{ barriers to trans-dimensional travels: messiah!sam }
the whispers never stop. they come from thousand voices in his head.
sometimes the whispers become soft prayers, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. he enjoys those moments. there’s so much hope wavering around that Sam feels like basking in it for days. sometimes there’s a sea of pain amidst the hushed words, and he wishes he could do more than sit still and listen--but he doesn’t know how, so he listens. sometimes he prays too. it feels good, right.
sometimes, he feels like the whole Host of Heaven decided to sing in his head--and no matter what he tries, they never stop. he can’t make them stop. he can’t escape the thousand voices singing, humming, calling, begging-- begging for what, he wonders. but he never finds out.
he endures the voices in silent acceptance. no one would really understand. normal people would call him insane. his family... Dean has never been a man of faith. John has lost his along with Mary. but Sam doesn’t jugde them. he knows it’s hard to have faith nowadays. there’s so much evil out there and no matter what they do, no matter how many people they save, the darkness seems to grow stronger day after day.
maybe he’d have lost faith too-- if there wasn’t an angelical choir singing his name and calling him ‘saviour’ from time to time, voices laced with such devotion and love that no one’d be able to reject. he doesn’t understand them. he doesn’t question either. he accepts his role, even if he knows the path he’s taken is a long and very painful one.
it’s okay. there’s still reason to hope.
{ tagging: @policeofficerdean }
