Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Except a biscuit. Smashing Pumpkins owns 'Tear'. Everclear owns 'Brown – Eyed Girl'.
Loving/Breaking/Crying
//The lights came on fast
Lost in motorcrash
Gone in a flash unreal
But you knew all along
You laugh the light
I sing the songs
To watch you numb//
The roses were red. Bright, violent red – they reminded Sammy of the red of blood. Of his mother's blood, as the glass cut her, as the metal twisted around her, as the car shattered around her, as Sammy slept beside her.
He slept. His mother was dying, going to visit his dead father, almost, it seemed, and Sammy was sleeping. By force, naturally, since he'd been knocked out, but sleeping nonetheless.
He watched as they lowered Molly into the ground, to sleep forever in the worms and the dirt. She'd never see the sun she loved. She'd never get that 'Old Fashioned Holly Workout', as she called wrestling, again. She'd never talk to Sammy or Michael. She'd never…
Sammy swallowed roughly. He wouldn't think of that. It wouldn't bring her back.
He should be happy for her. She was up in Heaven, with Spike. She would be happy there.
//I saw you there
You were on your way
You held the rain
And for the first time
Heaven seemed insane
Cause heaven is to blame
For taking you away//
"It's hard, isn't it, kiddo?" Sammy turned around to face the owner of the voice addressing him and the owner of the hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard anyone come up behind him, and he saw Chris Jericho standing there. Sammy nodded.
"Molly was a great girl. I'm sorry that you've had to go through this…" Chris said, and Sammy watched the sympathy reflected in his eyes.
"Yes. She didn't deserve to die… none of us deserved for this to happen to her." Sammy said softly. As an afterthought, he added, "First Spike… now Mom… family life just doesn't seem to be my thing, huh?" He tried to crack a smile, but something stopped him.
Jericho stared at him for a few moments, and Sammy wondered if he'd done something wrong. What had he said?
"You know… you know about Spike…" Chris marveled, staring at the younger boy. Sammy started.
"Yes. Mom told me about him… a little while ago… a while before she …" He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Holy shit," Chris said, shaking his head. Sammy frowned, thouroughly confused.
"What? What is it? Why shouldn't I know about my own father?" He said, attempting to quash the temper that flared within him.
Chris held up his hands in peace, having spent enough time around Buh Buh, D – Von, and Spike to recognize the Dudley temper. "Slow down there, Littlest Dud. I just wasn't expecting Molly to tell you about him, that's all. She wanted you to adjust to Michael so badly…"
"Why wouldn't I adjust? He was my father!" Sammy shouted, getting frustrated.
//Do you know the way that I can?
Do you know the way that I can't lose?
Do you know the things that I can?
Do you know the things that I can do?//
"And your mother didn't love him. She loved Spike… but he was gone, and there was no bringing him back. She couldn't be alone." Chris said, treating Sammy with the patience one uses on a small child.
"She wasn't. She had me." He groused.
"That's not what I mean, kiddo, and you know it." Jericho said. Sammy sighed.
"I just want things to be like they were. I had such a good life, and then I found out it was all wrong, it was all a lie…" He said, staring at his feet.
"Hey!" Jericho said sharply. Sammy looked up, startled by the loud exclamation. "It wasn't all a lie. We weren't a lie. All of us who were training you, weren't a lie. Your mother wasn't a lie, and her love for you wasn't a lie. Michael raised you as his own son – that was no lie. Everyone loved you, and we still do. None of this is a lie. The one lie is that you would have had a different father, one who, if it you don't tell anyone I'm thinking this, would have been an even better father, but I just consider that since he was one of my best friends. And he died for someone he loves, and if it'd been you, he'd have died for you, if it had been someone he hated, he would've died for them, because he was like that, and his heart could hold it. And here, you're holding a grudge against your dead mother because she didn't tell you who he was."
//Where is your heart?
Where is your heart gone to?
Tear me apart
Tear me apart from you
You laugh the light I cry the wound
In gray afternoons//
Sammy was silent. He could hear everything in the room – the chatter of others, the weeping of his mother's friends, rustling of too – expensive clothing, bought just for this occasion. He felt sort of like he was underwater – everything seemed far off and distant.
Jericho tapped his shoulder, suddenly worried at his silence. Sammy didn't feel it, and fell to the ground, unconscious. "Sammy! Oh shit!" Jericho shouted. "Someone get help!"
***
//I saw you there
You were on your way
You held the rain
And for the first time
Heaven seemed insane
Cause heaven is to blame
For taking you away//
Molly held him tightly. Sammy felt small, tiny, in fact, and young. He looked up at her, rocking him, and he felt safe. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a small infantile cry.
It took him a few seconds to realize that Molly was singing slowly. She looked down at Sammy with eyes that reflected the maternal ability she always showed him.
"Hey now where did we go
Ooh yeah, days when the rains came
Way down in the hollow
Ooh yeah, playin' a new game
Laughin' and a runnin', hey, hey, hey
Skippin' and a jumpin', yeah, yeah
In the misty morning fog
Oh baby and our hearts a thumpin'
And you…" Molly sang. Her voice soothed Sammy, and soon he shut his eyes, his eyelids heavy.
***
//The lights came to pass
Dead opera motorcrash
Gone in a flash unreal
In nitrous overcast//
Sammy was thrown awake by voices around him. "Oh thank god," He heard Michael's voice breathe. Sammy opened his eyes and sat up.
"Sammy… are you okay?" Michael asked.
"Yeah. I'm fine," He stood up, shakily at first, and then stronger.
"Do you want to go home?" Michael asked.
"Yes," Sammy replied.
Michael hovered around him as they went to the car, and not a word was spoken all the way home.
As soon as Michael has shut the door to the house, Sammy asked him, "Why didn't you ever tell me that Spike was my father?"
Michael looked at him, surprised. Finally, he answered. "Because… your mother didn't want me to…"
"I don't care. Someone should of told me! I had a right to know!" Sammy found himself shouting. Michael looked away, and Sammy felt a twinge of regret.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" He heard Michael murmur. Suddenly, he turned and hugged Sammy tightly. Sammy was surprised.
"I'm sorry Spike isn't alive. I'm sorry Molly's gone. I'm sorry I left you two right because Spike came back. I'm sorry that it wasn't me who died instead. I'm sorry I never told you. I'm sorry you couldn't have a normal life. I'm sorry…" The two of them stood in the kitchen where, a few short months ago, Sammy had seen his dead father, and felt the regret of sixteen years hit them both.