Fic: Lonely Soul
Title: Lonely Soul
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x22
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: Dean Winchester is stuck in Purgatory, alone, but an old acquaintance has a message for him.
“Cas I think we better g-... Cas?”
Dean turned on the spot, eyes scanning the now-vacant clearing. He released a shuddering breath, feeling suddenly exposed. He was alone.
Growls, panting breaths, circled him. Flickers of shadow, somehow visible in the darkness, dashed in and out of his vision. Dean clenched his fists, trying to keep utterly still. His own breathing shallow and strained, fighting to pull air from the darkness, but it fought him. This darkness wasn’t empty - didn’t represent absence. It was oppressive, solid, and it pushed in on him. It surrounded him and pressed out the oxygen so that he felt short of breath without any exertion. Dean looked up through splintered branches, but it was black. No moon or stars. Nothing to give light. Nothing but red pinpricks all around, coupled together, never blinking.
Dean tightened a hand on his hip. No pistol. Not only was he alone, he was unarmed.
“C... Cas,” he chanced a call, hoping the only thing it would attract was his friend back to his side. He paused, hoping for the familiar rustle of feathers, the gust of invisible wings, but none came. His angel was not coming back.
Dean swallowed; he knew he had to make a move With eyes on him, he would surely be followed, but it did not good standing still. In two years Dean still hadn’t learnt a lot about Purgatory, but he knew everything here was a predator, and he wasn’t going to be easy prey.
Planting one step forward, leaves crushed beneath his foot. Did those red eyes swell, or was that just his fear? Another step, another crunch. Everything was dead here. Was he?
He had not yet considered the thought. Dean’s heart pounded in response, and he felt that was a good sign. As real as his agony had been in Hell, he remembered that he’d had no heart.
His eyes slipped closed, and the darkness was no more dense, but the glaring eyes disappeared. His inhalation made no sound, he counted in his head. One, two... three.
And he ran. Branches cut across his face but he kept going. He could barely see a thing, yet suddenly he could hear everything. The whole world roared, howled, crashed around him, from which direction or every direction he did not know. Dean ran with his eyes closed, hoping he would run himself right out.
Dean had felt the distortion of time before. He had felt every minute of his time in Hell, and every minute since. He could feel the pace of a single second, a real second, and he could feel when it was wrong.
Here, Dean could not tell time.
He didn’t know how long he ran. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, he imagined his body would’ve burned just the same. He wondered if Purgatory had time at all. It felt like running through water, wading through the darkness as it tried to hold him back. He pushed out of its grasp, but it was everywhere. Eventually Dean could run no more, and with his hands against his thighs he gasped desperately for extra air he could not reach. Every lungful was the same, no matter how hard his heaved. He sank to his knees, tipping his face to the abyss above, and he felt something creep into his heart that he had not felt in forty years.
“Sam!”
He called out, hoping desperately that his brother would hear, that he would help. He called despite the eyes that spied and the friend that did not return. Dean cried out for his brother, because it was the only thing he knew to do.
Time passed, immeasurable, and Dean rested on his knees, feelings of foolishness filling the silence his voice had left behind. Sam had not heard him last time, and he would not hear him now. Dean was, once again, completely alone.
Another glance at the red spots puncturing the darkness reminded Dean that perhaps he was not as alone as he felt. Under the sound of his pounding heart, he could hear the low hisses that slid towards his ears. The ongoing soundtrack of this place. The sounds of creatures that lived in shadows. That hid. The kinds of creatures that Sam, as a child, would fear whenever he looked over the edge of his bed.
“Come on!” Dean yelled, suddenly impatient with their subtlety. If he was left alone to die, he didn’t want to be kept waiting, to be driven mad with anxiety, with endless, empty thoughts of hope. “I’m right here!”
He opened his arms wide, beckoning the shadows, but they didn’t move. Not yet. These were the monsters that had been left behind. The ones that had not escaped through Cas. These were the monsters that had waited. And if they had been waiting for so long, they could afford to make Dean wait as well.
I don’t suppose you can die in Purgatory, Dean thought. There was no Alistair here. No one to put all his pieces back together again. But perhaps no one was needed. Perhaps you were never truly in pieces. Forever prey, forever able to endure.
There was a rustle from behind and Dean spun around onto his feet. He hoped for Cas, but he didn’t expect him.
“... Lenor?”
“So it’s true.”
She looked just as she had last time they’d met. Short hair, darkly-circled eyes. Her fangs were hidden away, although scarlet stains covered her clothes. Some of the tension left his shoulders.
“You’re here?”
“Well of course. Where else is a girl to go when she dies. A girl like me.” Her lips maintained their playful curl, a lift they had always had, even in sadness. “But you. I heard you were here; didn’t believe it til now.”
“How... how’d you know?”
“I can smell every kind of soul in this place. When one as pure as yours appears, you don’t miss it.”
“News travels fast here, huh?”
“News like this, you bet. Is Sam here?”
Dean’s heart clenched. He shook his head. Lenor lifted her nose, brow furrowed.
“There’s someone else.”
“Cas.” If she smelt him, he was still alive. A spark of relief, quickly followed by a spark of betrayal.
“Castiel, I remember him. Killed me.”
“You asked for it.” Dean instinctively stepped back, ready to move onto the defensive.
“Yes I did.” Her voice, always so full of reason, of sense, suddenly tasted bitter. Her eyes locked with Dean’s and she moved towards him. “Dean, listen. I didn’t find you so we could buddy up. Every man for himself in here is the only way to survive. But I came to warn you. Your name’s already spread around, and I think we can both agree I’m probably not the only creature that’s here because of you.”
This was something Dean had not yet had time to consider. When monsters died their souls came here.
Dean had killed a lot of monsters.
“Listen to me. This place. You of all people need to watch out here. I'll bet revenge is high on a lot of to-do lists around here, and now they have you.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“ Be careful, Dean.”
“How?” he asked, half-yelling. “How am I supposed to-”
A growl rose behind him and Dean swung around, ready to fight. But there were only eyes, and when Dean turned back, Lenor was gone.
“Great,” he murmured, spinning on the spot. “Cas, where are you?”
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x22
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: Dean Winchester is stuck in Purgatory, alone, but an old acquaintance has a message for him.
“Cas I think we better g-... Cas?”
Dean turned on the spot, eyes scanning the now-vacant clearing. He released a shuddering breath, feeling suddenly exposed. He was alone.
Growls, panting breaths, circled him. Flickers of shadow, somehow visible in the darkness, dashed in and out of his vision. Dean clenched his fists, trying to keep utterly still. His own breathing shallow and strained, fighting to pull air from the darkness, but it fought him. This darkness wasn’t empty - didn’t represent absence. It was oppressive, solid, and it pushed in on him. It surrounded him and pressed out the oxygen so that he felt short of breath without any exertion. Dean looked up through splintered branches, but it was black. No moon or stars. Nothing to give light. Nothing but red pinpricks all around, coupled together, never blinking.
Dean tightened a hand on his hip. No pistol. Not only was he alone, he was unarmed.
“C... Cas,” he chanced a call, hoping the only thing it would attract was his friend back to his side. He paused, hoping for the familiar rustle of feathers, the gust of invisible wings, but none came. His angel was not coming back.
Dean swallowed; he knew he had to make a move With eyes on him, he would surely be followed, but it did not good standing still. In two years Dean still hadn’t learnt a lot about Purgatory, but he knew everything here was a predator, and he wasn’t going to be easy prey.
Planting one step forward, leaves crushed beneath his foot. Did those red eyes swell, or was that just his fear? Another step, another crunch. Everything was dead here. Was he?
He had not yet considered the thought. Dean’s heart pounded in response, and he felt that was a good sign. As real as his agony had been in Hell, he remembered that he’d had no heart.
His eyes slipped closed, and the darkness was no more dense, but the glaring eyes disappeared. His inhalation made no sound, he counted in his head. One, two... three.
And he ran. Branches cut across his face but he kept going. He could barely see a thing, yet suddenly he could hear everything. The whole world roared, howled, crashed around him, from which direction or every direction he did not know. Dean ran with his eyes closed, hoping he would run himself right out.
Dean had felt the distortion of time before. He had felt every minute of his time in Hell, and every minute since. He could feel the pace of a single second, a real second, and he could feel when it was wrong.
Here, Dean could not tell time.
He didn’t know how long he ran. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, he imagined his body would’ve burned just the same. He wondered if Purgatory had time at all. It felt like running through water, wading through the darkness as it tried to hold him back. He pushed out of its grasp, but it was everywhere. Eventually Dean could run no more, and with his hands against his thighs he gasped desperately for extra air he could not reach. Every lungful was the same, no matter how hard his heaved. He sank to his knees, tipping his face to the abyss above, and he felt something creep into his heart that he had not felt in forty years.
“Sam!”
He called out, hoping desperately that his brother would hear, that he would help. He called despite the eyes that spied and the friend that did not return. Dean cried out for his brother, because it was the only thing he knew to do.
Time passed, immeasurable, and Dean rested on his knees, feelings of foolishness filling the silence his voice had left behind. Sam had not heard him last time, and he would not hear him now. Dean was, once again, completely alone.
Another glance at the red spots puncturing the darkness reminded Dean that perhaps he was not as alone as he felt. Under the sound of his pounding heart, he could hear the low hisses that slid towards his ears. The ongoing soundtrack of this place. The sounds of creatures that lived in shadows. That hid. The kinds of creatures that Sam, as a child, would fear whenever he looked over the edge of his bed.
“Come on!” Dean yelled, suddenly impatient with their subtlety. If he was left alone to die, he didn’t want to be kept waiting, to be driven mad with anxiety, with endless, empty thoughts of hope. “I’m right here!”
He opened his arms wide, beckoning the shadows, but they didn’t move. Not yet. These were the monsters that had been left behind. The ones that had not escaped through Cas. These were the monsters that had waited. And if they had been waiting for so long, they could afford to make Dean wait as well.
I don’t suppose you can die in Purgatory, Dean thought. There was no Alistair here. No one to put all his pieces back together again. But perhaps no one was needed. Perhaps you were never truly in pieces. Forever prey, forever able to endure.
There was a rustle from behind and Dean spun around onto his feet. He hoped for Cas, but he didn’t expect him.
“... Lenor?”
“So it’s true.”
She looked just as she had last time they’d met. Short hair, darkly-circled eyes. Her fangs were hidden away, although scarlet stains covered her clothes. Some of the tension left his shoulders.
“You’re here?”
“Well of course. Where else is a girl to go when she dies. A girl like me.” Her lips maintained their playful curl, a lift they had always had, even in sadness. “But you. I heard you were here; didn’t believe it til now.”
“How... how’d you know?”
“I can smell every kind of soul in this place. When one as pure as yours appears, you don’t miss it.”
“News travels fast here, huh?”
“News like this, you bet. Is Sam here?”
Dean’s heart clenched. He shook his head. Lenor lifted her nose, brow furrowed.
“There’s someone else.”
“Cas.” If she smelt him, he was still alive. A spark of relief, quickly followed by a spark of betrayal.
“Castiel, I remember him. Killed me.”
“You asked for it.” Dean instinctively stepped back, ready to move onto the defensive.
“Yes I did.” Her voice, always so full of reason, of sense, suddenly tasted bitter. Her eyes locked with Dean’s and she moved towards him. “Dean, listen. I didn’t find you so we could buddy up. Every man for himself in here is the only way to survive. But I came to warn you. Your name’s already spread around, and I think we can both agree I’m probably not the only creature that’s here because of you.”
This was something Dean had not yet had time to consider. When monsters died their souls came here.
Dean had killed a lot of monsters.
“Listen to me. This place. You of all people need to watch out here. I'll bet revenge is high on a lot of to-do lists around here, and now they have you.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“ Be careful, Dean.”
“How?” he asked, half-yelling. “How am I supposed to-”
A growl rose behind him and Dean swung around, ready to fight. But there were only eyes, and when Dean turned back, Lenor was gone.
“Great,” he murmured, spinning on the spot. “Cas, where are you?”