Penetration

Penetration

It definitely wasn't a cage, but it couldn't be called a cell either. The walls were a vertical tube made of concrete. The smooth cement curved in a perfect circle barely wide enough to hold a single person. It started at the basement floor and was dug into the ground, closed off at the top by a steel covering that was locked shut.

Clove's shoulder and head were pressed against the cold stone wall. He'd tried to sit down earlier but had gotten stuck and spent a fearful ten minutes trying to get to his feet again. Blood oozed from the knee he'd scraped, reminding him not to try it again. Instead, he turned slow circles in his prison, leaning against the wall to keep himself standing. He didn't know how long he'd been there, only that he was tired and hungry and desperately needed a fix.

Someone had carved into part of the wall and Clove paused to let his fingers float over the etching. It was shallow, probably made with a key or a nail file. The letter were shaky and hard to define but he thought it might say Dark or Death with a rose scratched beneath it. It was comforting in a way. It meant someone had been here before and experienced what he was experiencing. In a sense, he wasn't alone.

A sound was heard above Clove and he froze. Steel grated against steel as the opening above him was unlatched. He screamed and covered his eyes as blaring white light bathed his tiny space for the first time in hours.

"Please mister," Clove croaked through a voice dry with sobbing. "I'll do what you want. I wont tell anyone. Just let me out. I need... I need my medicine."

"Yeah, I know what you need, junkie," came the gruff response and a rush of icy water descended on his head. It ran into his cloths and over his flesh, chilling him to the bone. Dirt streamed down his face as his hair tried to reclaim it's blond color. He no longer had the strength to cry but he let the muddy water act as his tears as he continued his journey around the small hole.

The hours slipped by and Clove's eyelids got heavier every minute. He decided to give up the struggle, slide down the wall until he could sit and sleep. He didn't care if he could ever get up again or not.

"You better stand back up before that other knee gets scraped."

"What?" Clove snapped to attention. It wasn't the voice of the man who was holding him, he was sure of that. This voice was younger, kinder.

"That's better. Just try and stay awake. It'll be over soon."

The voice seemed to be coming from above yet, somehow, also from inside the cell. "Who are you?"

"Just someone who knows how you feel."

"Death." Clove whispered, covering his mouth and his eyes going wide.

"No," the voice laughed. "It's Dean, but close enough."

A shiver ran through Clove as he felt an energy descend toward him. The space was so small it was standing partially inside of him. He could feel the phantom shape of legs and torso nestling inside his own muscles. The silhouette of fingers brushed through Clove's hair like a soft breeze.

"Are you a...a..."

"A ghost?" The smile could be felt through Dean's form as his invisible nerve endings communed with Clove's. "I suppose so. I'm not sure what I am anymore, other than alone." Clove brought a hand to his head to try to slow it's spinning and Dean's fingers brushed against, then inside of it. Dean found one of Clove's rapidly pulsing veins and massaged down it with his thumb.

"Why am I here?"

Dean followed the vein down to the crook of his elbow and rubbed a finger over the scarred tissue. "You're a user, aren't you? Floyd hates users. He despises anyone weak enough to succumb to addiction. Of course, he'll never admit that addicts are an addiction of his own. Bitter irony, isn't it?"

Dry sobs shook Clove's body and he firmly pressed himself against the curved wall in an attempt to free his body from it's paranormal intruder. "I want to go home," he wailed. "I'm sorry I ran away. I'll do good in school. I wont flunk out again. I'll stop using, I promise! My dad can punish me, my mom can ground me, just let me go home! Please! I wont ever shoot up again!"

"Shh," Dean leaned in closer, placing a kiss along Clove's jawline, then pressing deeper until his soft lips brushed against the bone. "It wont work. He wont listen. But it wont be long now. You're not alone."

Hands floated through Clove's stomach, stroking up his ribcage and wrapping around his heart. Dean held it lovingly, leaning in to kiss and soothe the thick muscle until it slowed to a calmer pace.

"I'm afraid to die," Clove sobbed.

"You're afraid to live or else you would never have turned to junk. We're the same, you and I. We'll suffer the same fate. There's no way I can save you. But maybe we could end each other's pain. Eventually."

For the first time that night, Dean entered him completely. Their nerves kissed with electric sparks and Dean tickled his tongue over the backs of Clove's eyelids. The blonde's knees buckled but he remained standing. There was added strength inside to help keep him up.

Clove had to go through the procedure alone. He squeezed his eyes shut against the light and prayed to a God he'd never believed in to end it quickly. Once, when the pain got too intense, he called out Dean's name and got a moment's amusement as Floyd fumbled and dropped the scalpel.

The operation went on for hours. Floyd said he was looking for the part of the body that fed the addiction so that he would know how to cure the nation. The slow adrenaline drip and case of smelling salts made sure to keep Clove awake during most of the ordeal. It wasn't until Floyd started removing vital organs that he began to slip.

His body flowed through the restraints like they were made of water. He floated up and hovered for a moment, staring down at his mutilated form. His eyes were shut peacefully, his face was pale and thin and looked older than any 17 year old's should. He was allowed only a second with his mortal self before he felt his spirit pulled again. It went down though the floor, into his circular prison, and there it remained.

"How long do we have to stay here?" he asked Dean, his voice still full of tears.

"Until someone sets us free."

They penetrated each other, feeling the comfort of oneness complete them. They joined their bodies, their mind, and would have joined their souls if they could figure out how. The feeling was beyond any rush heroin could give them. The space didn't seem so small now that they were free from the confines of the flesh. They curled up inside their prison and found a way to love each other from the inside out.

More friends came to them, more frightened souls running from reality. They welcomed them all with open arms, taking them inside and ending their pain with a feeling of togetherness. No one was lonely anymore. No one was afraid. They held each other in their cold, black tube and they waited. Waited for the one that would escape or be found. The one that wouldn't die in this basement. They would be able to leave with him, out into sunlight and rainstorms, grass and snow. Out to the world they'd tried so hard to escape when living. A world that couldn't hurt them anymore.