The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows. -Socrates

In Life, and in Death

You stare at the drops of blood in the sink, and you wonder how long you've got left.


You're not stupid – no matter what you tell Dean, you know you're not going to survive these trials, and for that reason you're glad it's you and not Dean. You're sick, both literally and figuratively, and if you're going to die this is going to be as good as it gets – you'll be going down fighting, doing all you can to ensure the Gates of Hell are closed forever.


Of course, you don't tell Dean all of this – the fact that Dean thinks you haven't given up is all that keeps him going, and you need him to keep going. No matter what happens between you, seeing Dean look like he's got nothing to go on for kills you every time. He doesn't know it, but you heard him pray to Cas and it was all you could do to not break down right then. He doesn't deserve this, but then again, you don't either, and when has the universe ever been fair to you two?


Dean might have his own room now, and you yours, but that doesn't prevent you two from still sleeping in the same room – after years of doing so it's unnatural to be unable to hear each other's every move and remain in each other's line of sight. If something gets either of you in the silence of the night how is the other supposed to know? So sometimes you sneak into Dean's room at night, and other times he comes into yours. You both pretend not to know, but it offers indescribable comfort to both of you.


You lie awake at night and listen to Dean's breathing, and the uneven pattern tells you he's not asleep either. You know your breathing tells Dean you're awake too, but neither of you acknowledge each other. You have your boundaries, as much as there can be when you've been together for most of your lives, but even then sometimes it's best to give each other some space.


You know Dean loves you. It is obvious in everything he says and does, in the small gestures that go unacknowledged but never unnoticed, in the way he sacrifices everything for you, in the way he's died for you. You know he'd give anything for you, do anything just to keep you safe, even if it means you two are apart. He doesn't care about himself as long as you're okay.

And God, you love him too. You know you've made mistakes in the past, you've let him down and hurt him more times than you can count, but he always puts that aside and welcomes you back with open arms, forgives you and lets you be Sammy again. And you try your hardest to do the same for him, to forgive hismistakes and overlook his occasional harsh words, and you've died for him too, and you're willing to do it a thousand times over if it means he gets to live. Part of you knows this is what screwed up your lives in the first place, both of you so willing to die for the other, but in all honesty you don't care. You have Dean, and Dean has you, and that is enough for the both of you.


Deep down inside though, you're still the little Sammy who's scared, regardless of the grown man on the outside. Sometimes all you need is for Dean to tell you it's all right, but both of you know it isn't, and neither of you have ever been the type to mince words and say things you know aren't true (of course, there are occasional exceptions). The trials scare you, the demons scare you because they're quite capable of taking your big brother away from you, and even Hell scares you, because you've been in the Cage and you remember every painful, torturous, excruciating second of wishing you were dead, wishing you'd never been born, wishing you'd never jumped in the pit in the first place. But then you remembered it meant Dean was all right, and the world wasn't ending after all, and that was okay, you were atoning for every sin you'd ever committed.

Still, you never want to go back again if you can help it.


Sometimes, you miss Dad so badly it hurts. You never let Dean know, though, because he misses Dad more, and you were always the prodigal son, the ungrateful one, the rebellious one who objected to every word out of Dad's mouth, and deep down inside you know you deserve every second of the guilt and pain you feel when you think of Dad.


At times you wonder if you and Dean are ever going to be happy, in your lives, ever. You know it's extremely unlikely that both of you will survive the trials and closing the Gates of Hell, and while sometimes you just wish it's over, you know that you don't want to die. You've wished many times that you were dead, and a couple of times you even attempted suicide (Dean doesn't know about this, and you intend to keep it that way) but even then, regardless of all of that, you don't want to die. And no matter what Dean says, you know he doesn't want to, either.

All both of you want is to be alive. And together.


You've considered leaving, sneaking out in the middle of the night when Dean's asleep, so that you can face the trials alone, and Dean will be safe. However, you can't make yourself do it, no matter how hard you try, because you know Dean will track you down and come after you, and the ass-kicking that will follow is something you're not looking forward to.

Also, who's going to take care of Dean if you're not around?

(Dean may be perfectly capable of looking after himself, but without you he's lost and both of you know it. So you stay.

Because you can't handle being alone either.)


In the end, though, it feels good to know that if you do die, it'll be for a good cause, and the world will be a safer place because of it. And maybe, just maybe, the crap that Dean has been dealing with all his life will finally be behind him, and he might be happy after all.

It's that last thought that keeps you going, more than anything else.


And so you just stare at the blood in the sink, and you smile a little bittersweet smile. As you wash it away you can hear Dean getting into bed, and you wait for a half hour before getting a sleeping bag from your room and sneaking into Dean's.

Dean's asleep, miraculously, and his deep, even breathing is your lullaby.

You sleep, and Dean sleeps, and your twisted little world has a little bit of balance after all.


Reviews are much appreciated. This is my second time writing from 2nd person POV, and first time as Sam. Concrit is also appreciated.

The last time I wrote a Sam-centered story I got flames like you wouldn't believe. In this case every single flamer can (excuse my language) kiss my ass because if you can't tolerate someone else's opinion then boy you have serious issues, you close-minded little fucklet.

Once again, pardon my language. But I really hate flamers. Didn't like it, don't review. If you're going to review, BE FUCKIN' CIVIL.

That being said, good day, people. Also, tomorrow is my birthday, so yeah, think of the reviews as a present ^_^

-Peace x