Hey guys!

Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be.

Author's Note: So I just came up with this idea riding home from school. It was just supposed to be a ficlet but it mutated and grew. Haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and please review!!!!!!! I'm sorry if it might be annoying seeing as I repeated a lot of phrases and words but that's just the way I wanted to do it. This is post-Devil's Trap by the way.







Raindrops fall from the heavens, from the stormy grey clouds above.


Roaring down the highway watching the scenery fly by.

Appreciating the darkness and the cold simply because now, it is the farthest thing from orange and red and heat and fire and flame.


And wondering.

And waiting.

Waiting for the day it comes to take him away.

Waiting for it to come.

Waiting for it all to end.


Like it has taken so many others before.

Like it has taken the woman he never got to know.

Like it has taken the woman he loved with all his heart, mind, body and soul.

Like it has taken the man whom he had always loved, though he never knew how to show it.

Like it has taken a woman he barely knew and had a chance to save.

A chance that burned into ashes.

Like them, he will go in a blaze of flames and blood.

He sees her once more, laughing and smiling and talking and alive.

Then there is nothing but emptiness.

She is gone.





They could mean many things.

Fire could mean life and love and passion and energy and spirit and intensity and excitement and vigor.

Blood could mean life and family and kin and lineage and ancestry and heritage and origin.

Fire could also signify loss and emptiness and pain and suffering and grief and loneliness and death.

Blood could signify bloodshed and killing and torture and agony and sorrow and misery and torment and death.

Fear so palpable you could taste it.

Screams and yells and shrieks and please God please let it all stop.

He sees her, pleading and screaming and terrified.

Then there is nothing but darkness.




And waiting.

And wondering.

Wonders what he's done to deserve this.

Wonders what he's done to merit such a fate.

Wonders why he's still fighting on.

Wonders why he's still walking on God's green earth.

Part of him tells him to never give up. To never stop fighting.

Part of him tells him he already did a long time ago.

Wonders why he's still fighting on.

Then he turns slightly to his left and sees why.

To many, it wouldn't be a very important reason.

He was just a man.

And yet he was everything.

Knew that he wasn't the only one who was going to suffer when it came.

His would be fire and blood and pain and suffering and death.

A physical one.

The man beside him, his would be loneliness and grief and sadness and emptiness and guilt and death.

An emotional one.

Part of him wanted to let go of everything.

Part of him never wanted to.

Would he stay for the man's sake alone?

Would he even stay in the first place?


Would it be a release?

Would it make things easier?

Would it make things harder?

He sees her again, on the ceiling this time, horrified and bleeding and dead.

Then there is nothing but flames.




Would it mean the end of this life filled with danger and broken hopes? Would it mean finally being at peace and seeing those he loved once again?

If it did, it would also mean the end of happy times spent with his brother and saving those who could not save themselves.

Stories always have endings.

His is just one of the millions out there.

What will be the ending of this one?

All he knows is this.

He has accepted the fact that he will die.

Be it of old age or a demon, he knows that one day the Grim Reaper will come knocking on his door, beckoning and offering rest and sweet release at last.

Make no mistake; it will come but he will not call out in the darkness for it.

He knows that when that day comes, the man will fight it like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

Because to him, it would matter more than anything else in the world.

He knows not what he will do then.

Will he let go?

Will he fight for every last breath?

"Sammy, stop trying to burn a hole in my window. Know you're psychic and everything, but come on. You can't be that stupid."

The man's voice breaks his reverie.

He scowls.

'It's Sam, and I was not trying to burn a hole in your window. I was just thinking."

A small smile graces the man's lips as he shakes his head sorrowfully from side to side.

"You seem to be doing that a lot these days."

He is confused.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Of course it matters. You're my baby brother. Look, I know that Macy's death back in Birmingham affected you. It hurts me too, that we couldn't save her. Usually I would say, 'Don't worry Sam, we'll catch that sonuvabitch and make him pay for everything he's done.' Which is true, but also, if you want to talk or whatever, I'm here."

He is suspicious.

"Are you implying something?"

The man shakes his head.

"No. A little. Maybe. I may not do the whole chick flick thing, but if you need me, like I said I'm here. You know that right?"

Out of the blue.

Eyes averted.

"Yeah, I know."

Eyes no longer averted.

Shining with worry and love.


One good reason to stay.

Count your blessings instead of sheep, that Christmas carol said.

If he thought about it, there were plenty more reasons to stay.


And wondering.

And watching.

Watching a child lose a mother and a father.

Watching a child hold on to the infant for dear life.

Watching the boy raise and teach the child.

Watching the teenager care for and protect the boy.

Watching the man say goodbye to the teenager.

Watching the men reunite and reconnect after four long years of separation.

Someone who cared.

Someone who understood him.

Someone who cheered him up and made him smile and made him laugh.

Someone who watched out for him.

Someone who would protect him.

Someone who would die for him.

Someone who loved him.

He was just a man.

And yet he was everything.

It has changed.

Leaving him behind, the salesman questions.

Can you still find it in the stock room?

No is the reply.

He has done it and perhaps even capable of doing it again, yes.

He had done it once; he would not do it again.

He was staying no matter what.

Suicide, the proprietor asked.

Perhaps it was an option?

No, once more is the reply.

He accepted he would die, yes.

He wouldn't be the one to do it to himself though.

It would hurt the man beside him more than anything else in the world.

He was too cowardly to do it.

He wasn't leaving no matter what.

Death then?

The waiter inquires with a polite face.

Is it still on the menu?

No, it is my final answer.

It will come to him, yes.

He had no choice over the matter.

But he would not go easily.

So long as he had breath in his body, he was staying no matter what.

He was just a man.

And yet he was everything.

He sees her for one last time.

She is smiling and laughing and happy and alive.

Then there is nothing but the light.

The rain has stopped, the grey clouds have lifted.


Roaring down the highway watching the scenery fly by.

He is just a man.

And yet he is everything.

He is staying for the man.

He is staying for everything.

Appreciating the light and the warmth simply because now it is the farthest thing from the cold and loneliness and death.

Then there is nothing but the sun.

Then there is nothing but the light.


There you go guys! Hope you enjoyed. So what did you guys think? Please leave a review!!!! Thanks again!!!