AN: This is not technically part of the drabble series I'm doing, although it was inspired by one of the words. That word was 'cry.' Other than that, this is definitely not a drabble. This is a full on fic. It has a title and everything. And I have no idea how this happened. It just sort of came out of me like word vomit. And I am so, so sorry for this. Just a heads up? You should probably have tissues.
Things you need to know: This takes place in a universe where Dean/Laurel have been married since before the start of Arrow. This sort of follows along with season two of Arrow, but not at all with season nine of Supernatural. And it's not mentioned, but Castiel is no longer an angel and is human.
Trigger warnings: Descriptions of injuries, medical talk (sort of but not really) mostly due to life support, a brief mention of vomiting, and, um, major character death. (I'M SORRY.)
Suggested Listening: Say Something by A Great Big World (Instrumental Version), Get Up by Barcelona, Please Don't Go by Barcelona, Time by Hans Zimmer, and All Through the Night (Cover) by Sleeping At Last.
Title from the quote by Stephen King. ''God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live.''
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters you recognize.
Underdogs Wednesdays
Written by Becks Rylynn
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God is cruel
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The Starling City General emergency room is hectic on a good day. Tonight, the night of the biggest storm in a decade, the emergency room is like a warzone, full of screaming, crying and moaning, frantic nurses, aggravated and aggravating doctors, and people yelling out orders, and beeping... It's like something straight out of a psychological thriller. It's horrible.
A lot of bad things happen in Starling City, apparently.
And Sam Winchester is in the belly of the beast, watching his brother splinter apart piece by broken piece, watching him flinch and twitch, bloodied hands clenched into fists. Sin is crying. She's letting out these loud, gulping, guttural, howl-like sobs that just keep coming. Her face is ashen and she is trembling, clinging to Dean with her arms wound around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder. She is petrified. And why shouldn't she be? She and Laurel have just found each other. They have only just formed this tentative, supportive family unit along with Sara, and then this happens?
It's not fair.
Dean is trying with her, appearing more patient than he probably is, with one clenched fist slowly rising up to rub her back. Sam is stuck on the phone, voice wavering as he phones Quentin and then Dinah, stomach churning when he has to break the news to them that their daughter is here, in this place, again. Because of her sister. Because of Oliver Queen. A-fucking-gain. He doesn't tell them that part, of course. He would love to, but it's probably not the best idea. Oliver's already been assaulted quite viciously by Sara, and when he's faced with Dean and Sin... He has enough to deal with. Quentin would probably straight up shoot Oliver in the head if he knew.
When the phone calls have been made and the sound of Dinah's screams are echoing in his ears, Sam looks over at Dean. Poor, hollowed out, wrecked Dean, standing there, streaked with blood that isn't his, trying to comfort a shaking nineteen year old girl, and staring at the world through blank eyes because there are so many emotions flowing through him that he can't pick one. He looks bad. He looks really bad. Sam takes exactly one step towards his brother, reaches his arm out, opens his mouth...
...and then there's Oliver Queen.
He comes sweeping into the emergency room, sans his stupid leather, back in his street clothes, soaking wet with a split lip and a black eye. A fucking split lip and a black eye. That's all he got. Felicity Smoak and John Diggle are on either side of him, although neither of them particularly look like they want to be there, and Sara Lance is pushing her way through them to get to Dean and Sin. Oliver and Sara look pale, like they're about to throw up, probably because they realize what they've done, but their obvious guilt does not do anything to quell the rage swelling in Sam's gut. He doesn't have time to dwell on these feelings, because then Dean sees him and Dean's response is a little more...visceral. Sam knows what's coming. As soon as Dean's eyes lock on Oliver, everything seems to slow down and Sam tries to move as fast as he can, diving for Dean, but he's not quite fast enough.
Dean sees Oliver standing there, worry lines etched into his forehead, and he just snaps. ''You,'' he growls. ''You fucking bastard!'' And that would be when he attacks. He lunges. As soon as the first punch lands, Felicity is moving, pushing past Sam and rushing at Sin to wrap the girl in her arms and pull her away, a surprisingly fearless and brave move considering she has to push past Dean and his Hulk Smash-like rage. ''You did this,'' Dean is snarling. ''This is your fault! I'll kill you!'' And he will. Sam knows this. Knows Dean. Oliver is the reason for this. Oliver is the reason for all of this. He is the reason Laurel is in this place, fighting for her life, after being skewered.
It's a fairly one sided fight. Oliver doesn't appear to be fighting back that much, although he is spluttering out apologies and trying to stutter out, ''Wait. Wait, jus-just let me explain, please, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,'' which does absolutely nothing except maybe make Dean angrier. So he goes for the throat. Sara screams when Oliver's back hits the wall and his head makes a disconcerting cracking noise against the wall, and her fingernails are digging into Dean's forearms, trying to pry him away, but it's no use. Sara is stronger than she looks, but Dean is running on adrenaline. He is running on fear. He is still screaming, still spitting out, ''I'll kill you'' over and over again, grip tightening.
There is a second where Sam remembers. He remembers everything. He remembers when they figured out that the Arrow had lied to Laurel about why she was helping him and his fucking team, that they were using her to get into the building, he remembers the frantic dread in his stomach, remembers Sin screeching that she was going with them because it was Laurel. Sam remembers getting there just in time to watch Slade Wilson run a blade through Laurel's stomach. He remembers the sound of Sin's scream, loud, louder than Sara's sudden, vicious sobbing and the sound of Oliver tackling Slade out the window, and how Dean got to Laurel just in time to catch her when she fell. Sam remembers the look in his brother's eyes when Laurel fell into his arms, and he almost lets Dean do it. He comes so close. But then he remembers that Oliver has a little sister who adores him, and he dives into the fray.
It takes three people to pull Dean away from Oliver. John, Sam and a security guard. He is still shouting out threats, still yelling out, ''I'll kill you! I swear to God, Queen, I will fucking kill you, you little shit! I will kill you!''
As soon as Dean's hands are gone, Oliver slumps to the ground, dazed but conscious, looking almost disappointed that Dean failed. He looks up at Sara, seeking out her eyes. Sara hesitates, hands hanging limply at her side, staring down at him. She doesn't help him. A nurse bustles over to Oliver, kneeling down in front of him. Sara turns on her heel and marches over to Felicity and Sin, holding her arms out for Sin.
In the background, Dean's shouts have turned into these wrenching, jagged sobs that cut through Sam like knives.
Dean has lost people. He has lost everyone. But he has never lost a wife before. Sam is not sure what that kind of loss will look like on his brother and he doesn't want to find out. Sam turns to Dean. Felicity gets there first, pulling him down, into her arms, awkward but determined. She catches Sam's eyes over Dean's shoulder, her wide eyes brimming with tears, and she mouths, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
It's not enough.
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Laurel's stomach was mangled. She's in surgery for internal bleeding, but the doctors aren't sure of the extent of the damage. She could have organ damage. She could go into cardiac arrest. If she survives, she might not ever be the same. She might not be able to have kids. She might not be able to walk again, because the blade nicked her spine. Frankly, she's lucky she even made it to the hospital.
She might not make it through the surgery, is what Dean is told. Your wife's injuries are...extensive, he is told. It doesn't look good.
Prepare yourself.
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Dean understands why Sam is hesitant to let him talk to Team Arrow. He did try to strangle Oliver to death and refuses to apologize for it. But, see, Dean's figured something out. Dean knows their dirty little secret. He knows what they did. And he wants them to know that he knows.
He wants to see them squirm.
While his wife is fighting for her life in surgery and her family has been moved to a private waiting room, Dean stalks the halls of the hospital until he finds them, slouched in uncomfortable seats. Oliver has his head in his hands and Felicity has her hand resting on Oliver's knee. Sara is leaning back against the wall, shaking uncontrollably, arms wrapped around herself. John looks ready to throw someone through a wall. Roy is pale and sickly looking. He's the easiest to read. The guilt eating away at his insides is plain as day. It tells Dean all he needs to know.
He clears his throat.
Oliver leaps to his feet and makes an attempt to approach Dean, but John wisely holds him back. ''How is she?'' He asks. His eyes are red. He's been crying. ''Is she okay?'' When Dean doesn't answer, his eyes flicker with frustration - bold, really; bold to go for frustration - and his voice rises, ''Dean, is she okay?''
Dean meets his eyes. Oliver steps back. Dean looks at each one of them carefully. He maps them out. He could, if he wanted to. He could take this entire team down. He could win. He draws in a deep, calming breath. ''I'm going to tell you all something and I want you to listen to me,'' he says. Every single one of them stares up at him guiltily. ''You people are toxic sludge,'' he says, with an extraordinarily strange sort of calmness. ''You are all worthless human beings. As far as I'm concerned, you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as Laurel.'' He looks at Oliver. ''Do you understand why I'm saying this to you?'' He looks at Sara. ''I want you to understand why I'm saying this,'' he tells her. ''This isn't a grudge, this isn't because of anything you've done in the past,'' back to Oliver, ''this is because of what you did tonight.''
The magic words. Oliver goes so pale he looks like a ghost. Sara lets out a keening, sick sounding moan and slides to the ground.
''I'm going to ask you this once,'' Dean says, even though he already knows the answer. ''And if you lie to me, I am going to throw you,'' he points at Oliver, ''off the roof. Am I making myself clear?''
Nods all around.
Dean clenches his jaw. ''Did you use my wife as bait?''
Oliver's face crumbles and he lets out a single, dry sob, leaning over, hands on his knees, gasping pathetically.
''That's not a fucking answer, Oliver,'' Dean snarls. ''And I am not going to ask you again. Did you or did you not - ''
''Yes,'' it comes from Diggle. It's low, full of regret and anger. ''She was bait. We used her. We used Laurel.'' He glares at Oliver. ''We told her we were going to take down Sebastian Blood and we needed her help. But we were just using her to get into the building, because Oliver... Because we knew Slade would let her in.''
''Why? Why would he let her in?''
''...Because she was his next target,'' Felicity whispers.
Dean nods slowly, trying to process the absurdity of what he has just been told. ''So... So, basically, you delivered my wife to a mad man who was targeting her?'' Suddenly, nobody can meet his eyes. He lets out a slow, bitter chuckle. ''You know, I don't know why I'm surprised. You've taken everything away from her, Oliver. Why not take her life too, right?''
''I'm sorry,'' Oliver chokes out.
''You're sorry?'' Dean mocks. ''You're sorry? You think that's enough? You think that's anywhere close to being enough? Sorry isn't going to save her life. Sorry isn't going to fix everything you've broken.'' He shakes his head. ''Why did you have to come back? Why couldn't you have drowned, you stupid son of a bitch?''
Oliver stands straight and squares his shoulders. ''I ask myself that same - ''
''No,'' Dean points a warning finger at him. ''Don't you fucking do that with me.''
''Nobody was supposed to get hurt,'' Roy bursts out, rising to his feet.
''Well, somebody did get hurt, Roy!'' Felicity shouts, standing on unsteady feet. ''She could die because of us! Don't you understand that?''
''She shouldn't have gone after him! Why did she? Why did she do that? Why did she attack him like that?''
''Because of me.''
All eyes go to Sara.
''She was trying to protect me,'' her voice is wobbly and her eyes are unfocused. ''She saw him go after me and she attacked him. She saved my life. She... She saved my life.''
''Hope it was worth it,'' Dean says.
''But why? Why did she..? She's not a...'' Roy trails off.
''Not what, Roy? A hero?'' Dean laughs again and cocks his head to the side. ''Is that what you people think you are?'' In a surprisingly wise move, none of them answer him. ''Okay,'' he clears his throat. ''So, here's how it's going to work. If she recovers, you,'' he points at Sara, ''are going to beg. Do you understand me? You are going to grovel like you have never groveled in your life. And you fuckin' pray she forgives you, Sara, because I know I never will. And you,'' he points at Oliver. ''You are going to leave her alone. That's it. That's all I'm asking from you. I don't know what you want from her. I don't know why you continue to insert yourself into her life - into our life - but this is where it stops. Just leave her alone. Please. This,'' he swallows. ''This is me begging you, Oliver. Just leave her alone. Okay? Okay, because this is what you do. You're not saving this city. You're breaking the people closest to you, and I need you to stop breaking my wife.''
''I - ''
''No. No 'I', dumbass. Yes or no.''
''...Yes.''
Dean nods, satisfied. ''Good. Great. Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm going to go and tell that pretty nurse to escort you out of the hospital. You're not needed here.'' He spins on his heel to leave, stopping only to haul Sara up by her arm. ''Except you. You're family. Your father needs you. Oh,'' he calls over his shoulder. ''By the way, if Laurel dies, so do you, Oliver. You want a supervillain? You got one.''
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Laurel makes it through the surgery.
Now she just has to make it through the night.
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Laurel makes it through the night.
She makes it through the first night, and the second night, and the third night. She keeps making it. Nobody expects her to. Nobody except Dean. He has always believed in her more than anyone else in this godforsaken place.
But she doesn't wake up.
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Dean spends his days and nights in the hospital, by her side, where he should be, holding her hand and waiting for the impossible. He tries his best to take care of Sin, although he knows he's failing spectacularly in that aspect. These days it's more like she's taking care of him. He is the one who calls Roy and Thea to come and take her home after she has fallen asleep in some uncomfortable hospital chair. He is the one who forces her to go back to school after two weeks of her spending every waking hour in the hospital, which she doesn't seem to find a problem with because if both Laurel and Dean are wasting away in this place then it must be okay for her to do it too. But when Sam and Sara fail to convince him to leave Laurel's side long enough to eat something, Sin is the one who shows up with a bag of Big Belly Burgers and refuses to leave until he's eaten something. Dinah and Quentin try to get him to go home and take a shower or sleep, but Sin is the only one who uses Laurel against him, sneering at him that Laurel would think he was a pathetic mess until he drags himself back to their empty apartment for a night of tossing and turning in an empty bed.
If this is what it's like now, what will it be like when Laurel is gone? When there is nobody left to sit beside, no hand left to hold? What will happen to them then?
A month goes by.
Laurel makes it a month. She wasn't even supposed to make it through that first night and yet she makes it thirty days, because that's how strong and amazing she is. A month goes by and her parents want to take her off life support. Dean tells them to go to hell. Dean tells them to go to hell and every second he spends away from her side becomes terrifying because he's afraid they'll take her away from him while he's out of the room. A month goes by and her parents, her sister, Sam, they all just...give up on her. They try to tell him that this isn't about them, that this is about her, that she deserves peace, that she wouldn't want this, but he doesn't believe them. This is about them. This is about what they can take, and they can't take looking at her like this.
Well, fuck them.
She's still beautiful.
And he's got power of attorney, so if he says she's staying then she's staying.
''You can go right ahead and give up on her,'' he says. ''You're good at that,'' he adds in a snarl, just to hurt them. ''But I never have. And I'm not about to start now.'' He glances over to the window in Laurel's hospital room, where he can just barely make out Sin, sitting by Laurel's bed, homework open in her lap. ''Just go home,'' he tells them, and can't look at Dinah's pale face or Sara's tears or Quentin's bloodshot eyes. ''She doesn't need you here. We don't need you.''
Sin is the only one who agrees with him.
He doesn't tell her about what her family wants. He doesn't want to upset her. More than that, he doesn't want her to agree with them. He shuts the door to the hospital room quietly and closes his eyes. He leans back against it, trying to breathe, trying to remind himself that this is Laurel. She's stronger than this. She'll wake up. She'll wake up and she'll be fine and they'll have a big wedding like she wanted instead of the courthouse wedding like they had and they'll have a house and a handful of kids and a dog if she wants a dog and he'll give her anything, he'll give her everything, he'll give her the whole damn world and she'll be fine, she'll be okay, if she can just hang on a little longer she'll be okay, she'll be perfect, they'll be perfect and she'll be -
''They want you to pull the plug,'' Sin says, voice hollow and lifeless.
He opens his eyes. She hasn't even looked up from her homework, pen still moving across the page fluidly. Dean swallows hard. ''...Yes.''
Her notebook shuts with an audible slapping noise and she rockets to her feet, whirling around to face him. There is rage in her eyes. It's masking the fear. ''Don't you dare,'' she whispers. He doesn't expect it to come out in a whisper. Like she doesn't even have the energy to scream. ''Don't you do it. I'll never forgive you. I swear,'' her voice grows louder, only to crack feebly. ''I swear I'll never forgive you if you let her go.''
''I'm not letting her go,'' his voice is calm. ''She's going to stay here. She's going to stay here with us.''
Sin starts crying.
Dean pushes off the door and takes a step toward her.
She darts away from him, holding a hand up. She's trembling, her entire body vibrating and shaking. ''She's going to wake up,'' she sobs. ''She's going to wake up and we're going to be great. Everything's going to be great.''
''Yeah, honey,'' he says, tongue thick in his mouth. ''We're gonna be great.''
She lets out a loud, wrenching sob that sounds like it physically hurts and then she strides over to him and lets him wrap her up in his arms.
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Dinah and Quentin spend every possible moment that they can with her, as does Sin. Sara spends a lot of time in the hospital, but not a lot of time inside the actual room with Laurel, unable to look at her sister's body lying there failing. Sam is there every morning and every evening, although one can't be sure if he's there for Laurel or for Dean. Cas shows up with Charlie a few days after. Cas sits in the silence with Dean. Doesn't offer meaningless platitudes or apologies. Just sits with him in the silence until it gets dark. Charlie flitters around, fluffing Laurel's pillow and going on coffee runs. She holds Dean's hand while Dean holds Laurel's. Joanna stops by twice a week, always at the same time, with flowers clutched in her shaking hands and a soft smile for Dean. Roy and Thea come by regularly, but Thea is the only one who actually visits Laurel, spending one afternoon painting her nails for her. Felicity and Diggle stop by once, but seem to spend most of their time and energy trying to keep Oliver away. Oliver keeps trying, keeps making excuses and pleading and sobbing and begging, but security has their list of people who are not allowed to see Laurel and it basically consists of a giant picture of him. He makes it into Laurel's room once, because he comes in through the window as Arrow instead of Oliver, but he freezes when he sees her pale, lifeless body in the bed and when Dean walks into the room and sees him there, he flees the same way he came in before Dean has a chance to break a chair over his back.
He doesn't come back.
Helena Bertinelli comes to see her once. Cas and Charlie have just left for food and Dean is standing at the coffee machine, doing his best to keep his tired eyes open. And then the elevator doors open. He isn't surprised when he sees her step off the elevator, he knew she and Laurel had just begun to toe the lines of some sort of tentative friendship, but he is surprised to see the emotion in her eyes. She stays for hours and doesn't say a single word to Dean. Just sits in the chair next to Laurel's bed and stares at her, unmoving. She doesn't touch Laurel, doesn't hold her hand or stroke her hair. She just sits there, wheels turning in her head, plotting and scheming. Finally, she lifts her eyes from Laurel to Dean and says, ''Would you like me to kill him for her?''
Dean startles and freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. He blinks at her, lowering the cup. ''Slade Wilson?''
''No,'' her eyes darken and her voice is a hiss, ''Oliver.''
He clenches his jaw. It's the most tempting offer he has gotten in a long time. ''...She would never forgive me,'' he says.
''She's going to die,'' her voice is steady. ''Her ability to forgive has run out.''
He doesn't say anything, but he does put down his coffee and lean forward, fingers brushing the pulse point in Laurel's wrist just to make sure she's still there.
''This is how villains are made, Dean,'' she says, and there's a hitch in her voice, so brief he thinks he might have imagined it. ''Through loss. You would make a terrific villain.'' She crosses one leg over the other and tilts her head to the side, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. ''He took everything away from her, you know. He took everything away from a lot of people. Don't you think it's about time someone took everything from him?''
''Helena.''
''Why should he get to live?'' Her voice rises. ''She is better than him.''
''She's better than everyone,'' he throws back lazily. ''Doesn't mean I'm gonna slaughter the entire city just because they didn't deserve her.''
''We could save this city,'' she argues. ''We could save this city from Oliver Queen. People won't have to die for him anymore.''
''No, stop it.'' He shakes his head. He looks down at Laurel's limp hand, free of all of those ugly tacky rings she loved to wear so much, except for the one he gave her. He couldn't afford an engagement ring, or even a proper wedding ring when they first got married. It was just this plain platinum band that he bought from a pawn shop. He was going to buy her a new one on their first anniversary but she told him not to. She loved her wedding ring. He threads his fingers through hers and lifts her hand up to kiss the back of it. ''Laurel...'' He has to swallow. ''This isn't happening because...'' He squeezes his eyes shut. ''She did not die for Oliver fucking Queen,'' he growls. ''She went out trying to fight, to do the right thing. She's a hero and she died a hero. That asshole had enough of her life, Helena. He can't have her death. He can't have any of her anymore. She is officially free of him. And you...'' He reluctantly tears his eyes away from Laurel to look up at Helena, meeting her wide, startled eyes. ''Stop being so fucking ungrateful.''
She flinches.
''Laurel believed in you. She thought you could do better. She knew you could do better. She knew you could be good. I got no illusions about you, Bertinelli,'' he sneers. ''I know what you've done and I know what you could do. You could take out Oliver Queen in one fell swoop, better than Wilson ever could. You could win the city, if that's what you really want. Or you could get a grip, go out there and be the hero that Laurel knew you could be. You're not going to forget about what she did for you. I won't let you. Laurel gave you a second chance when no one else would. Don't waste it. Now, leave. Go out and be better. Live.'' He waves his hand dismissively and slouches back in his seat. ''Pretend I said something that got through to you.''
Helena shifts in her seat uncomfortably. Her lower lip is trembling and her eyes are full of tears, an odd look on her. She's never been emotionless, Dean knows this, but he has never been allowed to see her emotions before. All he's ever seen is the tough outer shell. She opens her mouth and tries to say something to him, but he has already gone back to his coffee and his eyes are for Laurel only. She sits there for another moment, sniffling quietly and then she clears her throat and rises to her feet. She doesn't say anything to Dean. She inches closer to the bed and picks up Laurel's hand, holding it tightly in both of her hands, before she leans down and whispers something in Laurel's ear. Her long dark hair brushes over Laurel's cheek. She stands straight and looks at Dean. He's still not looking at her. She hesitates briefly, still clutching Laurel's hand, and then she leans down once more and presses a kiss to Laurel's forehead.
She lets go of Laurel's hand.
Cautiously, like she's approaching a wild animal, Helena moves to the other side of the bed, bends down and kisses Dean's cheek. ''You're a good man,'' she tells him, and he lets out a bitter, disbelieving huff of laughter and doesn't look at her. ''But I'm still going to rough him up a bit the next time I see him.'' And then she turns on her heel, hair flying, and walks away. In the doorway, she stops, just long enough to say, ''Also, I'm covering all of her hospital bills, don't fight me on this,'' and then she's gone before he can protest.
Dean stares at the spot where she had been and sighs. He scrubs a hand over his face, over the beard he hasn't bothered to shave off, and closes his eyes momentarily. Other than the soft beeping of her heart monitor, it's quiet. In the quiet, the space between his breaths, he realizes, with an excruciating jolt, that he has just spent an entire conversation talking about Laurel in past tense. His eyes fly open and he sits up, looking over at Laurel just to make sure she's still there.
Only it's not Laurel.
Not really. This...This body isn't his Laurel. This isn't the gorgeous, vibrant, funny, kind, smart Laurel who is constantly surprising him, who amazes him every day with her courage and her heart of gold. This isn't the woman who makes him want to do better, be better, feel better. This is just a body. This is just a shell.
''No,'' the word feels like it rips out of him. ''No. Laur...'' His breathing speeds up. Hers remains slow and steady. ''Laurel, no. You don't...'' He takes her hand and squeezes, perhaps a little too hard. ''Don't. Don't do this. Please don't do this. You weren't supposed to do this.'' It takes him a minute to realize he's crying. Blubbering, actually. He's holding onto her hand too hard and he can't let go. ''Come on, beautiful,'' he rasps. ''Open your eyes. Squeeze my hand. Just do something!'' He stands, pushing his chair back so quickly it nearly topples over. ''Don't just lie there! You are fucking Laurel Lance! You're a Winchester! Winchesters don't die! Get up! Wake up!''
She doesn't wake up.
Dean rakes his hands through his hair and doesn't scream, even though he can feel it building in his throat. He can't breathe. He is standing there, fists clenched, panting, and his breaths flat out refuse to reach his lungs. His chest feels like there's a weight on it, like his heart is in some sort of vice. When his lungs begin to burn, he thinks he might be drowning in her.
He's having a panic attack. He's not drowning. He knows this. Logically, in the back of his mind, he knows this. But it sure as hell feels like he's drowning. Like the weight of love and grief is holding him under. For a second, one solitary second, he thinks he wouldn't mind drowning. But Laurel would kill him if he wasn't around to take care of Sin and her father and her sister now that she's gone. So he comes up for air. His gasping breaths reach his lungs and his blurred vision clears. Don't get him wrong, he still feels like he's dying, but it's a feeling he's become accustomed to during this past month.
Dean stares at the body in the bed. At the woman who is leaving him. At his wife.
See, here's the thing. Here's the bitter truth no future widow or widower wants to admit: She is not going to wake up.
There is not more to the story.
This is it.
He crumples, cries tearing out of him, teeth clenched, tears blurring his vision. ''Fuck you,'' he tells the body, voice broken and angry all at the same time. ''Fuck you for clawing your way into me the way you did and fuck you for leaving me like this.'' He crosses the room to get to her and kisses her lips, and then her cheek, and then her other cheek. Over and over, he kisses her cheeks and her lips and the tip of her nose and her hair and her neck, murmuring fuck you, fuck you, I love you, I'm sorry, fuck you, and somewhere along the way, while he's kissing and kissing and kissing and she's stillstillstill, he makes a decision.
She's been though a lot. She's been through enough. She should be able to rest now.
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Sam, Cas and Charlie are the ones who find him, standing at the foot of her bed, shaking, trying to memorize every little thing about her.
Of course they are. It was never going to be anyone else.
Sam says his name in a single breath, ''Dean.''
Dean says, for the first time, ''My wife isn't going to wake up.'' He turns to face him and he's not sure what they see in his eyes, but it must be devastating because Cas sucks in an audible breath and Charlie starts crying into her hands. Dean's first instinct is to pull himself together and comfort them, but he doesn't. He turns back to his wife, tilts his head to the side and tries to make sense of the words that are about to leave his mouth. ''I...'' He pauses, forehead wrinkling in confusion. Their fourth anniversary is next month. Four years is linen. He should be thinking, what the fuck am I supposed to get her? Fucking sheets? This is stupid. Instead, he's thinking, my goddamn wife won't stop dying and I don't know what to do. I think I've forgotten who I am without her. ''I won't be a husband anymore,'' he says.
A second passes, and then another and another, and then he dissolves.
Charlie drops her bag and rushes over to hug him.
Dean thinks, I wish my mom was here.
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When he tells her parents about his decision, Dinah lets out these wracking sobs of both relief and sorrow, and Quentin pulls him into his arms and holds him there for a long time like he's expecting Dean to cry on his shoulder. Sara doesn't hug him, or try to touch him in any way, which he is grateful for, she just thanks him and apologizes and keeps apologizes until he tells her that he doesn't want her apologies and that this isn't about her.
That's the easy part.
Telling Sin is the hard part.
He and Sara tell her together, when she arrives at the hospital after class. They take her down to the hospital cafeteria, sit across from her at a table in the back, away from other people, and they tell her, very calmly, very gently, that they're going to take Laurel off of life support.
Sin punches Dean in the face, calls him a weak, gutless bastard, screams at Sara that it should have been her, and runs.
''I think,'' Dean starts, while Sara is pressing napkins to his bleeding nose and a nurse's bony fingers are tilting his head back, ''that went better than I thought it would.''
''Hey,'' Sara says with a weak smile. ''At least we're in a hospital, right?''
Dean lets out a watery laugh. ''Yeah,'' he mutters. ''Guess that makes me the lucky one.''
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Dean won't let them do it without Laurel's entire family there, which means they have to wait Sin out. She's holed up at Thea and Roy's place and she refuses to see anyone, especially Dean, and she's not picking up her phone. The news of what's about to happen travels fast, and people start filtering in to say their goodbyes. Joanna, Helena, Felicity, Diggle, Moira Queen stops by to see Dinah and Quentin, Cas, Charlie, Sam, Jody Mills calls to check on Dean...
Three days after Sin ran, Dean is at the coffee machine yet again, when the elevator doors open. Sin is standing there, standing just behind Thea and Roy. She looks pale and small. Dean holds his breath. There are two ways this could go. Either Sin is here to say goodbye. Or she's going to sic Roy and his stupid super strength on him. Dean stands straight and keeps his eyes on Sin. Thea's eyes are bloodshot and puffy and she's sniffling. Roy looks pale. Dean still keeps his eyes on his girl. Roy is the first one out of the elevator. Sin doesn't move. Thea takes her hand. ''I-It's... It's okay,'' Roy tries awkwardly, gesturing for Sin to follow him.
''There is nothing about this that is okay,'' Sin says, but steps off the elevator with Thea.
Dean holds his breath.
Sin doesn't punch him again. She lets go of Thea's hand, races forward and launches herself into his arms. She's lost weight. She's always been skinny, but she's barely skin and bones now. ''I'm sorry,'' she cries into his shirt. ''I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry. And you're not weak. You're not. You're stronger than all of us. You kept her here. I'm sorry.''
''Ssshh, hey, sweetheart, it's okay.''
''It's not okay,'' she wails. ''It's not okay.''
He doesn't know if she's talking about what she said or the situation in general. ''No,'' he agrees. ''It's not okay. But it's happening, Sin.''
She nods against his chest. ''I know.''
''Hey,'' he pulls her away from him. Behind her, Thea's shoulders are shaking and her face is pressed into Roy's red hoodie and Roy's fists are clenched, eyes on the ground. ''It's you and me now, kid,'' Dean tells Sin. He tries to smile for her. He's not sure he succeeds. But he tries. ''Okay?''
She nods, wiping at her eyes. ''You and me,'' she agrees. ''And sometimes Sara.''
He sighs. ''...And sometimes Sara,'' he relents.
''We're gonna be great,'' she says firmly. ''We're gonna be great for Laurel.''
Dean's heart is in his throat. ''For Laurel,'' he chokes out, and smiles.
''Sin?''
Sin turns around. Sara is standing in the doorway of Laurel's room, holding onto the doorframe. She looks like she's seen a ghost. Sin clears her throat. She shuffles over to Roy and Thea, kisses them both on the cheek, whispers something in Thea's ear, and then goes over to Sara and wraps her arms around her.
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''This sucks,'' Thea tells Dean, right before she and Roy leave. Her nose is running and her cheeks are wet with tears, but she still looks remarkably composed and her voice is still steady. Sometimes Thea Queen reminds Dean so much of Laurel that it hurts to look at her.
''It blows,'' he nods.
''You know,'' she sniffles. ''Laurel was the one who taught me how to ride a bike.''
Dean folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. ''Really?''
''Yep,'' she swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand. ''Her and Oliver. She was always nice to me. She always believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. She's one of the reasons why I decided to get my act together. Working with her at CNRI... She made me want to be better.''
''That's my girl,'' he says. ''She did that a lot.''
''I'm sorry we drifted apart,'' Thea says strongly. ''But I'm glad I knew her. And I'm glad you loved her. You...'' She pauses, teeth sinking into her lower lip. ''You made her so happy,'' her voice cracks, just a little. ''I know she loved my brother, I know that, but when I saw you two together... I don't think she ever loved anyone the way she loved you.''
''Well, I've...never loved anyone...the way I love her,'' he says slowly, without breaking ''so that's nice to hear. Thank you, Thea.''
She smiles and leans up to give him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.
''Hey,'' Roy catches her arm as she's stepping into the elevator. ''Listen, I'll meet you at the car, okay? I just have to talk to Dean for a minute.'' He smiles, charming as ever, and she looks confused, but nods. He waits until the elevator doors close and then he turns to Dean and takes in a deep breath. He burrows his hands into his pockets. ''He'd let you,'' he says.
Dean tenses.
''If you don't do it, he might do it himself.''
''Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?''
''No,'' Roy shrugs. ''Just... Oliver's... He's got a beard now. Like mountain man beard. You've got a pretty gnarly beard going on, but his goes down to here,'' he holds his hand out to just below his throat. ''It's pathetic. And he, uh, he stinks. Because he rarely showers and he drinks. A lot. He kinda drank Verdant. He goes out every night looking for fights. He's trying to commit suicide by vigilantism.''
''Kid - ''
''Look, I just want to know if you're gonna do it or not. You said - '' He tries to control his breathing. ''You said if she... You said you would go all supervillain on us and I just want to know... If that's still a thing that's going to be happening.''
Dean narrows his eyes. He thinks about it. It would be satisfying. It would be so satisfying. But that man... The man who would do those things. That's not the man Laurel married and he's trying - he's trying so damn hard - to keep being that man, even if she's not here. He has Sin. He has Helena and Sara and Sam and Cas and Charlie. And he has to be both Dean and Laurel for them now. God is cruel, he remembers, sometimes he makes you live. His lips curl up into a gruesome smile and he takes a step closer to Roy. ''God is cruel, Roy, and so am I. You tell him he's going to live a long, healthy life. Death is too easy. Death would be wasted on him. You tell him he's going to wake up every single day with her blood on his hands. You tell him he's going to live with Tommy and Laurel and everyone else he's killed whispering in his ear every night. I'm not gonna waste a bullet on Oliver Queen, Roy. I'm gonna make sure he lives.'' He leans in closer. ''Laurel is going to die tonight, and he's gonna have to live with himself for a long time. And trust me, that's worse than death.''
Roy, despite his literal super powers and his monumental anger issues, looks petrified.
''Now, if you'll excuse me,'' Dean says, ''I have to go watch my wife die.''
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Dean hasn't had a moment alone with his wife since he made the decision to take her off life support.
Aside from the steady stream of people coming to say their goodbyes, her family has not left her side since he made the call. So when the doctor takes them into the hall to explain to them what's going to happen, Dean stays behind. He's already been told what to expect. He doesn't need to hear it again. Her mother and her sister have done her hair and makeup. Her stringy, limp hair has a little bounce and her colorless lips are painted red. It looks a little ridiculous, but Dean wasn't about to tell her inconsolable mother to stop.
It doesn't matter.
She's still the most gorgeous person he's ever seen.
''Well,'' he starts. He doesn't know how to finish. ''You always did want to meet my mother,'' he finally says. His attempts to laugh at his own joke go terribly wrong. ''You know, beautiful,'' he tells her. ''I should have told you this, but I've loved our life together. Every second of it. Even all of the bad shit. I loved every part of it. I love every part of you. I've...'' He stops. Clenches his jaw. Licks his lips. ''I've met a lot of amazing people in my life. But you... You were extraordinary.'' His voice catches and a weight slams into his chest again. He keeps going. ''You made it easy. The whole love thing. I've never been good at it. But I love you. I love you so much, Laur.''
He brushes a strand of hair away from her face. ''You've been so brave,'' he tells her. ''And strong. You did good, baby, you did so good. You've been fighting so hard. I'm so proud of you. Everyone is so proud of you. But I don't... I don't want you to have to...'' There is an ache in his throat that won't go away and a space in his heart that he can't fill. ''I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you in time. I'm sorry I couldn't...'' He draws in a rattling breath. ''I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry for keeping you here like this. Dulled.'' He shakes his head and looks down at her wedding ring. ''This isn't you. You should be free. I don't - I don't know if this is what you want. Maybe you want to be here? I don't - I don't know. There's no way to know. Maybe I am just a weak, gutless bastard. Maybe I'm just doing this because I can't stand to look at you like this. I just don't want you to be in pain anymore.''
He takes her hand in his and runs his thumb over her wedding ring. ''I'll hold your hand,'' he gets out somehow, around the ache in his throat. ''I promise, I'll hold your hand.''
He never does say the word 'goodbye.'
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When he had caught her as she fell that night, after Slade had pulled the blade out of her stomach, she hadn't said much. She was in shock and she was confused and in pain and choking on her own blood. ''No,'' she kept saying. ''No, no, no, please, please, no. I don't want to,'' she had sobbed. ''I don't want to go. Please don't let me go.'' And when she saw Sin, she had whispered, ''don't let her see me like this,'' a plea that, unfortunately, came a little too late.
But when they were in the back of the Impala, racing to the hospital, with her head in Sin's lap and Dean's strong, capable hands doing his best to keep pressure on the wound, she had... It seemed like she had reached acceptance. ''It's okay,'' she had said, while Sin sobbed and Dean kept barking at her to stay awake. ''I-It's okay, I'm...okay,'' she said, even as tears slipped out of her eyes. ''I-It's g-going to b-be okay. Y-You're going to...to be o-okay.'' And she had lifted one bloodied hand, looked Dean straight in the eye and pleaded, ''H-Hold... Hold m-my hand?''
He hadn't held her hand in the car that night, and he hadn't let go since.
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It happens quietly.
He's not sure why, but Dean hadn't pictured it being as quiet as it is. There's a lot of waiting. After she is taken off life support, they all just kind of sit around waiting for her to fade. It'll be just like going to sleep, they are told. He thinks that is the worst thing he has ever heard. Actually, no. The worst thing he's ever heard is when they take out the breathing tube and she makes this...this distressing gasping noise like she's fighting to stay. It continues for at least a full minute before she goes quiet. Apparently he's not the only one who thinks it is the worst sound anyone has ever heard. As soon as Laurel goes quiet, Sara stumbles over to the trash can and throws up.
It's a long night.
Quentin alternates between weeping silently and whispering over and over again, ''I love you, my good girl, I love you.'' Dinah cries for hours, stroking Laurel's hair and whispering apologies. Sara, unable to sit still, paces the room. Sin sits with her head on the bed, one hand gripping Laurel's leg, watching her like a hawk.
And Dean holds her hand. Just like she asked him to. He doesn't let go. He holds her small hand in his much larger ones and kisses it again and again and again.
Laurel leaves quietly. One minute, she's there, struggling to breathe, heart rate decreasing, and the next, she's gone and the only sound is the soft sound of her flatlining as her exit music. A moment goes by and then the nurse swoops in to check on Laur - on the body. The second the doctor calls time of death and turns off the heart monitor, Dinah lets out this gut wrenching wail, a kind of wail that Dean has never heard before, and collapses to the ground. Quentin goes with her, crouching down beside her and pulling her into his arms. Sin lets Sara wrap her up and pull her up, away from the body.
Dean is still holding Laurel's hand. He can't let go.
He kisses the back of her hand one last time.
Dean is still holding Laurel's hand when he hears it. It's worse than the quiet little gasping noise. No, this is a louder gulping, desperate sort of gasp. Dean lifts his eyes to Laurel. She is still and quiet. Until she's not. It happens again; the gasping. This time, he sees her do it. Her mouth opens and she gasps. She does it again and her body practically lifts off the bed, desperate for oxygen.
''Laurel?'' Quentin's voice is a croak. ''Laurel,'' he hovers over her, hands moving to her face. ''Laurel,'' he says again, and keeps saying it, like a mantra, or a prayer. ''Laurel, Laurel, Laurel, Laurel.''
Dean stands up, peering down at his wife. ''Laur?'' Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the doctor whisper something to the nurse and the nurse, wide-eyed, races out of the room. ''Laur, sweetheart, can you hear me?''
The hand that he's holding in his own twitches, the gasping grows louder and louder, and her eyes snap open. There is a second of this unbelievable relief and shock pulsing through every single person in the room. Laurel's mouth opens in this silent scream and pain clouds over in her eyes.
And then she screams.
It's the most pain filled thing Dean has heard in a long time, possibly since Hell, and it's his wife who is in pain. He tries to talk to her, he tries to hold her down and help her, but she can't hear him over the sound of her screams. In between screams, she is sobbing in pain and ranting incoherently. The doctor is trying to look over her, but she's fighting him, body convulsing and shaking. Her screams get louder. They get louder and louder and louder, until the doctor starts backing away from her and Quentin is grimacing in pain. The sound of the scream fills every space in the air and keeps getting louder, until it reaches this inhuman volume, until it doesn't even sound like a scream anymore, until it sounds like some sort of dying bird.
Dean isn't sure how he knows what's about to happen, but he does and he reacts on instinct, grabbing onto Sara and Sin and pulling them away from the window seconds before every piece of glass in the room explodes and shatters. Dean shields Sin's body with his own, hands clapped over her ears. The noise dies down to a mere ringing in his ears and he sets Sin straight and whirls around to Laurel.
The bed is empty.
Laurel dies quietly.
She wakes with a scream.
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end
AN: And then she became Black Canary.
I CAME SO CLOSE TO KILLING HER FOR REAL. BUT I COULDN'T DO IT. That's why the ending is so...rushed. I changed my mind at the last minute. This story probably isn't as clean as I'd like it to be, so I'm planning on going back and cleaning it up at some point, but other than that, I'm pretty happy with it.
Oh, and it wasn't mentioned but the reason she woke up and suddenly had her Canary Cry? Is because she has some sort of supernatural gene that laid doormant until her death. The same gene that her maternal grandmother had, but it skipped her mother. This way she is not only connected to Arrowverse but also SPNverse. I've thought a lot about this. I'm probably going to be doing a follow up for the next UW.
Speaking of the next UW... Honestly, I'm thinking I might do one next week. I really like this 'verse and I really want to do a follow up.