In My Time Of Dying
Title: In My Time Of Dying
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Warnings: major character death, angst, Dean POV
Word Count: 500
Summary: Dean doesn't mind dying.
Time passes differently in Hell. I imagine it does in Heaven too, not that I’d know anything about it. Never stepped foot in the place. Not for real anyway. And now I know I never will.
There’s no white light to step into either; another crock of shit some douchenozzle came up with. I ain’t never seen no goddamned light. Just Sammy’s face, then darkness. Been lucky like that. To die in my brother’s arms. Never had to take that last step alone. Hated leaving him, every time I think, shit, Sam’s on his own now. Who’s gonna take care of him? Who’s gonna watch out for him?
I know it’s stupid. Sammy’s a full grown man, he can take care of himself. But you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks. I’m an old dog if there’s ever been one. Never did figure out how to let go of that habit either, watching out for Sammy. Was watching out for him before I learned how to hold a gun. And sometimes I wonder if I was born with that damn thing clutched in my hand.
No white light, no life story flashing before your eyes or any of that other spiritual shit. Dying ain’t no religious experience. Dying sucks. It’s messy and painful and scary. There’s a lot of things I’d rather do again than die. Get beat up by Lucifer. Take on half a dozen demons. Get my head smashed into a brick wall. All them fucking things are a walk in the park compared to dying.
But I’m glad it’s me. Even after his face crumples up like he’s five years old again, sobbing my name, I’m still glad it’s me. I’d say I wish he wasn’t hurting about it but that’d be a lie. I’m no saint. I’ve done a lot of shit to that boy over the years; by all rights he should hate me. But I ain’t never seen a fear like Sam’s when I’m about to draw my last fucking breath. I ain’t never heard someone more heartbroken than Sam when he says my name.
Like I said, I ain’t no fucking saint. I love my brother more than I love this goddamned world that’s never done a thing for either one of us. But when he’s gripping me tight and begging me to hold on, to keep breathing, to stay with him, I’m finally something. No matter what I’d done, no matter how much I’d hurt him, when I’m dying Sammy fucking loves me.
And sometimes I think, I’d die a thousand times for love like that.
So take me back to hell. Put me on a rack. String me the fuck up, tear me to pieces. Even if this is my last time dying, if there’s no more redemption for me. I don’t need no fucking white clouds and asshole angels. I had my few seconds of heaven right here on earth, in my brother’s arms.
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