All I want is to be washed out by the sea [No death star over me]
For muse_shuffle
>>Won't give me any peace >> All I want is light relief
He hasn’t really slept since that night in Colorado. It isn’t the demons that bother him, it is the things he was willing to do.
He keeps seeing her face. Nancy; terrified at first and then resigned, willing to do what it would take to save her friends. He was ready to let Ruby kill her. On the nights he’s honest with himself he was ready to cut her heart out himself. And that’s something he won’t admit to anyone.
His dreams are drenched in blood, red-black and shiny wet. It bubbles over his fingers and he watches as she takes her last breath, eyes wide and scared.
His nightmares are scattered with memories of Dean’s death. Night after night he holds his brother while he dies.
And that’s why Sam isn’t sleeping. He can’t live that anymore and he can’t shoulder the guilt that comes from realizing the nightmares of Dean’s death bother him more than the ones that show him Nancy and all that blood. It’s been weeks and he’s living on coffee and sheer willpower. He just wants to close his eyes and not see anything so when Elle offers to stay up while he sleeps, he takes her up on her offer.
He doesn’t even try to sleep in any room other than the one Dean is sleeping in. Elle sits up against the headboard and he lays his head in her lap, looking up to her with wide, uncertain eyes. She smiles at him and her fingers weave through his hair. He takes a deep breath, his stomach fluttering uncertainly and his breath struggling to remain even. He glances over to the bed where Dean lies already asleep with his arms around Jo then Sam nods and closes his eyes, terrified of what he’s going to see if he lets himself sleep.
The fear of having another nightmare threatens to choke him, rising up in his throat like some kind of great beast, coiling and uncoiling, making his breathing erratic. He reaches up and curls his fingers around Elle’s wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse as he lets the steady beat of her heart set the pace for his breathing. Her fingers keep up their constant rhythm through his hair, her heart stays steady and her hands are warm, just barely making his scalp tingle. He feels it before it takes hold, slipping over him like a shadow, embracing him and pulling him away.
Heartbeat
Fingers
Breathing
Trying so hard to hold onto any of those, to keep him rooted in here and now instead of drifting into the horror that waits for him.
And then it goes black and he’s slipped under.
He sleeps until noon and when he finally wakes up he is amazed that she is still there. She’s got some funky smelling tea in a white mug but she’s awake and she’s there and her fingers are still in his hair. He’s vaguely aware that it might be because her legs are numb.
“Good morning,” she smiles at him.
“I slept.”
>>Won't give me any peace >> All I want is light relief
He hasn’t really slept since that night in Colorado. It isn’t the demons that bother him, it is the things he was willing to do.
He keeps seeing her face. Nancy; terrified at first and then resigned, willing to do what it would take to save her friends. He was ready to let Ruby kill her. On the nights he’s honest with himself he was ready to cut her heart out himself. And that’s something he won’t admit to anyone.
His dreams are drenched in blood, red-black and shiny wet. It bubbles over his fingers and he watches as she takes her last breath, eyes wide and scared.
His nightmares are scattered with memories of Dean’s death. Night after night he holds his brother while he dies.
And that’s why Sam isn’t sleeping. He can’t live that anymore and he can’t shoulder the guilt that comes from realizing the nightmares of Dean’s death bother him more than the ones that show him Nancy and all that blood. It’s been weeks and he’s living on coffee and sheer willpower. He just wants to close his eyes and not see anything so when Elle offers to stay up while he sleeps, he takes her up on her offer.
He doesn’t even try to sleep in any room other than the one Dean is sleeping in. Elle sits up against the headboard and he lays his head in her lap, looking up to her with wide, uncertain eyes. She smiles at him and her fingers weave through his hair. He takes a deep breath, his stomach fluttering uncertainly and his breath struggling to remain even. He glances over to the bed where Dean lies already asleep with his arms around Jo then Sam nods and closes his eyes, terrified of what he’s going to see if he lets himself sleep.
The fear of having another nightmare threatens to choke him, rising up in his throat like some kind of great beast, coiling and uncoiling, making his breathing erratic. He reaches up and curls his fingers around Elle’s wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse as he lets the steady beat of her heart set the pace for his breathing. Her fingers keep up their constant rhythm through his hair, her heart stays steady and her hands are warm, just barely making his scalp tingle. He feels it before it takes hold, slipping over him like a shadow, embracing him and pulling him away.
Heartbeat
Fingers
Breathing
Trying so hard to hold onto any of those, to keep him rooted in here and now instead of drifting into the horror that waits for him.
And then it goes black and he’s slipped under.
He sleeps until noon and when he finally wakes up he is amazed that she is still there. She’s got some funky smelling tea in a white mug but she’s awake and she’s there and her fingers are still in his hair. He’s vaguely aware that it might be because her legs are numb.
“Good morning,” she smiles at him.
“I slept.”