The Cycle:

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This fic is from Sam's perspective.

First fic on .

You don't expect obscure relevations to fall out of the night sky when you try to close your eyes, even out your breathing and concentrate on lulling yourself to sleep, all with a fantastic defeat of said aim. The night somehow lures you to total alertness, every sound magnified in its intensity, every colour dimmed in the pale moonlight, yet laying bare its secrets to the naked eye. Every drop of moonlight is radiant and beautiful, every nuance and breeze making your skin tingle and your eyes water.

Nothing in that beauty reflects in yourself, though. The more you think about it, the more you despice yourself. You are a monstrosity in this world of beauty, a revulsion of nature. Fear and anxiety breeds in your stomach, roiling in a dark spiral till you are ready to expel the meagre contents of the dinner you forced down your throat. The rustling of the leaves outside the window merely serves to increase your fear, the sights and sounds they denote not taken into consideration, but the overlying idea of the potential for evil to lurk in the darkness and steal all that is good and worthy in your life.

You never expected to be caught in this moment, in a limbo between fear and faith, deep in the dead of the night. Dreams and aspirations were part of your younger self, when you knew no better and the world was a waterfall, where you could bathe in the pleasure and glow of "normal." Isn't that what you wanted all along? That brief stint with normality has left you scarred for life, left you empty and torn when you knew that it was not where you belonged.

You were not normal.

You shiver at this, a little more light inside you dying. Clap, children of the world, clap in your dreams if you believe in fairies.

You wonder when you lost the innocence of youth and the exhuberance of humanity. You know when you lost it abruptly, when the love you treasured was swallowed by the flames, leaving only ashes of what you called your dream. It turned out to be more than a dream after all. A nightmare.

But your walk down this path has also been slow and sure. Every single hunt, every stab of the sharp blade of your favorite knife, every time you pulled the trigger of your gun, every time you stared in a throbbing discomfort at the pale yellow walls of sleazy motel rooms, every time you "researched", everytime you breathed.

You've considered stopping it.

Breathing was the problem. You could do without it. The silence that followed its absence generally gave out a leisurely peace that passed all comprehension.

You couldn't do it. Not with the living breathing soul on the other bed in the motel room.

The gentle snores gently pull you back from your thoughts, and your lips quirk up at the ends in a bitter smile. This person who gave you everything, loved you unconditionally, pulled out all stops to ensure you were safe, went the distance. Someone had said that Love would go the distance. You just didn't know that it would make it that far.

You are hanging on to this life by a tenuous piece of thread, and you dread the moment it would break and plunge you into utter darkness. Your very soul depended on this piece of rock, on this fortress.

You have lost everything. Determined not to lose more. So you will water the rock, keep it safe, keep it lovely. You would never allow evil to touch it. You would give your life, your all, to hold on to that thread that kept you sane.

And in time, maybe your soul would blossom out as a flower from that rock. You close your eyes and lock yourself in the cycle all over again.