Chapter 7: Beyond Here Lies Nothin'
Sensations wafted over Sam's senses. He inhaled sharply. Smoke filled his lungs. His eyes sprang open. Slowly his vision began to fill with images as if being awoke from a dream. Disoriented and feeling jumbled, he shook his head as though it would clear the fog from his mind. Sounds came into focus and closer, surrounding him. Then with a sudden rush, every light, sound, touch and smell came into fruition before him.
Music was the first thing he noticed. It was something from the 1930s. It reminded him of swing music heard in old movies. He saw a band being led by a beautiful woman, wrapped in a lavish white satin dress. She sang in a throaty tone that made Sam think of sultry nights and hot passionate embraces.
The room he was in was packed to the brim with people. Dancing, talking or lounging at the bar. Except these weren't normal people. Sam watched in stunned amazement as men and women walked around in clothes from the 1930s. Fashion that hadn't been seen in decades. Men wearing pinstriped suits, wing-tipped leather shoes, hair cuts that were flat and slicked back, vests cut tight around their torso or with suspenders. He even saw a few men wearing fedoras. Sam reeled back in surprise as he watched women strut by him in scandalously short mini-dresses with feathers in their hair.
"Sir?" asked a male voice from behind him. Sam turned in his stool and noted that he was sitting at the bar of whatever club he was in.
Frowning he glanced to the man addressing him. It was the bartender. He wore a white suit shirt with a black vest. He looked like a singer from the rat-pack. Sam tried not to openly gape. These people really got into the whole look and feel of the experience of the 1930s.
"Would you like another drink?" the bartender asked him.
Sam shook his head, "No, thanks."
The bartender gave him a curt nod before tossing a towel over his shoulder and sauntering over to the other end of the crowded bar. Sam stared in disbelief. How the hell did he wind up here? He instantly remembered the nightclub he and Balthazar walked into. How they asked to experience the club together and… Balthazar!
He abruptly remembered falling unconscious but not before catching a glimpse of Balthazar also falling to his knees, succumbing to whatever poisonous cocktail they drank that the hostess gave them.
Balthazar was affected by the drink. Oh God, Sam thought horrified. What happened to them? Where was he now? He glanced around again, trying to figure out where he was. He noticed a cigarette woman carrying a selling cart around her shoulders, smiling at him with bright red lipstick. He motioned for her. The young girl's smile turned gleeful as she strutted over to him like a peacock. She looked twelve, Sam thought in slight disgust.
Her voice was high and almost squeaky as she asked, "Cigarette?"
"No," Sam said firmly, ignoring her peeved look. "Where am I?" he demanded.
Her eyes widened in surprise at him, "Chicago…"
Sam felt his stomach drop.
"Sir? Are you okay?" She asked in genuine concern.
He nodded absently running a hand through his hair. He noticed then that there was some type of oil in his hair. He pulled his hand back and examined it. Sam glanced down at his own clothes and for the first time realized he was also dressed the role of a 1930s swinger. Alarmed, he shot up, inspecting his clothes. He wore a brown pin stripped suit with a finely cut vest beneath. He even had a gold pocket watch clasp on his vest that led to his suit pant pocket. He held the watch in his hand, stared, dumbstruck. What the hell was going on? Where the hell was Balthazar? And how was he going to get out of here? Was this part of their experience? Questions zoomed through his head, all unanswerable.
Suddenly he heard raucous laughter coming from the end of the club. He recognized that laugh. He saw a booth lounge area, where several young girls crowded around with drinks in their hands. Then he saw him. A handsome blond man, smiling and laughing, without a care in the world.
"Balthazar…" he breathed out and rushed to him.
Balthazar was in the middle of a group of women, who where simpering around him with dazed looks on their faces. The angel was charming them all with his coy smile and sultry, passionate gazes. Sam approached, watching as the angel dipped his face into the crook of a woman's neck, flicking his tongue over her flesh. A sharp, almost painful jolt of jealousy reared its ugly head in Sam's gut. The beautiful young woman Balthazar was tonguing giggled loudly while her surrounding friends looked on yearningly at them.
Sam cleared his throat loudly. The few women at the table glanced up to him yet the woman who Balthazar was currently kissing hardly noticed as she gasped in ecstasy as the angel grabbed a handful of her breast.
Sam ground his teeth into ash in his mouth. "Balthazar!" He snapped out angrily then.
Suddenly the angel pulled away from the woman, annoyed. "What?"
When their eyes locked, surprise filled the angel's handsome face. Then confusion, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Sam? What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." Sam bit out, trying to contain the anger that gripped him. He wanted to thrash the damn angel. How dare he suck on some woman after he led Sam on for the past month! He breathed through his nose, desperately attempting to calm his nerves.
"Ladies," Balthazar said with a sad reluctance in his expression. "Would you please leave? I have an important matter to attend to with my friend here."
The ladies pouted and the one he'd been fondling, whimpered. Sam rolled his eyes. A few minutes later, the women sulked away from the table as Sam sat down with Balthazar.
Sam then noticed what Balthazar was wearing. He was dressed in an all black suit and tie. He seemed decades classier than the suits that were currently worn in the bar. His jacket was parted open to reveal the bright red lining inside, giving him the appearance of a devil rather than an angel. His face was cleanly cut, no stumble like he usually wore. His hair was slicked back similar to Sam's, though he noticed the fedora in the center of the table. It had to be Balthazar's because it matched his devilish outfit with a bright red feather pinned to the side of the black fedora. He could probably pass for a gangster or high-priced gigolo.
"How are you here?" Balthazar asked suddenly, his face taunt with panic.
"What do you mean? How are you here?" Sam did not like the fear etched in the angel's eyes.
"This is my…" he hesitated. Balthazar glanced around hopelessly. Sam had never seen him so vulnerable before, almost sensitive.
"What?" Sam finally asked.
"This is one of my favorite moments on earth." Balthazar said honestly, his face softening. His eyes seemed to constantly roam around the room, enjoying and relishing every sight. "I had spent limited time on earth in vessel form. But this…" he trailed off, his eyes glowing with remembrance. "This was the best night I ever had. I found this club in Chicago. Well actually I followed a girl here. I ended up at this booth all night with her…" his eyes searched her out and landed on the girl he'd been kissing. Sam's gut clenched uncomfortably again, but not in anger, jealousy. Jealous over a girl that no longer existed. Yet she still mattered to Balthazar. "I don't even remember her name… just how she tasted…"
Sam shifted in his seat awkwardly, wanting Balthazar to stop talking about her.
"It was the first night I had…" Balthazar hesitated, his eyes finally coming full circle, back to Sam. "I had sex," he admitted with a casual shrug.
Sam tried not to look so shocked but he couldn't help it. The Balthazar he knew was a womanizer, who seemed to spend a lot of time doing whatever or whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
"It was also the last," He said almost callously. "I was forced back to Heaven afterwards. Let's just say I was punished cruelly for my impudence. That's probably why when Cas rebelled, I was so eager to leave myself. I wanted to experience it all again."
"Experience," Sam whispered out loud, his mind piecing together the puzzle of what was happening to them. He recalled what their hostess had said repeatedly 'experience'. This was it. They were in it now.
Balthazar shot him a confused look.
"I think I know what's happened," Sam said then, using what Balthazar had told him to solve their current problem. He remembered something like this happening to him and Dean a few years ago when they went looking for Bobby in a dream world. Dean's favorite memories or fantasies were brought to life right before Sam's eyes with perfect clarity that it seemed all too real. Just like now. This club. These people.
"I think we're dreaming…" Sam said slowly, still trying to make sense of it all.
"How? I don't dream."
"I know, but whatever we drank at that club… it must have been able to work on you."
Balthazar remained skeptical, "I don't know, Sam…"
"Look," Sam said sternly, feeling confident because he was right about this. "We're in your dream. I couldn't think this up because it never happened to me. It happened to you and you're remembering it. You said it's your favorite memory, right? Well, of course this is the first place you think of when you fall asleep- it's your dream. You control it."
"That would explain my current appearance," Balthazar said with a smirk.
Sam frowned, puzzled.
Balthazar pointed to his face, "You recognized me in this vessel. I had a different one back then. But I prefer this one. So I imagined myself in this vessel, unconsciously I suppose."
Sam nodded at Balthazar conclusion. A horrible thought just occurred to him then- what if he didn't recognize Balthazar here? How long would he have been stuck here?
"All right, darling- now what?" Balthazar asked eyeing the bar with a newfound suspicion.
Sam sighed, "I have no idea. We have to get out of this dream but how…?" He gazed around helplessly, wishing he could figure out how to help them.
"Let me try something," Balthazar said, interrupting Sam's contemplation. Balthazar held up his hand and snapped his fingers. But nothing happened. Sam glanced around, seeing if anything had changed. Nothing. "Bloody hell," Balthazar muttered, shocked. "I'm powerless here."
Sam resisted the urge to groan. Great, a powerless angel in a dream world they couldn't get out of.
"What now?" Balthazar asked him.
"I wish I knew."
"Well, how do you humans usually wake up from a dream?" Balthazar asked, leaning towards him, intent on finding a way out.
Sam sat back into the plush booth, "I dunno- I just wake up."
"Yes, but how?" Balthazar stressed.
"Sometimes I fall off something or…" Sam froze.
Balthazar must have seen the revelation in Sam's face as he asked, "What?"
"Or I die," Sam finally answered.
"So you're saying we have to die to get out of here?"
Sam felt himself rebel against the idea instinctively. What if he were wrong? What if this wasn't a dream and they were only made to believe it? "That could be risky, Balthazar." Sam said honestly. "What if I'm wrong…? We die and…" Don't wake up, ever. He couldn't' finish the sentence. He couldn't even think about the possibility.
Balthazar's jaw flexed visibly as he grabbed the fedora on the table and slipped it on. "C'mon," he said as he got to his feet. Sam followed, unsure of where he was taking them.
"Where are we going?"
Balthazar moved easily through the crowd, almost as if they parted for him. "Some place quite."
Moments later they stood out in the freezing cold weather of Chicago. Balthazar seemed right at home, with his confident swagger and finely tailored suit. Sam was almost envious of this. How could Balthazar still be so cool and sure after everything? Sam had faced plenty of dangerous situations before and more to come he would imagine, yet he would still feel that moment of fear. The fear that this would be his last hunt, his last case, his last battle. He knew and accepted the fact that he would die doing this. He would die bloody and violent fighting for what he cared about.
Yet with Balthazar besides him, that fear seemed irrelevant. It didn't matter that he was a powerless angel. It didn't matter that he might not be trustworthy. Balthazar had a magnetism about him that made Sam believe he would be safe, protected. Sam felt the truth of that in his heart.
He could trust him. He could go into a battle with this angel and know with certainty that Balthazar would fight alongside him to the very bitter end. He knew it in his gut that Balthazar cared about him. Even if he pretended indifference.
Suddenly Balthazar walked across the deserted street and into a posh, luxurious hotel. Moments later they were inside, out of the cold and in their own room, without ever going through a lobby or seeing other people.
"Where are we?" Sam asked astounded by the vividness of the dream and how this room breathed life.
"My room- at the time," Balthazar answered. He turned to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. "Whatever is happening, we got to get out of here." He said with his back to Sam. He pulled open a drawer and turned with a knife in his hand. It was the dagger that could kill any and all angels. "I'm not waiting here any longer."
Sam stilled, his heart raced at the sight of the lethal dagger. He didn't want to do it, but knew it had to be done. "All right," he said with a curt head nod.
Balthazar stepped towards him, hand clutching the dagger. "When we wake up…" He hesitated then smiled slyly up at Sam, "fight like hell, eh?"
Sam suddenly felt the tension ease as he chuckled softly, "Yeah."
Balthazar grinned sheepishly then with a hard sigh said, "Me first, okay?"
When Balthazar handed him the knife, fear rippled through Sam's body. He wanted to jerk away when he touched the dagger.
"If this isn't a dream and one of us should die," Balthazar's voice was husky and almost fearful. Sam searched his brilliant blue eyes, not wanting this conversation to be happening. "Then we'll know for sure because, well, I'll be dead."
Sam hadn't realized that he had moved close to the angel, nearly touching him. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to hurt Balthazar.
"What if I'm wrong, Balthazar? What if I really kill you and this was never a dream?" Sam asked wrought with worry.
A soft smile crossed his lips, "You're over thinking this, darling. I trust you. Besides, do you really think I'd let just anyone kill me?"
Sam frowned down at him, watching the amusement dancing in those sky blue eyes.
"Aw- c'mon, Sam. Cheer up, it's not you going under the knife."
"Not yet," Sam whispered.
Balthazar's smile faded, "Right- well I suggest we do this before you change my mind." He teased.
Sam clutched the knife and held it against Balthazar's stomach. His hand suddenly trembled. Balthazar sensed Sam's reluctance and reached between them to grab his hand that yield the knife.
"Balthazar…" Sam breathed his name out shakily.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Balthazar reached out with his free hand and wrapped it around Sam's neck. Sam knew what he was doing before he did it. He wanted it to happen so he didn't fight it when Balthazar kissed him.
Their lips met softly, almost tentatively. It started off slow like honey, spreading through Sam with a warmth he never felt before. Balthazar's kiss was unsure and hesitant as if he wasn't confident Sam would return his kiss. But Sam did. He had to. He wanted to. He needed to. He deepened the kiss, titling his head to engulf more of the angel's soft lips.
He opened his mouth and slid his tongue into Balthazar's wet heat. A groan escaped from the back of Balthazar's throat as he let Sam dominate the kiss. Sam felt his cock begin to ache at the needy sounds Balthazar made for him. For him. Not for some bimbo at a club, but for him. Balthazar was his angel. The thought inspired Sam as he ran free hand through Balthazar's short cropped hair, the fedora sliding off and onto the floor. His hair was rich and thick as he grabbed a handful, pushing his face harder against his.
It wasn't a hurried kiss, but lustful and thorough. He tasted every inch of the angel's delicious mouth, savoring it. Balthazar kneaded his fingers into Sam's neck, his thumb sliding over his jawbone. "Sam…" he whispered with an edgy hunger that sent Sam's heart fluttering and body on overdrive. He wanted so much more of this, more of him… he never wanted to stop this perfect kiss…
Suddenly Balthazar yanked his hand forward, the one that grasped the blade. Sam broke away from the kiss, fear choking him as he realized what Balthazar had done the moment warm blood seeped onto his hand. Balthazar let out a painful gasp, clutching Sam to him. Sam held him close, feeling his body begin to shake and weaken. Unable to stop him, Balthazar fell to his knees, taking Sam with him.
Balthazar's beautiful blue eyes shined bright with pain though he smiled at him. "That was a marvelous kiss, love…"
Sam heart clenched, his hand trembling in Balthazar's grasp, soaked in his blood.
"I hope we get to do that again…" Balthazar breathed out, his eyes drifting slowly shut.
Sam speechless with shock and fear up to this point finally spoke, "me too."
He watched in amazement as the angel's lips twitched one last time into a smile before he died in his arms. Sam instantly prayed that he was right- that this was all just a dream. Fear smothered him as he clung to Balthazar's lifeless body.
What if beyond this moment- lies nothing? What if he never woke up and he just killed the only friend he had here?
Numbly, Sam pulled out the knife from Balthazar's body and held it in his bloodied palm. Doubt, fear, pain, regret filled him. It was his turn now. Balthazar was gone. All that was left was him. He had to escape this pain which ripped through his chest mercilessly. It tore away at him trying to get at his soul. Sam gritted his teeth, placed the knife perilously over his heart. With one final look at Balthazar, he plunged the knife into his chest.
TBC
