A/N: Written for the horror comment meme on sharp_teeth, in answer to the prompt: "Dean, Sam - He and Dean are so close to the exit, Sam can already see the glow of light in the distance. Dean is behind, Sam can hear his familiar steps. And he won't turn around. He will not. A re-telling of the myth of Orpheus."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural related.
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They picked their way in silence up a steep and gloomy path of darkness.
The light at the end of the tunnel. Sam can see it, or thinks he can – sometimes he blinks and then he's not sure what the difference is between it and the sparkles dancing behind his eyelids. But Sam has to believe and cling to it like he clings to hope. Getting them, both of them, out of this hell; this is what keeps him walking even though his head is fuzzy with exhaustion and his legs hurt and his lungs are strained from lack of oxygen.
He can hear the heavy thump of Dean's footsteps behind him and the sound of his harsh breathing. The footsteps get slower and slower, and the breathing more and more erratic and shallow, but Sam doesn't look back. He doesn't. He slips on blood and steps on crunching bones, the blood and the bones of the people who couldn't get out of here. It smells like decay but that stopped bothering him hours ago. He can't help but think about all those missing people, trapped in the dark with their hands stretched out towards the light, never reaching it. Sam shivers and it's not because of the cold seeping through his bones.
The sound of Dean stumbling, a pained and muffled curse, and Sam stops dead, and aches with the effort not to turn around, not to put his arm around his brother's shoulders to help him walk.
"Don't look back," Dean wheezes. "You can't look back."
"I know," Sam snaps.
"So keep walking."
And Sam walks.
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Pluto told him he might now ascend from these Avernian vales up to the light, with his Eurydice; but, if he turned his eyes to look at her, the gift of her delivery would be lost.
Don't look back, the fucking thing – ghost or spirit or whatever the hell it was – had told him. Don't look at your brother and I will let you both get out of here.
It had sounded easy. After looking for his brother for days, after going down there, where there was no light and no sound and no life, Sam thought that nothing could be more easy than just walking, and never looking back. Hadn't he been good at that, once?
One foot in front of the other. Don't wonder what it is that you feel under your feet. How long can one man last without his sight and his hearing before he goes crazy? But he's not alone, he's not, Dean is behind him and his breath is hissing – did he hurt his throat or his ribs, is he slowly choking to death? – and the music of his footstep is irregular – is he limping? Sam wants to reach behind him and feel the warmth of his brother's hand, but he doesn't dare because he doesn't know whether touching is out off limits too. He doesn't want to lose Dean because he didn't read the fine print.
"Do you need to stop?" he asks, more to shake off the blanket of silence than because he thinks his brother will agree.
"I need to… get the fuck… out of here."
The light is getting closer, now he's almost sure of it. It's bigger and unwavering like the sun. Sam thinks he can feel the heat on his face, but it's probably only his imagination. He wants to reach out and touch it, then lick his fingers and taste honey on his tongue. He knows it's crazy, though. You can't touch light; it's immaterial like the soul. It doesn't taste anything either. Sam sticks out his tongue to wet his parched lips. He's so, so thirsty.
Dean moans low in his throat. It sounds terrible, like a death rattle, and it scares Sam shitless.
"Dean?" he calls.
Dean doesn't answer though Sam can still hear him walking.
"Dean, please," he tries again, plaintively, like when he was little and was afraid of the dark. He's not afraid of the dark, now; he's afraid his brother is dying and that he'll never see the light in his eyes again. Does it matter if he turns around, then? If he leans against his brother and holds him in his arms, one last time?
"Sam," Dean finally rasps. "Keep walking."
Sam walks because if he stops they'll both die here, and their bones will blanch anonymously with a thousand others. That much he knows.
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There remained but little more to climb till they would touch earth's surface, when in fear he might again lose her, and anxious for another look at her, he turned his eyes so he could gaze upon her.
Light is so blinding that for a moment all Sam sees is painful white. He moans and falls on his knees. He feels the caress of the breeze on his cheeks, hears the bird singing, smells pine needles and wet ground. Something heavy falls at his side and Sam's eyes snap open. He squints in the daylight until he makes out the form of his brother curled in on himself.
"Dean!"
He reaches out to Dean's shoulder and his brother groans. Sam tugs on his arm and cups the back of his head with his hand, makes him sit down and asks breathlessly:
"Dean, you okay? Oh God, please, tell me you're okay."
Dean slowly opens his eyes. The light is obviously hurting him too because he opens them just enough to show a thin line of green.
"We're out?"
Sam feels a sob bubble in his throat.
"Yes, we are," he chokes.
"You okay?"
Sam leans forward and wraps his arms around him.
"Yes, I am."
Sam sniffs in the collar of Dean's jacket.
"Should come back and blow those fucking tunnels up."
Sam chuckles helplessly.
Her last word spoken was, "Farewell!" which he could barely hear, and with no further sound she fell from him again to Hades.