Please review, and no, I don't own Supernatural or the boys. And as always, I answer all reviews at my blog.
Be near me when my light is low,
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick
And tingle; and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of Being slow.
Be near me when I fade away
To point the term of human strife,
And on the low dark verge of life
The twilight of eternal day.
-Alfred Lord Tennyson
Blood runs thick down her whitening limb, leaving glistening scarlet trails as perfect maroon orbs drop silently to the floor.
So much blood.
How can he do this? Doesn't he love her? Hasn't he always said that he would protect her? She has never doubted him, has always trusted him.
And now this.
She wants to cry, to weep, to scream, but weakness has sapped the strength from her very bones, and all she can summon is a wordless moan. She can feel their eyes on her, their empty eyes, their soulless eyes. They're glorying in this, in her weakness, in her pain.
Hadn't she always given freely, bled for them willingly? But now they are taking too much…they're bleeding her dry, letting her life pool and run across the rugged wooden floorboards. They're making no move to quell the flow, to help her, to save her. They're only standing. Only looking.
The heat of the blood striping her arms contrasts against the cold chills that are racking through her body with uneven, tooth-jarring shivers. Twin tears trace their way across her cheekbones to soak the hair by her ears. Her eyes search for him, trying to find him, to plead with him not to do this. She finds his grim and deeply lined face. He meets her gaze with no apology, no sadness. There is only a hard glint in his eyes.
She realizes then, as her vision fades to a dimming pinpoint, that he will not save her. He will watch, expressionless, as her life drains out, as her breaths turn shallow and then still. He will let her die.