Medulla
Creeno


So, apparently it takes depressing musicals to snap me out of a(n) oneshot funk. Yay! Sort of a coda to No Rest For The Wicked one of the most depressing but wholly awesome episodes of SPN.


«halfway to heaven»

Dean's body lies in a circle of salt and brickdust.

Sam draws little runes in salt and chalk and blood and ash though he can't see, but he remembers each and every one.

-

Lilith meant to use her powers to kill him.

Sam acted like a greedy black hole and sucked in every ounce of it.

There were consequences to this, though.

As he held Dean's broken and bloody body, tears blurred his vision and after there were no more tears to cry, he rocked and rocked, dry sounds of grief echoing from his throat, he found that the tears had taken his vision and grief.

-

Bobby gently pries his fingers away from Dean's body.

"C'mon, son," he says softly.

Blank green eyes go to meet his and Bobby's hand heats up.

No.

-

He draws the last rune outside the circle and then steps inside the circle, slices open his palm. Blood slips onto Dean's face, down his chest.

Sam murmurs the angel's prayer, the old, forgotten one. He knows he shouldn't call on him, not with demonbastard blood in his veins, but this is the last thing he knows to do.

-

Lilith guarded secrets, so many secrets.

When Sam ran through her memories, after Bobby had gone and the day had marched further and further out and he had ceased to make noises of loss, he had run over every inch of the memory she had deserted in him.

He had found hundreds, hundreds of ways to thwart her, all unknown to him. All were old, old tricks of Anansi, Tricksters, or the heavenly ways of the angels, the old gods, things that no human would ever know and things no demon would ever spill if they knew.

-

Blood mixes on Dean's torso, and Sam recites, begs for the Four to hear him.

Tears come up again, but he can only feel them, hot and painful.

-

It angered him, what she knew.

He dug deeper, deeper into what she knew.

Looked for a way to bring Dean back, shied away from what Dean wouldcouldshould be. Dug deeper, deeper, deeper.

And when the moon rose again, he found it.

-

Please. Please, help him.

I know I don't deserve it. But please.

Please.

Please.

Help.

-

A feather light hand reaches up and brushes away his tears and clears his vision.

"We are here, son of John," an androgynous face smiles at him, short bright blonde hair framing it.

Sam blinks in bewilderment.

Gabriel steps back, and Sam sees the Four Archangels. Uriel has bleach blonde, near platinum blonde hair, jewel in his forehead. Michael holds his sword, black hair curly, gaze heavy. Raphael has wild red hair and a stoic expression beside Dean's head and Gabriel speaks.

"Why did you call on us?"

-

Pain.

Everything's just a haze of pain.

SammySammySammySammySammySammy.

Pain.

Someone touches his skin and then there's no pain, just...nothing.

Nothingnothingnothing.

Nothing feels good.

"He gave up redemption for you," says something with pale blonde hair and greyblue eyes. It would look sad, except sad shouldn't look so at peace at the same time, as if it already knew this.

You don't know who He is, but this He must care.

This He must be someone like Sammy.

-

Dean comes back to life in the middle of a suburban house, wounds burning and healing, half broken and not all himself.

There are runes and salt and brickdust and watching him, without a voice and sight, is Sammy, who has golden eyes and a smile on his face.

He hasn't redemption, but he has Dean.


Review!