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A (self)Righteous Man by Bleodswean [Reviews - 0] [155
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In the dream, he and Alastair were kicking back, smoking ciggies, everyone in Hell smoked it seemed to Dean and he had moved into the habit of it with ease and enjoyment. If you could enjoy a Hadean activity, then he was going to allow himself it. The rest of his satanic workday, not so much. It must have been a break time, but he felt, in the dream, as though he had just popped into his incorporeal body and he was having to assume some things.
“Am I back here or is this from my first time around?” Dean asked the jar-faced demon, taking a long drag.
“You’re back, Dean,” he drawled in that sibilant way he had. “Not that I ever thought you’d wandered too far to come back, mind. What with your torturing me and talking trash to angels.”
He laughed and it turned into a smoker’s cough and Dean grinned at the sound.
Dean nodded, he was returned to the bottomless pit, the well of tears, the pool of blood. “Hmmm,” a one-shoulder shrug. “Okay. But what did I do to actually warrant a demotion back to this evil corporate grind?”
Two corpse grinders in the torturing cubicle next door to their own, howled in delight at the sound of a bone popping free of its socket.
“It’s all about the job security, we checked and double-checked the work you’ve been doing after you were so unceremoniously,” the evil angel cleared his throat around another emphysemiac frog, “advanced last year and found you’d been doing your own version of insufferable torment without having to be whip-cracked.” He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder approvingly but Dean flicked it off as though it were a bothersome insect.
“Yeah, okay. But, what. Did. I. Do?”
“Pride goeth before the Fall. As you judge, so shall ye be judged.”
Dean dropped the unfiltered butt into a pool of steaming blood at his feet, it hissed. He held up both hands. “Atheist turned Believer here, help a guy out with the Biblical truths.”
Alastair turned a narrowed gaze on him, considering. “I’m better with the jeweler’s tools, but if you want blunt, I can swing a sledge, too.”
“Hit me.”
“’When a righteous man spills blood in Hell....’”
“You think I’ve forgotten my role in this Dantean drama?”
“Thought you were strictly about the funny papers.”
“I’ve been studying.”
“Tell me, soul grinder, did your brother turn away from you after you told him what you’d done? Did you ever lay out all the details of your part in the play for him, the way you just laid out Mrs. Murphy there? That big galooph of a brother of yours, he might have had it backwards, but he was trying to mend what you had wrought, wasn’t he?” He shivered for emphasis. “This job is so damned satisfying.” Alastair smiled and it was unpleasant. He toed out his own butt, then stood and stretched his arms high over his head, lacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. “Go ahead, Dean, have another smoke, take an extra ten, you deserve it.”
***
Dean woke instantly, struggling in the sweat-soaked, churned sea of sheets. Another hotel, another endless night. Sammy wasn’t there. He didn’t know where his brother was but he knew he was alone, wrestling with all the demons Dean had let loose on him. And that wasn’t a dream.
Author's Note: