The Strange Man

Slowly my eyes fluttered open to a new world of sensations that I had never discovered before. There was something different, and I could not quite place my foot on it.

I flicked my eyes open to glance up to see the creme colored popcorn ceiling. Such an odd ceiling and it looked like it could be retouched. There were mold stains and cracks littering the ceiling.

I glanced about the room to see a large metal pole. On top of this metal, the pole was a glass flame. I stared at it hard as I tried to think of what it was called. It was called a lightbulb, and it was a part of a lamp.

The room was lit by a large metal pole with a glass flame. The world lightbulb came to mind. It was a lamp with a yellow-tinged shade covering the light bulb.

I looked about to notice red walls. On the walls were diagrams and picture frames. Various people were there, and I noticed a common appearance. Two boys with brown hair next to an older looking man.

There was a fireplace not too far from me. There was a fire going on it. Red and yellow flames licked the wood making it crack loudly. I jumped slightly at the sound, but then I relaxed. I relished in the warmth that the fireplace gave off.

There was a desk in front of that, but there was nothing else in the room. Stacks of books, papers, beer bottles, and coffee mugs. Where ever I was there was some serious cleaning needed to be done here.

My eyes closed briefly for a moment before they opened again on the face of two men looking at me. One was an older man, and the other was a tall youthful man. Both had the same weary faces peering at me.

They took a step back as I sat up from the comfy thing I sat upon. Cushions and pillows. The word came to mind, and it was a couch. This was a couch I was now sitting on. It was an old and creaky couch, but it was comfy.

"Hey, it is okay," the younger man stated.

I looked at him wide-eyed in fear, and I pulled myself back into the couch. My body sunk into the uncomfortable springs of the couch. I did not mind the uncomfortable position.

"My name is Sam Winchester," he calmly stated.

I tiled my head to the right as I looked at him. Soft gentle eyes that showed compassion. He cared for me in some way. I slowly pulled myself away from the couch to near him.

Sam asked, "Can you tell me your name?"

I tried to remember my name, but I could not find it. My mind was a foggy field with shapes of a monster lurking around it. What was my name? What is a name? It has to be something I know, but I had no idea what it is.

The older man cleared his throat, "Sam, I think she hit her head a little too hard."

My head? My head was the location of my mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. It housed my brain in a thick case of bone called my skull. Where did that information come from? My brain which was suspended in a water-like substance. I was smart, but my brain was failing to tell me something. What was it? Who am I? Where was I? How did it happen? Why did it happen? My brain throbbed slightly as I gained a headache.

Sam began to ask, "Do you know anything?"

Jolts of pain shook my body so I curled into a ball on the couch. This pain took over my whole body. Snapping sounds in my head, but it was silent. A scream erupted in my head, but they could not hear that scream. This scream was internal, and I endured it like a distant memory. Voices echoed in my head, and I covered my ears.

The fluttering of wings and screams. A girl crying as she was pushed from a high place. The sound of wind chimes and the scent of champagne. The collision of distant memories in my mind.

"Who are you," Sam asked.

"I am-"

I listened to a distant voice whispering to me. A voice that I had heard before, but I could not place the voice to a name or face.

"-I am Phoebe."

That was a name, and it was a very pretty name. It was a name that brought a smile to my mind. Who named me Phoebe. Perhaps my parents named me Phoebe. Who were my parents? Where were my parents? Were they here with me in this room? No, I did not have any parents. My parents were out of the picture, and I did not know them. I had a father who I had met once or twice, but I could not recall his face. He and I were close in heart, but not close in any sense of normal parenting.

The old man asked, "What happened to you?"

"I-I was... I was falling," I trailed off.

Sam looked at me with a raised brow, "Where did you fall from?"

"The sky."

I motioned with my hands form the sky to the ground and moved my hands to represent a crash. The men tried to understand me, but I did not even understand me. What was the point?

"I was clinging onto something, but it fell off."

"Were you skydiving?"

I heard the voice of a woman, "Tell them you were skydiving and lost your parachute."

I knew the voice of the woman, but I did not know who she was. She was me I think, but I had no idea. We both had similar voices, but I do not think we were the same person. She sounded much stronger than I was. we together were Phoebe, but I had no idea where she was. We were a part of a whole, but I did not know what that whole was. She had all the information, but she was not here with me.

"I was skydiving I think." I looked about the room. "I lost my parachute when I was falling."

Sam examined my eyes with a light, and I looked away as the light I found was too bright. Why was he shining a bright light in my face? Oh, he was examining to see if I had a head injury. I do not think I have a head injury. Just a few broken bones of sorts. I sat up from the couch to look about the room once more.

Sam sighed, "You took a pretty hard hit."

"I did, but I am alive."

The ringing in my head got louder as I sat there. Voices of hundreds of people echoing about my head. Different voices that I could not quite place. Men and women, children and elders. They all were talking about various things.

I stood up from the couch to walk about the room. A picture of the older man was on the desk. There were pictures of Sam here and there too.

There were books about monsters. Some about angels and demons too. Various books about spells and rituals. It was horrific what some of these books informed.

My eyes crossed the page of a book that I knew how to read. it was in a different language. What was it? Enochian. The language of the angels and it was often confusing.

That was how the voices spoke in my head, but I was translating them fast into the language in which I currently spoke and think. I think it is called English, and it is a complex and confusing language.

The page, however, was a bunch of nonsense stories written by the scribe of God. Who was Metatron, and I had met him once. Not a nice angel, but he was an angel.

I turned my head as I heard another voice. It was the voice of a man, "A good man has killed a man in Hell."

I turned my head the other way as I heard another voice. This time it was a woman, "Lilith has broken some of the 66 seals to the cage in Hell."

I sighed, "I need to leave to go and find something."

"What do you need to find?"

I panicked, "Grace."

"Who is Grace?"

"Fallen from the sky with me. I need to go back."

I was walking about the room when Sam put his strong hands on my shoulders. His warm chocolate eyes melted into my brown ones. There he made a face that I couldn't quite place. A face of worry looked upon me. He had no reason to worry.

Sam shook his head, "You crashed in the field behind Bobby's house."

"Who is Bobby," I asked

The old man spoke, "I am Bobby."

I looked at the old man to briefly smile before turning back to look out at the door to exit. Choices swarm around my head. Should I run out that door, and not come back? Could these men help me find what I need? I felt unsafe here, but at the same time, I felt safe.

I looked back into Sam's concerned eyes. I felt the overwhelming compulsion to touch his nose with my finger. I fell into such a compulsion.

"Boop," I giggled.

Sam blinked a few times as he gave me a look. A smile appeared as he shook his head at me. I smiled as I giggled at him and his facial expression. Sam shook his head as he too laughed along with me.

"Do you know where you are?"

His question confused me a little. How was I supposed to know where I was? Why did I not know? My brain was swarming with thoughts and questions. There were answers there, but they were out of my reach. Like the cookie jar on the top shelf in the kitchen. I was too short to reach it, but Sam probably could with no issue.

Great. Now I was hungry for cookies. What were cookies again? Oh, right. A delicious irresistible mess with gooey rich chocolate pieces. I could have one if I was a little bit taller. Maybe Sam would let me have one if I asked.

"I am here in a house," I drew out every word.

Sam rose a brow, "City or state?"

"No," I sighed. "I know I have got to be somewhere on Earth."

Sam looked away from me to Bobby who shook his head. He turned his soft gaze back to me. I looked down at the floor in shame. My head was not being clear to me. I felt a new emotion take over me.

"Hey-hey-hey do not cry it is going to be okay. Bobby and I are going to take care of you. Phoebe it is going to be alright."

"I am sorry I do not know what I am supposed to. I know I know it. I can not get to it."

"I know, but when you come through we will be here for you."

I sniffled, "Really?"

Sam smiled, "I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

Sam laughed, "Pinkie promise."

Sam continued to laugh at me. I glared up at him wondering why he was laughing at me. Had I said something out of place? Was there a social cue that I missed? Was I not supposed to say that? He stopped laughing when he stared into my eyes. I looked up with a look of concern to him.

I pouted, "What?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing, Phoebe."

I hummed as he pulled me into a close hug. He smelled nice like forests. He smelled like a perfect fire of cedar wood. Sam smelled of rich cinnamon apple cologne. The embrace was nice as he placed his chin on my head. I did not want to leave this hug or move away from him.

"Dean Winchester is saved," a voice rang clear as a bell.