screamed, his back arching in agony. But the leather strap binding his mouth prevented any sound escaping and the chains around his wrists and ankles tethered him securely to the rack. The pain diminished and Dean sagged back against the rough wood. He couldn't even see his torturers. Every morning when he was dragged from the putrid hole where he was kept, a cloth was tied around his eyes. It was more effective, the demons said, if he couldn't see what was going to happen to him next.

He couldn't even beg for release through death. He'd already crossed that boundary and, ever since, he had been fighting for what was left of his humanity. They wanted to make him into one of them and then release him back into the world to fight his own brother. They didn't know much about him if they thought that would ever happen.

He'd lost track of the days, weeks, years. He'd lost track of the number of times Alistair had offered to stop the torture in return for his promise that he would become one of the torturers. Agreeing would be the first step in becoming the weapon they wanted him to be. His daily prayer was that Alistair couldn't see how much his resolve was weakening.

Being deprived of sight and speech had heightened his other senses. Pain was worse when he couldn't distract himself with the use of his voice. He'd discovered that terror and despair had a sour smell which mingled with the odour of shit and vomit. Other victims were allowed the luxury of speech, using the opportunity to plead for a mercy they would never receive.

A blade sank into his chest, ripping and tearing skin and muscles. Blood poured across his skin. His soundless scream turned into weak and pitiful sobs. They never allowed him to slip into the peace of unconsciousness. That would be too easy. They carved him up piece by piece, stripping the flesh from his bones until he lost all sense of self. He no longer had breath to scream although pathetic whimpers bubbled up in his lacerated throat.

He could recognise the signs now. His body was shutting down. Soon he would hover on the edge of a black abyss craving the release it would bring him. It never did. It wasn't permitted in this place of endless suffering. Just when he was ready to let go Alistair would heal him.

"I did it for you, Sammy." The words echoed in his head. This had been his choice. Even if he regretted it, he could never go back.

A hand brushed against his forehead causing him to flinch. The blindfold was untied. He was whole again and the harsh light hurt his eyes. He turned his head away, squeezing his eyelids shut to stop the tears from falling.

"Hello, Dean."

Alistair wore a different body each day, but Dean always knew him by his voice. It was soft and slimy, filled with all the bad things in the world. Knowing what was coming next, Dean forced himself to look at his torturer.

"Do you know how long you've been here as my special guest?" Alistair asked.

Dean tried to glare at him, but it was a feeble attempt. The truth was that he feared Alistair more than any demon he had ever faced. Alistair's expression was smug as he reached over to unbuckle the gag.

"It's been thirty years," Alistair continued. "Well, thirty years here. On earth only three months have passed. Yet, already your brother has forgotten about you."

"No," Dean whispered. "F..fuck you."

"You expected him to save you. You made your deal and then you didn't have the guts to pay the price."

"Not...not true."

"Sam could have defeated Lilith. He has great potential."

Dean pulled weakly on the chains. "I wouldn't let him."

Alistair picked up a knife and ran it lightly across Dean's abdomen. "Do you still believe that? Sam didn't try hard enough because he was afraid."

The touch of the blade sent Dean's heart racing. No more! Please, no more. The pressure on the knife increased and Dean ground his teeth together to stop his words betraying him. Deeper and deeper the blade sank until it was impossible to stay silent. His screams echoed round and round the cavern. Warm urine spurted across his thighs and dripped to the floor.

"I can't...," Dean sobbed. The pain stopped.

"Can't what, Dean?" Alistair leaned over to stare intently into Dean's face. "You don't have anything to prove anymore. You've held out longer than almost anyone else. It's time you started to give yourself some credit."

Tears rolled down Dean's face. He'd spent his whole life having to prove to his father that he was good enough. He'd rarely been allowed to think about himself. The imperative had always been to keep Sammy safe. Then, after all his sacrifices, Sam had walked out on him.

Alistair's touch on his shoulder was gentle. "You've earned the right to rest. All you have to do is help me punish those souls that deserve it."

Dean didn't mean to nod, but he no longer had any control over his body. The chains fell away and Alistair helped him to sit up. He was too tired to be surprised by the fact that he was no longer naked. The jeans and shirt felt good against his skin.

"I have the perfect candidate for your first time."

Dean followed Alistair through a maze of passageways. Nothing penetrated the shield he had built around his emotions. They stopped beside a rack exactly like the one he'd been chained to. At first he only had an impression of a woman's body and bile collected in his throat. He took a step back, shaking his head.

"Come closer, Dean," Alistair coaxed. "Think of this as a reward."

Dean walked unsteadily forward and raised his head. A slow smile spread across his face. He reached over and removed his victim's gag. "I think I'd like to hear you scream," he said.

"Dean, please, you have to help me," she begged, tears welling up and spilling over onto her cheeks.

He took his time, examining the perfectly formed body and beautiful face. "You mean, like you helped me and Sam?" he asked. "You can beg all you like, bitch, but it won't do you any good."

Dean heard Alistair laugh when he picked up a knife and plunged it straight into Bela's black heart.

The end

Caroline

March 2009