![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yllektraTitle: Hades' Gates -1/1
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
force_oblique
Rating: PG/ PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Dean,Sam - Dean-centric
Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly 3x16 // Well after, "Bleed The Skies", I have decided that my style is a bit dark so...this one is a bit dark and depressing, gory too...
Word Count: 925
Summary: In a hundred years from now, when Sam and Bobby and everyone I know and love are gone, having died a decent, glorious death, what will anything matter to me?
Will I want to return as a human, as the man I used to be on earth, or will he die along with them?
If I have no one to live for anymore, why should I care how I am or what I am?.. A Demon...
Author's Notes:It's been a while and maybe I am losing my Muse again or my touch. If this is crappy forgive me. I wrote it in 20 minutes....
~ English is not my native language so excuse any crappiness and/or mistakes!
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to:
[1]x5vale because she is a fellow Dean-lover and I wanted to surprise her like that.. =D
[2]dana_serenity because she just finished watching s3 and I couldnt be more excited... Can you say "Squeee"? Now it is, "Double Squeee"!!!! LOL
Majorly Crossposted at:[![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
daysofthereaper,moon_hunters,wincest_free,sn_fic,spn_fanfic,supernaturalfic,hurt_dean
Hades' Gates
Sometimes it’s not about the pain. It’s not about the torturing, agonizing pain that sets my nerves on fire.
Sometimes, it’s not about the blood. It’s not about the blood that keeps dripping off me, from each and every pore of my body.
It’s not even about the bitterness, the icky taste of bile in my mouth that climbs up my throat choking me from the inside.
Sometimes it’s not even about my eyes. My tired, bloodshot eyes that can barely make out anything in this darkness.
Sometimes it’s not about my hands. These broken hands of mine that I have to keep clenched as fists.
Fists that I know I will never be able to throw at anyone.
You know each and every day, it gets harder to breathe. It’s like oxygen is constantly diminishing and soon the black hole I am in, will run out of it.
I can feel my chest constricted, burning and I try not to cry but sometimes my eyes tear up on their own.
But maybe it’s not the oxygen that’s getting less.
Maybe what’s getting less is my humanity- something I always wanted to hold dear- like Ruby once advised me.
She told me if I forget what it feels like to be human, I will be more like them.
I will be more like the thing I hate the most.
And as I soar here, stretched out on these hooks, I wonder if all this pain is the price. The price I have to pay to never forget, never become a demon.
Yes, my will is strong now, but will I think the same in a hundred years?
Will everything that matters to me now be intact?
When Ruby got out hundreds of years later, everyone she had ever loved or hated was dead. It was pointless.
Time has no meaning in hell, but it has meaning and importance on earth.
But not in hell.
Not when nothing changes.
Not when everything remains the same.
The agony, the solitude, the gripping fear….
I can hold on to my memories now. The people that I love.
I can bite my charred lips and hold back the screams.
I can shut my eyes and keep in the tears, but what if I can't shut my mind and preserve the good and the bad times, everything I’ve shared with mom and dad and Sam?
In a hundred years from now, when Sam and Bobby and everyone I know and love are gone, having died a decent, glorious death, what will anything matter to me?
Will I want to return as a human, as the man I used to be on earth, or will he die along with them?
If I have no one to live for anymore, why should I care how I am or what I am?
Is that what Ruby meant about giving up and finally forgetting you once were human?
If I was blessed enough to escape in a century, would I still think it’s a miracle if I were doomed to wander the earth alone?
What kind of inner strength could sustain me and enable me to make a new start?
Wouldn’t it be better, feel better if I no longer remembered who I was?
That I once were happy.
That I had a family and a brother who loved me and I loved him back?
If that love was lost, wouldn’t it feel better if I was no longer human?
Demons can’t be able to experience sorrow the way humans do, if at all….
Isn’t it the wise thing to do in years to come?
What I don’t remember can’t hurt me, right?
It can’t feel worse than the wrenching, agitating pain I experience now, not only in my body, but also in my soul.
After all, am I better than others?
Am I really better than every other human who has suffered the same fate?
Do I really delude myself by maintaining that I am braver, smarter or stronger?
Am I not damned to lead a needless existence surrounded by the never-ending torture spiral of hell?
But sometimes, it’s not about the pain. Sometimes it’s not about the pain at all.
It’s not about my bad luck or what will happen to me.
Sometimes it’s just about me and my brother.
My brother and me and the undivided loyalty and trust we shared.
We really trusted each other with our lives.
That’s why I am here.
And sometimes it’s just about my brother and how powerful he is.
How powerful and strong he is in body and mind and soul.
And sometimes it’s all about his heart. His big, golden heart that continues to beat for my sake.
And sometimes it’s all about his heartbeat, resounding in my ears, like the comforting sound of a mother lulling you to sleep.
Sometimes it’s all about his heartbeat; the heartbeat I can hear loud and clear above any scream or curse.
A heartbeat that keeps growing stronger and faster and louder.
And this is how I know he is close. He is coming for me even though he knows he shouldn’t.
He is coming for me like I have always known he’d come and just that thought, that certainty, is enough to make those tears of mine, tears of joy, this venom in my mouth sweet like liquor and nerve-splitting pain a soothing caress.
And all I can do is hold on and just stay here at Hades' Gates, waiting for him to come and take me away.
I’m here Sam. I am here my brother, waiting for you at the gates of Hell, Hades' Gates and I know you are coming….
~ Fin ~
If you enjoyed this fiction (comment!! lol), other SPN fiction you may like:
1)Bleed The Skies - A Sam Fic - [1/1]
2)This Is How You Fall - A Ruby Fic - [1/2]
3)A Shell - Running On Hope - A Ruby/Dean fic - [1/1]
4)The Other Side - A Ruby Fic - [1/1]
5)Triptych (Of Pain) - A Sam/Dean/Ruby/Lilith fic- [1/?]
Author:
force_obliqueRating: PG/ PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Dean,Sam - Dean-centric
Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly 3x16 // Well after, "Bleed The Skies", I have decided that my style is a bit dark so...this one is a bit dark and depressing, gory too...
Word Count: 925
Summary: In a hundred years from now, when Sam and Bobby and everyone I know and love are gone, having died a decent, glorious death, what will anything matter to me?
Will I want to return as a human, as the man I used to be on earth, or will he die along with them?
If I have no one to live for anymore, why should I care how I am or what I am?.. A Demon...
Author's Notes:It's been a while and maybe I am losing my Muse again or my touch. If this is crappy forgive me. I wrote it in 20 minutes....
~ English is not my native language so excuse any crappiness and/or mistakes!
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to:
[1]
x5vale because she is a fellow Dean-lover and I wanted to surprise her like that.. =D[2]
dana_serenity because she just finished watching s3 and I couldnt be more excited... Can you say "Squeee"? Now it is, "Double Squeee"!!!! LOLMajorly Crossposted at:[
daysofthereaper,moon_hunters,wincest_free,sn_fic,spn_fanfic,supernaturalfic,hurt_deanHades' Gates
Sometimes it’s not about the pain. It’s not about the torturing, agonizing pain that sets my nerves on fire.
Sometimes, it’s not about the blood. It’s not about the blood that keeps dripping off me, from each and every pore of my body.
It’s not even about the bitterness, the icky taste of bile in my mouth that climbs up my throat choking me from the inside.
Sometimes it’s not even about my eyes. My tired, bloodshot eyes that can barely make out anything in this darkness.
Sometimes it’s not about my hands. These broken hands of mine that I have to keep clenched as fists.
Fists that I know I will never be able to throw at anyone.
You know each and every day, it gets harder to breathe. It’s like oxygen is constantly diminishing and soon the black hole I am in, will run out of it.
I can feel my chest constricted, burning and I try not to cry but sometimes my eyes tear up on their own.
But maybe it’s not the oxygen that’s getting less.
Maybe what’s getting less is my humanity- something I always wanted to hold dear- like Ruby once advised me.
She told me if I forget what it feels like to be human, I will be more like them.
I will be more like the thing I hate the most.
And as I soar here, stretched out on these hooks, I wonder if all this pain is the price. The price I have to pay to never forget, never become a demon.
Yes, my will is strong now, but will I think the same in a hundred years?
Will everything that matters to me now be intact?
When Ruby got out hundreds of years later, everyone she had ever loved or hated was dead. It was pointless.
Time has no meaning in hell, but it has meaning and importance on earth.
But not in hell.
Not when nothing changes.
Not when everything remains the same.
The agony, the solitude, the gripping fear….
I can hold on to my memories now. The people that I love.
I can bite my charred lips and hold back the screams.
I can shut my eyes and keep in the tears, but what if I can't shut my mind and preserve the good and the bad times, everything I’ve shared with mom and dad and Sam?
In a hundred years from now, when Sam and Bobby and everyone I know and love are gone, having died a decent, glorious death, what will anything matter to me?
Will I want to return as a human, as the man I used to be on earth, or will he die along with them?
If I have no one to live for anymore, why should I care how I am or what I am?
Is that what Ruby meant about giving up and finally forgetting you once were human?
If I was blessed enough to escape in a century, would I still think it’s a miracle if I were doomed to wander the earth alone?
What kind of inner strength could sustain me and enable me to make a new start?
Wouldn’t it be better, feel better if I no longer remembered who I was?
That I once were happy.
That I had a family and a brother who loved me and I loved him back?
If that love was lost, wouldn’t it feel better if I was no longer human?
Demons can’t be able to experience sorrow the way humans do, if at all….
Isn’t it the wise thing to do in years to come?
What I don’t remember can’t hurt me, right?
It can’t feel worse than the wrenching, agitating pain I experience now, not only in my body, but also in my soul.
After all, am I better than others?
Am I really better than every other human who has suffered the same fate?
Do I really delude myself by maintaining that I am braver, smarter or stronger?
Am I not damned to lead a needless existence surrounded by the never-ending torture spiral of hell?
But sometimes, it’s not about the pain. Sometimes it’s not about the pain at all.
It’s not about my bad luck or what will happen to me.
Sometimes it’s just about me and my brother.
My brother and me and the undivided loyalty and trust we shared.
We really trusted each other with our lives.
That’s why I am here.
And sometimes it’s just about my brother and how powerful he is.
How powerful and strong he is in body and mind and soul.
And sometimes it’s all about his heart. His big, golden heart that continues to beat for my sake.
And sometimes it’s all about his heartbeat, resounding in my ears, like the comforting sound of a mother lulling you to sleep.
Sometimes it’s all about his heartbeat; the heartbeat I can hear loud and clear above any scream or curse.
A heartbeat that keeps growing stronger and faster and louder.
And this is how I know he is close. He is coming for me even though he knows he shouldn’t.
He is coming for me like I have always known he’d come and just that thought, that certainty, is enough to make those tears of mine, tears of joy, this venom in my mouth sweet like liquor and nerve-splitting pain a soothing caress.
And all I can do is hold on and just stay here at Hades' Gates, waiting for him to come and take me away.
I’m here Sam. I am here my brother, waiting for you at the gates of Hell, Hades' Gates and I know you are coming….
~ Fin ~
If you enjoyed this fiction (comment!! lol), other SPN fiction you may like:
1)Bleed The Skies - A Sam Fic - [1/1]
2)This Is How You Fall - A Ruby Fic - [1/2]
3)A Shell - Running On Hope - A Ruby/Dean fic - [1/1]
4)The Other Side - A Ruby Fic - [1/1]
5)Triptych (Of Pain) - A Sam/Dean/Ruby/Lilith fic- [1/?]
