trans_9 | Ain't No Grave Can Hold My Body Down [Closed]

Entry tags:

Ain't No Grave Can Hold My Body Down [Closed]

Dean had made sure to keep himself to the house. He was too worried about the next time he'd lose more memories to do much on the house expansions for now. It meant he spent his time pacing around like a caged tiger.

And then things shifted again. His hair became more mussed up, and his hands looked abraded and bleeding, like somebody who had to claw out of a coffin and the ground. He glanced around, trying to realize where he was. It wasn't Bobby's, and yet it seemed familiar. Everything was mixed up.

Sammy, he had to find his brother. Had to see him again after so long.

(ooc: closed, but open to anybody who'd be by the house or know the Winchesters well.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Bloody nose. I'll be fine." He'd be better once these regressions stopped, but that was out of his control.

He made a motion to Kang, asking for him to stay out of Dean's direct line of sight, then padded over to Dean. "Dean? Dean, I need you to stay calm. I know it's not something you're going to believe easily, but you're safe."

Kang frowned slightly and nodded, getting up and moving out of sight. He understood why.

"Sammy," he whispered, and then shook his head. "No, it's another damn trick. You're not here, you're not here." He moved back more, and barked out, "Alastair! You chickenshit, I already told you I'm not falling for this!"

God, this hurt. He knew damned well that Dean wasn't going to believe him. Couldn't believe him. And yet, he had to try.

It started with kneeling down beside Dean and untying his hands. "Just stay down for a few more moments, okay? Kang's really good at knots." Almost as good as Dad had been.

They were letting him go? No, it's another trick, it wasn't real. He knew how this went. Sam shows up like he's going to help him escape, only to throw him on the rack again. Smiling with yellow eyes as he carves him up.

"Notherenotherenothere..." he muttered to himself, too scared to punch. They liked it when he fought. They seared the flesh off his bones when he fought.

Last time the not!Sam was there, he pulled his heart out and held it up to him.

See Dean? It's all mine, always was. And then he'd swallow it all down, bite by bite.

Sam didn't know what was going on in Dean's mind. Was honestly glad of that, too. If he did, he'd want to find a way to bring the demon back just so he could kill him again.

He didn't have the demon blood to do it. He'd have to improvise.

"It's okay, Dean. You're not there." He was more careful as he went to untie Dean's legs. They were both trained fighters, after all. Scared and damaged as Dean was, he'd feel cornered enough to fight his way out if he could. "You're safe. I promise you're safe."

He shook his head more, "I know you're lying. Just get on with it." But now he was free. That was a lie too. All of it was a lie. He could try running away though.

He slowly moved backward again, looking for a weapon.

With any luck, he wouldn't find one. Sam had done the living room first, after all.

Sam crouched down, hands loose on his knees. "Look around, Dean. Look at the floor." He was fairly certain the demons couldn't use a Devil's trap. More than that, Sam knew he had a specific way of doing it and the living room had been his.

Dean glanced down. Wait, why would there be a devil's trap? Most demons either don't know it or would never risk it. Plus this one look carved in, not easily broken. His hand slowly moved over it, his fingertips sliding in the grooves.

This didn't make any sense.

Good. That was a good start.

Sam reached up, brushing the dried blood from his face. "Remember the Transmigration 9? Some weird ship that pulled us from our own worlds to fight against an alien threat?" He wasn't sure how much of that would stick when dealing with the memories of Hell, too. It would make less sense than usual.

Dean shook his head. Even if they were there somewhere, he could still only think of the blood, the fire, the sulfur. He clamped down, and kept moving backward till he was up against the couch. That was another thing that didn't make any sense. Since when does Hell take decorating tips from Martha Stewart? Or for that matter Better Homes and Gardens?

Sam wasn't the one who did most of the decorating, but he still might be insulted by that thought.

Sam didn't try to approach, but Dean seemed calmer so it was safe enough not to. "Yeah, okay. I was thinking maybe you wouldn't." Too much different. His brain couldn't latch onto it just yet. "It's okay, though. You're safe. Nobody's getting past me or Kang." Since he didn't want Dean to get rattled by finding Kang there on his own. "You probably don't remember him either. Big Draconian guy. Part dragon or something." He glanced at the couch. "There's a blanket behind you." In case he wanted it.

Dean slowly looked around more with continuing confusion on his face. Safe. That doesn't exist. Never existed for the likes of them, not really.

Maybe this was the new game, get him to lower his guard. Make him more weak. He did grab the blanket, and latched onto with both hands. He then started to twist it around and around to make it a taut like rope.

The thing about Kang didn't make any sense either, but his eyes scanned more, trying to see where he was.

The confusion twisted Sam's stomach. He somewhat expected it, but it was still difficult to watch.

Especially when Dean started twisting the blanket. He kept an eye on that, glad enough that Dean wasn't Alastair's apprentice right now.

Sam glanced up to where Kang was, uncertain. With Dean's current mindset, Kang could easily break his mind. And while it would fix itself when he went back again, who knew how long that would take?

Dean's eyes followed Sam's gaze, and he slowly got up for a better look, eyes narrowing. He then turned back to Sam and growled, "Think I don't know this game?"

He leapt out to attack and loop the rope around his neck.

"Should've kept your knives if you were going carve out my organs today, demon boy."

Damn it. Sam knew better than to do that and he still had. On the other hand, it was still Dean and he still knew how to fight with his brother if it was necessary.

Right now, it was necessary.

He rolled with the attack, getting his hands up to push the tightly wound rope away from his throat. He also brought his knees up, keeping his legs between himself and Dean's body.

While Kang was a bit offended by being called part dragon, he stayed quiet about it, and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. He almost wished he was able to cast polymorph, even if he did hate the idea of being in a human body again; it would make this situation easier.

"No one's carving anyone up, Dean. I know it's hard to believe, but I'm your friend. You're not in hell right now. You've been out for a while. And I'm not a demon, despite the way I look," he carefully took one step forward, ready to step in if Sam needed the help.

Dean struggled to tighten the rope, and one of his legs moved out to lash and kick in the leg or side. Depending where he could get an angle in.

"Told you I'm not falling for it! Alastair! Call your fucking dogs back, I'm not picking up the knife!"

He was going to be bruised in the morning, but it was a small price to pay.

"Dean!" Needed to get some leverage. Needed to get...

"Kang!" Sam put his feet on the floor and bucked. "Flask in the kitchen! And salt!" Do something that Dean knew meant he wasn't a demon. Or that Kang wasn't a demon, either. "Please!"

Okay, there were some demons that were strong enough not to be bothered by either, but Dean didn't know about that and he could use that to his advantage.

Nodding, Kang hesitated only a moment before heading into the kitchen and grabbing both. He came back out and showed both items to Dean, "Look, we can prove it. Holy water and salt. Let him go."

Dean stopped for a moment, moving the blanket rope away. He still kept a grip on it with one hand before he reached out tentatively to taste the salt. Tasted real.

He then gave both of them distrustful looks.

"Well?"

Oh, thank God. Sam laid back for a moment, panting to get his breath back before he rolled up to his feet and took the flask from Kang. He took a moment, murmuring the Latin over it as an extra blessing. Also to prove to Dean that it was holy water. Then he took the salt, not bothering to measure it. Just dumped a good amount in before closing the flask and shaking it.

Once that was done, he opened it and took a swig, face twisting up not in pain but distaste. "Oh God, that's nasty."

Shaking himself, he offered the flask to Kang.

Kang grabbed the flask and took a drink as well, shaking his head with a snort of disgust, "There. We're not demons, and that's really your brother." His wings rustled, and he took a step back, to sit in one of the chairs.

Dean only briefly glanced at Kang because it was just too damn confusing to equate what the hell he was at the moment. At least Sam was familiar. He peered closer, still keeping a distance from them.

"...Sammy?" Not even attempting to keep the cracked broken tone out of his voice.

The tone made Sam pause a moment, heart clenching. He really, really wanted Alastair somewhere he could kill the bastard again.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. He didn't approach. Not until Dean looked more ready to accept it. "Yeah, it's me, Dean. I swear, you're safe. Or, at least, not in Hell." Which was safe enough, wasn't it?

Ain't No Grave Can Hold My Body Down [Closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)