I had no time to admire what I was seeing. The pain was less than it had been whilst the wall was opening, but it was still great. My natural instincts started to heal the damage which had been done to my tanned skin.
The Winchesters. My head twisted franticly until it found what resembled a Dean shaped heap on the floor, groaning in what seemed more like discomfort and annoyance than pain.
I studied him as he moved. The way his hands searched for stable ground on which he could raise himself. The way his head turned to find his brother and see if he was okay or if he needed assistance.
That was Dean. A caring brother. A loving man with a heart so pure that it was hard to describe. He had listened to his father and had been saving his brothers life since the night of the fire. The night they had lost their mother. The night that changed their lives forever.
Of course it was true that the demon, which the boy's and their hunting obsessed father had tracked for most of their lives, was not really to blame for the murder of Mary Winchester...
When Dean had been sent into the past by the angel that had betrayed him, he had led the Campbells on a hunt for the demon. When the demon sought revenge on the hunters and killed the brothers' grandparents and their father, Mary made a deal to save her true love. The trip itself was to prove to Dean that fate had always planned for his mother to die, and for Sam to be part demon and for him to be the Devil's vessel and for the world to end.
But for some reason, the self loathing hunter couldn't let go of what he had done. And it hurt him. And that, I couldn't bear.
He was on his feet and looking for his brother from a better angle now. His eyes flashed in my direction as he brushed off the dirt from his classic leather jacket and blue jeans. His eyes, locked with mine, flared, again, with what felt like a longing to be held. I knew that look from when those dying in battle would pray for release. Pray that they could be with the ones they loved once more before they crossed the veil. It was heartbreaking to imagine the shortest Winchester feel those emotions.
I spun my head a little too fast and something washed through my skull. It made my vision flare a bright white and caused me to loose control of my body. I fell to the ground, hitting my head hard on the stone floor.
There was no blood. I could tell that much, even though it felt as though an army of rabid hell hound were trying to dig there way out of my skull. I was more focused on what was happening around me.
Dean, who's eyes I was locked with, came rushing to my side. All thoughts of his otherwise missing brother gone from his mind. From my peripheral vision, I could see Sam stood over me. His eyes showing the sad man within. He did nothing to help his brother. He just stood there.
The sounds from the outside world were muffled and my vision was beginning to become cloudy. I couldn't see Dean's distinct features no longer.
He clasped at my upper arms, shaking me roughly, trying to make me regain what I was losing of consciousness. It wasn't working. I could feel myself falling into nothing.
But the eternal pit of darkness that was to consume me was not the only thing I could feel...
I could feel the tingeing. Almost as if someone was massaging my skin from the inside. Dean was the cause and I was at a loss. I couldn't explain what it was.
Whatever it was, it pulled my consciousness back to the surface. My vision became stronger. My senses, sharper. My heart picked up speed. A rhythmic pounding sounded in my ears and for a short while, that was all I could hear. But then, as suddenly as my collapse had been, I could hear Dean's deep and panicked voice calling my name.
"James?" Said the hunter. He knelt by my legs and as I rose onto my elbows to allow myself to see more of the man who had rushed to my side, I realised something that he didn't.
His left hand had rested on my thigh. The area where I had accidentally burnt my jeans and boxers with magic. The skin was smooth but still a little pink from where it had healed. The warmth I was feeling on me now was not from the heat before. But from the heart being caused now. Dean was absently stroking my leg with his thumb. When my eyes were back to normal, I looked right into the pooling depths of sorrow that were a hunter's eyes.
"James? Are you okay?" He asked, his voice flooded with emotion that he was trying to hold back.
"Fine." I whispered. I sifted my leg a little as I started to sit up. It was awkward to have him there, caring for me when he should be weary of me. After all, he didn't know that much about me. It wasn't time, they weren't ready.
Dean noticed what he'd been doing and backed away quickly, looking more than embarrassed. As soon as the contact was gone, I missed it. It felt good to be cared for and in that small moment, I wasn't completely alone in this constricting world...
I waved a hand, mind elsewhere, and magically healed the fabric of my damaged clothes. After a few seconds my outsides were fine but what was held within felt like hell. Again, I forced all thoughts of emotion to the very back of my mind.
I stood, Sam, Dean and I all in the new place. I was able to take more of our surroundings in now.
It was a stone room. It wasn't bricks that made walls. Just huge, unbroken slabs of the gayest stone. The floor was the same tone of grey. However, on the stone ground, I noticed an intricate network of what seemed to be veins.
Thousands of them. All connected. All thin as hair and all exerting light. It was almost as if the veins were carrying hot magma that glowed a bright orange red colour. The heat was comfortable. If you closed your eyes and forgot about the closed-in-ness of the walls and roof, you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were in a field, feeling the receding heat of the sun as it set in the middle of summer.
My eyes followed the interesting creators of heat and light all the way to the opposite side of the room. A feeling of uncertainty welled up in my stomach as three archways entered my line of vision. There was nothing special about the archways themselves: they were made from the same stone that composed the rest of the room, all three opened into three paths, leading into a darkness that extended farther than anything I'd thought possible.
Even with the lengthy dark trails that extended beyond the archways, I'd have sworn that there were actually empty, crafted niches. It was strange. Even the light from the veins on the floor seemed to be too little when they passed the threshold.
Dean walked up to the archways sheepishly and examined them with careful eyes.
Sam spoke up from my left, "Which one do we take?"
"I like how you don't question my judgement any more." I smiled. Sam looked at me but I did not meet his gaze, I couldn't. For some reason, the youngest brother made me feel slightly unnerved. It must have something to do with being worn by Lucifer and having his mind turned to mush. The cage changes people.
"Do we just choose randomly or do have a spell for that?" Dean's voice was low but I could hear it clearly. It seemed he was talking more to himself than to me or his brother.
"I don't think that we need to do anything..." Sam told us, his voice trailing off into silence.
Upon the grey stone above the archways, there were the light-veins. They were in their random pattern but the light that they were giving off made letters. Clear letters that made words. Words that made a sentence. Sentences that made little sense:
On pathways three,
Ancient warriors did learn,
Forward is the path,
That both brothers yearn.
"Well." I said, allowing the other two to read the words and try to decipher their meaning.
"Well what?" Dean asked, turning to face me. His eyes seemed to evade mine. "We choose the one that me and Sammy want. Simple." His eyes switched to his brother. Although my gaze remained in Dean's general direction, I knew that Sam's eyes had fallen to stare at the floor, not wanting to look into the eyes of his brother who was staring with eternal sorrow at his younger sibling. He didn't call his brother 'Sammy' a whole lot lately. It seemed like weeks since I last heard Dean speak the name that only he and his father were truly allowed to call the mammoth of a man.
Just as I began to think of the brothers' weakening relationship, something happened.
The air in the archways shimmered like the air does when a surface radiates heat. Colours were made from black and the colours made blurs. The blurs made shapes and the shapes made people.
To the left archway, the one closest to Sam, stood Jessica. She wore a sky blue dress that reached down to the stone at her feet. The satin material of the dress shimmered in the dim orange light and made it seem as though she was wearing the most spectacular waterfall. Her blonde hair fell elegantly down her face, framing her beautiful features. Her left hand rested on her right, which was clutching her matching purse, which signified the fact that upon her ring finger there was a golden ring, embedded with a small diamond. It complemented her slim figure. She stood, smiling a Sam.
To my right, in the archway closest to Dean, stood two figures. I knew who they were even before I looked; Lisa and Ben. The closest thing Dean had to a family. She stood there, dirty yet delicate hands by her side. She wore tight black jeans and a checked shirt over a black vest. I recognised the shirt as one of Dean's. It was dark green but flecked with black motor oil. She had obviously been working on a car. But not just any car, and Dean knew it too. It was clear she been working on the car. Deans baby. Ben was beside her. He was wearing a sports kit, and was holding a ball under his left arm. Both of them were looking lovingly at Dean.
As I stood there, my eyes flicking from left arch to right, I realised what was behind the middle arch. It was hell. Pain. Chaos. Eternal horror. It was what they had been facing all their lives.
"Jess..." Sam whispered, breaking the agonising silence.
"Lisa?" Dean uttered through tears that were now forming in his eyes.
"They're real." I said, answering the questions that had not yet been asked. "The archways lead to alternate realities where you will live happy lives until you reach a ripe old age."
Tears fell down Dean's cheeks but his brother showed no such emotion. He looked as though he was dying.
"You'll be happy. No demons, no monsters, no hurt of the supernatural kind." I continued.
"There has to be a catch..." Sam's cynicism was clear through his low tones.
"The big bad your helping me hunt won't be stopped." I said in hushed tones. "He'll have enough strength to destroy reality. All of it. Every sub-atomic particle. Every world. All of it. Gone."
"So we wont be as happy as you say, then?" Dean, too, saw the glass as half empty.
"It'll take a while for him to get to you. The world you'll be in wont be effected in your lifetime. You'll be dust in your coffins by the time the ripples hit that pond." I was finding it difficult to keep the brothers focused.
"True happiness?" Dean sounded through tears that now fell freely and shamelessly.
"More so than you could ever imagine."
"But we can't leave the world now. Not after we've saved it so many times. We're not gonna let some son-of-a-bitch just screw all that over!" Dean was furious, but at what was unclear. His mind was a mess of pain, memories and the prospect of finally getting the life he deserved. To know that his brother, too, would be happy and at peace.
"Dean," I reached my hand out for him. His shoulder turned away from me as if it was painful to have me in contact with him. His face looked almost monstrous with pain and anger.
"We can't do this..." Sam was more composed than his brother but his emotions were just as clearly read. I stepped back a little so I could see them both.
"Then what other choice do we have?" Dean looked in his brothers direction. Sam was looking at his brother, too.
"The third archway." I said. My voice broke the bond that had momentarily linked the two. "It's the life you lead now. The pain, the misery. The loss"
Dean's mind was open and I could see images of blue eyes and a dirty trench coat. Sam was less open but I could tell he was thinking of the ones he loved. Jess, Jo, Ellen, his father.
"It's that one." Sam seemed so sure.
"How do you know?" I asked, wanting him to be sure that he was making the right decision.
"Because Dean didn't have to come with me, he didn't need to get back in the game and leave Lisa and Ben. He could have left me to die and live a life with his soul intact. He could have left the game so many times." He chanced a quick look at his brother, then he made eye contact with me and continued. "I didn't need to go with him. I could've stayed with Jess and graduated. I would have been happy."
Dean looked down at his feet. He knew there was truth in his brother's words.
"That's why." Sam's voice held no emotion, just truth. "Whenever we get a chance to get out, we always dive back in. We live this game. It's who we are. Right to the bitter end."
"Amen to that." Dean said, looking up. His face held a smile that was warm. A smile for his brother. A smile that was unbelievably rare. He walked forward, his arms separating and Sam, reluctant and with an embarrassed smile, embraced his smaller sibling.
I allowed them to bask in this precious moment. I would have felt awkward if we were not on the path that we were. I had other things, more pressing thing, at mind.
After a minuet of hugging and muted sobbing, they broke apart. Dean turned to face me, his eyes throbbing. Sam looked my way too. He was more composed yet more vulnerable now than he had been in a while.
"Shall we go?" I asked, my voice matching the now lightened atmosphere.
"Yeah," Dean breathed.
"Sure," Sam smiled.
Turning to face the middle archway, I felt better. There was more room in my mind for the task. The hunt. Sam allowed Dean to go in front of him. We cautiously walked along the ominous path, lit by red flames that burned at a place beyond our line of vision.
I knew before it happened that the Winchesters would take one last look at the world they were turning down. The families they could have had. The worlds they'll never know.
We walked and we walked. It seemed that the path, or rather tunnel, would never end. The brothers, who walked behind me, seemed to be maintaining the good mood. My mind, now free, wandered about the outcome of this journey. If we don't fail, the world will be at peace, the land will thrive and war will no longer exist. Everyone will be happy and free. Beyond heaven on earth. Utopia.
No matter how much I kept my focus on the good that it will do, my mind kept showing me the sacrifice. The price that must be paid. The only constant. The only thing that we cannot avoid.
My death...