Title: Like a Heart Needs a Beat
Author: alakewood
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 just in case...
Warnings: Wincest, character death, spoilers through 3.07
Summary: I'm holding on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground
A/N: First off, I own nothing. And all I've got is an over-active imagination. Second, this story is one part secret-guilty-pleasure (almost song-fic) and one part something I try to avoid (first person POV).
Disclaimer: I own nothing – seriously. Title, summary, and inspiration from Apologize by OneRepublic.
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His hand is shaking so bad as he reaches out to touch my face. Just a ghost of a touch at first, like he's afraid I'm going to spook like a horse. When I lean into the caress, his hand steadies. "I'm sorry," he whispers, voice low and rough from the tears he's holding back. "I'm so sorry, Sammy."
All I want is to say It's okay, Dean and I'm sorry, too and I love you. But I can't. Just close my eyes, and turn away from him.
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He's the only one I've ever really needed. Took care of me more than Dad most of the time. I'd follow him anywhere – and he knows that. Even to Hell, if he'd let me.
But, Dean? All he's ever needed is himself.
I can see that he's scared. He's terrified. And it's more than just the deal and that he's Hell-ward-bound. So much more than that. And what could be scarier?
He briefly glances at me, but won't hold my gaze when I look at him. "Christ, Dean. What is it?" It's making me anxious to just be near him.
He's struggling so hard with himself about whatever this is. Torn. Wants to tell me, but can't. Wrinkles his nose, curls his upper lip – making that face like Forget it, Sammy or It's nothing, Sammy.
Instead it's, "I need you."
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The last month comes and goes. The last week. This is the last day. Not sure which hour, minute, breath, will be the last. This one or the next.
As the end of this – his life, us; my life, ultimately, as well – draws closer, the love I feel for him is turning into resentment.
He's curled against my side, face buried in my neck, and I can feel his tears sliding across my skin. He shudders in a breath, trying to stifle a sob – the reality of this is finally setting in. He clings tighter, fingertips digging into my ribs, holding on – realizing we're both dying.
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It only lasts a couple of moments – our crying in silence – before he raises his face to mine. Stares at me, eyes tracing every feature, like he's memorizing every detail. Doesn't want to forget a thing when the time comes.
Suddenly, like flood gates opening, he's surging forward, and he's all there is. The only thing I see – Dean. The only thing I feel – Dean. The only thing I taste - Dean.
He pulls at me, desperate. And I open beneath him, let him in. Each touch a silent question:
Please?
Love me?
Forgive me?
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I've been holding him for hours. His skin is still warm against mine. And I finally find the words I've been meaning to say.
"I love you," and, "I'm sorry."
But it's too late.
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