Just a bit of Winchester lovin'. Disclaimer: I don't own
You hold him close and you whisper into his hair that he's fine, that he's going to be fine, that everything's going to be fine and that you're there. Nothing can go wrong when you're there, can it? Well, in his mind anyway. But you know it's a misconception. He truly believes with all his heart that you have the ability to protect him from everything – but you can't.
If you could, he wouldn't be here now, with his head in your lap and his blood on the floor, would he? Of course he wouldn't. The reassurances dripping from your lips wouldn't be lies, if only you'd done your job. Why couldn't you do it? Why couldn't you've jumped in front of that damned poltergeist before it ripped his guts out? Why weren't you in between your baby boy and the danger? That's your place – shielding him – so why weren't you in it? He was being stupid (brave). He was trying to prove that he was strong and fast and deadly. To prove himself to you – so it's your fault. If only you hadn't laughed at him when he boasted that he'd be able to take on a coven of fangs single-handedly.
But none of that's really relevant – the blame. You know it's all on you, so you stop thinking about it. The important thing here is Sammy's life force leaking onto the floor. You need to … but what can you do? You've called Bobby and he's on his way – all you can do is wait. And it almost makes you feel dirty to think it. You're weak, helpless. Sammy's dying and there's nothing you can do. Sam.
Please … hold on, baby. I'm here, everything's gonna be alright. That's it, you just keep breathing – no, don't try to speak! What … I can't hear you, baby, it's okay, don't worry. What was that? Oh! You … love me? You're … sorry? I love you too baby, so much, but why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong. This one's on me, Sammy. It was my fault and I'm sososorry.
Thoughts?
xx