Disclaimer: I own nothing…
Summary: He shakes. Hard rush of pain digging at his gut as he wrenches away, tries to swallow down the sobs that pull at his chest.
Spoilers: Through Season 4
Author's Note: No idea where this came from. It just kind of happened. Not exactly happy. Read whatever into the end you'd like. Also, wasn't really meant to be wincest, but there might be some undertones here. Not sure. Probably depends how you read it…
Title is from "This World Is A Tomb" by The Human Abstract.
In cadence warlike, we draw tears from the sky:
He touches his brother's hand.
Wonders how they got here.
He remembers nothing. Nothing of the violence, the fight.
But he remembers Dean's screams, pain twisting his brother's features. Tearing at his flesh until he was all but unrecognizable.
He shakes. Hard rush of pain digging at his gut as he wrenches away, tries to swallow down the sobs that pull at his chest.
He doesn't know how it all happened, doesn't remember coming to be here. Remembers only pieces. Only those that almost broke him…
Remembers Dean's whispered words. This isn't you. Know you're in there, Sammy, know you can't fight it. Love you, Sammy, always, and this isn't your fault. Not you. Don't forget that. Don't let it destroy you when it's all over. They play over in his head, bits and pieces flooding in with the images, so strong he can almost feel his brother's hands on him, taste the salt of his tears as Dean leans his forehead against his own and speaks to his baby brother, not the monster ripping through him in those moments…
Love you. Not your fault. Not you. Love you, Sammy. Love you.
He shakes, stumbles back to Dean, collapses beside his brother, pulls his lifeless body into his arms. Blood soaks his hands, dark and warm, and it feels like life. Feels hot and alive, and that's wrong. There's no life there. Nothing left. No sparkling eyes or soft tilt of a smile, or even that fucking snarl of intense anger.
Nothing but empty.
Just like Sam.
He holds tight. Tears thick, clinging to lashes that flutter against them, against the pain.
Don't let it destroy you. Love you, Sammy.
Too much. It's too much, and he can't imagine holding on. Fingers tighten around Dean's lifeless form, desperate attempt to pull out one more breath of life. One more moment. Just long enough for sorry.
Not your fault. Not you. Love you.
He's already been forgiven.
Doesn't understand it.
His own hands. Shredding away the layers, the life, as his brother screamed and begged and tried. Tried so fucking hard.
Not for himself.
His fear had been for that which would become his baby brother after it all ended. Hadn't cared if he lived or died, long as it never destroyed Sammy.
Not you. Don't forget that. Don't let it destroy you. Love you, Sammy, always.
He's not sure Sammy exists anymore.
Holds his brother closer, tighter, that life cooling in his hands, feeling his own rapidly fading with it.
"Don't go." He whispers it, he thinks. Not even sure it actually pushed past his lips. "Open your eyes. Don't go. Please, just --" Breaks. Tears flood as he sobs and hugs Dean's lifeless body close. Buries his nose against his brother's neck, feels the still cooling heat rising from the shredded flesh . Doesn't care. Can't move. "Love you, too. So sorry. Sorry, Dean, I'm sorry. Love you. Not your fault. Never meant to go this far. Never meant to hurt you. Sorry. Sorry, Dean. Love you. Gotta open your eyes. Wake up. Please, Dean, please don't leave me. Don't let this be me, don't -- Need you here, Dean, can't -- can't do this alone. Just wake up. Wake up." He's rocking, feels like he'll never wash away the stain of his brother's blood. His brother's life. Shakes with anger and fear and pain and holds on because he knows nothing else. Can't be here, can't be alone. "Love you."
Images rush forward, flooded in blinding light as they spiral around him. His brother's pain, screams, desperate fight…
Love you. Not you. Not your fault. Don't let it destroy you. Love you, Sammy, always. Love you. Can't fight it. Don't forget that. Love you. Love you.
Jolts up. Shaking, blinding tears slipping, clutching the soft fabric in his hands.
Deep, gasping breath. Eyes blown wide, throat clenching for words, desperate scrabble of hands against deep gray material that ought to be shredded to all but nothing, soaked black with the thick warmth of blood.
His eyes move to his brother, safe and whole in the bed beside his own, watch the shock melt away to relief as Dean's eyes lock with his.
Not sure how, but they both know.
Cas and his angels are no longer the only ones capable of bending time.
He stares. Never stops shaking. Forces Dean's name past his lips. Tries for a sorry. Can't get any further.
Less than moments, and he's wrapped tight in his brother's arms. Holds on. They both do, tears flooding.
Dean's support and he's -- god, he doesn't know what he is, what he has to offer. Can do little more than cling and cry, and he feels like he's four years old again and dad's gone and he doesn't have a mom and he doesn't know what to do, but Dean's there pulling him through it, and that means it'll all be okay.
Still can't understand. Doesn't know.
Love you. Not your fault. Can't fight it. Love you, Sammy. Love you.
He had murdered his brother.
Destiny can't be changed.
All roads lead to the same destination.