DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or anything related to it. I wouldn't want to. That's a lot of responsibility. The story idea is of my own creation as are all OCs, but I'm not gonna claim ownership to those, either. Not really an AU: more of an "extended scene". Begins at the end of Season 5 and goes through the end of Season 6. May contain spoilers. Enjoy and don't forget to review!
My lungs fill with water as they gasp for oxygen. But there is none. Only the frigid liquid blackened by the cloudless night sky. My limbs flail, frantic and desperate, my fingers reach for the thick steadfast arms that hold my body in its submerged state. I fail to find a grip around these arms, my mind sending my body incoherent messages that are being translated as panic.
And I do.
I can feel my legs penetrate the waters surface, kicking madly at the cool air as my lungs continue to flood. Panic. Fear. Fatigue?
The darkness surrounds me, slowly at first then rapidly. It seeps across my vision from the outside in until there is no more. My heart gives one last desperate thump as every ounce of heat flees my body, now limp and eerily still.
... this is a terrible way to begin a story. You'll have to excuse me but you've jumped in at quite an awkward time for me to start telling tales, even if they are true. I'm a little preoccupied with drowning at the moment. However, seeing as how the panic has left and the darkness has taken over, I suppose I have a few moments to fill you in.
I would say this story begins one fateful evening a little over a year ago but that would be an inaccurate statement at best. I've met Fate and I can say, first hand, she had nothing to do with it. Where this story begins is around the same time Fate was still reeling from the mockery two powerfully stubborn mortals made of her work. If anything it was random chance that gave Fate a run for her money that evening. The right place at the right time sort of moment. I doubt highly anyone, mortal or otherwise, would select me out of the billions of people on the planet and think "yes, this scum would make the perfect companion and absolute lover".
It starts like this, late one starry evening on the ledge of a tall bridge high above a winding river that cut through rocks and around majestic mountains. If you must know, as I suppose you do to fully grasp why he made himself known to me in the first place, my intentions for sitting upon that ledge were not for the view but rather for a place to end it all. Truth be told, my life was in shambles. I had been to rock bottom and from there I kept going, spiraling down, down, down in a seemingly endless cycle of hopeless addiction and despair. I was twenty six with ten dollars to my name and 98 pounds to my malnourished body. I was hungry but I could not eat, partially due to a lack of funds but mostly I attributed this to the fact I couldn't stop stuffing my nose with uppers by any name. The flesh of my bone thin arms was riddled with scars, my once blue eyes had turned lifeless, gray and sunken.
A light breeze kissed my pale face. It rustled my black and blue hair and taunted me with its life like presence. I sat with my legs dangling freely over the edge while I inhaled my last earthly cigarette, wondering if the fall would hurt or if I was already dead enough inside to miss the pain it might cause.
Let it be known I didn't want to die. Not really. What I wanted to end was the addiction that clung to me like a parasite that refuses to detach itself. I wanted to kill the vast hollowness that had consumed me for years. I wanted to kill not myself but who I had become: just another stupid junkie who had burned all her bridges and ties to family, to friends and everyone in between.
I was so empty I couldn't cry. The single emotion I could feel was an intense despondency and I was so lost in this I could see no other way around it. My life was a meaningless stain on the world and, for a moment, I figured I was doing humanity a favor by ridding my body from this mortal coil.
I allowed the remains of my cigarette to slip from my fingers and I watched as it became enveloped by the night before it could hit the river below. A profound, staggered sigh rolled from deep within as my body began to vibrate. This was it. My final breath of life. Adios, cruel world.
And then came his voice. Deep, gruff and so sudden it nearly pushed me from the ledge before I could push myself.
"If I were to tell you that you just survived the Apocalypse," the voice spoke from behind me, "would you still jump?"
I spun around to see just who this voice belonged to, temporarily forgetting my woes in an unexpected break in my concentration. There stood an unexpected light in my blackened life, a dark haired man in a tan trench coat with stubble kissing his handsome features and vivid blue eyes that stared upon my frail structure in a mild curiosity. I blinked in surprise at him, pondering the oddity of his question.
"I'd tell you that you were nuts," I scoffed as my response. "And then I would jump."
"There is a special ring in Hell reserved for people like you," he spoke, taking a slow and cautious step towards me. At this I could only roll my tired gray eyes before I stared into the dark abyss beneath me.
"Hopeless junkies?" A rhetorical question.
"You are nuts," I muttered. I could hear the sounds of his shoes scrape along the pavement as he walked closer still.
"You don't have to jump," he told me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
"I'm broken and I'm beyond repair," I shared, my eyes rising to him once more.
"Why do you say this?" he asked inquisitively with a slight tilt to his head.
"You wouldn't understand."
One more step and he was at the railing, now the only thing that separated himself from me.
"I know you are feeling hopeless," he spoke. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."
"What do you know?" I spat. "And what do you care? Why are you trying to save my pathetic life?"
"I am not trying to save your life," he bluntly replied. "I am trying to save your soul."
His eyes locked into mine and, despite the obscurity of his words, I could feel the truth in them. Silently I could only stare at him, temporarily at a loss for speech.
"I know if I were to tell you everything you would not believe me," he continued when I failed to provide another sour response. "But believe me when I say the Hell you will be sent to is a lot worse than the Hell you perceive in life."
His words struck me like lightning, penetrating me so intensely it sparked heavy tears to well hot behind my eyes before spilling down my pale face.
"What else am I supposed to do?" I asked in the overwhelming sorrow I felt for myself. Slowly he extended his hand to me.
"You live," he said so simply, as if it should have been obvious this whole time.
"Ha!" I cried between the tears. "I tried that and I failed."
His hand remained extended before me, unwavering in my hesitation to accept his help.
"If you take my hand," he told me, his eyes never leaving me. "I will free you from the addiction that plagues you."
I eyed him with an intense air of skepticism. No words could begin to question just how that might work. And then I thought that maybe, just maybe, tonight was not my night to go. I pondered the idea of living one more pointless day filled with drugs and starvation. The opportunity to commit suicide would arise again. At this realization I decided it harmless to humor this adamant stranger.
Finally I placed my small, bony hand in his and with a fantastic ease he lifted me to safety upon the bridge beside him. Balance lost, my knees buckled and I began to fall, only to be caught in his strong arms long before my body could reach the pavement. Upon my forehead he placed for a few seconds his right hand.
"I have fulfilled my end of the deal," he spoke as he helped me to my feet. "You are absolved of your addictions."
I blinked in awe at him, watching as he slowly began to step away from me.
"Who... who are you?" I stammered at last.
"I am the one who has given you a second chance," he replied while slowly walking into the shadows of the night.
"You're just going to leave me here?" I called after him. "How do you know I won't jump once you're gone?"
"You won't," was his certain response. "Go now, Adeline, and live your life."
And, with that, he was gone. Vanished into thin air, leaving me stupefied and alone once more on that bridge. He called me Adeline.
How did he know my name?
I took one last glance into the crevice, a sharp shudder running down my spine as I did so.