Six

It was every horror rolled into one writhing mass that reached for Sam's feet as he dangled thousands of feet in the air. It was burning flesh and bleeding wounds. It was wailing women and moaning men. It was death and decay so strong, so powerful, and so realistic that Sam screamed.

He was thousands of feet in the air, suspended like he had suspected, but with nothing to hold him there. As a low groan escaped his lips, the bonds holding him snapped, and he began to plummet to the horrors beneath him. He fell towards the mess, with his limbs twisting and turning over one another, as if he was just a pathetic rag doll caught in a storm. The wind hissed past his ears and ran through his hair, while he fell blindly and stupidly, cursing and bellowing.

Sam hit the blackened ground with a low thud instead of the smashing of his body into a hundred bloody pieces like he had been expecting. Around him, the visions he had played higher witness to slowly began to dissipate into darkness as he cleared his head. The smell of rotting flesh and the piercing shrieks of spirits slowly moved away until Sam was sitting on a rocky terrain, shaking his head. His headache was beginning to fade, which was fortunate, but his muscles still ached and his skin felt as though it had been lightly burned. Such sensations confused Sam, as he assumed that being dead meant simply that: Lack of sensations. He decided it would be too much to argue over what was supposed to be and what was, considering he had just fallen thousands of feet and was not splattered all over the rocky ground.

He remained seated for a moment, trying to come to terms with his surroundings, which appeared to be nothing more than a desolate landscape of jagged black rocks under an inky sky void of any stars or moon. Sighing heavily, he wiped a rough hand across his face, unsure of what to do next until he heard the sound of water. Having lived in California, Sam was familiar with the sounds of waves hitting the beach, and that was what he heard sitting somewhere in the vast underworld, wondering why he had been mutilated beyond belief and why the laws of gravity weren't applying.

Although Sam doubted that the water he was hearing was real liquid, he rose to his feet nonetheless and began to move in the direction. His first steps were painful, wrenching moments that sent flashes of agony down his spine, but as his muscles became readjusted to movement, the pain began to ebb slightly. Following the sound of the slurping waves, he walked through a dark tunnel that formed itself into crudely carved stairs that wound downwards.

At the end of the steps, there was a body of charcoal water, which was surrounded on all sides but one by high rising rock walls. The walls crawled above the water to form a ceiling over the entire area. Only one distant side of the water was not encased by the rough walls. Down by the shore, a man dressed in ragged dark robes pulled crying people from the water. A few of the people managed to climb out of the water on their own, but many were helped by the man. Afraid, Sam didn't venture too closely to the people and instead peered out from the corridor where the stairs were, trying to discern what it was he was witnessing.

As each of the people crawled out of the water, dry and dazed, the man grasped their hand and the bodies disappeared. There was no blinding flash of light or slow fade. Just a moment where they were standing and then ceased to be. A few of the people did not reach the man and instead began to make their way towards the stairs where Sam crouched. He tried to hurry back up the stairs, but curiosity kept him perched on the steps when the people approached him.

"Excuse me," an old lady said, looking down at Sam. "Have you seen my family?" She was wearing a medical nightgown and a plastic bracelet with the letters "DNR," which stood for "do not resuscitate." Medically, it meant that once she had passed, there would be no lifesaving attempts to bring her back.

"Your family?" Sam echoed.

"Yes…I was just…in the hospital…and now I'm here." She looked confused and as she glanced back at the water she had just crawled out of, smooth patches of skin between her gray curls caught Sam's eye. "Where am I?"

Sam couldn't answer her, as he was not sure of their location himself. Part of him wanted to take her with him, but it was obvious that she did not realize she was dead as he did. Instead, he directed her towards the creature that played gatekeeper on the water's edge. As the woman approached the robed man, he accepted her with a courteous nod, grasping her frail hand in his own. Like the others before her, she disappeared instantaneously.

Sam was unsure how long he waited there, crouched on his haunches in the darkness, listening to the slurping water against the black sand. More people came to him, disorientated some and others scared. They spoke of seeing cars coming towards them, planes falling from the skies, and blood gushing from open wounds. Although Sam had known that they were dead from the first person who talked to him, it was only after many conversations he realized that this lake was where these people passed from the living world to the underworld.

A glimmer of futile hope passed through his heart. If the living could pass through to the underworld here, perhaps he would be able to leave this world through the water as well. It's worth a shot, Sam thought. He glanced at the ragged man who methodically pulled people from the water and sent their souls flying elsewhere, and Sam decided that he might as well try for it. After all, he was no longer living, what else could the man do to him?

He ran for the water, long bounding strides on his dead legs, as the souls clambered up, crying and weeping. They did not appear to notice the tall man with chocolate hair who rushed towards them as they crawled in the opposite direction. Just as Sam had reached the water's edge, breath hitching in his throat, a voice echoed throughout his head, "One way only."

He looked behind him to see the man staring at him. Suddenly the man had two heads, one that was focused on the emerging souls and one that was looking at him. Sam's mind twisted, and he instantly felt dizzy. The hood of the man's robe covered his face, but Sam could make out the thin, dried lips of the gatekeeper. As Sam stared, the lips spoke again through Sam's brain, "One way only."

Sam knew what the man was trying to tell him, the waters would only carry people into the underworld, not out. Nevertheless, he was determined to try. He moved forward, standing on the edge of the black sand and looking out over the never ending sea. Just as Sam had moved one foot into the water, the liquid rose up his leg with a viscous texture like a greedy fist, clutching at his pant leg and pulling him down.

As Sam slipped on his feet, struggling to stand, he saw the faces of those who had died laughing at him from the water below him. "So you want to swim?" they hissed, as the thick fluid stretched over Sam's clothes, running like witch's fingers over his shoulders and chest. As it crept under his clothes, he shuddered at the gooey cold arms that touched his hot skin. "You want to swim with us, little boy?" Skeleton heads with splitting jawbones cackled, and decaying corpses rose out of the water to run their flaying fingers through Sam's hair. He was on his back now, trying to grab onto the sand to pull himself out of the water, which was becoming heavier as it dragged him down. As it pressed on his chest, he found that breathing was becoming a struggle. "Oh, so pretty," the spirits whispered in words that filled Sam's head to the brink, pounding against the walls of his skull. "So pretty. Mustn't let this one go to waste. He'll swim so well."

Sam was about to scream when the water rushed into his mouth, filling his lungs with its heavy weight. It was gelatinous and tasted bitter, and Sam could have sworn that the material had a mind of its own as it crawled down his throat. Inside his head, the ghosts chuckled and wailed. "Swim with us forever. We'll let you stay with us. Keep us company, warm blood. Hold us." Sam was quickly becoming nauseated; he was completely submerged in the water. In front of him, glowing ghosts surrounded him, nipping at his flesh and pulling at his hair. Oh, they were everywhere! A woman's rotted carcass had just moved in front of him, slipping her hands up his shirt as she leaned forward to kiss him when he felt a strong hand at the back of his neck, yanking him upwards.

He burst out of the water with a powerful gasp and was hurled onto the sand, feet away from the water's edge. The gatekeeper in his ancient robes looked down at the young man below him, pulling Sam to his feet, even though Sam was completely dry and not needing any air in his lifeless lungs. Even though Sam couldn't see the gatekeeper's face, he knew that he was being glared at from beneath the cobwebbed robes. "One way only," the other man repeated to Sam.

Sam nodded mutely, quickly remembering the feel of limp flesh slapping against his cheek under the water, and he began to climb the stairs away from the water. His legs trembled, and he frequently had to steady himself against the stone wall before continuing upwards. At the top of the stairs, instead of emerging into the same dark environment he had entered from, he found himself in a brighter place. Copper red rock formed high ledges under what appeared to be a glistening sun. Instantly, Sam was reminded of the miles spent driving through the American Southwest with his father on long hunting trips in the rocky deserts.

However, what was different from the earthly deserts was that in the middle of one of the large ridges was a glistening hole. Sam quickly recalled the same void back on Earth he had been pushed through to reach the underworld. As vortexes seemed to be the ideal method of travel in the underworld, he was curious if this portal would take him to a different part of the dead's world or perhaps even back to the world of the living.

Sam hurried towards the crack in the middle of the cliff, raising his hands to shield his eyes from the glow that spilled from it. The light was so bright it hurt Sam's already tender skin, but he pushed forward nonetheless. Passing through the hole, he emerged at the other side, blinking uncontrollably as his eyes adjusted to the bright new environment. In contrast to the murky setting of the black lake where the dead souls had clawed at him, this was a cleaner, radiant area.

It had the feel of a small room with glistening white marble walls and a door opposite the portal through which Sam had entered. As Sam stepped closer, he could see images swirling behind the door-like shape. Colorful, bright laughing images. It was the first sign of warmth Sam had felt since his death, and he found himself smiling unconsciously.

Focusing on the swirling colors, he saw that they were people who slowly became familiar faces. People that he had known from college lay on their dorm beds, studying for the next day's test, and then his parents appeared, sitting on a bed, talking to one another. Their lips moved, but Sam could not hear their words. As he watched them, he suddenly noticed his laptop sitting on the bed next to them. They were in his motel room! It had worked! His mother had come back, after all. Sam's death had not been in vain.

But where was Dean?

As soon as the thought had passed through him, the images shifted, scuttling across the sleek marble like a frightened fish until Dean was standing in a park. The sky was beginning to lighten in the distance as the sun slowly rose, sending faint shades of pink and orange across the world. There was a paranormal scanning device in Dean's hand, and his brow was scrunched in frustration. Without thinking, Sam jerked forward through the door with a cry. "Dean!"

There was a crackle in Dean's headphones, and he lifted his head at hearing his brother's voice.

He looked to the rising sun.

"Sam?"