Okay so I am sure that a lot of you will be dissapointed and mad at me for the way that this chapter goes, but when I wrote it, I was thinking about Christian, my ex-boyfriend, who died February 2nd, and I kind of wanted to make this story a tribute to him.
So please tell me what you think of this chapter, and just let me tell you that my beta was almost in tears by the end!
Chapter 6 : Only the dead have seen the end of the war. (-Plato)
Sam woke up and groaned. His head was pounding, and he felt as if he had just gotten off of a roller coaster. Opening his eyes, he cringed and tried to curl into a ball, the light hurting his eyes, but soon found that the position didn't agree with his stomach. It felt as if the organ were trying to pry itself through his throat, and Sam rolled over on the bed and to his feet.
Shooting out of bed faster than he would have though possible, Sam ran to the bathroom. He wretched the contents of his stomach into the toilet as soon as he had fallen to his knees in front of it. Sam didn't know how long he had stayed there, but a hand was placed on his back and rubbed soothing circles into the aching muscles. Sam continued to heave, though nothing was coming up, and after a while even that jarring motion ceased and he turned around, leaning his back against the wall, and wiping his hand over his mouth.
Sam rested his head against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, trying to stem the pounding in it, which was not all from the drinking of the night before. He opened his eyes when he felt movement around the room and looked up to see Dean standing before him, handing him a glass of water, pills for his migraine and some sort of pill for the tumor in his brain. He took the glass and the pills and swallowed the pills, drinking most of the water with them.
Sam closed his eyes and opened them a few minutes later when his head was feeling a little better than before. "Better?" Dean asked, his voice sarcastic, but Sam could tell he was concerned. When Sam nodded, Dean said, "Damn Sammy! Didn't know you could drink like that. College did teach you something then. You put Rio, dad and me to shame last night!" Dean's voice was loud, and Sam winced as pain shot through his head.
Sam then laughed and said, "Yeah, well now I wish I hadn't. Got a hell of a hangover." He groaned as Dean turned the light on and added to the pain in his head. Sam pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and over his eyes. He heard Dean smirk and he lifted his hand high in the air, his hand a fist, and then raised one finger; effectively saying, 'fuck you.'
Dean laughed and turned the light off, helping Sam to his feet and taking them both out into the bedroom once again. He laid Sam on his bed, and when he was sure his little brother was asleep, Dean went back over to his own bed and fell down onto it, asleep within seconds.
Sam woke a few hours later, and reminded himself to thank Dean later. He felt a lot better, the headache mostly passed but an ache still lingering, and the nausea from earlier gone. He sat up, and regretted it almost immediately. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he fell backwards onto the bed.
Sam waited for a few minutes, taking deep breaths, and trying to keep his head from spinning, the headache growing a little stronger. When he was satisfied that the dizziness was gone, he sat up again, slowly this time. When it seemed like the world wasn't going to start spinning again, he stood.
The black spots filled his vision and the dizziness swept over him so fast, Sam didn't have enough time to stop himself as he fell to his knees and pain tore through his mind. He felt Dean's hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him, but there was nothing that he could do to answer him. There were no images to accompany the pain this time, and it was all Sam could do to stop himself from crying out.
Dean watched Sam fall to the ground as if in slow motion. He watched as he landed on his knees and then grabbed his head, biting his lip to keep from crying out and it just about tore Dean's heart out. There was something in Sam's face that told Dean there was no vision this time, just pain, and that there was nothing he could do about it.
Dean dropped to his knees beside Sam, and put his hands on Sammy's shoulders, trying to sooth his younger brother. He watched as blood poured from Sam's nose, and he pulled him into his arms.
"DAD!" Dean called out, still holding his brother, hoping the man would get there soon, before Sam died. He knew it would come, but he thought that he had more time. He grabbed a pillow from the bed, and laid Sam down on the floor, near the bedside table. There was a rose above Sam's head, an alarm clock beside it, showing that it was only twelve twenty eight in the afternoon. Sam had only gotten three days, and that wasn't fair.
The door burst open, and Dean looked up to see, Rio, Rachael, and his father enter the room. Dean absently stroked Sam's hair, clutching his hand in one hand. When he looked down, he found himself staring into the pain glazed eyes of his brother, and he fought to hold the tears back.
"I love you Dean, dad. Thank you," Sam said quietly, and looked to Rio, "You were like a brother to me, and I can't thank you enough." Sam's eyes were starting to close, and all Dean could do was clutch his hand tighter.
"I love you too, Sammy. Heaven will be a better place with you there. Tell mom I said hi." Dean said, tears in his eyes, hurt shining through as his heart broke watching his little brother, just seven days after turning twenty three, struggle for breath.
"Sammy, I am so sorry I wasn't a better father, I love you so much." John said as he looked at his youngest, now dying. With a shaky hand, Sam pulled the ring off his middle finger; one that Jess had given him, and handed it to his father, closing his fingers around it.
"You did nothing wrong, dad. You were the best father you could be, and I love you," Sam said.
He closed his eyes, and drew in his last breath, a painful smile on his face. As his breath ghosted out through his lips, petals fell from the rose above, and rested over him. He was to live no more, but somewhere else in the world a baby was being born, and new life was given, while one was taken.
2 days later...
Dean stood by the casket, and watched as his brother was slowly lowered into the ground. It would be the only time that Dean cried in public. The only time he would grieve with other people around him. Tears tracked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away, letting them stay there, to show Sam that he cared about him more than most anyone else.
For Sam, and Sam only he would let his guard down; show his soul. He felt his father's arms go around his shoulders, and he leaned into the embrace, feeling the emptiness as his heart clenched painfully. Sammy should have been alive, he was the older brother, Sam shouldn't have gone first.
Dean looked at his father, and saw that the same look that must have been in his eyes was in his father's. 'Fathers should never outlive their children...' Dean thought seeing the look. When he saw a tear slip from his father's eyes, Dean couldn't take it anymore. Dean pulled away from his father, and with one last look to the casket that held his brother, and the flowers that rested on top of it, Dean ran.
He ran away from life...
He ran and prayed that no one would follow him. The only person that he wanted was Sammy, and that wasn't a possibility... So he ran. He ran till his lungs heaved for air, and his sides hurt, yet he pushed himself to keep running. Realization finally dawned on him, and he fell to his knees. Sam was gone, and he was never coming back.
Dean looked to the sky, raised his arms, and with tears streaming down his face, he screamed, "WHY?" The yelled out question was choked and a sob escaping from his lips, he pushed himself back until his back hit a tree, pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed.
He didn't know how long he sobbed, but he felt it fitting when rain started to pour down over him. The rain wouldn't wash away his sorrow and emptiness, even though his tears couldn't be told from the rain drops.
There was a hand on his shoulder, and Dean warily looked up to see that Rio had followed him. Dean didn't know what to say or do, images of Sam continually popping into his head, whether it was a moment of anger, fear, or happiness, Dean just wanted to see Sammy again.
Rio knew Dean was sad, but he didn't know what to do for the other man, so he offered an awkward, "Wanna go get drunk?" At this Dean offered him a choked laugh and a nod.
"Though I need to go back to the hotel and change first, don't want to disappoint the ladies," Dean said, and he could feel it, even if he couldn't see Sam's laughter in Heaven.
9 months later...
Dean was sitting on the couch, his father next to him, both of them searching the paper, for any supernatural happenings. There was a knock on the door of the apartment, and after grumbling from both men, Dean got up and went to the door.
There was woman standing in the doorway, who looked really familiar to Dean. She was holding something that was moving in her arms, and Dean swallowed knowing exactly what was in the moving bundle of blankets.
"He's a week old, and has no name yet. I can't take care of him, so it's your job as the father to provide for him." The woman shoved the bundle into Dean's arms, and before he could protest she said, "and before you ask, he is yours. You are the only person I have slept with in the last two and a half years, and besides he looks just like you." The woman turned on her heel and without a word she left Dean there, with the baby and a baby bag.
Dean stood stock still until a voice called him out of his thoughts. "Dean who is it?" his father's voice came out from the living room. The little bundle moved and Dean looked down at it. There was a little bit of blond fuzz on his head, and the hazel eyes that were streaked with silver peered up into Dean's own.
'Oh shit!' Dean thought. 'I'm a single father. What would Sammy say to this?'
Dean bent down picked up the baby bag, slung it over his shoulder and turned around. He moved his little boy so his head was resting on his chest, and walked back into the living room, where John stared up at him, a shocked look appearing on the man's face.
"Meet Samuel Joseph Winchester, dad. Meet my son." Dean said, and a laugh that was half choked with a sob came from his mouth.
'Life was strange, but good!'
So what did you think? I kind of made myself cry...
Love you all, and thanks for all the support through both stories, maybe I will write a Supernatural story again soon!