Perdere, a supernatural fanfic

Perdere

chailyn

Summary: Eternal hell fire was never meant to be taken literally, he realizes. Rated M.

Authours Note: Okay, first off this story does refrence rape so if you can't handle that, please don't read, secondly, this was intended to be just a one-shot but it just kept growing and kinda eating at me and so now its up in the air...we'll see what happens, yes?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all. But I would like to urge y'all if you're a Bela fan to go over to my profile page and click on the link to the petition to bring back Bela...c'mon, it is Supernatural, so its possible!

Just as evil has more than one form, hell does too.

Demons lie.

Dean sees his nightmares evolve before his eyes and it hurts so bad that he wishes he could just be put out of his misery and goddamnit become a demon already because then he won't have to watch it.

He won't care.

He won't have to watch Sam, his baby brother, cut throats and break necks with a sickeningly Un-Sam-like, easy prowess, Ruby at his side nodding approvingly.

"Good boy Sammy." She says, and what hurts even more than watching him kill innocent humans is that he doesn't correct her.

Sam, not Sammy...Sammy's a chubby twelve year old...Only he's allowed to call me that...

He doesn't know how much time actually elapses in hell; everything runs together. He could have been here for years, or maybe its just been minutes. He just doesn't know anymore.

Hell is stifling.

He feels surrounded by pain, and misery, and gut wrenching, pained screaming that makes him think of surgery without anesthesia as a welcome alternative.

"No daddy! No!"

She screams it, begs, she feels ravaged, torn apart, and can't take it anymore; but there is no stop.

It never ends.

Ten years of blissful freedom for an eternity of what she'd tried so hard to get away from.

At first she tried to escape, but there is no escape from hell. No way out.

"Please…daddy…" She whimpers, trying to get away, to hide…in hell she can't even block it out…she can't even pretend she's at the park on the swing feigning blissful ignorance that its raining because for her as long as he's not there the sun's out, shining.

"Please." she cries, because in hell all she can remember is scared child-like fear.

Hell isn't any different than being a six year old girl afraid of what's going to happen when the lights go dark.

He wants so badly not to care.

When Sam cuts open their mom's throat open with Ruby's knife he would give anything to just not care.

notrealmakebelievenotrealmakebelievenotrealmakebelieve

Because that's not Sam. Sam's not a killer, Sam's not a demon. Sam's a hunter.

"Are you sure?" Azazel's whisper reaches him but he's not sure if that's all a dream too, its not like he can actually see anything down here.

What does it matter? Everything is realsorealcompletelyfake down here.

Sam is Sammy now and he's only a kid again…just a little kid, a voice that whispers to him.

You promised to save him.

Sammy is pulling on the edge of his jacket, looking up at him with those dammed doe eyes, pleading, begging, innocent.

"You look out for me, Dean?"

Dean's voice is choked with tears.

Not Sammy. It's not Sammy.

Dean wants to find a hole, crawl into it, and cease to exist and then it can all be over.

Sometimes he catches himself breaking.

He sits surrounded by darkness, rocking in oblivion.

Ignoranceisbliss

But only when Lucifer allows.

Sammy is crying and Dean feels sick. He was supposed to protect Sam.

"Why didn't you protect me, Dean?"

I was trying to.

I tried.

"I'm sorry Sammy." He whispers.

He needs to get out of hell.

Everything the nuns said, all the while reminding you about what a sinner you are and needing god's forgiveness…everything they told you was pure shit, but even as a little girl you knew that.

If any of it was true, you wouldn't have had to take care of yourself.

They're wrongsowrong.

Bad people aren't punished.

Good people aren't protected.

There is no eternal hell fire in hell, it's worse than that.

You're freezingfreezingfreezing and with his very touch, every glance, with every anything you can feel your skin blister and crawl because it burnsburnsburns.

Itsnotfair

He wasn't supposed to be in hell. Even in hell it was supposed to be the one thing that would never touch her.

She likes to swing, highhighhigher…

"I can get rid of him for you."

The girl is young, terribly young, much younger than her…but she's so very ancient too.

"It won't even cost you anything…for ten whole years."

She doesn't know what it is. All she knows is that it promises her an out. She doesn't say anything, it talks, and it always comes back; sometimes telling her about all the things that could happen to him.

She doesn't care, she just wants it to stop.

…Its like nothing can touch her.

"It can be like this all the time. He won't hurt you anymore."

She looks at It

She'd like that.

No one can touch her. No one will.

She nods her head.

It's eyes flash red, a horrid red, and smiles.

HighHighHigher

Sometimes, even in hell, she thinks that he leaves her alone.

But maybe its just a fantasy.

Once upon a time ago, years, or decades, or maybe it was longer…she used to dream that.

She'd dream that he wasn't tearing off her clothes…that his fingers, rough fingers, weren't tearing across her skin, the dryness of them chafing--wasn't, that those fingers didn't get caught in the loose curls that a day of wearing braids had given her…

She'd close her eyes and pretend she couldn't smell the scent of expensive scotch and cigars. She was soaring, swinging…nothing could touch her.

Even if this is just a dream, its such a nice one that she doesn't much mind.

Sometimes he's not chained down and he can run away from the nightmare.

The perdition.

Sometimes he's not chained down and he still can't run because Sammy is standing there, begging and asking, Why? Why didn't he look after him, protect him?

Escape.

They let him sometimes, and he runs. He runs and he sees other people's nightmares.

He sees a woman desperately trying to drown a small blonde girl in a tub of water.

He sees a boy, younger than Sammy choking on his intestines, and crying for his mommy to help him. His mom cuts his throat and he's not sure who's nightmare it is--hers or his.

He thought he saw Yellow Eyes once but was distracted by something he didn't expect in hell.

A lullaby.

Spoken. Murmured. Quiet.

So hush little baby, don't you cry.

One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singing

You're gonna spread your wings as you take the sky…

A pause, Dean turned about looking for where it was coming from

…So hush little baby don't you cry..

Barely more than a whisper, and he hadn't heard it in twenty-seven years but he caught the missing verse:

But till that morning, there's nothing can harm you

With your daddy and mammy standing nigh

How could he forget it? His mother only sang him to sleep with it every night for the first four years of his life.

He still remembers teaching the song to Sam, singing it with him when John was gone hunting and Sam was terrified of the monster in his closet, and he remembers that even though he was just as scared as Sam was, that song made him feel brave.

The singer is rocking in the corner, head tucked down, rockingrockingrocking…trying to run away from the same thing he was.

Nightmares.

She jerks away from the touch. She jerks away from all feeling, tries too at least…wondering, how long until she is numb. How long until she doesn't feel anymore.

Or maybe that's her punishment in hell, to always feel it.

She still remembers how it was when she was a little girl. After a while, she always comforted herself with the thought, she wouldn't feel it anymore. She wouldn't feel anything anymore.

She could close her eyes and instead of the angry, sometimes drunken brown eyes boring into hers, she saw the sky and she was swinging, she was flying, nothing could hurt her as long as she didn't come down.

The hand on her shoulder brings her back down, and she doesn't want to look up because if she does, and its him…she's back in hell.

She stops humming the lullaby…it didn't stop the hell hounds, she doesn't know why she clings to it to keep away Lilith, it doesn't even keep away her own demons.

The hand is rough, pulling at her hair, it falls out of her eyes and she knows its him. None of the others come so close…but taunt her from afar.

"No daddy." She whimpers, shirking away from the touch even though she remembers what happens when she does that. In hell it doesn't matter what kinds of marks he leaves.

"Please, daddy." She begs, "Please, don't."

His hands fall from her hair, her face, back down to his sides and he's shocked.

Dean had been wrong when he thought nothing in hell could shock him anymore.

"Bela." He says, taking a slight step back. She sounds like a child, she looks broken, terrified…he wonders if this is what he looks like when he curls up and hides away from it--or when he tries to.

She looks up, because Daddy doesn't speak, not since she was a little girl. Daddy's voice was never that soft anyways, but harsh, like his throat had been sandpapered by one too many scotches.

"Dean."

Her voice doesn't register much of any kind of emotion, except relief.

Its not him

She's stopped rocking but still sits there, waiting, watching him. He'd quiet for a long time though and it gets to her, the quiet makes her feel like she's beginning to crack.

"You didn't get out of your deal? You didn't kill the bitch, Dean?"

He's seen a whole lot of hells but her's unsettles--unhinges--him.

He had been so sure that maybe, just maybe, there were people who deserved hell. That she was one of these people.

Dean knew he should have known better. When were things always that black and white?

She killed her parents, he'd reasoned.

They deserved it, he slowly realized.

"You should have come to me and Sam for help." Dean says in reply, he's down here isn't he? They obviously didn't kill Lilith. They couldn't even find the bitch.

"I thought I could handle it on my own." Bela says, and Dean feels like he's caught a glimpse of the old Bela again, not the one curled up on the ground rocking and humming old lullabies.

The theme song of her life. She thought she could handle it on her own.

She thinks that maybe, if she'd learned to do that before she wouldn't be here. But 'what-ifs' aren't much help in hell.

Bela realizes she must have been wrong, she couldn't have been here for very long. Dean looks relatively unchanged--but scared. It stands out because he looks scared and tired and she doesn't really recall ever seeing him look that way.

Not like you knew him all that well anyways.

Like there's things out there he can't actually control. She's sure she was right when she pegged him as a control freak.

He can't have been here for long, which means she can't have been here for long. He fights it, she's sure; but she doesn't want to fight it anymore, she doesn't want to keep reliving her nightmares…she wants that part of her to die. Being a demon won't be so bad, she tells herself, and it helps.

"You missed a verse." She hears him say.

She doesn't answer him, not that question at least--she catches the question in his statement. Why?

She answers a different question. "The old lullabies keep Lilith away."

Dean looks confused, the confusion is a nice distraction for her. Explaining means she has a chance to not be reliving it in her head, because even when he's not here--he is.

"I figured you'd know." Bela said, wondering why he is fighting hell.

You can't win, no one does. Except John Winchester, she remembers…even though no one really knows how its is he did it. She wondered if it was all just an urban legend, but knowing the Winchesters she couldn't help but to think he probably managed it…maybe Dean will too.

"Every religion has some kind of belief in it." Bela told him, "But basically…you sing your kid to sleep with the lullaby and she can't hurt them. Their souls are safe from her."

Dean nods his head, that's more Sam's field of expertise than his; he's sure Sam knows.

Dean takes a seat on the ground next to her, and notices her shrink back from him. He remembers back, going and trying to fetch the Colt from her and the look of fear on her face.

Don't flatter yourself

Its not like he knew, but he still feels wrong.

He pities her. The Bela he knows wouldn't want to be pitied, he thinks, but this one…she's like a child.

"You shouldn't be here." Bela tells him, "He won't like it."

"Who?" Dean asks sharply. They both need to get out of hell, he realizes, neither one of them truly belong here.

"Lucifer, of course."

Dean doesn't care. He's seen his worst nightmare, what worse thing could he possibly have done to him.

He should've known better though, because this is hell.