A/N: Heya, all those that are reading this, thanks for checking it out! So, I this is just a little story that I've been working on a little bit. Basically, I figured that I haven't written a supernatural story in forever, so I decided to post this one. What I'm sorta feeling with this little tail is a Castiel romance. I'm not sure if thats how it will pan out, but I will try!
Disclaimer: I own nothing familiar to you!!!!
"Jesse, Jesse, JESSE!" She falls to her knees, clutching at the limp body of an eighteen year old. The bloodied teen presses desperately against her older brothers gushing wound. Unconscious and shambled, she could not even tell if Jesse was still alive. Sobbing, she tears at her clothes, ripping shreds and pressing them against his wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. A sob rises in the back of her throat; she leans over him and lets her tears drip into his crimson life. She trembles but opens her eyes to see the clear liquid swirl inside the red.
"Dray," the gurgled word brings her eyes to her brother's face. Her hands gently stroke his cheek as she pushes herself up so that he can see her. A broken smile surfaces on his face. He coughs and blood splatters her face. "Don't be scared Dray," he says lovingly, his shaking hand stopping the steady stroking of her nervous hand. He brings her fingers to his mouth and affectionately kisses her palm. "I love you." With that, she can see his eyes dim. A mournful cry breaks out of her mouth.
Wrapping her arms around his torso, she presses her head against his shoulder. Intense emotions of pain slash through her heart. The feeling of lose so deep that it numbs the soul flashes inside her.
Memories flicker within her mind. Dimming gradually until she can scarcely glimpse them. Jesse was gone. Because of her, he died.
Sorrowfully, she opens her eyes and crawls away from her brother's brutalized body. Reaching towards something that is not there, something that no one else can see, she moans inaudibly.
"Is this what you wanted," She growls fiercely her body doubling over as she pounds the ground. She stiffens and points towards his body, a gleam of hurt so deep that it mars her soul can be seen in her green eyes. "Look at him!" Covering her face with bloodied palms, she howls in mourning. "He died for you," she murmurs, weak from blood loss she can hardly look up at her invisible enemy, "he died for you." With her last whispered word, she falls limply to the side. Dead perhaps, but even she cannot tell.
Rain always hides these tears in my eyes
Thunder laughs and my soul dies
Will I hear your voice
Will I touch your skin
Will the ocean waves let me in
The time is near, the time is nigh
To answer the call, to answer the cry
My head still spins, my body aches
Cold wind stings my eyes, my face
Look around, no one there
Will anybody notice, anyone care . . .
Will I hear you laugh
Will I see you cry
Will this world just end and let me die
Epitaph ~ by Jaimie D. Travis
One Year Later
Taking a deep breath, I look up at the towering maple tree above me. There is no sun to shine through the branches, or the bright green leafs. At two o'clock in the morning, I would not expect all that much. When I look across the narrow road in front of me, I can see the lamppost, strong and sure. Yet it is not the lamppost that is sending out flickers of light. The aged light hardly sends out any illumination now. Not that I can blame it really.
Of course, I know what is creating the light. It is the same every time. Never changes, and apparently it never gets old either. I turn around rigidly, uneasiness bites at my stomach and create stones of dread. Letting out a nervous breath I shimmy up the maple tree. I've done this before a few times. Even in the near blackness, I can see the branch that points over the cemetery. I put my arms out and slowly edge my way out on the curved branch. When I make it far enough over the branch I drop to the ground. Crouching for a few moments, I wait for any sounds. Running across the lawn riddled with gravestones, I search for one in particular.
It only takes a few minutes to find it. Places under a weeping willow, it almost looks like it could be in a country field instead of a cemetery. Stealing silently under the cover of the willow, I let my backpack fall to the ground. Searching throw my pack I pull out a plain silver necklace. Adorned on the necklace is a name. I slide it onto the hand of an angel. A small carving an angel sitting with his hand outstretched to heaven. My finger finds the inscribing of a name on the smooth rock.
Jesse it reads so simply. Beloved brother, the necklace catches on the moonlight and I can see my name carved on the silver. Andrea, tears sting in my eyes and I rub at them, refusing to cry. It has been a year. The wounds of loss should have healed. I turn and precariously perch on a tree root, with my back to the gravestone. Dwelling on the past never did much for anybody, but I could have cared less. Every three months I come back to this spot. Almost as if it is becoming a habit. It is not that I feel closer to him here, just that I do not want to ever forget him.
Horrified, I feel tears make a path down my face. Sniffling weakly, I swipe the liquid from my cheeks.
Emotions run through me, confusion, loss, sorrow. Shaking away my feelings, I smoothly stand up. Time to go; after all, it is dangerous staying in one area for too long.
Grabbing my pack, I swiftly make my way out of the graveyard. There is no real use in lingering among the dead for too long
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