Snow.
Pure white snow was falling all around him.
He could barely make out the sky above, but he could see the snow, he could see it falling all too clearly.
Gods, how long has it been? He thought bitterly, How long has it been since I just stopped and watched it snow?
It really had been too long, far too long since he had last saw the snow fall from the white sky, the still and utter calm as he watched it fall from the heavens was both breath taking and all too unbearable. It was beautiful. And yet so terrible. To know that this calm could so easily turn into a fierce flurry of ice and hail was humbling and awe inspiring.
Nature at its best.
Too bad that it took me almost dying to see it again. He grimaced. I'm bleeding out. He knew this, he knew that he was bleeding, he could see the crimson stained snow all around him, but then again, what did he care?
It was so peaceful, he could barely feel the pain anymore. A small part of his brain told him that he was in shock or pumped full of adrenaline, but he didn't care.
'Cause how long had it been since he'd just stopped to take a breath and think.
Between all the shit that he'd been through, through all of the trouble and the mess that he'd survived, you'd think that for once he would have stopped to take a breath and gather his thoughts.
But there had been so much going on. So much to do, so many lives to save.
Between Demons, Angels, Hell, Leviathans and so much more he'd barely had time to think, let alone time to stop and watch it snow of all things! He couldn't say he was sorry because halting the apocalypse came before weather watching in any sane man's mind.
But then again, had he ever been sane?
He was desperate to say yes but somehow knew that he would be lying.
What qualified a person as sane anyway? What was the definition of a normal human mind? Was there some sort of blueprint or guideline that the mind was meant to follow, and when it slipped off that line you automatically lost your sanity? Excuse him if that sounded like bullshit to him. Especially in their line of work.
Then again, what sane man would do what they do? Saving people, hunting things, the family business? Their family was royally messed up if that was the case. Hunting evil was hardly a normal family tradition.
And what made the things they hunt evil in the first place? Was it because they killed humans? Humans killed animals all the time, it was part of the food chain, weren't the things that they hunted just another level above humanity? Made to keep the balance of the world in the first place? Were they really doing the right thing by hunting down demons and ghosts and wendigos and all sorts of other monster and ghouls?
Were they doing the right thing?
He hoped so. If not then what had he wasted his life for?
What had he suffered for?
What had he been tortured for?
What had he died for?
What had all of them died for?
What had they lived for?
All those hunters, wasting their lives away, hopelessly trying to stop the natural flow of the world.
So he hoped that they had been right, he hoped that what they did made a difference, because if it didn't then what was the point of it all.
Blood loss is not good for moral. He thought blithely. Either think positive thoughts or don't think at all and just watch the snow.
So he did.
He watched and he waited. For what, he didn't really know, he knew that he had to wait, that he had to survive and wait. But damn was it hard not to give in to that dark temptation and just let go.
And even if he waited, would anyone come? Would anyone find him before he bled out and froze in the snow?
Don't get him wrong, it wasn't a bad way to go. No pain. No Demons or Angels or Leviathans. No Monsters or Ghosts. Just him and the snow.
So peaceful. Tranquil. It really wasn't a bad way to die. Not on his never ending list of deaths that could be.
Maybe he would even stay dead this time. Now that was a thought, he'd died before, many times, over and over, but every single time he'd been brought back. Back into the world where things were far more complicated and where there was no peace and no quiet.
Wasn't it sad that sometimes he thought that he'd been happier in those brief instances of death than when he was alive.
And, really, who could blame him. He'd lived a fucked up life and that was a fact.
He could remember reading a book once, where the main character was immortal. He could remember all those childish adventures that the character had gone on, and how happy he had been with all of his friends and companions.
That childish naivety.
Immortality wasn't fun. Even the half-immortal life that he seemed to have had no joy, when he died he came back instantly, there was no break, no rest, between one death and another. That's what it felt like at least. If he ever became immortal then he'd do his best to kill himself.
If he couldn't stand his life now, then he really would go insane with immortality.
Ah, and he was back to the topic of his sanity.
He could admit it, he was mad, insane, a lunatic, whatever you wanted to think. No one could go through what he did and come out sane. It couldn't be done, it was either forfeit his sanity or shatter into a million pieces under the stress.
He really hadn't been given a choice in the matter.
And now all he could do was wait.
He hoped that he was coming. He really did.
There was no one else that he wanted to be with him in his final moments.
"SAMMY!"
Ah, there he is. He smiled softly. At last.
He could feel warm hands moving him and warm arms cradling him.
A litany of "It's gonna be alright Sammy. You're okay. I've got you. Big brother's here now baby, not gonna let anything happen to you. You're gonna be alright" flooded the air.
He could hear the panic in his brother's voice.
Could hear the tears and the sobs escaping though his words.
And damn he wasn't going to die here.
Not here. Not today. Not ever.
If it meant leaving his brother alone in this world then it wasn't going to happen. He would suffer immortality and death over and over if it meant that he could stay with Dean.
So he wasn't going to die. He refused to. He had a meaning. He had a purpose.
No amount of peace and snow was going to make him forget that.
He was going to live.
A/N: Damn, I wrote that in under 30 minutes! I was listening to 'Broken Crown' by Mumford & Sons – very topical song for Supernatural BTW, someone should so do a songfic on it if they haven't already – and it just hit me!
This is my first SPN fic and I hope that you all like it. It was a little dark but it got better towards the end.
Read and Review please! I would love to hear come comments and critisisms.
Tenebrae~