The title and lyrics are by Within Temptation. I do not own anything from Supernatural or the song. Just borrowing!

Pale

Have to fight

to break free from the thoughts in my mind.

Use the time that I have

I can't say goodbye

Have to make it right.

Within Temptation

So this was death?

Huh.

Never knew it smelled like that. It wasn't really the first time he had died (and it was just plain weird saying it like that), but he didn't remember the smell. Flowers. Too sweet to be nice. Sam blinked uncertainly in the darkness. Something was not right. This didn't feel like dying. It didn't feel like hell either and he was pretty sure that was the place he supposed to be going.

Soft carpet under his bare feet. Music softly playing in the background. The smell of flowers…

What the hell?

Or… not hell.

He jumped when someone struck a match behind him. He turned around, his hands raised in defence.

A woman's face smiled at him through the darkness, a thin candle in her hand.

"Sam Winchester," she said softly. "I was hoping to meet you someday. Just not quite so soon."

She lit another candle with the one she held in her hand.

"Who the hell are you?" said Sam sharply.

She gave him a brief look before lighting another candle.

"Wouldn't a better question be, 'where the hell am I?'"

"Fine, where am I?"

"Patience, Sam. I'm getting there."

She moved gracefully around the room, lighting more candles. The darkness lifted a little with each one. To is surprise he found himself in a small but elegant lounge, with a comfortable looking sofa, fluffy white armchairs and heavy red curtains.

The woman was short, easily more than a foot shorter than he was. She was not all that pretty, but not really ugly either. Her long, blond hair looked gold in the light of the candles. She wore a simple black dress with wide sleeves and high heeled boots that made muffled sounds on the red carpet.

She lit the last candle and turned to him. "Well, well, Sam. Have you made a mess of things this time. With the size of your brain they'll be scraping grey sludge of the walls for a long time."

Sam raised his eyebrows. She looked at him like she expected him to answer, but he had no idea what to say. Instead, he looked around the room. There were curtains, but no windows. There was only one door. There was no lock.

"Don't bother with the door, there's nothing behind it anyway." She smiled sweetly. "Not until you make your choice."

"What choice?" he asked, feeling rather annoyed.

She sat down in one of the armchairs and gracefully crossed her legs. Once again, she didn't answer his question. Sam didn't move, his already strained patience wearing thin. "Look lady, I don't know who you are, but…"
"Take a wild guess," she said cheerfully. "They always say you are the smart one."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "You are…"

"…annoying. Yes, I hear that a lot. Now think."

Realising he was never going to get a clear answer out of her, he forced himself to think. The answer was obvious really. It had already been floating around in his head.

"You're a Reaper," he said after a few seconds.

Her smile widened. "You really are clever! I'm a little higher up the food chain though." She made a vague gesture around the room. "I've goy my own office."

Sam stared at her for a few seconds. She shook her head. "No sense of humour. Pity. Take a seat, I'll explain."

Sam sat down on the very edge of a chair, his eyes still on the Reaper. She smoothed a few wrinkles from her dress. "This place? It's called Limbo. Ring a bell Sammy?"

"Don't call me that," he said automatically, but his stomach clenched. Limbo. The portals to hell. Man he was screwed.

"I'll call you anything I damn well like. You're the one who screwed up. You just lost your ticket to heaven, buddy-boy."

He snorted. "I'm pretty sure I didn't have one of those in the first place."
She shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Fact is, you definitely don't have one now. By lodging a bullet in that pretty head of yours, you won yourself and apointment with me. You did know you go to hell if you kill yourself? The big man upstairs doesn't like people who step out before their time."

"God is gone," said Sam. "We don't know where he is."

"So I heard. It doesn't matter. You won't get to see him, one way or the other."

"I did it to save Dean," said Sam softly. He didn't really know why, but he felt like he needed to defend his actions. "I gave my life to save his, doesn't that count for something?"

She chuckled. "Clever, Sammy. But no unfortunately not. You kill yourself, you go to hell. End of story."

Her smile vanished. "You do know that it was all in your head, right? The ghost made you think you were saving Dean. But you just killed yourself."

Sam froze. "What?"

"Close your mouth, it looks stupid," she said sharply. "It was an illusion. Noting more."

"No," he whispered, to horrified to say anything else. "It can't be,"

"Well, it is what it is," she shrugged. "Too late to do anything about it now."

Sam stared down at his hands. Dean… I left him alone. He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick. God, what have I done?