This is an expanded version on the one shot "A Soul to Keep". You don't have to read it. The beginning is mostly word for word, but I still would suggest reading it. If you have read it, the ending is different. That is why I created a whole new story and didn't just write another chapter for it.
Not that you all don't want to hear me speak all day, but I have a story to write and you have a story to read.
A Soul to Keep
Summary: Sam is going to die. That is why he keeps screaming as Death is wrongfully holding his soul. "'You need to help your brother.' John said getting to the point. 'It is post-apocalyptic Earth out there.'" Expanding on "A Soul to Keep: One Shot"
Spoilers: End of Season 5 and Season 6 up to Episode 11
Warnings: Slightly disturbing. No betta, message me if you want to be one.
Setting: After Season 6, Episode 11 when Death gave Sam his soul back.
"Dean?" Sam choked out looking up from the bed which he was tied to. He didn't see his brother, nor was he even sure that he was even in the room. It was a helpless cry into the empty safe room. Everything was still fuzzy and incoherent. The gray walls moved like the tides of the ocean unbalancing his equilibrium. Logic told him that he was not underwater or floating on a boat inside Bobby's safe room. He clenched his eyes together, fighting back against the waves.
"Sam?" a voice called out to him beckoning his attention. What had he done this time. Demon blood? No, he didn't feel the anger and aggression that came with the need for blood. He was calm and floating. Yeah floating, that was what the waves felt like. Perhaps on a cloud, but the bed was too hard, and he was still chained to the bed, so that wasn't right either.
"Samuel." a new voice repeated with a stern tone. Two fingers pressed against his forehead, instantly dismissing the clam. His eyes opened as he shot up into a sitting position on the bed the chains that attached him to the bed unexciting. He looked around the room, which was not Bobby's safe room, but rather an eloquent living room consisting of two chairs, a glass coffee table, and a couch which he now sat upon.
"Acid," he thought to himself, "I must be on some bad acid trip." Not that he had ever done acid, or even wanted to try acid. However, there was still that itch in the back of his mind which told him that he was in the reality.
"Sammy." the same voice called. He knew this voice, but the tone was foreign. He stood as his attention turned towards the noise while confusion and disbelief flooded his emotions. And there he stood, just as he remembered him.
"Dad?" It was him. No doubt about it. The dark jacket, clean cut stubble, and sideburns that only his father could pull off were tall tale signs that the man before him was his father.
John cautiously walked towards his son, knowing that he trained him well. He could see the flicker of disbelief behind his youngest son's emotions and the automatic search for anything to prove his sight wrong.
"Sammy, it's me." The rough, deep baritone of his voice sounded. "I know son, but here ain't the place to check. You can't check." He paused for a moment to let the information sink in. "But Sammy, Trust me, it's me."
They both stood there as John watched his son's belief flow out of his eyes, as it turned into anger and suspicion. He knew that Sam had changed since his death, knew that his youngest had gone through the worst out of all three of the Winchesters, but never would have imagined the pure, cold hearted disbelief so unlike the hopeful disbelief from a few moments ago.
"No," Sam replied, low and dark. "I won't," he huffed out an amused sigh, "I can't."
"Sam." John tried to reach out towards his son, knowing that he was asking for the opposite than he would have before his death. In life, even if his sons were sure that he was their father, he still demanded that his sons completed the drill to ensure the fact. He had drilled that into both his sons memory to ensure their safety. But this time was different. Sam had doubt and John was asking him to dismiss his own teachings.
"When you were seven, -" John tried the normal way that humans identified themselves.
"Ha! I'm – You - " Sam stumbled for words, the right phrase, obviously flustered. "I'm not stupid" were the only words which Sam could find. "You could know that, even if you weren't my father."
Sam was right. Shapeshifter to demon, anything could take on his form and claim to be himself and still have his memories. Frustration turned into anger as he was losing hope in convincing his son. If only he kept his trap shut, then this probably would be going better.
"Damnit Sam." John fumed as he released his anger upon the wall behind him. He was suppose to be more composed than this. Death was suppose to bring composure. "Fine then Sam. Lets say I'm a part of your 'Acid trip'. What now, Dont'cha want to know where you are? 'Cause it sure as hell ain't Kansas." John recomposed himself as a furry of emotions and thoughts passed through Sam's head. John always admired that bout his youngest. Unlike Dean and himself, Sam had an ask questions first, shoot later policy once he got thinking.
"I'm – I, " Sam closed his eyes to focus, trying to get into the past. First a quick flash of Dean's bloody face as he leaned up against the impala for support as Lucifer continually punched his raw skin. He grasped his head as it throbbed the same pulse as when he had premonitions. Then a flash of him as Lucifer and Adam as Michael falling into the pit as his spirit filled contentment, followed by Death lingering over his body as he held a light orb.
He looked towards John again as things became clearer. Realization dawned towards him.
"I'm dead."
Death was the only outcome that Sam could think of. Everything around him were signs that he was dead. His dead father, the last thing he saw was Death with his soul, and the memories of Castiel telling Dean that his body could not survive his torn soul were all pointing towards his death.
Peace. Peace came with death. The war against Heaven and Hell ceased to matter. His guilt for Jessica's death ceased to consume his mind. The anger towards himself for trusting Ruby over his brother disappeared like the scares he had gathered over the years. This is what every life led to; death.
The horrifying word which became taboo between him and Dean had lost it's potency now that he knew the truth. He'd be with Dean again, the time would come. He could see Jessica, Jo, Ellen, Ash, Andy, and mom. He could finally see her movement and love, see if his dreams had created her in the correct image to be directed completely at him.
Sam looked up towards his dad, knowing that the afterlife could play no tricks. He smiled finally accepting what destiny had given him. However his father looked at him with eyes full of sorrow which seemed so foreign on his fathers body.
Confusion struck. His father was in Hell. Fear took over his emotions. He was in Hell. The Presidential suite, none the less, but he was in Hell. His soul deserved it. He failed to protect Jessica. He caused his mother's death. He was the reason the appoclaspe began. He killed the inocent souls cought in the cross fire. It was because him that his brother went to Hell, and now he was there to complete his brother's sentence.
Anger and fear flowed throughout his body, distorting his reality. His neck began to twist back against itself in an unnatural form as the rest of his body contorted with the throb of emotions.
"Sam. Stop!" His father called out to him in a firm authoritative voice that he remembered from his childhood. His neck ceased to twist, but fear still flowed through his body. "Come on kid, untwist yourself. Exactly like how you got yourself there in the first place. Everything is fine. Come on now." Sam inhaled deeply as he felt himself form to a natural stance. Sam's eyes locked with John's begging for answers to everything.
"Your not in Hell son. Nope, not in Heaven either." John quickly added remembering the same the flicker of emotions behind his son as he had when he was told he wasn't in Hell anymore. "You can't see Jessica, or – or your mother. We're in purgatory."
Sam opened his eyes to the room around him. The bland simple chairs and couch faded away as if they never existed. Blindness seemed to over come his senses as the once colorful walls blended together into purity. He turned his attention towards his father as he hoped for one last glance at the father which he once denounced.
Unlike the rest of the room, John stayed in focus. If they were in purgatory like John had said, why was John allowed to stay? Sam knew that purgatory was a place for the soul to heal before it was sent to Heaven. The time it took for the soul to cleanse itself was punishment enough for the crime committed, or at least that was the lore Sam had read from the books.
Sam decided not to question John's presence. "So. Purgatory?" Sam asked trying to create small talk for the long wait.
John's face stayed blank as he tried to gather his son's emotions into sense. After a few moments, John released out a quick amused huff. "You aren't staying here Sammy. Your job on Earth ain't done."
"However Samuel, your body cannot be found." a new presence spoke. Sam's eyes darted across the open area looking for the owner of the new voice. "Samuel, imagine a door." Purgatory was full of confusion for Sam. He inhaled deeply, giving the voice a shot. He remembered the old wooden door that was the entry to Bobby's house including the dark brown wood finish and the crack that he created when he kicked it down a few months back.
"There is a door to my left." Sam whispered as the all to familiar creak resounded throughout the empty space. He watched as a woman glided out from behind the door. She had long flowing strawberry blond hair and a soft white complexion with striking blue eyes. She stood still for a moment with her hands folded together, resting against her nude cocktail dress.
"It is good to finally meet you." she said as she walked forewards, the staccato pitch of her shoes creating a beat behind her voice as she walked towards Sam. She stopped inches away from him and looked up as he towered a good foot about the woman. She studied his features as if in deep thought. After a moment she pressed two fingers against his chest while bowing her head. Her touch was light, but he could feel his heart pounding underneath it. She shock her head slowly.
"I'm sorry John." She said releasing her touch and turning towards her subject. "I thought that perhaps with his soul I could locate his body, but with the sigils that Castiel placed on his ribs it is as we thought."
"What is as you thought? Dad, can you please explain what is going on? The last thing I remem-"
Sam was cut off by the woman placing her hand against his chest. "Do not think about it Samuel." Her eyes showed force and trust, begging for him to listen to him. He tried.
"Why?" He whispered. Suddenly the room was engulfed in a dark icy blue leaving no trace of the woman or his father. His gut told himself that it was not his first time being in this mysterious place. He breathed out, watching as his exhale turned into mist.
"- more than I ever could be." yelled a male's voice from behind Sam. Fear flowed through his veins. He remembered this. He was back in Hell.