fic > sleep
This is what happens when I should be sleeping. Instead I was thinking of King Lear and Supernatural, and what our finale might entail. THEN THIS HAPPENED. Title from Shakespeare's King Lear.
Howl, howl, howl, howl
At the crossroads, knees in the dirt, Sam screams.
He screams because he feels the loss in the marrow of his bones, deeper; because he fought so long and so hard, all year, and still it wasn’t enough. They took Dean from him, every part; they took his body and soul right from Sam’s arms and all he has left is Dean’s amulet clenched in his fist, so tight it digs into his hand, makes him bleed. He’s bleeding in every way imaginable. He howls Dean’s name until it no longer registers as a word, over and over, until his voice is gone, ripped away, but Dean doesn’t come, won’t ever come, never, never, never, never, never.
When it happens, it doesn’t feel so much like the flip of a switch than a door opening in his mind, a revelation, an answer. When he opens his eyes he knows without seeing that there is no trace of pupil or iris or human left, just yellow, and it feels like hope. Sam puts a hand to the ground and Hell’s gates open up for him.
He has work to do.
Howl, howl, howl, howl
At the crossroads, knees in the dirt, Sam screams.
He screams because he feels the loss in the marrow of his bones, deeper; because he fought so long and so hard, all year, and still it wasn’t enough. They took Dean from him, every part; they took his body and soul right from Sam’s arms and all he has left is Dean’s amulet clenched in his fist, so tight it digs into his hand, makes him bleed. He’s bleeding in every way imaginable. He howls Dean’s name until it no longer registers as a word, over and over, until his voice is gone, ripped away, but Dean doesn’t come, won’t ever come, never, never, never, never, never.
When it happens, it doesn’t feel so much like the flip of a switch than a door opening in his mind, a revelation, an answer. When he opens his eyes he knows without seeing that there is no trace of pupil or iris or human left, just yellow, and it feels like hope. Sam puts a hand to the ground and Hell’s gates open up for him.
He has work to do.