Sam hasn't seen anyone since he got here. No Lucifer, no Michael. Not even Adam has appeared to him. It's silent. He's never heard a single soul.
The pain is still there. He still feels it when the skin is torn from his body. He still hears his own screams and sobs. He still sees the bright red blood dripping to the ground.
He wonders how long he's been here. Has he always been in Hell?
Names swirl around in his mind, disappearing over time. After about a century, there's only four left: Lucifer, Bobby, Castiel, and Dean. He doesn't really remember who they are. He only has feelings to go on.
Lucifer he has tried to forget; just thinking about him makes Sam feel ill. But it's the one name he can't seem to forget. It's always there, prickling at the back of his mind, taunting him.
He fears he will forget Bobby and Castiel. He cares about them, though he can't remember why. Their names fade with every passing year, but he clings to them, stopping them from disappearing entirely. He doesn't want to lose the warmth he feels thinking of them, but he knows it's only a matter of time.
Dean is always there, fluttering behind his eyelids. Sam's crippled by guilt whenever he thinks of him, but he remembers their loyalty to each other. He knows he could never forget Dean. He's the only one Sam still remembers, even vaguely, the appearance of- short brown hair, lighter than his own, and hard green eyes. Sometimes he even remembers his voice.
Sammy…
…Sam…
Dean is everything to him. It's almost painful to not know why.
When his ribs suddenly splinter into shards and blood bubbles up his throat, it's Dean he screams for. When his eyes are ripped out and his world immersed in darkness, he still sees Dean's name. When blood drips down from his ears and all he hears is silence, a quiet "Sammy" pulls him through. When he can't scream anymore, he still mouths Dean.
In his more lucid moments, Sam wonders who these names belonged to. He thinks Bobby might be his father. Castiel seems to be his friend- he's almost positive of that. Dean? His brother. He knows that much. Only family could make him feel so awful and Sam still love them.
Of course, this is assuming they exist.
Most of the time, he doubts their actuality. If they care about him like he does them, why haven't they come? It's the only logical explanation. Unless…
That guilt he feels. There has to be a reason for it. It's always there, and all Sam ever wants to do is apologize- but to whom? And for what? He doesn't even know what he did, but it must have been horrible for him to be stuck here. Maybe- maybe he's supposed to be here. Maybe they all know he's here and don't come to save him because he deserves it.
Sam clings to this idea. He wants it to be true. All this pain, this loneliness, this suffering- it has to be for something. The decades he's spent here, they can't have been for nothing. The idea that it was all just a fluke, that he shouldn't be here- it's too much. He can't think of it.
He deserves this. This is his penance.
He hopes this is enough of an apology for Dean.
And suddenly, it's all gone.
Sam blinks. He doesn't know where he is. The room is far less dark than Hell, which was only bright enough to allow souls to see their own blood. He blinks again, dazed, and tries calm down.
This isn't normal.
Is this real?
After a moment of listening to his heavy breathing, he hears something. A fan spins overhead. Voices faintly echo from above.
It takes Sam a minute to realize he's shaking. This isn't normal. There isn't supposed to be sound. Just him and his screams.
He manages to quell the trembling for a moment and sits up. He's surrounded by iron walls, but a door lies open in front of him. The voices start up again, and Sam feels a strange pull towards them. He needs to hear them up close.
But he can't bring himself to move.
This can't be real.
There's no possible scenario that could bring him here. He has to be dreaming- something he can't remember having done before.
He wants to pretend though, for a moment, that this is real. That, maybe, he'll go upstairs and be met by actual people. He'll be forgiven. He'll never have to go back- never have to be alone again.
It's a pleasant fantasy, enough to convince him to stand. His legs shake, and Sam leans on the bed for a moment. He pushes off quickly, though, a rare expression of determination crossing his face. It takes a while, but he manages to stumble up the stairs, albeit ungracefully. It's not really his fault, though; he's never encountered them before.
The voices are louder now, and Sam feels something growing in his chest, a cocktail of panic, desperation, and hope. He knows these voices. It's hard for him to distinguish the words, but one stands out.
"Sam…"
The world tilts, and suddenly Sam finds himself leaning against the wall. He wants nothing more than to run in there and finally see Dean. And yet he can't go. His stomach churns, and headache begins to form. He hasn't had to deal with this kind of stress in a long time.
Before he can think, Sam's moving again, towards the voices, towards Dean. He stands in the doorway and stares.
He hears words, but they're muffled, like he's underwater. He's spinning, and the floor is rising up to meet him. The world fills with darkness, but not before Sam's eyes meet startling green.
"Dean?"
Ugh, plot bunnies. Maybe someone enjoyed this story? If you want more, let me know in some way and I'll see about continuing it.
Please note that I haven't actually seen anything past season 5 besides a considerable amount of spoilers, so I won't be completely accurate. This story is kind of AU anyway.
Remember that in this story, Sam spent about 200 years without human contact, so if he's a little... out of character, that may be why.
Anyway, thanks for reading.