Title: The Bitter Irony
Author: TigerTiger02
Spoilers: All Hell Breaks Loose Pt 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Dedication: to Chrissy and Nikki.
I stand with weapon in hand, above a man.
Every instinct in me is screaming to kill him.
But do I cave to nature, like how the Demon wanted? Or do I resist and fight with everything in me? He tried to kill me, a vicious part of me argues. He played right into that bastard's hands, into his fucking plan.But, the other part of me shrieks, you will be playing into the demon's hands too if you kill him. So here's the irony, I kill him and rid myself of what could be a big problem later, but I will also be stepping into the role the demon wants me in. I don't kill him and he'll come back worse than before. He'll come back stronger and better trained, with more experience. I feel my fingers unconsciously flex in anticipation. My arm is ready to swing down with one blow that will make me the champion of this round.
Horror rises up inside of me; this is exactly what the demon wants and what Dean doesn't want. I don't want to be the champion of this round; I don't want to become like Ava, so fucked up that killing Andy was easy on her conscience. Andy who didn't have the strength, emotional or physical, to even count in this awful game, he didn't have any idea what was going down. My grip relaxes and the urge to kill the bastard is over. I turn, hearing Dean calling my name.
There's an idiotic smile on my face, I'm sure. I'm walking quickly towards Dean and Bobby whose relief matches mine. Then I see Dean's eyes widen, his face suddenly breaking into panic. He shouts something but it's too late because I can feel Jake behind me and the knife slips into place in my back as if it belonged there. The pain is like fire in my veins, god am I dying already? He twists the knife and then yanks it out and my legs stop working on their own, did he get my spinal cord? Mouth is hanging open and I want to scream, but it's like I can get the air and it's built up in my throat suffocating me, or maybe it's my blood pooling in my left lung.
Then Dean is there. He's speaking and it's hard to concentrate on what he's saying. God Dean… please don't cry…
"Hey, hey... come here, come here, let me look at ya." He presses his palm to my back and if I had the strength I would flinch away from him and hiss in pain but I can't do anything because suddenly there's this cold numbness sliding over me and I wish I could speak because I feel the end coming near. I want to warn him. I want to tell him about what went down tonight but it's getting harder to breath and my vocal cords are frozen. I want to stand but my legs are useless.
"Oh, hey look, it's not even that bad... it's not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me; we are going to patch you up okay... You'll be as good as new. Huh?"
If only it could be like that. But Dean… Dean look at me… I know you want to hold me closer and want to believe that I won't die here and now but there's so much you need to know. There are things I'm sure dad didn't even know. Dean please look at me. But you can't, you won't. He pulls me closer to himself and I feel so cold next his burning warmth. It's getting harder to hear him now. Just past the stumbling beat of my heart, a beat that's failing and fading, I can hear him.
"I'm going to take care of you; I'm going to take care of you! I gotcha. It's my job, right; watch after my pain-in-the-ass little brother..." I know. You've always taken care of me. Being with you on the road this past year and a half was like coming home after being in the rain for so long… I can't hold on anymore. I'm so cold and numb. Everything is going dark.
"Sam... Sam... Sam! Sammy!" I hear you… but you're so far away… there's so much you need to know but I can't tell you because I'm drowning in my own blood. It's the bitter irony in my throat; I should have killed him… but… I would have become the monster Ava became… Dean don't cry… I'm going home to Momma and Dad and Jess… I'll be okay… just… just try not to follow me. You have to stop him… you need to carry on and shoulder the burden. You can't let the end of days happen. There are things you still need to do… please don't look at me like that. Oh… his image is growing darker and I can hardly see or hear him. I'm so cold and tired of the bitter irony. I feel my grip slacken and everything grows dark. Far, far away I can still hear him.
"No... No-n-n-n-n-no. Oh god. Oh god... Sam!"
And then there's nothing but the bitter irony in my throat
A/N: a sort of sequel to 'Pieces'. I just wanted to get Sam's POV but I don't know if I got his voice right but whatever.