A/n- Okay this is set post season three but is Au from that point on. No angels make an appearance in this, nor does the whole stop using your powers, even for good, or god will kill you thing. Which is annoying the crap out of me. Just pretend that Season four never existed.
Also this is Wincest. Many of my stories are, so if you don't like don't read. However it won't come up for a long time.
Finally, I am not Christian or religious at all in fact, but you'll find I'll probably reference it a hell of a lot. (Sometimes even subconsciously, like in this first chapter.) I'm sorry if this offends but with a show like supernatural it's kinda unavoidable.
Disclaimer: All Characters and episode ideas belong to their creator Eric Kipke, his co-writers and CW television. I make no profit from this fictional work.
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A PRAYER FOR THE SINNERS
If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spentIf the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the centre of the silent Word
Ash-Wednesday (V.) T.S. Elliot
Prologue
Pain.
There is no night, no day. No before or hope of an after. There is no memory or sense, there is only and always Pain.
Consuming….the creature doesn't know what it is, isn't even sure of self, of the realness of it's own existence, for all it knows, it is nothing, never was anything. Only Pain, every facet and form of it. That is all.
There are…. Faces. It sees on the inside. Faces and blood and beseeching eyes.
A high, unmoving, mechanical tone / a flat digital line / warm liquid on his hands and a still chest.
The images make it ache within itself. Make it keen high and loud and leak (Cry?). It dose not know why they do this, only that they bring Pain in it's most dreadful of ways.
There is nothing, only Pain.
Except.
The Word is both part of the Pain and it is not. It stands heavy within the creature, irremovable, creating liner thoughts around it.
Sometimes it is used for Pain and the horror is indescribable.
But The Word deeper even that Pain and whether the thing is real or not; The Word is real, impossibly real. A fixed point in everything and ingrained in every part of its being.
SAMMY.
It knows not The Word's meaning, nor it's origin. It knows not the reasons and causes behind it's importance nor why it dominated the world. It only knows Pain and The Word are opposites. That though used, The Word is not an agent of Pain.
That Pain is pale compared with The Word.
But there is no before. No after. No day, no night. No memory or goal. There is….
Other Words.
The creature almost misses them, but they are true, unlike the faces Pain alludes. They are not like The Word, powerful, old and the foundation of the world. They are light fluttering things like rain and bird wings. They fall over him and even Pain digresses for a time.
"…….Grant me a wish for saving you? You're a god so I doubt the danger was ever real and I know you don't do anything for free. So….what do you want."
"Now, now I really do want to grant you a wish. Demons are such dull things, no fun to play with, so the hunters winning the war really is to my advantage. And if I'm going to be mucking about in this, I thought, why not go to the big boys, why not go to a Winchester."
"So that's it. You want to save Humanity so you can still toy with us!"
"well if you don't want-"
"No! no I would….please…"
"Ahh, now there's an interesting thought boy. Yes that would be fun. Have to take your word though, and I'm not quite sure that's what you meant…But it's done.
"It's done? Just like that?! After…"
Any other words that may or may not have come are lost. The world crumbles around it, the faces dissipating in a shower of sparks. And Pain begins to retract, Pain begins to….
There has never been anything but Pain, it loss is terror filled, for if there is no Pain, then how on earth was there self…..
The Word rises, solid, unchanging thing among the chaos.
The creature raps itself around it through the churning.
The creature feels itself rising, The Word with it.
Then The Word explodes outwards, stretching out until every nerve-ending seems to hum with it.
JOHN, MARY, WINCHESTER, HUNTING, YELLOW_EYED DEMON, BOBBY, IMPALA, FIRE, HOSPITAL, CROSSROADS, YEAR, LILITH, HELL.
And Sammy, and Sammy, and Sammy, over everything, every part of him.
And Dean, yes Dean Winchester.
That is who he is.
Dean Winchester, brother of Sam.
He smiles blearily before falling back into darkness.
TBC…..
Yeah, This first bit is a little weird I know, but I was trying to present Hell as an abstract concept rather that a tangible, detailed thing. Not sure if I pulled it off though. Anyway from now on things are a bit more normal for our boys I promise.
Review and tell me what you think. No flamers please.
The Angelfish and the Turtle.