Your Love's Safe With Me

by darkangelazure

Maybe that's the wound that's weeping? Because everything hurts, trying to be outside the pain and trying not to forget that he can't leave the room, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed, because maybe, just maybe, this isn't real.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Title: Your Love's Safe With Me
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating(s): PG-13
Spoiler(s): For Season 3 Episode 16. (If you haven't seen it don't read, you'll spoil the ending for yourself!)
Warning(s): Angst, Blood, Hints of Wincest.
Summary: Maybe that's the wound that's weeping? Because everything hurts, trying to be outside the pain and trying not to forget that he can't leave the room, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed, because maybe, just maybe, this isn't real.
A/N: Hello all, hope everyone enjoys the fic and a massive, huge Thank you to gestaltrose who beta'd this! Thank you mate!! And Thank you to spnbetas for helping me find a beta! (If you're looking for a Beta or want to give it a try and help someone out go have a look!) Anyway the usual CommentsLove and hope you all enjoy! Thanks :)

000

Sam doesn't open his eyes, just tastes the tears like ash on his tongue and the air in his head tainted with blood, eyes swollen shut. He can already feel something missing.

An open wound that won't stop bleeding out into him and his eyes still shut against the morning, poking it's nose into the room.

He'd locked Bobby out. He hasn't shaved and he doesn't want to know it's yesterday.

There's no sound and he doesn't know for a second that he's lost, between dreaming the day wasn't over and reality crushing his already cracked heart. He thinks it might be his heart that's missing.

Maybe that's the wound that's weeping? Because everything hurts, trying to be outside the pain and trying to forget that he can't leave the room. Forcing himself to keep his eyes closed, because maybe, just maybe, this isn't real.

That's it. It's just another nightmare, that the blood caked under his fingernails, flecking in his flexing grip, isn't Dean's.

That he's not at Bobby's and Dean's not opened up like a cow's carcass, that he's just sleeping. Trying real hard not to remember there's no other sound of breathing in this place except for his.

He didn't shut the curtains and he can already hear Bobby pacing on the other side of the door, he doesn't want to hear him. Bobby, Bobby should have left when he told him, should have just left them together, he wants to hear Dean.

He wants his crap singing voice and his cheap jibes.

Sam even wants his anger to wash away the pain, because it's not stopping and it's not going away. He just wants the world to go away and leave Dean with him, here in a bubble and the pink-crimson of closed eyelids.

If he keeps his eyes closed none of this will be real and he can have this. Just for another minute forget that his heart keeps breaking and Dean's not in the bed.

Maybe he can slip back into the dark stickiness of his dreamless sleep, where there's no now or before or future, just the two of them silent in the front seat or close enough to feel each other lips, warm and chapped and just as sweet as the first time.

Back when they sat under the summer sun and they were young enough to love with everything and not care.

But it's cold. Morning's here and it's cold, and he isn't sleeping anymore. He's awake with his eyes closed and Dean's not even warm anymore. He's locked away with blood in his hair and tears running down his cheeks.

Body protesting against the sitting situation and his heart breaking with no one left to love.

So he opens his eyes.

The End