A.N.: Um...so this episode KILLED .ME. DEAD. And it demanded a tag. Bravo SPN writers, BRAVO.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Everything is so white, so very white.
Dark and a cruel laugh that echoes all around him.
Clean and crisp and medical.
Dank and hopeless, whispers of tortures yet to come.
Precise and scheduled, every second ticks by like clockwork.
Long and labored, every single breath brings on new horrors.
He sits quietly, blankly staring off into nothing, thoughts long since turned into some sort of tumultuous storm of upset.
Poking, prodding, constantly peeling back every layer of protection he tries to erect.
He worries a button procured from a battered and bloodied trench coat, more from habit than anything else.
The being he once called brother cackles as he watches his further descent into madness.
He hangs steadfast to the words uttered by the man he thought would never forgive him. "You did the best you could." the sensation it instills in him suspiciously like hope.
Lucifer pouts on the days that he mutters it to himself, the mantra keeping him and his torment at bay.
He will make this right. He will fix things. He will.