All is rhythm, all is unity

I am laughing, as is meant to be-

Just amusing, I am using the

Word has given, making harmony

Moving slowly, dancing aimlessly

Endless circle, turning fearlessly

Resurrected, falling down again

Introspective, I'm just stating my views-

Now you can choose- What do you feel?

Is it for real this time?

"Hopelessly Human" by Kansas

His sense of self is all but ripped away in this charged and void place where neither time nor matter has a bearing. The fire that feeds Hell reigns elusive and he can't even begin to sense it. Some cognizant entity, however: some puppet master with a magician's hand, is behind the AC and the DC that encompasses the fierce forces binding him, stretching far and wide- charging wild the furthest expanse of a space where no earth, no sky can be seen… piercing him with heavy hooks and chains, holding him so he cannot move. He knows it, can feel it. This is and always has been a colorless place, and here there's nobody else. He screams his entreaties to the only human lifeline he has left, but all he gets is the grey and the black and the ominous flickering of light- and, of course, the pain. There is pain here like no pain ever felt before.

Lightening sparks intermittently and the flesh Dean's somehow still attached to twitches in response. This, he knows, is what separates us from our bodies: that which drowns our minds in the sea of lost souls. This, a vast chasm of human suffering, is the end of existence. He fights against even noting all this, the core of his body having long since learned to battle such base ideas of annihilation. Yes, there's fight in these weary sinews still, he tells himself, over and over- even as he acknowledges he can't stop the flow of everything away from him: the blood spilling from his body, the tears streaming from his eyes, the screams ripping from his throat...

Here there are daunting wonders: terrifying heights, dreadful depths, fearful expanses and stifling enclosures. The air in this place smells of human hopelessness: the blood, sweat and tears epitomizing desperation and despair throughout the millenniums. He knows that the fear he feels now is indeed the fear that holds the universe. Knows there is nowhere else now.

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Sam's hold on what's real comes in gasps and shivers, but proves relentless: poised implacable as he is atop some thought process that alludes to victory in the battle, he knows down deep it all was fleeting. Around him are the echoes of all that's just transpired, and he feels himself sinking towards the depths of terrorization and loss and despair. The ominous earth-shattering air lies just beyond his perception, yet somehow still abounds. He knows, somehow- however ironic- that he has a key somewhere to some locked door, and that he is here in the world and in the place that he is: the quaint Midwestern suburban home to which they've all so long since been lead. It's a different dining room, yes, than that in which the little old man had died, but all is formal here too.

Reality is soft tones, oak wood, damask linens, and quaintly trimmed, olive-colored walls splattered with blood. He tries to hold on to some semblance of order in his thoughts, repeating the mantra just moments ago made pitiful by the various sounds out his lips imperfectly forming the name "Dean." They're whimpering tones, of course. They're flat noted details of grief fused with sharp fractured hymns of despair. It's just after midnight, Sam notes, through a crimson haze of horror. It marks the end of his first quarter century of life. Now, starting the second, he finds an existence in a strangely quiet place, a world filled with dreadfulness. Trying hard for some synchronicity in his heartbeat and his breathing, he searches for a focus for his rage.

The dozens of random sparks that jolt through his brain do nothing to bring him resolution, or absolution. He's only left with his mad thought processes, the blonde girl who was lately Lillith and once was Ruby lightly twitching as her life leaves, and his broken and sobbing self holding his brother's lifeless body in his shaking arms.

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