𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋
╰┈➤ ⏆﹒﹒⊥ 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, and Castiel ends up in our world.
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IT ONLY TAKES A SECOND FOR LIFE TO CHANGE for Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester. Mee...
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Dean Winchester
White blazes everywhere, dark yellow clouds stretched as far Dean could see. Cold winds blew over his clothes. His teeth clattered. Chains dug into his sun-kissed skin. Roughly. Scars were all over his body, making them glue into his wounds and his rags destroyed. Dean's hands fisted. His frame shook. Tears drilled down his cheeks. A harsh palm covered his mouth. The shadow of a man whispered into his ear, "Shh."
His wood green eyes widened in terror. Dean wrenched in the chains. A scream erupted out of his lungs. Bruises, wounds, scars were healing. Another torture session. No, not again, please —
In a short flash, he remembered being ripped apart by a hellhound, how the throbbing had made his voice hoarse from yelling. The ache was burned into his skull.
When he seconds later breathed in the clear air. He blinked dumbly. With a rapid swipe of his gaze, he found Sam. He wore flannel. His hazel eyes locked with his own. This had to be another of Alastair's mind tricks, he realized in horror. Dean back away still breathing heavily from the shock memorized itself into his mind. "Sam?" He said his voice cracking by the end of the name, the only name he cared about in his life. His hand clenched around the t-shirt he was wearing. The blood rushed through his ears. His body was fine. Included his own. This couldn't be real. Dean refused to believe it.
Sam's mouth opened in surprise.
He turned towards the other side of the room, movie cameras were directed at him. A scene, that's what he thought it was, had an open space where a wall should be. The red facade left a bitter reminder for him. This was a movie set. People's eyes were glued to him. Some were mumbling stuff. Dean's hair raised on his neck. Most wore headphones, and in casual clothing with jeans or sweaters. Stables of chairs were at the end of the room. Wires all over the floor. Huge lights and panels were at them. Fuck.
"Dean?" Sam's voice, the one he missed a lot snapped him out of it. His shoulders relaxed hearing it as if hell has been a bad dream. All that mattered was that his little brother was safe.
"Cut," an unknown voice yelled. He immediately stood ready to kill off the owner of the speech (a director of some sort). The man was a fat Dean thought maybe had eaten too many burgers for his personal good. "Jensen, what are you doing?" The guy snapped at him and swore towards his colleague that sat beside him.
Jensen? Who is that? For God's sake, I don't want to do this. Rude. Dean wanted to walk up to the dude and grip hold of his clothes, lift him, scream him in the face to get the hell off this planet. His nostrils flared.
Sam gave him a stare again, this time, confused.
"Sammy?" He took an unsure step forward, Sam gripped his arm while he bowed it behind his shoulder before Dean's front hit the wall. Stars exploded behind his eyelids. Dean grunted in pain."Hey, is me, your brother, Dean," Dean said. He went slack in Sam's hold, showing he wasn't planning to run away from Sam. It hurt but couldn't compare to hell's endless torture he put up with. He had not planned to tell Sammy anytime soon. "I was in hell, remember?" He whispered so only Sam could hear.
