a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands.
her consciousness flickers, fades, revs up in precise points of time; of space.
it’s not death—- not really, anyway. it’s more like a brain-vacation. she’s not even sure if she is dead….
if it was all just a dream.
she can no longer feel her feet, nor anything, for that matter. but she sees; and what a sight it is.
if she had a heart, it’d be thundering right about now.
the solid perfume of death approaching hangs off him in waves.
his shoulders hunched; his body rigid, and weak.
—- and she knows him, somehow.
the face he had so long ago is at the forefront of her losing mind. his name bubbles on her lips, the sound so foreign, so… effortless. slipping out like air, like smoke.
❝sam—-?❞
everything’s too bright. even with the curtains drawn and the room bathed in darkness, light from the hallway sneaks in under the door. sunlight bends around the window and manages to claw its way into his eyes.
he’s just so tired. no matter what he does, the need to lie down, to shut his eyes, is overwhelming.
he has to stave it off, though. finding metatron is more important finishing the trials is more important than a n y t h i n g that’s happening to his own weak body.
body hunched on the edge of one of the sagging motel mattresses, sam rests his head in his hands. things are flickering before his eyes [not visions, thank god, not visions again ] like dean when he was younger, spiders crawling on the wall in front of him, jess sitting down beside him.
sam raises his head, squinting at the figure before him. jo. that’s new. he hesitates, smoothing back his ragged hair with trembling hands. it’s just another vision. he’s feverish, dean said so himself, he just needs to let it pass.
It had broken his heart when Sam had walked out of that motel room. Destroyed him. He’d picked a demon over his brother, and released Lucifer. But he was his brother. And no matter how much it hurt, or how angry Dean was with Sam, he wasn’t going to abandon him. He just couldn’t do that to him.
But they had to stop the world ending. That was their job. But even they deserved a night off once in a while. And that’s what they were doing now. A night off. Away from the apocalypse, away from angels and demons.
Just them.
”Yeah, it is. It’s nice.”
For once, the silence is nice. Any other time, silence wouldn’t have been nice at all. Reaching behind him, he grabbed too beers from the cooler, handing one over to Sam before opening his own. Taking a drink, he stared down at the grass, black in the moonlight, before over at his brother. “It’s gonna be okay, Sam.”
never in his life has sam felt so much regret. it’s there in the mornings, when dean’s quiet and sleepy and sam’s all alone in the room. it’s there at mid-day, when the sun casts a tall shadow behind the impala that moves and shimmers as they forge their way across borders and states. it’s there at night, when everything is quiet and their only company is the glowing screen of a motel tv and a cold beer.
and the thing is, sam still c r a v e s it. his blood aches for the power, the euphoria. the control. he hates that no matter how much he hurts dean, no matter how much he wishes none of this had ever happened, he still wants it so bad his hands shake and his mouth goes dry.
but sam trusts dean. sam knows dean won’t let him fail again. sam knows he won’t let himself betray dean again. so he holds on with sweaty fingers, praying for guidance and hoping for salvation.
he smiles now, soft and secretive and f o r l o r n . he feels lost. ever since he was a child, he was the freak, the odd one out. and now is no different.
❝ no, it’s really not. but thank you. ❞
sammy meets his brother’s gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching up almost against his will —- an actual, genuine smile. because he knows whatever there is in store, dean will be there to face it with him.
this can’t be, facts told him it was impossible for the figure before him, taking form of a haunting memory to even be in front of him.——————- he had really lost it this time.
❝ —- dean? ❞
his brow pulls up and together, knotting in confusion. something’s not right —- dean looks s h a k e n , as if the ground has been tugged out from beneath his feet. sam holds himself still, hoping to steady the world that appears to be whirling underneath his big brother.
