Summary: Never, in even her wildest nightmares, had she ever thought that she would go out like this. Madison in 2.17 "Heart." Death!fic (canon).
Tears of Silver
Never, in even her wildest nightmares, had she ever thought that she would go out like this.
She's a monster. They tell her that she's a killer, that she's brutally murdered three men, at least. No matter that those men had all hurt her - she'd killed them, ripped out their hearts with her claws, her bare teeth.
She's a monster. And they have to kill her.
They'd tried to save her, to find a cure, and they'd thought it'd worked, but it hadn't, and oh God, how could this happen to her?
She'd thought that night, the night last month when she'd been attacked, was the best thing to have ever happened to her. She'd finally been able to get up the courage to leave Kurt, abusive, angry Kurt, and to start a new life, to find a nicer guy, a guy like Sam, but she'd been wrong.
It was the worst thing to have ever happened to her in her entire life. Glen, her neighbor, who'd always been so sweet, so caring, had been the one to attack her, to infect her with this nightmarish disease. He'd turned her into a monster. And now, he's dead, but she's still a…she can't even say it. She's a werewolf.
A goddamn werewolf. Like something that belongs in a horror movie or a Stephen King novel, or someplace not in the middle of San Francisco.
She's angry, angry at Glen, angry at God, for taking her newfound thirst for life from her, angry at Sam, at Dean, for not being able to fix this, and yes, she knows she's being irrational, that there's nothing they could have done to make it better - she'd already been infected when they'd rolled into town in that big black muscle car of theirs - but still, she wants to be angry at them, and they're making it so hard because they're so, so sorry, sorry they can't help her, but they want to keep trying, want to keep looking for something.
But she knows what they have to do. She knows she can't do it herself, so she asks Sam to do it. Sam can't. She sees it in his eyes, sees that what she's asking him to do is killing him inside, but God, she can't do it on her own.
Dean takes the gun from her, and she sees the apology in his eyes, sees how sorry he is, not for her, he doesn't pity her, and she's so very thankful for that, but he's sorry that he can't save her. He knows what has to be done, too.
Then he leaves, follows Sam into the next room, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and she thinks, she realizes, that this past month was the best goddamn month of her life. She'd broken up with an abusive boyfriend, gotten back in control of her life, and found something that might have turned into love. All in one short, quicksilver month, but it was the best in her life.
And now it has to end, and don't get her wrong, she doesn't want to die any more than the next person does, but she doesn't want to keep killing, doesn't want her life to be out of her control, so she closes her eyes, breathes deep through the sobs that hitch in her chest, and accepts it. Accepts that this is the only way she can get that control of her life that she's been so long without back.
When Sam reappears, he's crying more than she is. She smiles at him, forgives him, and closes her eyes so he doesn't have to look into them as he shoots her.
When death comes, it's over in one hot, breathless punch in her chest. She's glad that Sam's such a good shot and knows exactly where to aim so that it doesn't hurt at all. She's sorry that she's hurt him, but she wants him to know that it'll get better, that life's too short to have regrets.
She hopes that he understands that. And she's sorry.
