Sam/Dean, "Nemo Nisi Mors"
Title: Nemo Nisi Mors
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, very vague, one-sided Dean/Castiel.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 688
Warnings: Character death(s), angst.
Disclaimer: Don’t own the song or the boys.
Summary: Castiel stands, laying his hand over Sam’s forehead, warm and slick with sweat, drawing in a stuttered breath, withdrawing his hand. This, yes. He knows now, knows what he can do. It hurts. So, so much.
What is a brother for? / If not to love / And if the sky should fall / And life deal you too much / I won’t ever go / I won’t ever fail / I won’t ever let you down / Nemo nisi mors (nobody except death will part us) / Brothers ‘til the end / Always
* * *
Machines beep steadily in the quiet room.
Two men are asleep- a younger one in the bed, pale, breathing shallow, splash of dark hair against the stark white pillow; the elder slouched in a chair close by, head tipped to one side and brows drawn together. His one arm is stretched out to the side, resting partly on the sheets and fingers woven loosely with the younger man’s.
* * *
He shifts his feet on the tile floor, wishing desperately that he didn’t have to see this, didn’t have to watch. But he made his choice, and now he pays the price of falling, of disobeying.
He wants. He cries, he laughs, he loves.
He cares.
The man in the chair stirs quietly, lifting his head and blinking twice, offering a small nod in greeting, not withdrawing his hand. Instead he squeezes, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips as he regards his sleeping companion with unabashed affection. With love.
Theirs is a love with no equal, Castiel is certain. No parallel. Two men who hold each other in the highest of places, are stubborn to the point of irrationality in their willingness to do anything, even die. For each other.
He feels the cracks in his heart widen a little more each time he visits, the scene before him causing his gut to clench and his stomach to twist and his eyes to well with tears he can finally shed. He wants, he wants, he wants to fix, and he can’t. He can’t heal. He can only watch and grieve, just like Dean.
“It’s almost,” Dean says quietly, swallows back emotions Castiel knows are barely being held at bay. “Almost time.” He leans forward ever so carefully, brushes a lock of hair from Sam’s forehead. The lines in his face are deep, streaks of silver threading through the pure dark brown. Nothing lasts forever, does it?
Castiel’s voice is shaking when he responds. “He’s worse.”
A short jerk of Dean’s head is the only reply.
Finally, minutes later- the words spill over, broken and bare, anguished honesty. “I can’t live without him, Cas.” Green eyes slide up to meet his, glimmering, noiselessly panicked. “I can’t.”
Castiel feels the last shreds of sanity slip away, and he breaks. Silent footsteps carry him over to the beside, where Dean scoots his chair even closer, ignoring the position Castiel knows must be uncomfortable for him, and rests his head on the pillow beside Sam’s.
Sam hums, eyes fluttering, then opening. “Hey, Cas.” He says it with a tired smile, then takes a minute to shift over in the bed, pulling away the blankets on the empty side. Dean’s breath catches, but he climbs in beside him and latches on. One arm underneath, the other slung over Sam’s torso, head buried in the crook of his brother’s shoulder.
They lie there for what is probably hours, Castiel leaning against the window, watching them.
* * *
He wakes with a start, only slightly surprised to find himself in the chair. The first thing he does is glance over at the bed, and Dean is watching him.
“I can feel him leaving,” he chokes out, arms tightening around Sam. “He’s... Tell me he’s not-”
“No,” Castiel rasps hoarsely. “No. Rest assured there is a place in Heaven for him, Dean. He is not going to Hell.
Tears slide down Dean’s face. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”
Castiel looks away. He will not cry in front of Dean. He stands, laying his hand over Sam’s forehead, warm and slick with sweat, drawing in a stuttered breath, withdrawing his hand. This, yes. He knows now, knows what he can do. It hurts. So, so much. “No, Dean.” He can barely get the words out, so overwhelmed by emotion, but forces himself to meet Dean’s eyes again. “Thank you, for all you have done for this Earth. And for me.”
Dean gives a tiny nod, eyes sliding closed. “Bye, Cas,” he whispers, curling in tighter to Sam’s side.
Castiel touches them both, two hands on two heads, and the beeping stops.