Angels Or Devils

He's torn between worlds and doesn't know which way it is that he should go.

On his left, it is bright and peaceful. He can feel the utter joy radiating from it. It seeps into his skin and tempts him to follow it, to surrender to it.

He wants to as well – so badly – but at the same time, he thinks he can hear someone calling his name from behind the veil of darkness that is on his right. Maybe the black is an illusion, hiding from him what could be better than what he'd be offered if he chose to go into the light.

He is confused and conflicted by it all and wishes he wasn't alone to work out what to do. He wishes someone were there to guide him along his path.

Sam, he thinks suddenly.

Sam.

He doesn't know where the word comes from, but he knows it means something to him. He fights through the fog hanging over his head and tries to make sense of it.

Sam.

A face enters his minds' eye momentarily. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. A jaw line he longs to run his fingers along and caress.

Sam, he tries again.

This time it fits.

The voice calling his name grows louder and when he glances back in the other direction, the light doesn't look nearly as inviting.

He ponders his situation.

He is stuck in the middle of two very different destinations. There is no one to tell him where to go and what to do and there is no map for him to follow.

He is very alone.

He knows he'll have to choose which way to go, eventually. He can't stay where he is, as comforting as that thought may be. He's certain that after awhile he'll go stir-crazy.

He'll go insane.

The light is getting smaller by the moment.

"Cam?"

Crystal clear, the voice sends a wave of nausea through his body – and something deeper, much more primal that he wants to feel more of.

"Cam?"

Louder.

He forces his eyes open – he realises finally that they were closed the whole time – and blinks in the same angelic face he'd conjured up in his mind mere seconds ago.

"Sam?"

He must have…been injured. Yeah.

Now that he thinks about it, his head is pounding.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He winces.

"You okay?" Sam asks, smoothing his hair back out of his face with a gentle brush of her hand.

He closes his eyes again and tries to decipher whether this is the world he saw that was painted in light or if it was the one coloured black. Is he in the realm of the angels or the devils?

He can't be sure.

He slowly brings himself to look up at Sam and their eyes connect. He can see from her expression that he's not in a good way – close to death, if his pain is any indication.

"Mmmph," he grunts, reaching out to take her hand. He attempts to smile at her, grateful that she is there. "I've never been better."