Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Twenty Five

(A.N. *cough* Only about 10 more chapters left. *cough*)

"Oh come on, just talk to me!"

I continue to punch at the dummy, ignoring Kiramin who stands by my side, taunting and teasing me. I go through all of my exercises in my head, all of the different moves I've learned. Anything to keep my mind off of him. He walks his way around the dummy, leaning on it's shoulder and studying his fingernails.
"I liked it better when we communicated," He huffs, looking up from his nails and pouting at me. "Don't make me put you through another hallucinations, my Defectu."

I grit my teeth, taking a deep breath and throwing another punch at the dummy. Kiramin walks around the dummy, trickling his fingers off my neck, a chilling sensations that sends icicles shooting down my spine. Gritting my teeth harder, I throw a hard flying roundhouse kick at the dummy, almost sending it flying backwards. I balance myself and grab it, righting it and raising my fists once again. He whispers "boo" in my ear, making me fetch up and mess up my shot, only offering half the blow I was hoping for.

He cackles, and I grit my teeth so hard that they might crack that the image on the sides of my eyes begins to shimmer. I close my eyes, willing for it to stop, pushing through it, but it's hopeless. It's like struggling to get through quicksand; the more you struggle, the deeper you get. And suddenly, when I open my eyes, it's another illusion.

I repeat to myself in my head that that's all it is. It's just an illusion. It's just an illusion. All around me is simply a white room, no direct light source coming from anywhere, nor any windows or doors. But it seems rather large, and endless if you take any amount of steps. I look around, the only other different thing being that I'm in my battle gear, fully armoured and slicked with weapons.

As I turn I'm circles, when I turn around at one point, I find myself face to face with Dean. Beaten and bloody, he stands at the hands of Kiramin, barely gripping consciousness as Kiramin holds him up by the back of his shirt, a sly grin on his face. I glare at him, but quickly remind myself that this is just an illusion. And as Kiramin slices a gash across Dean's face, causing me to wince, I remind myself that it's just an illusion.

But as my hand unwillingly grips around the cold, hard metal of an angel blade, the feeling so real and so authentic, that fear of losing the rope of consciousness riles up in my stomach like magma from a volcano. And as I step forward, unsheathing the blade and coiling my fingers around it like a snake to a branch, slowly approaching the gasping and gurgling Dean as he lies in a puddle of his own blood, all of my thoughts seem to dissipate.

He cries and pleads, begging for me not to do it. At first, I'm confused and rather stunned at what he's begging me not to do, until my hands are raised with a death grip around the blade, right above his chest. I scream inwardly, no sound coming from my lips as I stare mercilessly into his swollen eyes that are filed with pain and fear. I twist the blade, causing him to cry out and squeeze his eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead. My chest aches at the sight of him, and as much as I'd like to remove the blade and patch him up, I just keep twisting the blade and driving it in further.

And then it repeats. Over and over again, I mercilessly kill Dean, the pain growing in my own chest more and more each time. I want to cry over his dead body, hold him and clutch him to my chest, but the restarting killing just doesn't allow me to have time to grieve.

After some time, after hundreds of times of killing Dean over and over, the pain begins to fade. I no longer have the energy to feel bad, and I know there's nothing that I can do to stop it. And while the pain is still there when I catch eyes with him, I learn to mentally shut my own so I don't have to watch it. It makes it just a little bit easier.