Chapter 1

This is an idea that's been going in my head for a few weeks now and I've decided to make a story out of it. It is inspired by an old pc game called "The Longest journey", the plot of which I am not going to divulge because I don't want to spoil the plot. I'll try to explain the details as the story unfolds.

This is fiction and I do not stand to make a profit from it in any form.

All characters belong to themselves.

Warning: this is not slash fiction, however it does insinuate it.

So, like I've said before…

Close the door behind you…

Turn off the lights…

Let's begin…

He couldn't remember when it all started happening.

As far as he could tell, he always was a bit strange. He never really considered himself to be normal, and even his friends could see he was weird sometimes, but lately things had gotten out of control.

It had started with little things, small lights or dark spots in the corner of his eye that were gone as soon as he turned his head. He couldn't remember a time where he didn't see those spots. When he was a small child there would always be small hovering lights, or specks of pure darkness. Sometimes they would linger and sometimes they would pass faster than he could see them… almost faster. He would see them everywhere. In class, at home, on the street… they would be with him. Not always, but often… more often than he cared to admit.

So he learned to ignore them. After all, they didn't bother him. And so they slowly faded away. Later, growing up, he would think back to them. He didn't miss them though. He couldn't understand what they were and since he was the only one who could see them, he had convinced himself that they were a figment of his imagination.

And why not? Other kids had imaginary friends, why could he not have imaginary lights and black spots? He never understood what was the point of seeing them, since he couldn't interact with them, but what other options did he have?

He didn't think about them much… and as he grew older, their appearances became rarer, until they disappeared.

And it had been a few years since he had last seen one, dark or light.

So when he saw the dark spots again, during a match a few days ago, he was surprised. They didn't linger this time and they didn't pass fast in front of him. No, this time they stood in the corner of his eye, near the blind spot of his vision and as soon as he thought he had seen one and turned to face it, it was gone; at first he thought it was his imagination, but when it happened again the next night during a match again, he became alarmed. He felt like they were taunting him for some reason; they didn't feel harmless this time; not being able to see them long enough, felt ominous and dangerous.

And one other thing that bothered him was that this time there were no hovering lights… only the dark spots and they had grown into full shadows that they too were gone when he tried to face them. The spots had given way to bigger, thicker and darker shadowy forms. It took him a while to realize this but he was certain that the shadows were bigger and almost had form… human… maybe…

Still he couldn't see them, but they felt different this time. They felt more menacing. And why couldn't he see the lights? The bright lights had not returned with the dark ones.

These events plagued his mind and his every waking moment. They kept him awake at night, his mind and eyes actively searching for the darkness to come forth. But as soon as he thought one appeared, he turned quickly only to find nothing there. It made him paranoid. It made him turn around on himself like a madman.

It made him think he was losing his mind.

Finally, he thought his sanity had been broken to pieces.

But that didn't stop him from trying to see them, make some kind of connection. It has been a couple of days since he had been trying to focus on a certain point, fixating on a spot really hard while trying to let his peripheral vision do the rest and fill the blanks.

He was sitting on a bench in the locker room, alone after a match, when Roman entered. Dean was so lost in his head, he didn't hear his friend.

Roman looked at him. He was sitting still in his ring gear, still sweating, elbows on his knees, head in his palms, eyes fixed on the floor. He called out his name, but he didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey Dean"

He noticed Dean was out of breath and still sweating profusely, which was strange given the fact that his match had ended an hour ago. He came closer, not trying to be silent, and stood beside him, clearing his throat.

Still, no reaction.

It was then that Roman noticed his friend's face. His eyes were not blinking. A vein in his neck was pulsating, his teeth were gritting and his fingernails were digging into his temples. Roman's heart sunk and his stomach turned.

"Dean?" he whispered, his arm reaching towards his friend.

Still no reaction.

When his fingertips touched his shoulder, he felt a jolt of electricity that made him take a step back.

Dean was startled out of his concentration and jumped on his feet, looking at his friend as if he was seeing a ghost.

"Easy there!" Roman said raising his hands.

Dean was panting hard, with a look of fright in his eyes. Roman took a step closer, reaching for his shoulder again.

Dean looked at him again and then at the reaching hand.

"What's wrong?" his concern getting bigger.

Dean looked around the room and then back at him, getting his breath under control.

"Did you see it?" he muttered.

"See what?" his hand now on his friend's shoulder.

"The shadow"

"What shadow?"

"It was right there just now!" Dean said pointing at the far left corner of the room, just behind his left shoulder with eyes wide open.

"What are you talking about? Dean there is nothing there"

Dean looked around panicked. He was looking for the shadow, but like his friend had said, there was nothing there.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Roman looked around following the other man's gaze, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. A few moments passed in eerie silence.

"I swear it was right… Fuck…" he said and sat down, Roman following suit.

"Dean, what happened? What did you see?"

Dean nodded his head in defeat. There was no point in explaining to him anything. They hadn't believed him when he was a child, they wouldn't believe him now. He rubbed his face, wiping some of the sweat away.

"It… it doesn't matter" his voice more rough than usual.

"It does matter… I called you and you didn't hear me. You looked… I've known you for many years and I have never seen you like this before"

"Like what?"

Sadness passed from Roman's face.

"Desperate… afraid…"

Dean chuckled.

"Story of my life"

Roman gave him a puzzled look but didn't say anything. He just looked at his friend waiting for an explanation. He knew better by now than press for answers. Dean would tell him, in his own pace and in his own time.

Dean exhaled and closing his eyes, let his head fall back.

"I am tired" he spoke.

Roman put his palm of Dean's forehead.

"You feel a little warm. Come on… let's go to the hotel get some rest. I'll drive us."

Dean just nodded.

The drive to the hotel was silent. Roman could tell that whatever was bothering his friend was still troubling his mind. Dean's silence was so unlike him. He was sitting on the passenger's side; arms crossed trying to keep himself warm. The car's heating wasn't helping him apparently. He had his eyes closed, and Roman thought they must be hurting him.

"I can feel you looking at me" he said, half smiling.

"How are you feeling?"

"My eyes sting… and my bones ache… I feel like I'm sick with the flu or something…" he exhaled, resting his head back. "And I am cold"

Roman was getting very worried at this point. It seemed Dean's fever hadn't gone down, and he wouldn't stop shivering.

"As soon as we reach the hotel, I'm calling the doc, ok?"

"No, I'm fine. I just need to rest that's all"

Still, those eyes remained closed.

"Fine, but I'm not letting you sleep alone, so tonight we share the room", he said sternly.

"Fine" he whispered back, and snaked his arms closer to his body still.

And then nothing else was spoken.

The hotel room was simple, nothing fancy but practical. There were two single beds, one bathroom, a small fridge and a French window looking the back of the hotel, for more privacy. The view was nothing special either, but there were no other tall buildings looking at the hotel rooms, so more privacy.

Which was good, Roman thought. He didn't want fans or reporters spying on them.

As soon as they entered the room, Dean fell on the bed closest to him, clothes, shoes and all.

Roman, locking the door after putting the 'do not disturb sign' on, walked towards his friend. He was pale, and his skin was warm but he wasn't sweating any more, which troubled him. He would give Dean until morning, and if the fever remained then he would call the doctor.

"Come on buddy, let's get you under the covers"

He helped Dean out of his shoes and clothes and put him under the covers. Before letting him rest for the night, he made sure he gave him an aspirin. Dean looked out of it. He didn't resist any of it, or spoke a word. His eyes remained closed.

Roman sat on the bed and just looked at the sleeping man. He wasn't shivering anymore and he looked somewhat peaceful. Today's events really troubled him, especially the shadows Dean said he had seen. His friend was always calm, collected, rational and he never let his fears overwhelm him. But seeing him afraid of a shadow, one that wasn't even there, really troubled him. And he had no idea what to do.

It was then he decided to call Seth. Maybe he would have an idea.

"Roman, you are overreacting" Seth said with a lowered voice.

Dean was still sound asleep and they were standing a few feet away, near the window. Roman had told him the events as they had unfolded up until the time he had put him to bed.

"It's just I have never seen him like this"

"Maybe he was tired. Lack of sleep can do that to you"

"Lack of sleep?"Roman asked confused.

"Well, yeah" Seth said. "He told me a couple of days ago, that he had problems sleeping, so… maybe that lack of sleep finally got to him"

Roman looked unconvinced.

"Look, he already seems fine. Fever is going down, he is resting… maybe you should too."

"It's just he looked so scared and confused. It really frightened me seeing him like that"

"Did you see any shadows?" Seth asked, trying to prove a point.

The Samoan nodded negatively.

"So there… maybe the fever was causing him hallucinations"

"What if it wasn't the fever?" Roman looked at the carpet.

Seth looked troubled and straightened his back in surprise.

"Pretending to be crazy in the ring is one thing, being actually insane is another… don't even think about that… you'll see, he will wake up, and everything will be back to normal."

They looked at their sleeping friend, both hoping they were right.

It was just the fever talking…

He was just tired.

Right?

He welcomed the darkness.

Finally sweet sleep.

It felt like it had been ages since he had last rest. And he was thankful he had his friend to help him.

He was aware he was in a hotel room and he was aware of people speaking. He recognized the voices. Roman and Seth. He couldn't tell what they were talking about… they were whispering, so maybe they were talking about him.

Most likely.

Then the aspirin kicked in. The pain on his body receded and his eyes didn't hurt anymore. His fever felt lower too and soon he drifted back to sleep, hugging the covers tighter around him.

.

..

…

Dreaming of nothing was perfect. It was pure rest. It meant his mind had nothing to process and his body would really be able to recover.

He was aware he was asleep… which was weird. But there was nothing around him. He felt like he was existing in a void; only darkness surrounded him. A darkness so palpable he could almost touch it; and it could almost suffocate him. In his dream he felt like the air was getting thinner by the minute. There was sound either, only the sound of his breath, coming out in ragged gasps.

And he didn't move. He could, but he didn't dare to. He was afraid of what might happen to him if he took a step in this darkness.

Then he heard them.

At first, they were so faint, he thought it was his own breath. When he realized it wasn't, he held it for a moment just to be able to hear what it was. It sounded like voices being carried by the wind from afar, like the final reverberations of an echo.

Then they started getting closer to him, slowly but surely. And was still holding his breath afraid that he might be heard. Afraid that those whispers might find out where he is.

There…

They had changed direction. They were coming to him from his left.

No… they were approaching from his right.

But they kept speaking to him. Drawing nearer every time.

The voices he could hear were so many, and they all spoke at once. They were speaking different things, different languages…

And now they sounded like screeches reverberating on metal walls.

They sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

And they were screaming his name.

They were all around him, coming to him from every direction, deafening loud and terrifying.

Dean covered his ears. Those screams brought tears to his eyes. They hurt his head in a way more painful than he had ever felt before.

"Please stop" he begged, keeping his eyes shut and his ears covered. He fell on his knees, his legs no longer able to keep him up.

The voices were so loud and they felt like the wind, like a tornado all around him.

When the voices became too loud, he was able to hear what they had been saying.

And it was the last thing he heard.

They said…

"Come to us. We are waiting."

All that you touch
All that you see
All that you taste
All you feel.
All that you love
All that you hate
All you distrust
All you save.
All that you give
All that you deal
All that you buy,
beg, borrow or steal.
All you create
All you destroy
All that you do
All that you say.
All that you eat
And everyone you meet
All that you slight
And everyone you fight.
All that is now
All that is gone
All that's to come
and everything under
the sun is in tune
but the sun
is eclipsed by the moon.

There is no dark side
of the moon really.
Matter of fact
it's all dark.

-Pink Floyd: Eclipse-