Just Muse Me: Five Times Fear, One Time Happiness
1.
Dying hadn't scared her. Coming back did. She'd never felt so helpless, lying on the floor like a stunned fish, like a beached whale, waiting to die again. Not being able to remember her name, or the names of those close to her. Knowing she was missing vital pieces of her life and not being able to so much as push past the barrier in her mind that kept the information from overwhelming her. She was somewhat more grateful after she realized what was happening, but it still hurt.
When it was happening it just terrified her. Limbs like lead weights, eyes half-closed half the time. Moving from one room to the other exhausted her. Never mind doing anything like fixing a meal or picking up the living room. And she was aware that she had died, that she had been brought back, something told her that danger lurked outside her door. Could come in, any moment. She had no way of protecting herself from that.
The angel by her side, picking her up when she fell, assuaged that fear only a little. She was all too aware that angels came and went at someone else's command, and when they came for her while her guardian was poofed off elsewhere, then what would she do?
2.
She knew that it shouldn't matter. She had four other mundane senses to rely upon and her Sight, which hadn't been blinded. She was able to get around a damn sight better than most people who had lost their sight in an accident and, let's be honest, she had done this her own damn self. Gotten cocky, forgotten what she had learned. Remember, Pam, there's always someone out there bigger and smarter than you. And what kind of a creature could pull a man from Hell and restore him to earth intact? You should have listened when he warned you away.
That didn't matter now. Might have beens weren't going to bring her eyes back. She had to get used to moving blind in a sighted world, get used to the fact that Paul's pretty face and Michael's smiling family, her beautiful roses, a sunset, the way light made rainbows through the prisms in her bedroom, it was all going to be just a bunch of fading memories. And that hurt. More than the initial shock or pain, that hurt.
And it scared her. She didn't know how to adjust to this, never mind what she knew about steps and taking it slow and what the doctors had told her. How was she supposed to be able to see the hands on a clock, the minutes on a kitchen timer? How was she supposed to read? Half her books either weren't on tape or were written and published and gone out of print long before Braille. How was she going to keep up her business if she couldn't see the cards, read auras? Well, maybe that she could do, but still. How was she going to survive?
The adjustment loomed in front of her, and it had sharp pointy teeth. She'd already cut or burned herself three times today on things she hadn't seen were there. No matter how well the doctors said she was doing, every time she tripped or fell or hit something or knocked something over with a fumbling hand was one more reminder of how different her life was going to be. She'd been able to handle any change life threw at her, except this one. With this change, this blindness, she was so scared of living this way for the rest of her life, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry.
3.
First Sam told her. Then he spent the next twenty minutes calming her down.
"What the hell, Sam, why didn't you stop him??"
"I didn't know what was going on! I was a little busy at the time!" Sam shouted back, throwing his hands up in the air. Hysteria built on hysteria. He didn't understand why she was so upset.
"You... Dean let him take on an archangel? Probably more than one?? What..." Pam was hyperventilating. Spots were starting to swim in front of her eyes. She could all but picture it, Cas, splattered into tiny angel molecules with tiny molecule halos... and that line of thought had come out of exactly nowhere and made her giggle. "Oh god..."
"Pam..."
She couldn't breathe. Scattered across the universe, murdered by his kin. Castiel. Beautiful, brave...
"Pam."
"WHAT."
Now they were both breathing hard. "He's okay. He's all right. Well, not all right, but..." Which was about as far as he got out before she pounced him, threw her arms around him and hugged him tight enough to lift him off the floor.
"Christ on a cracker, Sam, why didn't you tell me that in the first place?
4.
She didn't want to die. Hell, she hadn't wanted to come out here in the first damn place. Dean had talked her into it. Dean had bullied her into staying.
No, that wasn't fair. She didn't do anything she didn't want to do, Dean had just reminded her why she did what she did in the first place, or part of it. Had reminded her that she knew what was at stake. That didn't make her feel any better when the blood started seeping out from between her fingers. She pressed harder. It didn't help.
Internal bleeding. She knew she wasn't going to make it. After all these years talking through to the other side she was finally going to get to live there. Dying to, in fact. God, that was some gallows humor. Was she really that scared? Hell, she was terrified. She didn't want to die. Please, Lady, I don't want to die.
She was going to die. Now.
5.
Lucifer was free, which meant they were all pretty much fucked.
1.
Her lap, her chest was still warm where he'd curled up against her, huddling, exhausted. She could still smell the scent of his host's body, strangely devoid of aftershave or soap or shampoo (why bother when you could just angel-magic yourself clean) and just about feel the texture of his coat under her hand. And, and perhaps this was most important, his words still echoed in her ears.
She couldn't stop smiling if she'd wanted to. She wouldn't have stopped smiling if Lucifer himself had walked through her door, a feat much more likely these days, but still.
Such was the power of love.
She could barely breathe, but the way she felt right now she didn't need to breathe. She couldn't move even enough to put her hands over her mouth let alone jump around in circles the way she'd done the last time she'd heard those words from someone. And this wasn't just any someone. This was her someone. Really, it was. Not the vessel's voice, but his. She still had only half an idea what happened, how, or why, but ... Wow.
He loved her. He loved her. He loved her, out of all the humans and through all the mess and chaos and out of everything that had happened and it wasn't like she couldn't figure it out from the way he acted and the way they were around each other but he had said it and she was about ready to vibrate off the couch with sheer excitement and joy.
Dying hadn't scared her. Coming back did. She'd never felt so helpless, lying on the floor like a stunned fish, like a beached whale, waiting to die again. Not being able to remember her name, or the names of those close to her. Knowing she was missing vital pieces of her life and not being able to so much as push past the barrier in her mind that kept the information from overwhelming her. She was somewhat more grateful after she realized what was happening, but it still hurt.
When it was happening it just terrified her. Limbs like lead weights, eyes half-closed half the time. Moving from one room to the other exhausted her. Never mind doing anything like fixing a meal or picking up the living room. And she was aware that she had died, that she had been brought back, something told her that danger lurked outside her door. Could come in, any moment. She had no way of protecting herself from that.
The angel by her side, picking her up when she fell, assuaged that fear only a little. She was all too aware that angels came and went at someone else's command, and when they came for her while her guardian was poofed off elsewhere, then what would she do?
2.
She knew that it shouldn't matter. She had four other mundane senses to rely upon and her Sight, which hadn't been blinded. She was able to get around a damn sight better than most people who had lost their sight in an accident and, let's be honest, she had done this her own damn self. Gotten cocky, forgotten what she had learned. Remember, Pam, there's always someone out there bigger and smarter than you. And what kind of a creature could pull a man from Hell and restore him to earth intact? You should have listened when he warned you away.
That didn't matter now. Might have beens weren't going to bring her eyes back. She had to get used to moving blind in a sighted world, get used to the fact that Paul's pretty face and Michael's smiling family, her beautiful roses, a sunset, the way light made rainbows through the prisms in her bedroom, it was all going to be just a bunch of fading memories. And that hurt. More than the initial shock or pain, that hurt.
And it scared her. She didn't know how to adjust to this, never mind what she knew about steps and taking it slow and what the doctors had told her. How was she supposed to be able to see the hands on a clock, the minutes on a kitchen timer? How was she supposed to read? Half her books either weren't on tape or were written and published and gone out of print long before Braille. How was she going to keep up her business if she couldn't see the cards, read auras? Well, maybe that she could do, but still. How was she going to survive?
The adjustment loomed in front of her, and it had sharp pointy teeth. She'd already cut or burned herself three times today on things she hadn't seen were there. No matter how well the doctors said she was doing, every time she tripped or fell or hit something or knocked something over with a fumbling hand was one more reminder of how different her life was going to be. She'd been able to handle any change life threw at her, except this one. With this change, this blindness, she was so scared of living this way for the rest of her life, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry.
3.
First Sam told her. Then he spent the next twenty minutes calming her down.
"What the hell, Sam, why didn't you stop him??"
"I didn't know what was going on! I was a little busy at the time!" Sam shouted back, throwing his hands up in the air. Hysteria built on hysteria. He didn't understand why she was so upset.
"You... Dean let him take on an archangel? Probably more than one?? What..." Pam was hyperventilating. Spots were starting to swim in front of her eyes. She could all but picture it, Cas, splattered into tiny angel molecules with tiny molecule halos... and that line of thought had come out of exactly nowhere and made her giggle. "Oh god..."
"Pam..."
She couldn't breathe. Scattered across the universe, murdered by his kin. Castiel. Beautiful, brave...
"Pam."
"WHAT."
Now they were both breathing hard. "He's okay. He's all right. Well, not all right, but..." Which was about as far as he got out before she pounced him, threw her arms around him and hugged him tight enough to lift him off the floor.
"Christ on a cracker, Sam, why didn't you tell me that in the first place?
4.
She didn't want to die. Hell, she hadn't wanted to come out here in the first damn place. Dean had talked her into it. Dean had bullied her into staying.
No, that wasn't fair. She didn't do anything she didn't want to do, Dean had just reminded her why she did what she did in the first place, or part of it. Had reminded her that she knew what was at stake. That didn't make her feel any better when the blood started seeping out from between her fingers. She pressed harder. It didn't help.
Internal bleeding. She knew she wasn't going to make it. After all these years talking through to the other side she was finally going to get to live there. Dying to, in fact. God, that was some gallows humor. Was she really that scared? Hell, she was terrified. She didn't want to die. Please, Lady, I don't want to die.
She was going to die. Now.
5.
Lucifer was free, which meant they were all pretty much fucked.
1.
Her lap, her chest was still warm where he'd curled up against her, huddling, exhausted. She could still smell the scent of his host's body, strangely devoid of aftershave or soap or shampoo (why bother when you could just angel-magic yourself clean) and just about feel the texture of his coat under her hand. And, and perhaps this was most important, his words still echoed in her ears.
She couldn't stop smiling if she'd wanted to. She wouldn't have stopped smiling if Lucifer himself had walked through her door, a feat much more likely these days, but still.
Such was the power of love.
She could barely breathe, but the way she felt right now she didn't need to breathe. She couldn't move even enough to put her hands over her mouth let alone jump around in circles the way she'd done the last time she'd heard those words from someone. And this wasn't just any someone. This was her someone. Really, it was. Not the vessel's voice, but his. She still had only half an idea what happened, how, or why, but ... Wow.
He loved her. He loved her. He loved her, out of all the humans and through all the mess and chaos and out of everything that had happened and it wasn't like she couldn't figure it out from the way he acted and the way they were around each other but he had said it and she was about ready to vibrate off the couch with sheer excitement and joy.