I Think I'm Dying

xXx

He explodes awake after every death, biting and clawing with his eyes screwed closed because the archangel's forms are blinding even in the pit and it's only when they want to play with him that they put on a form that isn't so fatal. But when he wakes up, it's a game to see how long he can last until his eyes are gone, burnt out of his skull.

Sometimes, they create a world for him to live in, have a brief respite from their games. But he's always lost and disorientated, his eyes refusing to cooperate and causing the world to be seen in double unless he focuses, his ears filled with cotton and his balance off. The colours aren't correct either. And he can't wake up unless they let him.

In these dreamt up worlds created just for him, his limbs are sluggish and sore no matter how long he sleeps and rests for. Whoever is in his dream never notices that he's moving as if through quicksand. And he doesn't know he's asleep until he wakes up.

Sometimes, they draw it out. Sometimes, it's years before he dies and throughout that period of a poor mimicry of life, his eyes are either closed or gone. He hasn't seen his half-brother in centuries, hasn't seen his big brother in longer. He doesn't think he ever will again.

They once cut him open to see what was inside. Heart, lungs, liver, stomach, intestines, pancreas, kidneys, glands. They fed him some of their grace to keep him functioning and conscious and showed him his aorta. Then they went deeper. But that stopped after a little while - who needs organs when you have a soul to play with?

One thing they can't take from him is Dean. His brother is just as much a part of him as his soul was (this is said from the soul and later, when his soul is the last piece of Sam left, he laughs). Dean is all he has had for certain throughout his entire life. Dean is the best of him. And when you are dying, you want to remember the best.

He doesn't remember getting out. He doesn't remember leaving. He doesn't remember what happened but he remembers the pain. He remembers the fear. He wakes up scared with his eyes screwed shut or paralysed. He wants to get better, for Dean. But he doesn't know how to heal. And he doesn't know how to ask for help.

The wall doesn't stop the dreams. Doesn't stop the screams of terror at midnight and the sob that's drawn out of him when the lights come back on. Doesn't stop the flailing, attacking an enemy that isn't there. At least, not physically. In his dreams, they are.

His mind feels broken and he feels trapped. He wants something to come and take him away from where he is - but he doesn't care where he goes just as long as Dean's with him. Though sometimes his brother seems just as trapping as the cage.

He has always felt less than everybody else. Impure. Tainted. Before he even knew about the demon blood, before he even knew enough being the devil's vessel, he has known that he will never be enough. Never be clean. But those impurities are only skin-deep. He's human. Right?

I think I'm- I'm still human.

But I think I'm dying, here.