Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them.

Overall Warnings: Rated T for swearing and some gore.

No pairings at this time.

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I finished my other fic that kept taking my attention away from this one. When I went back to try to finish this one, I found a lot of mistakes so I am going to repost the corrected chapters and probably revamp some of it now that I know where I'm headed, sort of. Hopefully, there will not be as many mistakes this time.

If you have already read this story, we left off on Ch. 18 – Zachariah.

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"When you stare into the abyss, sometimes the abyss stares back."

- The Order (movie)

Prologue: The Abyss

"What the hell did you do to me?" Dean snarled hoarsely, fighting his primordial urges to rip the man in front of him into shreds. The urge to rip through the flesh and bones until there was nothing left. Nothing left of his enemy but an oozing pile of organs.

He had glanced into the standard rectangular mirror originally to remind himself that he was human. That humans didn't do that sort of things to other humans, no matter the circumstances. Instead, he found himself staring at an unrecognizable face glaring back at him. It froze him to the spot.

It was the thing's eyes, mainly, supposedly his eyes. But they were not his, not anymore. The twin emerald rimmed black holes stared back at him hauntingly, reminding him all the horror he'd seen, endured, over the past year. Or was it years? He honestly had no clue anymore. In fact, time had ceased to exist for him.

Staring into those twin black orbs, he felt himself being sucked into the dark abyss of his eyes, the reflection of his soul. What was it they said about black holes? That even time couldn't escape them. That's why time no longer matter here, here in the Pit, in the Abyssal depths of his soul.

He flinched at the strange welcoming warmth that filled his body at the sight of the darkness engulfing his soul. Simultaneously, what was left of his human heart iced over at the knowledge that the abyss had him now. He had stared into those depths one too many times to ever escape again. This knowledge, combined with the dueling temporal sensation freaked him out more than anything that had been done to him in this Pit of Despair.

Immediately next to the walled mirror that held Dean fixated, the little bug eyed scientist tried to wiggle out of his lab coat and off of the wall that he'd been slammed against. His intent was not to sound the alarm, however, because the alarm had been blaring very loudly for the past five minutes. No, this particular scientist only wanted to escape this newest creation.

The current alarm indicated that the numerous inmates of this compound were taking over and all he wanted to do was escape before he was contaminated, killed, or worse. Yes, there were worse, much worse, things than death in this compound. The disturbed experiment in front of him that had him pinned to the wall was a prime example of something that most of the monsters here had nightmares about.

Unfortunately, he couldn't wiggle free, no matter how hard he tried, and, worse than that, his futile struggles angered the creature in front of him. He knew that when he felt the razor sharp claws pierce his skin where human hands used to be and watched helplessly as the face in front of him started to pulse, bulge and contort in a disturbingly hypnotic fashion. Absolute, debilitating horror did not even beginning to describe what he was feeling while he heard bones cracking and the low rumbling growl increase in volume while the specimen before him shifted into . . . not human! His mind screamed in deep seated terror.

"Nothing," he gasped quickly as the last question popped to the forefront of his brain. He prayed that the honest answer would reward him with a free pass, an escape, but he had to hurry. There wasn't much time, if any, before the creature transformed completely. "We, we f-f-fixed you . . . with, with the anti-serum. You're . . . "

"Cured? Do I look fixed to you?" Dean rasped out irately, fighting against his altering vocal cords.

"I, I don't understand. The werewolf serum has worked before. It's worked before, several times. You, you said that you h-h-hadn't k-k-killed, that you hadn't f-f-fed," he stuttered and rambled quickly as he could with increasing panic while the thing before him continued to turn less human by the second.

"I wasn't a werewolf, you bumbling jackass," Dean growled low in his throat, having to force the words out as his throat continued to change with the rest of him. He closed the space between him and the trembling coward before him, taking up all the room between the two.

"B-but . . . "

"I was cursed, asshat. All I needed was a counter curse, you freakin' moron. That's all. I told you all that! Repeatedly," Dean hissed menacingly, losing volume, as his voice crack more under the mounting stress of his changing body. "Now, fix this before I tear you a new one! Fix it, and whatever the hell else you've done to me while I've been here or, so help me God, I will kill you, you Frankenstein wannabee."

Bug-eyed man gulped in terror as he stared fearfully into the dark eyed monster solidifying before him. He suggested with nervous hesitation, "A, ah, a were- werewolf bite . . . it m-m-might counter the anti-serum."

It narrowed his eyes appraisingly at the insignificant man. It could smell the intense fear and uncertainty which was confirmed in the puny man's eyes. It could still think clinically and easily figured out the rest. It concluded aloud harshly, "Or it will kill me. Or turn me into one. Or turn me into something else entirely. Probably something worse. Do you even know what I am anymore?"

It scoffed cynically with a mocking smirk on its forming jowls, "Some choice you give me. Die, turn or mutate more. Freakin' god wannabees. Death is too easy for any of you now!"

This human's body, Dean's body, belong to it now. They had stolen it from Dean in ways that he would have never believed were possible and now it owned the body. The things that they had done to the human . . . These supposed 'doctors' and all under the premise of 'helping' him. Bullshit, the thing thought with a grim smile.

The freakin' Bill Nyes and Einstiens of the world saw to that over the past however many months. Hard to tell time being locked in a windowless compound all the time without clocks. Not that it mattered anymore, it realized as its vision developed the familiar blood-red tinged view to its new black and white world while the anger built up inside it. It was no longer human, not anymore. It would never be human again, thanks to these other so called "humans".

Not Dean anymore. Never be Dean, ever again. Dean dead, had been dead for a long time now. Was just too stupid to realize it. So stupid. Always so stupid. Stupid human. Held on to hope . . . until it had all been destroyed. Foolish mortal. Only blood now. Only pain now. For all eternity.

So be it, it thought grimly because it had lost the mental capacity for actual speech as well as the will to fighting the rage and instinct anymore. Instead, it embraced its nature, knowing there was no going back after this. Whoever it was, whoever it used to be, was dead now so why not?

The last coherent thought of Dean Winchester registered before his entire world, and being, drown in a blood red tinged ocean was: "They wanted a super soldier. Let's see how they like fighting one."

As the creature's heart rate slowed and the rage slowed decreased, it found itself standing in the middle of a red and white room. It figured that the room was probably mostly white originally, or it used to be. Staring at the mangled, torn apart bodies whose blood and internal organs now decorated the room, the walls, the scattered, destroyed furniture, the creature's clothes, even its body. The strong iron scented blood filled the air to the point that it knew. It knew deep inside its slowing heart. This was the end. There was nothing left now.

The ominous quiet that now settled over the facility shattered at the sudden gunshot which would have startled anyone, or anything, alive that had still been within hearing range. But there was nothing. Nothing living. Only dead. Death was the only thing that roomed these halls anymore. Even the alarm was silent now.

Once again, the abyss had won. It had devoured yet another soul for its starved, darkest depths. Barely sated, it settled back down once again to wait for its next victim.

Dean Winchester's eyes shot wide open as he jerked upright into a sitting position in his bed. Frantic eyes flew over his surroundings searching out any source of danger in the sickenly normal nondescript hotel room that had been the typical temporary lodgings for a majority of his life. The dimly lit room resonated as a norm for him. He could even mentally picture the exact neon sign and lights that beamed in through the threadbare curtains while he calmed his sweating body and rapid breathing down.

For once, he was thankful for the old worn, nondescript items that standardized most cheap hotel room across the US. Now he knew where he was, mostly, so he took control of his breathing. Sweat that had beaded up earlier slowly dried on his worn out body, cooling it off in the process. He closed his eyes mentally thanking the powers that be that it had only been a dream. Unconsciously, he repeated to himself under his breath, "A dream. Just a dream. Just a dream . . ."

As he slowly laid back down, he actually prayed that this time his subconscious would believe him for a change so that the dream, that dream, would never return. Maybe this time he could make himself believe it enough. Maybe this time it would matter, whether he believed it or not.

He really should have known better. His desperate prayers once again went unanswered. He had forgotten the golden rule unfortunately. For the Winchesters, the wrong dreams are the only ones that do come true.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think, constructively.