Hey y'all! This is slightly depressing, and for that I apologise, but I was in rather a melancholy mood… disclaimer: i don't own =(
You see him. You call out to him. You call his name. In joy. In relief. He's safe. Finally. Finally there's nothing to fear. 'Safe' – you'd almost forgotten the meaning of the word. You're so relieved. So utterly ecstatic that it goes to your head. Clouds your judgement. Your instincts. Because you know. You know, in that split second before your world shatters. You feel it. It's wrong. Wrong for you to be this happy. This safe. You're never this safe. It must be a trick. A trap. You know it.
So you call out again. This time not with joy, but with fear. In that moment, it feels as if time itself stops. Stands still. In that too long moment, you watch him. The way his too-long hair flops into his too-round eyes. How his too-trusting smile triggers those too-sweet dimples. How his too-long legs are striding towards you, his too-long arms reaching out for you. For you. And then you see it. Well, you don't really see it. Not properly. Your eyes are so caught up in the beauty, your brain the joy, that all you see is a flash of silver. A flash of silver and an arc of red.
You call out for the third time in what feels like an eternity, your eyes still locked on his face. And it's so beautiful. So innocent. So heart-breaking. Because his expression isn't shock. Or pain. Or anger. No, it's simply confusion. Like he doesn't understand what's happening. Like he can't comprehend the sudden pain. The agony. The look of devastation on your face. And the most utterly soul-destroying thing is that, alongside the bewilderment, his expression is imploring. Like he's pleading for his big brother to make things alright again. He is pleading for his big brother to make things alright again. But you're in shock. Shock at the suddenness of it all. Shock at the look on his face. Shock at the alarming rapidity at which the blood seems to be leaving his body. And then the light in his eyes dies. And you feel yourself dying with it. Because what it the point of life without that sparkle in your baby boy's eyes? You go to him then. Then, when it is too late. You go to him, and you cradle his head in your lap. You can't bring yourself to look at his face. Not when it is lifeless. Cold. Dead. Like so many other corpses you have so carelessly dealt with in the past. You almost feel grateful to the higher force which allowed time to slow down for you in those last moments. His last moments. Because now you have such a beautiful memory to preserve. You relive those precious moments in your mind now. You feel relieved that you can recall it all perfectly. Every strand of his too-long hair. Every glimmer of his too-round eyes. You do it again, just to make sure. And again, to be absolutely certain. Hold on, what was the exact shape of his jawline? The precise curve of his lips? The line of his nose? The shade of his eyes? That's when you realise. Memories. Memories are nothing. Nothing compared to the real thing.
And you feel like calling out. Crying. Screaming. Yelling. Begging. Pleading. But you find that you can't make a single sound.
Reviews mean as much to me as Sam does to Dean … *puppydog eyes* please?
xx