Still cleaning up my computer, 's why this story is… late.
I own nothing and I'm sorry for all the grammar and spelling mistakes.
Enjoy.
He's watching Death lean over his brother. Just like that, like it has the right to invade his brother's space like that.
Sam doesn't care… Dean knows that.
He can't stop watching though, can't tear his eyes away. It's like a car crash; you know you shouldn't watch other people's misery, but you just can't stop.
-:-
Death... man, Death doesn't give life, what the hell? It takes it. It's in its freakin' job description for pete's sake. Dean had had a taste of it himself plenty of times, apparently, well according to Ash… umm, so yeah he knows.
Death… it's what it is. It's... death.
Death.
Death.
Death.
But watching Death put that soul back into his little brother; watching that bright light being swallowed up by his little brother's chest... is a sight to behold. Is something Dean never thought he'd see happen.
Death… doesn't give life.
It takes it, for crying out loud.
-:-
"Whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Come here. Let me look at you."
His hand slipping in Sam's hot blood.
"Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sammy!"
-:-
Death had been there. The man/thing/person/something that's putting freakin' life/soul/anotherperson/sameperson back into his little brother at the moment, had been there then... that night, that night when everything changed. It touched his brother and took everything away from him. Touched and took.
Touched and took.
Touched and took.
Took his little brother's life, took Dean's life, took everything and more… changed everything.
-:-
No matter how much Sam's screaming to stop, stopstopstopstop! Dean can't.
He wants his little brother back.
He needs his little brother back.
No matter the cost. No matter what the consequences might be. No matter nomatternomatter… he just wants Sammy back. He wants his brother back.
Because this 'person/thing/something' begging him to nononostopstopstop, is not his brother. Is not Sam. Not Sammy. Could never be Sam. Never was Sam.
Was a person though. Was someone. Was a human being and Dean's killing him.
Death is killing him.
Death is doing its job then. Its killing this nothisbrother, its killing a human being.
God, he starts to pray… but doesn't know what else to say other than… fuck you.
This is all screwing with his head, making an even bigger mess inside of his grapefruit than it already was.
But… he'll get his brother back.
He'll kill this Sam to get his Sam back. The Sam he raised. The annoying, pain-in-the-ass little brother, who wanted to play soccer when he'd been a kid, who eats green stuff and fruit, who drowns down one beer and he's doing karaoke… geeky, irritating… Sam who feels, needs, wants, loves, cries, hugs… fuckin' sleeps and eats.
He'll get Sammy back.
-:-
He wants to step forward, yell: "Stop, you're killing him!" because seeing all that happening is seriously messing up his perception of how shit is supposed to go down, but no… that's… that's Death giving life back to his brother.
Giving Sam Sam; giving his baby brother back his soul, giving his baby brother back to him.
Killing Sam.
Reviving Sam.
Old Sam, new Sam, old Sam, new Sam, oldSamnewSam, thisSamthatSamthisSamthatSam, Sam, Sam, Sam, SamSamSam...
Then it's over like a supernova exploding.
"Sammy?"
The End.