FIRST OFF: I figured you guys need an extra chapter today for the fact that I let y'all wait so long, and since i would've posted THIS CHAPTER today wouldn't it have been for the delay.
HERE WE GO :)
Huh ... I did it. - I want to warn everyone who still sticks with me and this story: you could get into serious need of tissues at the end of this chapter ...
The End Of Days
Chapter 29 ~ Sacrifices We Make
THEN:
"Of course I will. - I'll take exquisite care, that nothing' of your property gets ruined." The hunter chuckled hoarsely and tugged the man in his arm closer. "Don't you worry. We're prepared for everything."
And Sam took the hunter's word on this. He just hoped it was true and Dean didn't say it because he thought he needed to. He hoped that everything would go down easily, just as it had sounded like when they had talked about their plan.
NOW:
The ritual sounded like the best idea ever to get the gates of heaven open again. Castiel seemed to believe, that they didn't use their intends as pretense to get their hands on the nephilims.
The small group of angels depended on five human looking creatures. They were clothed like anyone else out there ... but their appearance was a different one. They LOOKED different. At least to Dean.
To the hunter's surprise, the angels didn't try anything. They walked into the warehouse, told them what their intentions were, tried to reassure – mostly Jo – that they would never hurt a nephilim knowingly (... and other crap, Dean didn't quite believe. He needed to think and sleep and talk about it with the others).
They'd meet up again in a couple of days at the same place, same time. Something the hunter wasn't quite happy about.
There was still the possibility that these angels just wanted to win their trust to make their own plans.
Though Joanna seemed pretty convinced that the angels were – in fact – telling the truth.
They truly wanted to reopen the gates of heaven. They wanted to fight the evil on earth at the side of the human race ... and though Dean Winchester figured that this couldn't be true. He knew angels. Angel's weren't that cooperative, except they wanted something bigger, something they all didn't know yet.
Angels were lying.
Okay, maybe the guy named Gadreel was telling the truth. He truly seemed to want things to go different. He truly looked like the honest type. - But then again, weren't angels supposed to appear that way?
Other than that ... he felt pretty relieved that the angels didn't know about the second nephilim or the prophet.
Their way back to the bunker was a quite relaxed drive. Some of the tension had obviously fallen away from the small group.
When they entered, there was Sam in the hall, sitting in one of the chairs on the table, reading in some book.
A gentle smile formed on the hunter's face as he looked down at his partner, who was too sunken into his lecture to even recognize his returning friends. Just as the door of the bunker slid shut and fell back into the lock, his attention got drawn away and his head snapped up.
He instantly was on his feet and waiting at the foot of the stairs for them (mainly Dean), before he started to ask questions.
"How did it go?" Big hazel-eyes darted between the four of them, observing everyone's face as if to wait for a special reaction.
"Don't know yet.", Dean flashed him a small smile. "Gonna talk later 'bout it. - I'm starving ... and tired."
Sam stole a hurried kiss from the older man and looked at Jo then, who brushed past the both of them. She seemed relaxed and somehow happy and relieved ... and her soul seemed brighter as the days before, as if she felt hope or something like that.
So Joanna seemed to be good with whatever they had been talking about.
The others on the other side ... they didn't seem that confident about what had been spoken.
"Kevin made some oatmeal." Sam said out loud. "Just have to warm it up for y'all."
They nodded in union.
Sam stole another peck from Dean's lips before he hurried into the kitchen and warmed up the food. Minutes later he returned with a tray to the library. Four bowls on it with steaming oatmeal.
"It's with sweetener. - We're low on sugar." Sam informed shortly and put the tray on the small table before the couch.
Internally Sam was waiting for them to spill. He wanted to know how it went, what everyone thought ...
Though every one of them seemed deep in thoughts.
Later that day, Sam was working on his meditation-tactics and manged to fall asleep every single time so far within minutes. Jo was always near by, having observant eyes on the young man, even when it looked like she was reading, or doing something else around him.
Surely, Sam made progress. Even when he didn't realize. But Jo did. She knew exactly what was going on with him. - He was about to find a way to attach to the power that lingered inside him. The first step of finding out what his abilities definitely were.
Before Castiel went into his room to get a couple of hours sleep, he stopped by at Kevin's and asked him to check the angel-tablet for a certain spell that involved angel's and demon's blood, special herbs and oils and sigils. He left a sheet of paper behind, wich Gadreel had given to him, so they would be able to check the spell over.
The angel then did go into his room. But as soon as the bunker fell still, Jo sneaked out of her room and went two rooms further, where Castiel was meant to rest.
Dean leaned back on the couch and blew out a deep sigh. "So ... we're honestly going to do that?"
Castiel shifted his hand a bit, so that his small finger was brushing Jo's.
Kevin sat up, rustling with the papers he held in his hands. "It's true. - There is a spell that is similar to the one the angels have been talking about. Though this one requires demon's AND angel's blood and it's for opening a portal into heaven. - They changed a few things though ..." He paused with a sigh. "... blood of a nephilim, feathers of an angel, hair of an earthly being and the nephilim has to say the spell." He paused again. "Since it has to be done on consecrated ground, I would say we choose a cemetery or church that's not too far away from the bunker. - We don't know what's going to happen when the ritual is done, and I'm sure it would be better when we aren't too far away from here ..."
Dean nodded thoughtfully.
Sam glanced at the hunter with a slight frown. Something was bothering him ever since they returned from the meeting. "Why are you worried?", he looked into the round. "It doesn't sound bad. - If that's all they need?"
Dean looked at his partner. It was true, he didn't like the idea of federalizing with the angels.
"Well ..." Castiel spoke up, "... there's still a chance that it is some kind of trap. - Gadreel gave us nothing more but his word." He cleared his throat. "Besides ... Gadreel's the one who messed heaven and earth up in the first place. - Other than that he always had a good reputation."
"As good as it could be after thousands of years in an angel-dungeon.", Dean added snarky.
"So ... it's just a matter of trust?", Garth spoke up. "I can tell, that these guys weren't lying. - Angel or not, they would've smelled different. I'd say they were pretty desperate ..."
"It's not our choice.", he looked up at Jo and then at Sam beside him. "It's yours." Dean shifted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You wanna try it – we'll do. If not, it's fine."
Jo and Sam shared a look. Jo gave him a short nod.
"I want the world to be a safe place again – at least as safe as it could possibly be. If there's a chance to get things settled again ... " He laid his hand on Dean's thigh and squeezed gently. He knew the hunter wouldn't like what he was going to say. "We should do it."
"We'll go together." Sam's statement was blunt and simple, not leaving any doubt in his determination.
Dean looked at him with something like worry in his eyes. He didn't want Sam to go with. Hell, he was uneasy with the fact that either one of Sam and Jo had to be there.
But the thought of, that something could probably go wrong and that Sam could be smack in the middle of it ... it was close to unbearable. On the other hand, he knew that he couldn't stop Sam from going with.
"I'll be your escape-emergency-plan." He smiled genuinely, letting the hazel-green orbs of his eyes gleam up in a bright blue-white. "If something goes wrong I'm gonna do that light-bulb-thing."
"You sure?" Because Dean wasn't. He was worried that it'd knock Sam out again, specially since he hadn't have the chance to try it again since back then.
"Maybe it's gonna knock me out for a couple of hours. - But I won't die because of it." He still smiled, looking into Dean's deep-green worried eyes. "You guys are there too ... You'll get me out of there when I've smoked them ... right?"
Right.
The second meeting didn't go down any different as the first one. It was calm and settled. They talked about the ritual and everything else.
Both sides agreed to come on the cemetery Dean had chosen. Without weapons.
What made the hunter and Gadreel a bit more easier. It seemed like both sides didn't trust the other one completely. There had just happened too much between them.
Dean groaned and tightened his grip around the hot furnace in his arms. Sam shifted slightly and nuzzled his face into the hunter's shoulder. Neither of them wanted to get out of bed just now.
But they had to.
The hunter ghosted with his fingers down Sam's back, making the younger man twitch and flinch away from his touch at first. It was then, when he reached the small of his back, that he did exactly the opposite.
Sam nipped and kissed the hunter's neck in return, his eyes still closed, his brain not even half way functional at all.
Dean traced with his fingers along the cleft of Sam's butt, causing goosebumps to grow all over his body. A soft moan fell from the younger man's lips, the warmth of his exhale against Dean's soft skin making him shudder.
"We need to get up, sweetheart." Dean's voice was still hoarse from sleep. "But when this's over, we'll get to have at least a week of sleep."
Sam just groaned in response. "Ten minutes? - I'll hurry up later ..."
Dean chuckled and peppered Sam's face with feather-light kisses. "Ten minutes."
Fifteen minutes later they got out of bed, brushed their teeth together, got dressed and went into the kitchen.
They definitely were the first ones up, so they decided to make breakfast together. Every now and then one bumped his hips against the others, nudged or got nudged and stole kisses.
While Sam threw their last eggs into the pan, Dean sliced the bread and prepared the dishes.
Soon their friends joined them, one after another. They even opened their last bottle of rasperry-syrup and brewed coffee.
Neither of them spoke a lot. It was like they were concentrating at the task before them. Just at the task before them and nothing else.
It was already late noon, when they stored their bags on the load-bed of Castiel's pickup truck. The angel hid three angel-blades under the passenger's seat – just in case. Maybe because they'd feel safer that way, since they weren't allowed to take them with (part of their deal with the angels).
Dusk settled over the land, when Castiel climbed behind the steering-wheel and Jo next to him on the passenger's seat. The rest of the pack settled down on the bed of the pickup for their short twenty-minutes drive to the cemetery.
Gladly they had a cover over the bed, so that the cold wind wouldn't bother them too much. They'd spend some quality time out there later anyway.
Kevin stayed behind, as he was one of the most precious beings (aka prophet) in the world. Besides he was their friend and barely able to defend himself, since he was more of a nerd than a fighter. Sure Dean had tried to teach him some things – but the prophet just wasn't made for fighting. He had two left hands when it came to weapons and combats.
Sam curled up into himself beside the hunter, leaning heavily against him all the way to their destination.
When the small group of friends finally arrived the long abandoned place, they instantly recognized two other vehicles. Yeah, even angels used to use these nowadays ...
When they got out of the car and from the bed and made their way through the iron-made portal of Stull Cemetery, the angels appeared in their line of vision in the middle of the holy ground. They had drawn a big sigil and in its middle was a wooden table with a brass-bowl, everything prepared for the earth-shattering event.
The angels turned around towards the newcomers and watched them carefully as they approached.
"Who's that?" Gadreel, the tall man with a leather jacket and grey-blue eyes eyed Sam suspiciously.
"Sam.", Dean stepped forward, gripping his lover's hand (what he usually would've never done, since he wasn't a chick and neither was his Sammy). "He's our backup, has an eye on everything that goes on ..."
Sam and Jo shared a glance. The angels wouldn't know what he was. Not until it'd be too late. He was their escape-plan. The one and only they had.
So if anything would go wrong, he'd deep-fry everyone on the damn cemetery. (At least that was the plan.)
Still, Gadreel seemed to be suspicious about the young man on the hunter's side. He practically seemed to try to figure out what he should make out of it.
After a tense silence, Jo stepped forward. "So ... my turn?" She smiled.
"Yeah, guess we're ready. - Hopefully we got the time right." Gadreel glanced into the night-sky for a moment.
They looked at the full moon above them. It was a beautiful clear night with a whole lot of stars blinking down on them. Sam squeezed the hunter's hand. It'd have been an amazing time to spend together, just the two of them, on the hood of the Impala, covered with blankets ...
The angels kept wary eyes on the humans. The humans kept watchful glances on the angels.
They positioned themselves around the outer circle of the sigil, so did the angels.
Gadreel joined Joanna at the table, helping her to prepare the things that needed to be done before they'd be able to start.
All eyes were on them. It looked like either side was watching the other one's member warily. As if they were just waiting for either one to pull a knife and try to kill the other one.
But no such thing happened.
Because they were fighting on the same side, even when they didn't trust each other. They were united in this. - And it probably had saved them from what was coming next, if they would've trusted each other a bit more ...
There was a whirr breaking the ultimate silence of the night, a faint puff of air slicing through the circle, not far from one of the angels, and a promising thud was heard.
The very next moment, Jo's back arched forward and she crumbled to the floor bonelessly.
"NO!", Castiel yelled, leaving his place on the outer circle. The angel dashed towards their friend and the other angel.
Gadreel whirled around, an angel-blade sliding from the sleeve of his jacket, gleaming dangerously in the silvery moonlight. His gaze darted into the darkness.
"Demons!", he snarled dangerously, as a second blade slid from the other sleeve. "Winchester!", the angel yelled and in the very moment he threw the weapon towards the hunter.
Dean caught it gracefully and pushed Sam down on his knees, he himself bowing protectively over him.
"Tombstone, now.", he hissed and practically shoved Sam forward until they had reached their coverage.
The hunter lurked around the stone, trying to check on his friends, trying to hear them. But all that was out there was shuffling and frantic yells and the whirring of arrows flying through the air.
A bright blue-white light illuminated the cemetery, as one of Gadreel's angels got hit by an arrow right in the heart.
Castiel fell to his knees beside Jo, shielding her body with his, as he cradled the prone body in his arms. "Jo?"
There was no response.
Her eyes were closed, blood seeping rabidly fast through the fabric, where the arrow had digged into her flesh in her chest. There was no sign of life. No breathing. No pulse.
She was dead.
Tears filled Castiel's ever so blue eyes and he gazed up at Gadreel in the same moment, he glanced down at the both of them. An expression of deep sorrow written all over his face.
"Demons, brother.", Gadreel whispered. "You got your blade?"
Castiel needed a minute to understand. But then he shook his head. "The deal was no weapons. - So we came without them.", he talked in regret.
The taller angel cursed.
"We've them in our car." Castiel's voice broke, as he couldn't suppress a painful sob. "I have to go, get the blades ... Dean's knife." He couldn't stop the tears right then. "We've to protect Sam ..."
Gadreel looked down at his brother with a mix of confusion and surprise and finally realization. The brothers shared a knowing look.
"Go.", was all that Gadreel said.
Dean was relieved that the stone was big enough to give the both of them cover.
Sam looked up at him with a worried and frightened frown. "We need to lure the demons out of the woods ..."
Dean knew exactly what Sam wanted to say. He didn't need to finish his sentence. The demons had to get out of their covers, so that the nephilim could deep-fry them.
"And we've to warn the angels and Cas ...", Sam muttered, ducking further behind the stone as an arrow whirred through the air beside it.
"You sure?" Dean didn't want Sam to try anything. It was too dangerous. They didn't know how many demons were out there ... nor did they have any weapons except the angel-blade. "We can try to get through them, get back to the bunker, lay low for a while and try it again ... somewhere else ..."
Sam's eyebrows narrowed. "No." It was definite. "I want to do that. - I want some sort of balance back. And if we're the only ones that are able to do that, I'm in."
Dean swallowed around the building lump in his throat, c losing his eyes for a brief moment. "Okay. - But you keep your head down."
Sam gave him a sharp nod. "I've memorized the spell with Jo. - I can do this, Dean."
A soft smile played on Dean's lips. "I know you can, baby boy.", he whispered and gave him a lingering kiss on the forehead.
The very next moment a body slumped down before them. Gadreel ducked down, his eyes a liquid mass of fury. His look lingered on Sam for a long moment.
"Castiel said, we need to take care of Sam. - What's your plan, hunter?", the angel asked, the grip around his blade tightening.
"We did have a plan. - In case you would trick us." Sam spoke up with an embarrassed smile. "It'd still work. - We just need the other angels to know, that they gotta hide somewhere ... when I'll give a sign."
Gadreel frowned, but nodded.
"And the demons have to come out ...", Dean added, "Or it won't work."
"Okay ... we'll work on that." Gadreel sniffed, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. A small black button was there, out of wich a thin wire came and disappeared inside the shirt. "Anthriel, Eiael, Naphriel, Ophiel", he talked into it.
Sam and Dean looked at each other and then at the angel. First shocked that they have been kind of tricked and though relieved that at least one side hadn't intended to play fair.
All angels except one answered.
"Get the demons on the cemetery." Gadreel shared looks with the hunter and the nephilim. "We're going to finish the ritual."
"You do what you gotta do. - I'll be your rear-cover, as soon as my men have the demons in the open. They can't use their arrows when it comes to a hand to hand fight." Gadreel checked on the both with a determined look.
Both nodded.
Complete silence lay over the yard for a few moments. No more arrows slicing through the air. Then Gadreel's microphone roared back to life. "We're ready.", the angel said.
"Altar.", Dean said and tugged on Sam's jacket. "You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be ...", Sam answered and blew out a breath, managing a slight smile.
Then they took off towards the center of the sigil. They saw the angels and their friends fighting against at least a dozen of narrowing black-eyed-bastards.
There was a lone duffel not far away from where Castiel was throwing himself at three demons that were in their way.
Sam hurried to get the herbs into the bowl, Dean and Gadreel now somewhere on the battlefield, trying to hold the demons away from him.
Then there was a sudden shift in the air, barely noticable. And the very next moment, Dean and the angel found themselves airborne. Flying across the holy yard and landing somewhere far off from the altar.
"Dean!", Sam yelled as he whirred around, just to see as the Winchester landed about twenty yards away to his left side.
Torn between hurrying to Dean's side and going on with the ritual he cursed. He needed to finish the ritual and deep-fry the demons. Otherwise none of them would leave the cemetery alive. The demons were too many ... - Then he'd be able to care about Dean.
Though he could do it right now, eliminating the demons ...
He cursed again and spun around, facing back at the altar before him.
With shaky hands, Sam lightened the matches and burned the herbs, never looking around. Instead he concentrated on the task at hand, trusted the foreign angel and his lover to have his back.
The others would have his back, would keep his ass save.
The ingredients in the bowl burned down within seconds. Meanwhile Sam reached for the chalk and drew a sigil on the wooden surface of the table before him, muttering enochian words while he did so.
Dean tried to reach him, fighting off the damn bastards that tried to get in his way. Though, two demons against one was quite unfair. And while he fought for the upper hand to get back at Sam's side where he belonged to, he stole short glances at the nephilim.
Just then, when he thought he had defeated his opponents and wanted to take off towards Sam, he saw one of those black-eyed bitches coming up at his lover from behind.
He took off into a sprint, and just saw how the demon laid his hand on Sam's shoulder, when he got tackled and thrown to the ground, with a heavy weight upon him.
A pair of obsidian eyes stared at the hunter from above.
Sam dared to glance around, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean. And he did. - He tried to get two demons down that blocked his way to Sam and the altar. For a short moment they had eye-contact. A moment that said more than words ever could. The hunter was telling him to carry on, no matter what. To finish what they had started.
He hurried to empty the burned ingredients in the middle of the sigil and reached for the dagger, as a strong hand landed on his shoulder and he got torn away from the altar and pulled backwards.
More like a reflex than anything else, Sam turned out of the grip and spun around, sinking the dagger deep into the foreigner man's guts.
Rather surprised, the guy stared up at him, his eyes flashing red for a split second.
In the very moment he buried his knife into the man's stomach and something dug into his. A searing pain lanced through him, robbing all the air from his lungs. Sam staggered backwards, bumping against the altar behind him.
The creature's eyes flashed red once more in the light of the full moon, a mischievous grin playing on its face. Of course the damn dagger wasn't meant to kill demons – so yeah, the bastard lived, keeping its vessel together.
The thick-set guy brushed over his black coat with his hands, while he cleared his throat, quite amused. He sniffed and rolled with his eyes as he looked back up and fixed Sam with his brown eyes.
Still in a haze of pain and the realization what just had happened, Sam covered the offspring of the pain, right beside his navel and looked down on himself in disbelieve. He paled as he pulled his hand away, wich was shining with red crimson in the damp light.
Blood was soaking relentlessly fast through his fabric and he swayed. A split moment later, Sam's features changed. He smiled slyly at the beast before him, raising his hand, so that the bastard could see the blood glistening on it.
"COVER NOW!", Sam yelled growling.
Seconds later everything seemed to happen at the same moment.
Silence fell over the cemetery. For a moment nothing was heard. All attention was drawn to the one left nephilim among them. Eyes – those of his friends, of the angels and the demons ... and a pair of big emerald-green ones pierced through the cool night-air in his direction.
Sam spun around and threw his flat blood-covered palm into the middle of the drawn sigil.
Lightning and Thunder were seen and heard at the very moment. The skies above the cemetery opened and there was rain all of a sudden. Dashing down onto the ground.
Sam swept his head around, making sure that his friends and the angels got the hint, and then his hazel-green orbs lit up in a blinding white-blue light. His gaze glued for a long moment at the hunter, who kneeled over a demon, the blade sunken in its throat, his hand still on the blade's hilt.
What started in the nephilim's eyes, soon had conquered his whole form and then there was nothing but dazzling light, and pained cries.
And the rain kept falling down, as the light slowly subsided.
There was absolute silence. Just the sound of raindrops hitting stone and ground, the sizzling noise of water hitting blazing remains of human hosts.
Dean stumbled over the muddy ground towards the altar, the familiar looking form on the ground before it not moving. The hunter couldn't even make out any kind movement. Not even if he was still breathing ...
Rain ran down his face, soaking his already heavy leather-jacket and dirty jeans. Dean Winchester ignored the icy cold that was creeping up his limbs.
All that counted was SAM. To check on him, know that he was alive. That he was still breathing and just needed a couple of days to regain his strength.
Dean threw himself, knees first, on the ground beside the prone body. He laid his hands tentatively on him.
"Sammy." It barely more than a whimper. "Sweetheart."
He carefully reached for the head and eased his palm under it, turning Sam's face up. "Sam. - Can you hear me?"
It was too dark to see if Sam's eyes were open ... but what he could see was, that Sam was pale, and that there was a dark fluid seeping out from the corner his mouth. Frantically the hunter started to search Sam's neck for a pulse.
After agonizing long moments he finally managed capture a weak thumbing rhythm against his fingertips.
The hunter frowned, his eyes narrowing. He tugged Sam onto his back, laying him flat on the wet ground. There was nothing to make out in the darkness and the shadows of the altar.
Dean cursed again, running his hands all over Sam's head, neck and body. But even if he was bleeding somewhere ... he wouldn't see. The younger man's clothes were soaked through to the skin.
"Damn it ...", and a row of other curses fell from the hunter's lips. "Sammy ... you gotta talk to me, baby boy. - Say something, anything. Please ... I need to know that you're okay ..."
But there was nothing.
A giant wet wolf appeared at Dean's side, whimpering and whining. The animal started to push his wet snout against the damp fabric of Sam's jacket. Dean immediately reacted at the dog's behaviour and started to feel along Sam's stomach under the ribs and solar plexus ... and then he found what he had hoped he wouldn't.
It was warm and slick ... and so did not feel like rain ... blood.
"Shit." Dean raised his hand up, so that he'd have a better look at it and his eyes widened, when he saw the red fluid, mingled with rain. "No .. no no no ... Sam?" His voice shook, so did his hands all of a sudden.
The hunter stripped down his jacket and the plaid shirt underneath. He then pressed the bundle of wet fabric on Sam's belly.
Dean wanted to turn around and order the werewolf to get the car there – pronto. But he didn't have to. The very moment he saw red and white tail-lights beaming up behind spare light showed how much red there actually was ... how ashen Sam already was ...
His ribcage tightened, making it unable for him to breathe. "Sammy, please, Baby – open your eyes, please ..."
Deep down Dean knew that a wound like this one was deadly. Even if Sam'd open his eyes ... it'd be his last time. THEIR last time they'd see each other.
Whatever hat hit him down there ... it had eventually punctured his intestines. And he was loosing so much blood ... TOO much blood.
No matter if they'd get him to the bunker in time ... none of them was a surgeon. None of them was capable to fix this. No one.
"No no no ... please. Sammy." The hunter didn't even know what he was begging for ... that he'd open his eyes? That he'd stay unconscious so he wouldn't feel a damn thing while dying? That a miracle would happen and Sam'd be fixed and back on his feet?
Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly ... buried his face in Sam's chest, as he cradled the younger man in his arms desperately.
And eventually Sam's eyes fluttered open. Eventually his lips moved, his face screwed up in pain.
"D'n.", he breathed. Oh god, it hurt. - It hurt so bad.
The hunter rose his head, tears mingled with rain. "Sammy.", he sobbed, "Hey, Sammy." He managed a small smile.
Garth was beside the hunter with a thick blanket, wrapping it around Sam's legs and lower torso. The wolf did know what was going to happen – what they couldn't stop.
"Love you.", the wounded man muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
Dean suppressed another sob, holding Sam tighter. "I love you too, baby boy." Oh god ... why did those things continued to happen? Was everyone in his life damned to die? Everyone?
Sam shivered, his legs shifting slightly under the blanket. "... so cold ..."
"I know, sweetheart. - I know. It's going to get real warm in no time." Dean still smiled, though it was a lie. And he knew it.
The both of them knew it.
"You stay?", Sam's eyes seemed so clear, so focused all of a sudden. As if he saw the whole world for what it was. "Until it's over?"
Those words cut like razor-sharp knives into the hunter's heart.
"Yeah, baby boy. - Not goin' anywhere." Dean swallowed hard, tears streaming down his face and dropping on Sam's. "Promise. - I'll stay. I'll stay with you."
He bowed down over his lover. His friend. His mate. And laid his lips over Sam's, letting them linger there. Saying Hi and Goodbye at once. Saying so much more with that gesture than either of them could capture into words in that little time they had left.
Sam's lips curled up into a warm smile, while his body went lax ... and his eyes fluttered shut.
... to be continued
i don't to deathfics (just for the record) :) ... what a bad cliffhanger, huh? :P
can't wait for your awesome reviews about THAT :)
