Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

Aftermath (Deals- Dean Part 3)

Trigger Warning: Torture

The door burst open and multiple hellhounds lunged at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of Dean's lingering kiss.

Claws ranked against your chest and agony soared through your veins. You fell backwards to the floor. You cried out, feeling the blood soak through your shirt. The pain intensified and you felt yourself choking on a hot substance bubbling up your throat. You wanted it to be over, to die already. At least the pain would stop...

Finally the hounds were done and the world started fading around you. The pain started numbing and your eyelids started getting heavy.

"Y/n!" You heard Dean call in the distance and the door swung open. You wanted to answer him, but you couldn't. Instead, a trickle of blood dripped down your chin. You saw Dean run to you and you stretched your arm out to him.

"Dean," you choked out in a whisper. Then the world faded to black.

You immediately woke up in Hell, surrounded by the smell of sulfur and smoke. You struggled against your bonds, which were hooks stabbed through your skin, you couldn't do much after the pain that followed in every movement.

You readied yourself for the eternity of torture that was to come...

"Now, love, lets have some fun now." Crowley appeared in front of you, holding many blades.

"I thought you would be bored by now," you said through grit teeth.

"It's been five months, I'm even close to being bored. Even if five months is about fifty years down here." He gave you a devilish smile and started dragging the blade across your stomach. You sealed your lips shut, not giving him the satisfaction of screaming. "I have to admit, I'm impressed. You haven't screamed as much as the other souls here."

"Have I now?" you groaned.

"It's only going to get worse, trust me." You flashed him a smile and he only grinned. "Normally, I don't like getting my hands dirty, you are the only exception. I love to tear apart any associate of the Winchesters that I can."

"I'm glad I'm special."

"Got to love your sass, no wonder why Dean fell for you." Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Dean. Crowley continued raking the blade across your stomach, cuts going deeper and deeper. He took a bucket of salt and started sprinkling across your skin. You let out a small squeak.

Crowley moved on until you felt like your whole body was shredded. He pulled out fingernails and toenails and teeth. He stuck certain poisons into you that only inflicted pain, not death. But, you were already dead.

Then he decided to start hurting you emotionally.

"You know what Dean is doing now? He's at a bar, drinking his life away. He's shutting Sam out, going for hunts solo like he has a death wish. I'm sure he thinks if he dies, he will see you again. Which is wrong, that stupid angel, Castiel, has a spot in Heaven reserved for him," he chuckled. "I know he has even tried to move on. When he goes to a bar he ignores the women like even the thought of one brings him pain. All that heartbroken guilt he must feel-"

"-Shut up!-" you yelled, straining against your bonds that grew more painful everyday.

"-He comes home to Sammy, so drunk he is barely able to stand up! He's broken. All because you sold your soul to me. You saved his brother, but now he is ignoring the poor Sam. I don't think you made a good deal."

"Go to Hell," you snarled, hot tears stinging the cuts on your face.

"Darling," he jabbed a knife into your leg, "we are in Hell."