Crazy Mind -Destiel-

3- Speaking through pain

The light stops its slow melodic humming in exchange for a low almost growling sound. Even the brightness seems to dim and Dean unconsciously steps back. He can't help the anxiety that grows in his chest he doesn't know what this light is, he only has a name from this creature and a request to go searching for something he doesn't have any idea how to find.

Dean to do such a thing it would take a lot of power, more power than I have

At this point, Dean feels the relief that had filled his body melt from inside him and boil into anger. This ball of light that claims to be an angel has asked for Deans help with something that could be damn near impossible and he won't do one thing for him in return?

"What the hell?" He shouts stepping forwards with an accusing tone. "You ask me for help but refuse to give me one thing! If you can heal me then you can heal Sam as well." Dean turns his back on the light, brushing his hand through his hair and resisting the urge to pull it. He spins around on his heels and crosses his arms over his chest. "You will help him! Or-or I'm not helping you."

Dean please

"Don't! I need-" He sighs. "I need Sam to be okay. If you're using your power on me then stop, give it to Sam instead and I'll help you, I-I'll take his place if that's what needs to happen. Please just help me." Dean hates the way his voice breaks but he can't help it and watches in anticipation as the light flickers contemplating what to do. Dean holds his breath waiting for some kind of sign that this being will help him.

I see. This means a lot to you, so I will do as you say but it won't be easy, I'm afraid it will take a lot of energy from the both of us and may be painful for you. Are you still willing to do it?

Dean doesn't hesitate. "Yeah, I'll do it." Dean watches as the ball of light rises towards the ceiling his brain barely processing the movement as his eyes roll into the back of his head to try and follow the light.

He's frozen still, the thought of moving unthinkable. He watches intently as the ball rolls around the ceiling taunting him with it's power before stopping.

Dean's hands spread like pale starfish around the handles of the edge of the table as he stumbles backwards. His body seems to resist the warmth that struggles to seep into it.

He's so cold.

He glances up watching the light go around in circles stealing the heat from inside him until suddenly the ball of light disappears through the ceiling and seemingly out of existence. That's when Dean finally steps forwards, he steps forwards into what can only be an endless abyss as he feels himself falling forever. An almost burning sensation running through his body like ice forcing itself through his veins and freezing his blood to protect him from the burning of his skin.

He tries to scream but the ice is squeezing his lungs and the fire is burning the saliva out of his mouth, the sound coming out much worse than a scream. The cry that tears from his throat has a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knows no end or limit. Then he's quiet, just panting until he's left a shaking mess of agony lying in the fetal position on a dirty hospital floor. The tears pouring from his eyes hydrate him long enough for him to think about how pathetic it is for him to die here, to leave Sam behind for good when Dean was only staying alive to be with him. But the relief from his tears lasts only for a split second before his throat nearly rips itself apart gasping for air and his tears begin to burn like they're being sprayed with dry ice. His eyes freeze over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing him of any warmth he had left.

Until finally a violent tremor shakes his body, forcing him into darkness as his eyes flinch shut out of reflex sucking him into a deeper place inside his mind to cope with the torment.

It's all for Sam,

All for Sam

For Sam

...Sam

...

"Sam! Dean!" Dean bolts forwards gasping at the air and coughing at the rush of oxygen that attacks his lungs. He covers his mouth with his hand barely managing to keep down the bile that threatens to crawl up his throat. He squints, his eyes aching with the effort to keep open. Why's it so bright? Dean reaches around blindly as his eyes adjust to the light. His legs are covered with something warm and soft and the room he's sat in is humid and smells familiar.

"Dean! Breakfast!" Dean jumps, his heart racing as he looks around the room. He's...at home? The pale walls and wooden flooring are instantly recognisable along with the many trophies and medals hanging around the room labelled 'Winchester'. How is he here? Why? Dean rubs his eyes and carefully steps onto the floor ready for the world before him to melt beneath his feet but it doesn't and before he can process his movements he's already in the hallway, the smell of toast and bacon filling the air. He looks around himself in shock.

Everything is the same from the pictures, to the carpet, to the walls and the two circle-shaped dents where the doors used to hit against the walls when they were opened. "Dean! I told y-" Dean flinches and turns around to see his mother standing healthy and alive in front of him. "Mom?" He asks in awe, carefully stepping forwards. Mary smiles. "I know you've just woken up but that face is a little much. You look like you've seen a ghost." She chuckles, walking up to him and tussling his hair. Her hand is warm, soft, real. "Now go downstairs and eat. Sammy has been waiting all morning to talk about his project with you." She kisses Dean's forehead before tucking a stray hair behind her ear and walking out of the room into the bathroom. Dean closes his eyes.

This must be heaven.

The feeling of one of his mom's kisses, her warm personality and soft touch that he's missed so much. He walks towards the stairs, taking one last glance at the bathroom door before walking downstairs.

He slowly walks through to the kitchen his heart beating faster with every step, however, the sight that greets him makes his heart stop. Sam's sat peacefully beside the breakfast counter, his head buried in a book as he rapidly stuffs his face with pieces of toast. Dean smiles, tears threatening to spill as his brother turns to look at him. "Sammy." He whispers. Sam's here, alive and happy, he's himself. "Dean, finally, you took long enough. Look, come here, quick I wanna show you something." Sam jumps down from the stool he was sat on and grabs Dean's hand, pulling him towards the front door. "You're going to like it, it's what we've been talking about for ages now!" Dean feels the tears fall down his cheeks because they're both really here, and the house is full of familiar colours and the smell of mom's cooking. It's everything he's wanted for so long. But as Sam is dragging him impatiently towards the front door and his mom is walking down the stairs he feels it.

The pain.

And suddenly the world isn't so perfect. Blood is covering Dean's hand when Sam lets go of him and the blood won't stop, it's pouring out of Sams' nose, it's falling onto the floor and seeping through his clothes and Sam is just stood there, staring at him, calling his name. "Dean?" Dean refuses to look away, even as his lip trembles and his shoulders heave with emotion, unwilling to back down.

"Dean?"

Dean's dark lashes brim heavy with tears; his hands clench into shaking fists, in a desperate battle against the grief about to spill out of him. He turns around. The sight of his mom is worse than he could've imagined. Her beautiful image is unrecognisable, her jaw crushed and covered in thick red blood, the liquid trickling down her face and coating her eyelashes, dyeing them a dark copper. "Dean? What's wrong?"

A lone tear traces down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates open. He weeps, tears streaming from his bright green eyes, loud, heaving sobs tearing from his throat, and still, he does not look away. Not even when his mom's body distorts in front of him, not even when Sam begins screaming as his body is thrown against the wall and crushed, not when his very bones snap beneath him. Not until the sobs drive him to his knees does his gaze finally fall. He covers his ears with his hands and drops his forehead to the floor trying to hide from their screams.

And just like that the world before him disappears.

...