Sam gave everything to bring Dean back but now Dean hates him for ripping his soul back from Heaven. He promised Sam an eternity of misery, but Sam is determined to set things. Again and again, Sam tries to fix things, but every time he tries, thing...
A/N: Yeah, Sam Winchester is about to do some pretty insane and badass stuff in this chapter, solidifying his place as a top tier abstract.
Sam's natural instincts took over before his mind could comprehend what was happening; bending his knees, Sam leaped into the air milliseconds before a powerful beam of energy struck the very spot he was standing on. Adjusting the course of his flight, Sam turned around to see who his assailant was. "Prepare to be eliminated!!"
"Oh shit..." standing towering over him, was a massive, fully armored Super-Celestial staring him down. The Super-Celestial had two rows of three eye holes each running down the front of its mask, all of which glowing brightly with power. Raising his hand, the Super-Celestial fired another bolt at him and he dodged, the blow striking the ground beneath, stirring up a massive dust cloud around them.
"You're supposed to be dead!" yelled Sam as he took off through the dust flying with all his might. He hoped that the dust would somehow mask his presence. Unfortunately, he had no such luck; the lumbering footsteps of the Super-Celestial thundered behind him as he chased him, its hands firing bolt after bolt of Connective Energy towards his general vicinity.
This wasn't right, he thought to himself, the entire race of The Hands is supposed to be extinct! These beings birth a reality and then die, giving their life force to populate the baby multiverse with the light of life...yet, against all odds, one of them was somehow chasing him across the Source?! Continuing to fly as fast as his mind would allow, Sam switched to astral vision...to see into the astral plane.
The Super-Celestial was still lumbering after him, unyielding. All across the sky, he could see dozens more like it, descending through the air to assist it in the elimination of the trespasser. Connective Energies radiated from their bodies, casting a dim glow in the air surrounding them...and yet, despite their bodies brimming with power, he found no signs of life!
They were alive...yet drained of all life--a mere shell of their past self, a puppet to The Source.
There was now an army of them, each wielding enough power to bring a Multiverse to life, and they were beginning to encircle him now. About a dozen Super-Celestials cut him off in front, and a dozen more blocked off his retreat...before he knew it, he was completely surrounded. "Trespasser!" A volley of mechanically synthesized voices rang through the air in complete unison, "prepare to be eliminated!!"
"Fuck..." Simultaneously, tens, if not hundreds of beams of Connective Energies struck his forcefield at once and Sam screamed in strain, his forehead glistening with sweat. However, even through his immense will and concentration, he could feel his shield wavering...there was just too much power--each beam was enough to unmake a Multiverse, and right now, hundreds were reigning down upon him at once...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
His heart pounded and his head throbbed. In that moment, he felt fear like he had never felt before--not during Nyarlathotep's rampage, not at the beginning of the Omniverse, never. If he fell...he would not only die, but fail as well...he would fail his people...his friends...his brother. His eyes glowed with yellow energy--the color of fear and fuel to the Yellow Lanterns...
