Rating: K plus, for blood.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Pre 4x09. Wide eyes stare upwards, looking into almost identical green ones. He blinks, trying to focus on the face – needing to see it before he fades out.
Note: This one is…well, different. Give her a try ;-)
The clouds are swirling, a mass of light and dark grays, blocking out the sunlight and stealing away the warmth of a summer's day. The long grass bends with the wind, a distant fork of lightning brightening the meadow for only a brief second. It's quiet – no animals are around the isolated area, although a few bodies mar the otherwise beautiful landscape.
Bodies of those unexplained – a couple of hellhounds, made visible in death, and a little girl, her eyes both devoid of life and the white film that had covered them minutes before. Three large men lay beside the child – demons exorcised and sent back where they belong, their hosts all cold and long dead.
Blood stains the grass, soaking into the earth as it leaks from the recently dead.
As it leaks from the living.
Two brothers sit crouched together, one holding the other. One dying…and the other denying the possibility. Breathy gasps fill the air, blood seeping from his mouth and sliding down the side of his paling skin. Wide eyes stare upwards, looking into almost identical green ones. He blinks, trying to focus on the face – needing to see it before he fades out.
His head is pounding horribly, and he's pretty sure that blood is leaking out of the corners of his eyes and ears. He wants to raise a hand, swipe away the liquid – but he can't move, can barely breathe. He is being rocked gently by his brother, and the motion makes him nauseous, but he doesn't want it to stop, because it's also soothing.
Because it reminds him that his brother is with him – stayed by his side, right until the end…no matter how far off the path he may have strayed. He wants to smile at the thought, and tries to turn his lips upwards, knowing that he managed to succeed at least partially when his brother gives a wobbly smile in return.
"You're going to be okay."
The voice is rough, full of love and fear, and all he wants to do right then is listen to his brother talk forever. He wants to close his eyes and cocoon himself around the familiar voice, let it take the pains in his body away. But he keeps his lids open, because he knows that his brother will panic if he closes them.
"Just stay with me, alright? Just stay with me…"
He wants to tell his brother that he's trying – even though he knows that his fate is inevitable – but he coughs up more blood instead. He can't remember everything that happened, the last thing he can recall clearly is walking into the meadow – his brother at his side.
From there it's all just…flashes. The hounds from Hell, demon's wearing human faces, a little girl with milky eyes – her high voice sounding eerie as she laughed at them viciously. His brother had cried out in pain, and Ruby – she had been there, and had fallen – but he couldn't remember how or by whom.
His brother. Fear…
There had been a white light, a light that had come from inside of him. The energy has pulsed throughout his body, the feeling both painful and painless. Hot and cold. It had been unexplainable, and it had exploded out of him like a nuclear bomb. There was one thing he was sure of though – it hadn't been evil, whatever it was. Its source was not from a certain yellow eyed demon…it had been…beautiful.
Not dark and ugly, and that reassures him more than he could ever explain.
He blinks again, pushing the memories away and focusing back on his brother, who is still rocking him – but his eyes are darting around the meadow, desperately searching out the angel. A drop of water hits his cheek, and for one minute he thinks it's started to rain – before realizing that it had come from the man above him.
A tear, followed quickly by another.
His brother is sobbing, clutching him tightly still, and alternating between crying out the angels name and whispering soothing, choked reassurances into his ear. His desire to speak suddenly become so much more, it evolves into a need. He swallows back blood, eyes glittering with determination. It takes a lot of effort, but he finally manages to whisper,
His brother can hear his name through the garbled word, and is quick to respond, "I'm gonna get Castiel, okay? Just stay awake, he'll make you all better."
He wants to tell him that he doesn't need Castiel, doesn't need anyone but his big brother. He doesn't want anybody else. It surprises him when he discovers that he's okay with dying like this. Dying in his big brothers arms, the battle over – and feeling completely at peace with who he has become. His destiny may have been to become evil, but he had changed that.
They had changed that – because without his brother the outcome may have been very different.
"Can you hear me kiddo? Look at me, Sammy."
Sammy. Warmth swells in his chest at the familiar nickname, easing the pain by a fraction. He struggles to focus, because while he may be at peace with dying – he knows what it feels like to be the last one standing, knows the agony of being alone…and he doesn't want his brother to go through that pain – not again. Not if he can help it.
He fights, keeping his eyes focused upwards – refusing to submit to the comfort of darkness. More lightning sweeps across the sky, this time accompanied by a deep roll of thunder. It's dark, but beautiful at the same time – and it mesmerizes him.
His brother is running gentle fingers over his face, smearing away blood and swiping hair out of his eyes. A hand lightly squeezes that back of his neck, the sensation instantly transporting him back years, when he'd been a sick child without a mother. Almost always without a father.
But never without a brother. That had been the one constant thing in his life.
Several more drops of water splatter on his face, but this time he can see that it is rain. The water cools his throbbing body, and he can't help but close his eyes as he relaxes. The rain is becoming steadier as the storm grows closer, the soft sound of it hitting the ground almost as soothing as his brother's voice.
"Please, Sam. Open your eyes, Castiel will be here soon – he'll save you."
He hears his brother cry out another broken 'please' and he wonders if it's directed at him or to the absent angel. He tries to open his eyes, but his lids have become impossibly heavy and he realizes quickly that no amount of straining will force them open. He knows then that the end is near; death is closer than it had been mere seconds before.
The rain is coming down faster, and he can feel his brother shaking as he sobs, from both terror and anger. He parts his lips, grateful that they are still doing his bidding, and gurgles a little on blood before clearing his throat enough to say,
"L've y-ou, D-De…"
"What? Oh, no. Nononono, you don't get to bust out the goodbye speech on me now, not after all we've been through. You're going to be fine, we'll be on the road again in no time – and we'll do whatever the Hell it is we want."
His brother continues to talk, rambling on about all the things they'll see, all the things they still have to do together.
"…I swear we're going to the Grand Canyon, Sammy. If Castiel would just hurry the fuck up, 'cause if he pulled me outta Hell, then he can heal ya, kiddo…and if saving the world from Lucifer doesn't buy ya a free pass than I don't know what will. So just hold on a little bit longer, okay? For me, Sammy."
His brother is holding his hand now, and he knows that the man is trying to disguise the fact that he's searching for a pulse. He manages to squeeze the fingers weakly, telling his brother that he'll hold on as long as he can.
He doesn't know if the angels can save him, doesn't know if the man upstairs even wants him saved – it doesn't matter, all he cares about right now is his brother. His sobbing, shaking, screaming brother – who's now pleading into his ear, begging him shamelessly to stay with him.
His breaths are few and far between, limbs trembling in agony.
An involuntary shudder travels through his body, causing his muscles to tense with pain. He wonders if this is it, because his brother's voice is fading, he can't feel the rain anymore, and his body doesn't hurt – but he still can't move. His eyes are open and he sees a face, looking down at him from over his brother's shoulder.
Her hair isn't wet from the rain; it's golden and shines without the sun. The face is round and youthful, eyes sparkling and full of light. It's Jess, and she smiles softly, placing a finger to her lips and blowing him a kiss. She trembles and her image fades into that of someone else.
She is smiling as well, looking at him with pride. He wants to speak, let her know that he isn't mad about the deal, but his lips are unable to form words. Unlike Jess, she steps closer and kneels down beside him, a cool, but soothing finger running across his cheekbone.
He's not sure what's going on, but he continues to look at her wonderingly. And then, she speaks. Her voice is softer than the last time he had met her apparition, the words almost sound musical…beautiful to his ears.
"Angels are watching over you, too, Sammy." She whispers, and then…then she is gone. There's a flash, and he can make out Castiel, standing a great distance away, but he can still somehow see his face clearly.
The angel stares at him wordlessly before fading from sight. Warmth immediately fills him, reaching right to the tips of his toes, light baths him before everything goes black. He's not really sure what happened – what it means…not knowing until he hears an uncertain, shaking voice reach his ears.
"Sammy? Can you hear me?"
He opens his eyes – unable to remember exactly when he closed them again – and looks at his brother. Above them the sun has broken free from the angry clouds, a thin sliver of light shining down on them. "Dean." He whispers hoarsely.
His brother, emotionally drained, and half scared to death, sags with relief and lets out a choked laugh. He's dragged into a half seated position and pulled into a bone crushing hug. "You scared me, bitch." The ragged whisper comes within seconds. (Love you, Sammy)
And Sam smiles, tightening the hug even as he replies hoarsely, "Jerk." (Back at ya, bro)
If I were to die today my life would be more then okay
For the time that I spent with you
Its like a dream come true
If this was a last goodbye
No more tears to dry
I would say it one more time
Its been more then fine
How could've known
How could've shown
-Say What You Will, Damhnait Doyle
(Cough) Ooookay…uhm, I seriously don't know what this was. Honestly, it was like word vomit – inspired by the image of a meadow and long grass. Uhm, what did ya think? I don't even know what to think about this piece!