A/N: I ... just ... don't ... know! LOL, oh man ... but I know that I own nothing, and I am sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes.
He was screaming; that was the sound of his deep voice, that was the feeling of his throat ripping under the intensity of the scream, that were his muscles tensing and hurting and that were his fingers clenching and unclenching in his brother's warm jacket. That was his back arching impossibly high under the stabs of hot pain everywhere. And those were his arms twitching and flailing when he lost the tight grip he had on his brother.
And then ... he opened his eyes to painfully bright light, the whiteness of it burning him all over. He though that his skin was being torn off in pieces and snatches, the light like burning lava spilling over him. He had never experienced pain like this ... so hot, so cold, so everywhere. For a fleeting moment he thought - this was what Hell would be like. This ... for eternity.
"Ahhhh, ghh..." he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut so tight, he could feel tears form, but the bright light made them sizzle and evaporate. He groaned and covered his eyes with his arm as best as he could, hoping that his jacked would provide some shelter, but the jacket's fabric was too thin and he could still feel the heat of the light on his sensitive, thin eyelids. It was just too much, too hot, too bright.
He rolled to his left side, groaning and panting through the hurt that was spreading through him, he could feel his spine realigning, feel his bones setting and he screamed. Sobbed, panted for breath while his body tried to become whole and his again.
And then, just like that it was over and he collapsed to his stomach like all the strings attached on him had been cut.
He breathed, choking on spit that ran freely out of his open mouth. He could still feel a muffled echo of the pain he went through just a few seconds ago, but other than that, he felt good. Normal. Except for how his stomach heaved underneath him, how his chest felt tight and how his muscles quivered when he tried to get up on his hands and knees.
He clenched his jaw and tried to get up. First on his hands and knees and then up on just his knees. He kept his eyes shut, didn't dare open them, but he could feel that the light wasn't as strong as it had been before. The air around him felt cooler, dim, almost ... fresh. Fresh like spring. Weird.
He shook his head, tried to clear his mind, tried to arrange his thoughts into some sort of an order, because whatever just happened ... it was definitely not normal. Even by their standards. And their standards were pretty low.
He needed to open his eyes and see where the hell he was. They were, because he was sure Dean was with him too. Had to be.
He shook his head again, hair flying all around his face, its ends tickling his sweaty cheeks. He was probably sweating buckets, he could feel drops running down his spine and neck, but there was nothing he could do about it.
He had to find Dean, because this ... wherever or whatever this was, it was trouble. It was so much trouble. He squeezed his thighs with his hands, working himself up to opening his eyes.
One breath, squeeze, one breath, squeeze, one breath, squeeze.
"Dean?" he whispered, his throat feeling tight and burned as if he had been gurgling acid whole day long. He was psyching himself up to opening his eyes, but maybe first he could find his brother by using his words. Because that, at least, didn't hurt.
He took some deep breaths, easing air into his lungs that were burning just as much as his throat was.
"Damnit, Dean?!" he shouted and swayed on his hands and knees, couldn't support his weight anymore just by kneeling, because ... there was no answer. There was absolutely nothing. No noise. Nothing. No humming, no animal sounds, no cars driving, no wind, no echo ... there was just nothingness that was sucking him into itself and, and ...he needed to open his eyes, screw it if he burns them out. He needed to find his brother. Now.
"Dean..." he sighed and groaned, forcing himself to take some more deep breaths and open his eyes to take a peek. Just a peek. Maybe then, he would be able to see where he was, if Dean was even with him ... just something, anything, he just needed to see what the hell kinda mess they've gotten themselves into now.
"Okay, okay, okay..."
He slowly opened his right eye, slowly convincing the aching muscle to tug up his eyelid.
What he saw ... made him stop breathing. It was just that ... breathtakingly horrifying.
He opened his eyes wide so fast, that something in his head snapped, because dude, what the hell?
He saw darkness with flickering lights everywhere. Small dots everywhere. The bright light from before was gone, leaving him in dimness and the floor beneath him was ... open to the darkness. He turned around on his knees, saw the same, turned to his left, saw the same.
He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, stepping on his fingers in his heist, probably breaking something in them with his boots, but dude, what the hell?
He hissed and cradled his arm to his chest, the momentum carrying him three steps backwards where he hit a wall.
He turned around and saw darkness again. Such blackness, littered with tiny, shiny spots.
He turned back around and saw that everywhere, all around him, up and down there was pure blackness, interrupted only by bright spots. There was no rhyme or pattern to anything, everything just was. All around him.
His brother was slouched on the ground at the far corner and Sam made seven long strides towards him, swallowing convulsively, because ... because Dean was going to freak out so badly, shit would go down.
He crouched before the slumped form of his brother and took Dean's head in his hands, cradling the dead weight.
"Dean, wake up."
He shook his brother's head a bit, put some pressure on the cheeks and called his name again. He needed Dean to wake up for so many reasons he couldn't even count them all in his head.
"Dean, come on, man. Wake up."
His brother's eyes were closed, his lips slack, his hair plastered to his head by sweat formed from pain, the skin of his face wet and warm, almost feverish and Sam hoped it wasn't really fever, because ... because where they were, if his guesses were right, there would be no help at all for Dean. Or him. No help for them.
"Dean, man, wake up."
He shook his brother's head again, trying to rouse him, trying to get any response from his big brother, but there was nothing. Nothing, just like everything else.
"Dean..." he hated how the word got stuck in his throat.
He was starting to feel fear crawl up his spine; tiny, spider thin fingers running up his back, because Dean not responding to him calling wasn't something that happened. Ever. It was wrong.
"Dean!" he yelled, coughing when the vibrations of his voice tickled his sore throat.
A flicker of movement. An eyelid twitching, upper lip scrunching up, a groan.
"Dean! Dean, hey, hey, hey, you good? You good? Wake up!"
Dean's right eye opening sluggishly made relief course through Sam's veins and his breaths started to come easier. He wasn't alone. Dean wasn't alone. They weren't alone.
"Dean, you good?"
"Yeah, yeah, 'm good. But listen..."
He didn't have the chance to continue, because a hard tug on his skin made him look down at Dean's bloody fingers gripping his wrist and tugging his arm away from his face.
"'m fine." Dean slurred and blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light.
"Uhhhh, where are we?"
He tried to sit up straighter, his bloody hands slipping on the ground.
"What the..." he frowned and tried to look why he couldn't get a good grip on the floor.
"Yeah, 'bout that..."
Sam watched as Dean's eyes started to move around, roam the place around them and he could see confusion and anger mix together into panic. He needed to act on this, nip it in the butt.
"Dean, listen, don't panic, okay?"
"Look, panicking will get us nowhere, just stay calm, alright?"
"What are you talking 'bout?"
"Dean, just hear me out before you ... look just calm down, stay calm, okay?"
"Dude, let me up."
"Uh, okay, but just stay calm." he spread his hands in a calm down gesture and moved out of his brother's personal space.
"'m not a dog, dude, back off."
He crawled backwards until he hit the wall with his back and watched as Dean got first on his knees and hands, rocked back and forth, and then slowly continued up to his unsteady feet. He saw his brother sway on his feet and grip the wall behind him, leaving a smear of blood on the glass. He was silent, when Dean walked along the glass wall, seven long steps down to the next corner, seven long steps across to the next corner, five steps to him, plus two more to the corner and seven across to the blood pool he left where he was sitting on the floor before.
Seven times seven times seven times seven. Didn't need to be a math genius to know what kinda place they were in. And it all felt ... fluid. Deceiving.
"What the hell?"
"I don't know..."
"Dude, what the hell?"
He shrugged: "I don't know."
The sound of his brother's wet jacket sliding down the glass was so loud, it made Sam's ears hurt and when Dean settled on the floor across from him, knees to his chest ... there were no words needed to express just how screwed up they were.
"So? You okay?" he asked, because Dean was looking kind of pale and sweaty and that never meant anything good.
Dean chuckled: "Do I look okay? Nothing in all of this is okay and no, I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay, dude..."
"I know, look, just, let's stay calm and ... and think about this, alright? Rationally."
"You serious? There's nothing rational about all of this."
"Fine, fine..." he closed his eyes and breathed.
Breathed, because yeah, there was nothing, nothing rational about this at all. At all.
He stared at Dean for a few seconds, then looked to his left, then right, up and down and back at Dean. His brother was still pale, hell if anything he was even paler than a minute ago.
"I think I'm gonna be sick."
Whoah ... "Dean?" his voice cracked on his brother's name, because whoah, puking might not be a very smart thing to do here.
"Dean, stay calm, okay. Hey, hey, look at me," he waited for Dean's wide open eyes to settle on him, "stay calm, you being sick won't help us here."
"You're right. Right... Yeah, okay...' calm, 'm perfectly calm."
He watched when Dean raised himself up from the glass floor and walked to the nearest wall.
"I'm very freaking calm," he flinched when Dean banged his fist on the glass, making the whole cube shake, "while free falling through freaking space," he flinched again when Dean banged his fist even harder on the glass, and he thought about just how very thick the glass was, "space, Sam! We're in the goddamned space in a glass cube. Space! Glass! Cube! Son of a bitch!" he flinched every time Dean banged on the wall, hurting for his brother and his fear of flying and if anything, anything at all was worse than flying in a plane miles above solid ground, well it was probably flying in a glass cube through freaking space, probably not even in the right galaxy.
He didn't know what to say. What could a person say to this anyway? Abso-freakin-lutely nothing.
So he sat on the floor, the stars moving lazily under his ass, before his eyes, behind his back. He moved his fingers into a fist; it almost seemed as if he could get a hold of a star. Grab it. Make it his and wish for it to take 'em home. He made a fist again but the star still eluded him; slippery little thing.
He sighed, feeling sick to his stomach from all the darkness around him. He knew it was worse for Dean ... they were surrounded by the vast space, stars and places of utter blackness, travelling in this void in a cube made of glass.
He hissed when: "Cass!" brought him back from his thoughts, and when Dean hit the glassy wall at least ten times with his palm, he closed his eyes.
Maybe they were lost forever. Maybe they would drift in this nothingness forever and ever even long after their bodies would turn to bare bones and dust.
"Cass! Those dicks! What're they playing at here?! What?!"
He knew Dean wouldn't quit, he would call for the angel until his voice would give up, and maybe even after that. Because his brother was relentless, never giving up no matter what.
"I don't know, man. I don't know." he didn't know, he wasn't lying. They both knew the angels were behind this, but what their game was ... he had just as much clue as Dean had. Which was no clue at all.
"Dude, I am telling you, if they think they'll break us by ... by doing this, trapping us in freaking space, they're even dumber than I thought."
He nodded and tried to grab for the stars again, but his fingernails only scraped cold glass. He knew, just as well as Dean did, that they would scream yes, if one of them would be close to death. But he didn't mention that, it was a fact, and there was no need to mention facts. They won't let each other die and they won't let the Earth fall to pieces. That was not in their blood.
"Cass'll come, Sammy, he won't leave us here to rot. Zach will come, someone, because they need us. Luci and Michael, someone. Someone will come, you'll see."
He looked at Dean, saw the anger and the utter, bare faith on his face, in his eyes and he knew ... yeah, someone would come. Some time when one of them would yell yes, when the other one would be on his way to becoming bones and dust.
Sam stretched his legs and imagined how his brother must look. A small, tiny, lonely figure banging its fist on the glass, drifting, drifting, drifting through the nothingness. Getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller until all there was, was nothing.