The Short Second Life of Mil Winchester - Book 2

Out of the Fire... And Back Into the Fire (reposted)

OUT OF THE FIRE... AND BACK INTO THE FIRE

I was dragged, kicking and scratching, like an animal, further down into Hell's dungeons. The screams got louder, and I could hear Clarence chuckling in my ear as he dragged me by bound wrists. I dug in my toes like a mule, but this just exaggerated Clarence's apparent glee.

"Gee up, Nellie. I thought this was what you wanted - no more torture. It's finally over. I gotta say, I'm disappointed. I hoped I'd have you on my rack for the rest of eternity. Apparently not. I've broken your spirit, haven't I? The images of your poor, dead boyfriend, Benny, were all you needed. Weren't they?" I didn't speak. I didn't even let my facial expression change as I continued to be led - dragged, into the endless chasm where I was to wait out the rest of eternity. My hands were chained up first, then my ankles. All the while, Clarence smirked in my face. I struggled. This only made the chains rattle. And as the chains rattled, Clarence's smirk grew wider and wider. And then he was gone. And I was left all alone. I could hear screams. Millions of empty, wordless screams. The screams of souls with the essence long since wiped out of them. As mine would shortly. Although I could hear the screams, I could not actually see the owners of the screams. I could see nobody. All I could see was blackness, and that eerie red glow. Soon, I began to detest the isolation. As a girl who'd literally grown up around people, and survived only through the company of others, isolation was not relative. Heck, the last six months of my life I hadn't even been able to think on my own. Eventually, I began to crave the company of anybody. Even Clarence. Clarence. Where was Clarence. Sure, he'd tortured me, and he was a dick, and I hated - no, detested - him; but his company, at least, was dependable. Every time I'd returned to my senses, filled with dread, I knew he would always be there - even if 'he' was just a hallucinogenic hologram. Very soon, I began screaming too. The chains rattled, the face of Clarence's infuriated smirk was branded in my mind. Even so, nobody came.

XXXX

"Mil! Mil wake up!" I was being shaken awake by Fahima, whom was also yelling in my ear. I sat bolt upright, startling the other hunter. I felt groggy. I must have actually been asleep, instead of just memories. That was a first. But that also served a purpose as to why I chose not to sleep.

"What's going on?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. "What's the time?"

"Shortly after one," Fahima replied. As she switched the lamp on, I noticed her expression. The older girl looked tired, yet wide awake.

"Did I keep you up?" I observed.

Fahima's kindly expression didn't waver. "It doesn't matter. We all take our fair share. Bad dream, I take it?"

I grimaced. Yeah, just a bit. "What was I doing?" I couldn't have been that conspicuous, could I?

"You were talking in your sleep," Fahima said gently.

I let one corner of my lip twitch upwards. "That must be a first. What was I saying?"

"Just names, mostly," Fahima replied, wearing her kindly mother or older sister expression. "Uh - your brothers, Sam and Dean; um - also Clarence and Seraphiel. Who are they?"

I frowned, deliberating my answer. "Clarence is a, uh, an acquaintance of mine," I allowed, speaking stiffly. The bitch who tortured me was most definitely not 'an acquaintance'; but it was the best I could give Fahima. "Who's Seraphiel, though?" I didn't recognise the name. It didn't sound human, however. I frowned, deliberating.

Fahima scoffed. "You're asking me? You were the one who was saying his name in your sleep."

I wrestled my legs out from under the covers, and sat up on the edge of the bed, eying Fahima.