Sam, let's get out of here.
Sam was transfixed by the light coming from the floor emanating from the depths of Hell. He felt his brother gripping his shirt through his jacket. The grip was tight and laced with fear that Dean rarely expressed. Dean began to pull at him to move toward the door and the younger Winchester followed in a daze. Terror gripped his heart as his feet were in motion. The devil was coming to Earth and he and his brother were in the way. Plus there was the fact that he had began the Apocalypse under the influence of Ruby's demon blood. He had betrayed his brother and began the end of the world. How could this get any worse?
Slamming into the splintering wooden door that had closed abruptly in front of them, he was jolted out of his morbid reverie. Dean beat his fists against the door in desperation, but the door wouldn't budge. Then the ringing began. At first it began as a low whine, then it grew in intensity to a roar. Sam clapped his hands over his ears before the screeching became too painful to bear. He began to sink to his knees in both pain from the sound and exhaustion and felt his knees bang against the stone floor. He doubted that he could get up again. He was on the brink of passing out and knew that if he died that day that he would die on that floor like Lilith and Ruby.
His eyes burned, thus making him squeeze them shut. Sam lowered his head to his knees as the ringing reached the peak of it's intensity. Then it felt like his body was electrified. Every cell in his body rose an inch from a shock and Sam jumped in startlement. Then he realized the ringing had stopped. He opened his eyes tentatively, relieved that they weren't burning anymore. He discovered that he was in his cell in the unnamed facility just how he had been.
Staring at the white walls all around him, Sam felt his heart thump in his chest from the terror that had grasped him tight. He lifted his head and further became aware that he was on the cold tile floor of the cell. How had he gotten there? Maybe he had been acting out the dream. . .rather, the memory.
Before he could think over what had transpired, he heard footfalls in the corridor heading toward his cell. He was the only one in that cellblock, so they had to be coming for him.
"Sam Winchester?" came an eerily familiar voice, one that made a chill run down his spine. Sam recognized the voice, but knew that hearing it again would be quite impossible. Even for him.
"Yeah?" his voice was shaky as he picked himself off of the floor, "Who is that? What do you want?" the harsh rawness gave an edge to his voice that indeed made him sound like a madman. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins at the same pace as the demon blood had.
"I'm Doctor Ramsey and I'm just here to speak with you."
"Whenever somebody here says they want to just talk to me, they're really here to psychoanalyze me," Sam replied when the door opened. Then his eyes widened at the man at the door. His heart stopped beating for a moment before restarting at a breakneck velocity. No, not him. Anybody but him.
"I'm not here to psychoanalyze you, Sam," Ramsey answered with an amused chuckle.
"You don't have to, I guess," Sam's breath came out choppy and his voice was shaky, "You're an Angel."
"I'm a what? Are you alright, Sam?" asked Ramsey with concern as he approached. Sam merely stared at him instead of responding. He studied Ramsey's face with a mix of horror and astonishment. How could somebody be dead, annihilated from all existence, be alive and standing in front of him? How could Uriel the Angel be there in front of him, posing as a doctor, and not be dead?