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[personal profile] brosedshield
 HERE, have some fic. Courtesy of the 8 hour bus ride to Barcelona

Title: The Language of Hell
Disclaimer: If anyone owns anything in this relationship, Supernatural owns my heart. And won't give it back. And won't pay me for it.
mild mentions of torture in Hell
Word count:
takes place in S4
Dean always enjoyed his pop-culture, but he picked up different reference points in Hell.
Author notes:
[ profile] lavinialavender read it, but didn't beta exactly...

It took Dean months to learn how to speak again. Not in a damage-to-the-vocal-cords kind of way, or like that half-decade when Alastair cut out his tongue every morning. No, this problem is as essential as thought and terrified him every time he looked at Sam—oh God, Sam, really Sam, baby brother, thank God and angels he’s still alive.

Dean has always been a man who enjoys his pop culture. Old movies, in-jokes, with a little ancient Sumerian and Biblical in there just to make Sam roll his eyes.

But he picked up different reference points in Hell.

He learned the name of every angel that hypothetically fell with Lucifer. He memorized a dirty drinking song that used to be a missionary hymn. He picked up Spanish Inquisition jokes that had nothing to do with Monty Python and everything to do with the long-dead priest and demon who taught him how to peel flesh back from bone.

He remembered Scooby-Doo and Paris Hilton, but forty years is a long time and there weren’t as many people below who understood the references. He learned what would intimidate, what people would understand, and he used these until they were second nature, like a new language.

These new analogies for sex, for joy, for victory were Hell-thoughts trapped inside him, not as easy to leave behind as the injuries that Castiel wiped away when he pulled Dean up from the pit. Those words were like a little piece of Hell that Dean couldn’t shed because they were as much a part of him as his guts, his guilt, and his love for Sam.

So he didn’t open his mouth if he didn’t have to and he watched reruns of old TV when he couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares—or his fear of the nightmares—and he gradually did his best to forget the language of Hell.

It was hard to unlearn.

Date: 2011-04-23 05:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow. *shudders* Gorgeous tone, pace, voice, and wording.

missing "he": "Castiel wiped away when pulled Dean up"

One of my other favorite dark writers really hurt me (not in the good way) very recently, so I'm clinging to your writing a bit though I still can't catch up on what I missed yet.


Date: 2011-04-23 07:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you for the reaction! I can never tell, sometimes, with these things that I write fast how they come out, but I just had the idea stuck in my head. Poor Dean.

And thank you for the typo catch! *bustles over to fix that before too many people notice* I do tend to drop important words when I'm moving quickly. At least it wasn't a verb this time...

Awww *hugs because of mean writer* Cling away. I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon. :-)

Date: 2011-04-23 09:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The worst part, in a way, is that she wasn't being mean at all. She just miscalculated a little, and I miscalculated significantly and also underestimated (which means something given what my estimate is) my emotional instability. Ugh, there's a reason I'm drawn to dark.

At least I was able in my teens to transfer the more life-threatening crazy into a character in my sci-fi novel -- all two of her, especially her psychotic half.

My RL right now really is worth escaping pathologically into SPN from, so I'm super-overinvested in the fic fandom. And now I'm all kinds of triggered and hoping I'll be able to persuade mercy of her -- but after I study for Monday's math test.

Thanks for the hugs and the hurty SPN.



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