Title: Voice in the Abyss
Characters: Dean, with a little bit of Sam
POV: Dean
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Notes: Post Devil's Trap
Disclaimer: As much as I hate to admit it, I do not own The Winchesters, although I so dearly wish I did. They are the products of Kripke and his writing team...(sigh) I do, however, own any and all original characters (grins)
Thanks to: Emily (A-blackwinged-bird) for beta-ing this fic! Thank you so much!
Voice In The Abyss
I don't know where I am. It feels like I'm in the middle of a dreamless sleep I can't wake up from. It's something I can't rightfully describe. I feel warm and somehow I know that I am safe. It is a strange feeling – or maybe just something I haven't felt since before my mother was killed. It's kind of weird – for me anyway – to have that sense of safety. I've forgotten what it feels like. I wish I could have that feeling every day.
I'm standing – I think – in the middle of what looks and feels like a black, endless void. It's not completely black though. At one end, a warm, comforting white light shines from seemingly nowhere. I can't help but stare at it. It's calm and inviting; I'm finding myself drawn to it. I want to know where it's coming from and what it leads to. I'm not usually one to let my curiosity get the best of me, but I want so badly to find out where that light goes. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? I'd get there and find out it's not the place for me? Or maybe I won't want to leave?
It's more than just curiosity that's drawing me to this angelically white light. I almost feel as though something or someone is pulling me, silently urging me to step forward. What is it exactly, that's drawing me, urging me? Comfort? Safety? Maybe it's the knowledge that if I take that step, everything will be over; my war will be finished. God, that sounds so inviting. I think I could make that adjustment–
"Dean…"
Where is it coming from?
"It's me…"
It's coming from behind me. But who? Who's me?
"It's Sam…"
I whirl around on my heels. Sam? Where are you? Are you okay?
"I don't know if you can hear me…"
Yes, I can hear you. But you're so far away. Where are you?
"…but I'm here." You laugh. "Dad's here too."
Dad's with you? Dad hasn't left yet? What's going on? Where am I? Where are you and Dad? It sounds like you're coming from–
"Well, Dad's getting something to eat right now, but… We uh… We want you to wake up; we need you to wake up."
You're coming from the darkness; from the void I can't see into. Your voice echoes off of the walls of the abyss.
"We can't finish this hunt without you."
You need me. You and Dad need me. But how can I find you if I can't see where I'm going?
"So, uh. You need to… God, this is hard… You need to come back, Dean."
Was I heading for the light? Are you telling me I have to go back through that abyss? But… I don't know where I'm going if I go back… And the light… it's… indescribable really. I want to know what it offers… no… I know what it offers. The void in front of me. What does that offer?
I hear something. A strange sound come from you. There it is again. A hitch in your throat, a harsh intake of breath through your nose… You're crying. Because of me? Because of what happened to me? Because of where I am?
"Dad and I need you… I need you."
You need me. You need me. You've always needed me, and I've always been there; I've never left you.
And I never will…
Okay, Sam. I'm coming. It might take me a while, but I'll get there. Just don't stop talking.
I guess this is what he feels like to be blind. Except, here, the only sense I have to rely on is hearing. I can't taste anything, smell anything, touch… and now that I've started my journey, I can't see anything.
You laugh again.
"I don't know what else to say…"
I don't care what you say, just keep talking! I need to hear you; it's the only way I'll make it back.
I'm running now, though my strides are cautious. I shiver slightly. The light is getting farther and farther away; the warmth of it is fading. But I don't care. You know me being that whole bust-in-with-both-guns-blazing type of hero. But am I the hero now? Or has that title been passed over to you? After all, you are the one guiding me; saving me. Of course, I have to journey through an endless void, but that's just a small price to pay to survive, right?
You've stopped talking. No… Sam? Sam! Say something… talk to me. Even if it's just my name, or some shit about the weather or some other Spirit that needs taking care of… Anything! Sam!
"I was surfing the internet the other night…"
Thank you! Keep going, keep talking.
"…and I found something you might like to get rid of when you get out of here."
If it's a mean, blood-thirsty Poltergeist, hell yeah! I'd be more than happy to get rid of it. Just tell me where to shoot!
"It's not much, but hey, we're used to not much."
That much is true.
You keep talking about that Poltergeist – along with some other Supernatural bastards – and I keep trudging on. I'm exhausted, but I can't afford to stop now… The end is near; I can feel it.
I can feel you now. You're no longer echoes in the abyss; your voice is steady, louder, closer…
You're above me now… no… beside me, and I imagine you've got that laptop on your knees – you never go anywhere without that thing.
"…Actually, this one isn't far from here…"
I can feel my eyelids twitching; my eyelashes are fused together. My index finger jumps, then my middle and ring fingers join it.
"…Maybe we can take that one out first when you get out of here…"
My eyelashes finally come unglued, and despite the weight laden heavy upon them, my lids lift, and my eyes crack open. I'm nearly blinded by white light… this white light is different. It's more welcoming… happier than the one in that void.
I close my eyes again, but manage to open my mouth.
"Maybe we can." My voice is raspy and my throat feels like the Mojave Desert.
With all the strength my eyes can muster, they open, and find you. You're a little blurry, but I can make out that light brown jacket, your unruly mop of hair. More than that, though, I make out the light in your eyes and the astonished smile on your face.
"Dean?" you stutter. "You're… you're awake."
I would come back with sarcasm, but I'm just as astonished as you are. No… maybe astonished isn't the right word. Happy? Proud? Relieved? Ah, there's the right word: Relieved.
I nod slightly, and wait for you to come into focus. Small bags underlay your eyes; you look like you haven't slept in a year. Well, you haven't, but that's besides the point.
"What have you been doing, Sammy? You look worse than I do."
You laugh. God I love hearing that sound from you. Maybe that's more relieving than just being awake.
"Yeah, well, I've been here every day for the past four weeks."
Four weeks? Is that how long I've been separated from you? Holy shit.
I look up at the ceiling. I want to tell you everything that happened in that abyss, but will you believe me?
Maybe it's something I should just keep to myself. You've always been the reluctant, unsung hero, and that's the way I'd like to keep you.
Sam Winchester: Reluctant, unsung hero. My voice in the abyss.