until we say goodbye (1/1)hollyhobbit44November 3 2019, 01:10:37 UTC
Not sure if I've fully filled the prompt, but here you go
Sam has had many last words. Or, almost-last words. He doesn't know quite what you call it when you get brought back, and your last words just become another thing that is not talked about Under Any Circumstances. Each time, he wonders if they might really be the last, if, this time, he won't just wake up again, gasping and choking.
(Sometimes, though he wouldn't ever tell Dean this, he truly hopes that they are)
(Each time, he is wrong, and recently he's become almost disappointed when he draws breath again. Not that Dean needs to know that)
The thing is, everyone thinks - hopes - that their last words are going to be something poignant, something that they've carefully crafted and planned out to be as meaningful and memorable as possible. You read about celebrities, things they said during their final breaths, and it sounds so easy. What Sam's found, though, through his own, unique, experiences of Death, is that usually there's no time for careful thinking - it's just panic, or pain, or your brain is too scrambled to come up with anything decent to say, anyway. Sam's gotten used to that feeling.
He's reaching the end now, he can feel it in his bones. Pretty literally, in fact. It's pretty funny, when he thinks about it; Sam Winchester, taken down by the common cold. Or, what they all thought was the common cold, until one thing led to another, and it turns out that he'd actually managed to contract pneumonia. Which would have been fine, except it also turns out that his immune system never actually fully recovered from the Trials, and, without Cas able to heal him, things had gone downhill pretty fucking fast.
Dean had yelled at the doctors, as usual. Yelled at Sam and Cas, also as usual. Then he'd started talking about deals and spells, which was the grand finale of this whole Winchester death charade. Sam had almost expected someone to jump out and yell, 'Cut!'
(Now breathe, Sam. Time to run it through again)
It's okay, though; Sam's kind of glad it's something normal that'll finally do him in. He's had a strange, unbelievable life. He's more than happy for his death to be boring.
It's getting harder to breathe now, his lungs refusing to fill with enough air. And Sam doesn't want to struggle anymore; he wants to just let go, all peaceful, rather than fight for something that he knows he can't have. He can hear Dean saying his name, asking him to fight, goddammit, but Sam can't anymore. Sometimes, it's felt like the fight is the only thing there is in his life. He wants that to end.
"Say something, Sammy," Dean begs, and Sam knows that this is it. His last words, the final speech in the last breath of his life. And Sam... Sam doesn't know what to say.
He thinks on what he's said in the past - his brother's name, more than once, in the times when Death was too quick for anything else. A plea for reason, when he'd been stupid enough to think Walt would care. A thank you, when Nick bashed his brains onto the road, and it would have been the end if not for Jack.
Sam's had many last words, has said many different things, but this time is truly the last.
Sam has had many last words. Or, almost-last words. He doesn't know quite what you call it when you get brought back, and your last words just become another thing that is not talked about Under Any Circumstances. Each time, he wonders if they might really be the last, if, this time, he won't just wake up again, gasping and choking.
(Sometimes, though he wouldn't ever tell Dean this, he truly hopes that they are)
(Each time, he is wrong, and recently he's become almost disappointed when he draws breath again. Not that Dean needs to know that)
The thing is, everyone thinks - hopes - that their last words are going to be something poignant, something that they've carefully crafted and planned out to be as meaningful and memorable as possible. You read about celebrities, things they said during their final breaths, and it sounds so easy. What Sam's found, though, through his own, unique, experiences of Death, is that usually there's no time for careful thinking - it's just panic, or pain, or your brain is too scrambled to come up with anything decent to say, anyway. Sam's gotten used to that feeling.
He's reaching the end now, he can feel it in his bones. Pretty literally, in fact. It's pretty funny, when he thinks about it; Sam Winchester, taken down by the common cold. Or, what they all thought was the common cold, until one thing led to another, and it turns out that he'd actually managed to contract pneumonia. Which would have been fine, except it also turns out that his immune system never actually fully recovered from the Trials, and, without Cas able to heal him, things had gone downhill pretty fucking fast.
Dean had yelled at the doctors, as usual. Yelled at Sam and Cas, also as usual. Then he'd started talking about deals and spells, which was the grand finale of this whole Winchester death charade. Sam had almost expected someone to jump out and yell, 'Cut!'
(Now breathe, Sam. Time to run it through again)
It's okay, though; Sam's kind of glad it's something normal that'll finally do him in. He's had a strange, unbelievable life. He's more than happy for his death to be boring.
It's getting harder to breathe now, his lungs refusing to fill with enough air. And Sam doesn't want to struggle anymore; he wants to just let go, all peaceful, rather than fight for something that he knows he can't have. He can hear Dean saying his name, asking him to fight, goddammit, but Sam can't anymore. Sometimes, it's felt like the fight is the only thing there is in his life. He wants that to end.
"Say something, Sammy," Dean begs, and Sam knows that this is it. His last words, the final speech in the last breath of his life. And Sam... Sam doesn't know what to say.
He thinks on what he's said in the past - his brother's name, more than once, in the times when Death was too quick for anything else. A plea for reason, when he'd been stupid enough to think Walt would care. A thank you, when Nick bashed his brains onto the road, and it would have been the end if not for Jack.
Sam's had many last words, has said many different things, but this time is truly the last.
Sam smiles.
And doesn't say anything at all.
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Thank you so much for filling this so beautifully and with so much emotion. sniff sniff
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