DISCLAIMERS: 1) I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT; 2) THE TITLE OF THIS FANFICTION IS INSPIRED BY THE VERY FIRST LINE OF THE SKILLET SONG "LUCY" - I DON'T OWN THE SONG, OBVIOUSLY ; 3) I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY FEELINGS YOU MAY HAVE AFTER THIS. I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE.
This is the very first fic on here that has nothing to do with shipping! ...But then again you all are probably going to kill me because this is really sad... NONETHELESS, read it, share, review-let me know what you think.
It was a relatively okay day outside. The sun wasn't shining too brightly, and there were a few clouds scattered across the sky. There was no wind; not much commotion amongst the animals nor people. Sam was dressed in the nicest clothes he could find, and made sure his hair was relatively tidy. He walked with a bouquet of flowers with a blank expression on his face. He gripped them tightly as he stopped walking and looked over at the sign that read "Cemetery."
It had been a while. A long,long while. Sam walked slowly towards his destination. He didn't know what to feel inside after all that had happened so far. Birds were chirping slightly on a nearby tree. They seemed serene and content with their lives. If only they knew the hell that was actually happening around them. Sam was angry at the birds for being happy and unknowing of any of the horrible events of late. They were just living their lives. How come that wasn't allowed for himself?
He finally reached what was what he wasn't sure if he wanted to actually get to. He peered down at the grave and breathed in heavily before he kneeled down and put the flowers neatly at the top of the grave so they wouldn't get dirty from the ground. He sat there for a while, not really sure what he should do next.
"Hey, Jess, I know, um, it's been... Quite a while," he scoffed at the end, not sure what he was trying to say. He turned his head to the side and stared at the grass for a bit. He had moved on, but he still couldn't get over how unfair life was to the two of them. They could have been happy. Had he not left. Had he just told Dean "fuck you." Not that he wanted to, or wished that he did anything differently, per se, but it's something he wondered often.
What if?
"Jess. I, uh, just wanted to say hi," he improvised, "and just let you know how I'm doing... Well, sort of. I'm pretty sure you already know—I mean, everyone knows how fantastic I've been doing after..." he let his voice trail away and he sighed.
He felt a tear venture out from his eye. He didn't bother wiping it away. He just kept his eyes focused on the picture of Jess that was well-kept on the grave. "I'm sorry," he whispered slightly, feeling his hands shake as he gripped at his shirt, "I'm really, really, really sorry. I still can't go a single day without thinking about how I—how you could have been living still. But you're not. You've been long gone for a few years now, and... It... You know, it just isn't fair at all for you. And it's not like I've done anything to make you proud, or to make you 'still live'-" he stopped and felt his cheeks get wet.
"I am now alone. Everyone is gone. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Cas—Dean," he barely got Dean's name out clearly, "How could I entirely get over losing you if I keep losing everyone I love and care for?
"Jess, I really can't move on. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to live for? Everything seems to go wrong for me every damn time..." he let his arms go limp against his sides and he closed his eyes, furrowing his brow and facing the sky. He let the tears fall.
Every. "I'm sorry."
Single. "You could have been living."
Tear. "I could have been living."
People say that when you cry, the pain goes away—but Sam shook his head violently. The pain was only increasing and piercing him over and over again, like a dull and rusted knife stabbing at his infected wounds. He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth as much as he could.
He couldn't forgive himself. He couldn't forgive anything he had done up to that point since that horrid day. He had bottled up most of his feelings inside—funny, hadn't he told Dean time and time again that keeping feelings to oneself is bad?—and had tried to pretend that he had overcome every single pain, fear, and guilt that he felt from day one.
He wanted to show Dean he was strong.
He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't helpless.
He wanted Jess to know that he was fighting for his happiness.
For her.
Because he loved her.
And did he love her—he was so ready to start his life with her. And the beautiful glass shop blew up into tiny, tiny fragments all across the floor. What is the use of something pretty if it is broken? His heart and soul were shattered and he couldn't find someone who could fix it.
No other girl.
No accomplishment.
Not even his own brother who was everything to him.
Maybe he was fated to screw up his whole entire life. Maybe he just didn't deserve-
He violently pushed the tears off of his face and eyes with the palms of both hands and stood up as fast as he could. Looking down at the grave, he whispered softly:
"I'm sorry that you fell in love with such a horrible person, because you are—" he paused and winced, "—were so wonderful. You deserved so much more. I'm sorry."
He then put his hands in his pockets and walked off without saying anything else. His head hung low; his dignity and self-esteem non-existent. Thoughts jumbling in his mind—incoherent.
The birds continued chirping happily at the tree nearby and he looked up at is as he passed it silently. He realized the reason why he couldn't just live his life. He just had too much shit-filled guilt pounding in his heart, and there was nothing he could ever do about it. Ever.
After he went through the exit of the cemetery, he stopped and turned around for a second, looking around at the quiet world around him. He then turned away and continued walking away.
Yes, it was a relatively okay day outside.