Title: Kiss My Eyes and Lay me to Sleep
Author: iS2.coheed.and.cambria
Rating: T (language)
Summary: Death fic (sort of). Sam is beginning to realize what he's going to have to do after the crossroads demon comes for his brother.
Disclaimer: Would you believe me if I said I did own Supernatural?
A/N: OMG I'M LOGGED ON!
I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO LOG ON FOR WEEKS! WEEKS I TELL YOU!
So I finally decided to try to sign in like from a review window and OMG OMG OMG it worked! I can't control myself right now but here is what I've been meaning to update for soo long. More updates tomorrow ))
This is shorter than most of my pieces but it was a fun short write, even though it's not really a fun topic : ) Hope you all enjoy. I appreciate all reads and reviews from the bottom of my heart.
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There he is.
And Jesus.
There. He. Is.
Lying there. Like sleeping, only without breathing. Like dosing off. Dosing off for eternity. Dosing off for a few minutes more than forever.
Dean is dead. Or rather, he's sleeping.
Dead is sleeping, being alive is waking up. That's all.
It was a Sunday I reckon. A Sunday that his deal ended. His life ended, rather abruptly I might add. He stood at that damn crossroads, a look of pure strength on his face as his soul ripped from his body and left him a lifeless corpse in the center of a dirt intersection.
And I saw him like that from probably a block away, found him just in time to see him die. See him sleep. And I ran like anything. I threw all of myself towards him.
But that bastard. All he did was wink and wave a hand. Way to go out with a fucking bang.
But that smile isn't plastered to his face now.
I remember, in the days before he died he told me. He sat me down and whispered, "When I die, Sammy. When I die you make sure you lay me out just like we did dad. Like we do any other hunter. You make sure you kiss my eyes, torch my corpse. You go to Lawrence. You go to that lake that's a few blocks away from our old house and you put some of my ashes in there, got it kiddo?"
I remember swallowing and whispering back, "Why there?"
And he grinned that fucking same grin he grinned before he kicked the bucket, "cause Mom took me there. When I was three I think. I remember."
I'm pretty sure I just nodded.
And there he is.
There he is.
Lying there, ready to be kissed, ready to be torched and I remember the rest of that conversation.
I remember getting up to walk away, the air in the room suddenly going thin on me. But Dean grabs me by the arm and pulls me back, whispering, "One more thing, kiddo."
I nod and he continues, "You take this necklace," He fingers that everyday necklace around him. That mysterious amulet and I nod again before he keeps going, "You take this necklace and you bury it. Bury it with dad's dog tags at mom's grave."
"How did you-"
He just shakes his head, "Dude. I'm a hunter. You can't expect me to be that oblivious."
Jesus, there he is.
My legs are moving mechanically and for a second I realize I'm just watching, not controlling, but then I forget.
I'm moving towards him, my lips: ready, the lighter: ready. But this isn't right. How can I be ok with this? How can I be playing with the lighter, burning the edges of my brother's clothing? The red and orange flames licking at his shirt as the fabric turns to brown, then black, then ash. Like some kind of sick joke or foreshadowing of what's to come.
But I always put out the flame.
It starts on his shirt, or on his pant leg. Fires lick the fabric. Clothing changes color. Clothing becomes ash. And then my hand comes down and swats the flames away, leaving a beautiful array of burns on the palm of my hands.
I'm not getting anywhere at this rate.
Goddamit, I'm Dean's brother. I'm supposed to set his body aflame? I'm supposed to be the torchbearer, the deal sealer? I'm supposed to face up to the fact that my brother is dead. He's dead.
How can you expect me to the light the flame and fully come to see that it's over. Dean is gone and I'm alone.
But jeez. I'd rather be alone with the rotting corpse of my brother than the flaky ashes of his remains. At least now it seems like sleeping. At least now it seems temporary.
This is all too much. The death and the loneliness and the corpse and everything I wished I'd never have to live to see. It's all here. It's all staring me in the face, scarier than any black dog. Staring at me. Ogling my pain.
The lighter falls from my hand and I'm backing away, running actually. Running. Leaving his body for the birds and the wild life. Leaving it for the ants and worms because I can't burn it. He might wake up. What if he wakes up?
There's still a chance, right? There's such a thing as miracles, as achieving the impossible, right? Why would they have told us there is if there wasn't? Why would anyone want to give me that type of false hope?
I'm running faster now. Sprinting. I don't know where I'm running. I don't know a thing at all.
All I know is this.
I can't kiss your eyes, Dean.
I can't torch your corpse.
I can't bury your amulet.
I can't lay you to sleep.
I can't do it, brother. And I know you can't hear me. I know I'm talking to no one, rather speaking to myself in my mind as if someone in there can hear. As if angels can hear my pained whispers and pleas.
My pained mantra of: Can't kiss your eyes, can't lay you to sleep.
Can't kiss your eyes, can't lay you to sleep.
Can't kiss your eyes, can't lay you to sleep.
Can't kiss your eyes, can't lay you to sleep.
Can't kiss your eyes, can't lay you to sleep.
And I wake up.
I open my eyes and see Dean, hovering over me, watching me as I'm panting and probably screaming but most likely having a nightmare. Some kind of sick and twisted nightmare of what lies 5 days from today.
Because the truth is Dean is not dead yet. He's not sleeping.
But he will be.
It's only days away.
He's rubbing my back now; trying to comfort me, make me stop this nightmare induced panic attack.
He says, "It's ok, Sammy. It was just a dream," No, it was a premonition.
He says, "It's ok, Sammy. I'm here," Yeah, but you won't be.
He whispers, "Don't worry, Sam. It's all going to be ok, everything's going to be fine," No, it's not.
That's when I start babbling, "Wait… I can't do it, Dean. I can't do what you asked of me. I can't bury your amulet or torch your corpse or take your… ashes… to the lake in Lawrence. I can't it's just too hard, you can't expect… not after you've left me… I'm so sorry…"
He shushes me, rubs my back and whispers, "It's ok, Sammy… Hey… Hey! Listen to me, ok?" he pauses, "We'll get someone else to, ok? You don't have to do anything you don't want to, not ever…"
I sigh, the images from my nightmare suddenly flashing in front of my eyes once again and I find the courage to whisper, "I don't want to loose you."
I chance a glance up at my brother and he doesn't look me in the eye. Just pats my back sighs and gets up, leaving me there without even telling me it's going to be ok, or that I'm not going to loose him.
Because Dean knows, and I know it won't be ok. Not after these last five days are over.
Because Dean knows, and I know I will loose him. It's over. Everything is done.
And even though he assured me I wouldn't have to, I know the rest of my dream. I know the ending to my nightmare. I stop running and turn around. Go back to my brother. Kiss his eyes. Light that lighter and throw the flame onto him.
And I sit on the dirt floor as his body burns, praying for sleep. Praying for death.
I know I'll do it because I'm his little brother. I owe him that much.
I know I'll kiss his eyes and I'll lay him to sleep because it's the right thing to do.
And that hurts, just like it should.
FIN- - - - - - -
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it and if you can please let me know what you thought! Thanks so much, love you all!
P.S.- I made a livejournal just saying friend me from there if you want )) my accont is is2coheed
-Lilia