The Man Who Lost His Soul

Chapter II - Sam Winchester, after.

Initial notes: Hi hi Hunters!

I would like to remind you again that the soulless Sam in my fanfic is different from the one in the series, and this chapter explores this issue well!

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains strong scenes involving torture and allusions to horror elements.

Listen to this song, your immersion will be greater during the chapter:

— Dirty elegance - Washing away the dirty.

You can't pass by here without suffering the heat of the fire (...)

You who enter, abandon all hope (...)

Love moves me: Only for it I speak (...)

You thirsted for blood, and I fill you with blood (...) — Dante Alighieri.

Sam Winchester's point of view.

Cemetery, Detroit – Late 2005.

— Before —

I look at Dean one last time. The excess of demon blood in my veins makes my whole-body throb, and I'm in control of myself for just a few seconds. Lucifer is screaming to get out.

With shaking hands, I grab Miguel by the collar. He's using the body of our half-brother, Adam, and in just one sudden movement, I'm pulling him toward the cliff. Few seconds pass before I feel my death.

Quick images dance across my retina one last time. My father's face, my mother's face, whom I only knew through photographs and the pain of her absence, Bobby's face, Dean's face...

And Hazel's face. I think about her eyes, her mouth, her voice, her smell, her taste... I reassemble all of this in a stained glass window in the back of my memory, like a souvenir that I'm taking from this life. It is thinking of her that I take my last breath, heading towards Lucifer's cage.

Hell - Sam Winchester's point of view, the soul.

Hell is full of memories. I'm stuck in one right now.

Azazel is standing next to a crib. With his own fingernail, he makes a cut on his wrist. Crimson drops fall straight into the mouth of the helpless baby destined for hell.

Me. It's me.

I take a step forward and stand side by side with the yellow-eyed demon. I observe his gaze, but I am a mere spectator. He doesn't see me here. Mary Winchester enters the room, and her scream fills the walls. She recognizes him.

She knew.

I try to look away from what comes next, but I can't. The fire shines too brightly, too hot for me not to witness the tragedy. My mother is dragged to the ceiling, her bones broken and her eyes crying out for help. The reflection of her iris is the baby, who cries without knowing that his life has changed forever.

This is the thousandth time I've seen this scene again. In hell, time passes in ways I still don't understand. In hell, I am a tourist of myself. I turn my face away, exhausted from witnessing memories corroded by pain.

—You became a burden at that moment...- Lucifer smiles at me, pulling my face, forcing me to watch the scene unfolding with full attention. My eyes follow Dean Winchester, just four years old, as he runs with the baby in his arms. John Winchester screams for him to escape the fire. Lucifer clears his throat and leans on my shoulder - Dean was never a kid because of you. Your father was bitter because of you. Your mother died because of you.