Being Human

by sharpwind

When everything is gone, still some things are left behind. How far can you go and still be? The loss of life, for oneself, may be unimportant. But what of the loss of another? Supershort oneshot angst fic. Implied DxS.

Minutes pass by. Hours. Days. I look at the clock and wonder how long it's been. I can't remember what I see anymore. The world is a bleak, open stretch of canvas for me to paint my desires upon, and I desire nothing. My mind is blank, and the days come and go. And I still sit, staring at nothingness and hoping the wind will sweep me away.

They say that people give their lives for the ones they love, but what if you have no life to give? You leap forward, trying to block, trying to help, but it's all for nothing. A silver glimmer darts through me, and I feel nothing. It goes through her, and we both die, though not in the same way. In a sense, I'm already dead. With her, another part of me passes and I wonder how much of me is still truely alive.

Am I right to call myself human anymore? What is that, anyway? To be human... is to have feelings, emotions, breathing life into the world around us and letting everything grow and be prosperous. To be human is to have a soul. I was human. Even with my half life, I was still human.

But now my soul has died, and with it, my humanity. There is nothing left, and so I feel dead. What little life I had I would have gladly shared with her, would have gladly given to her because I know that as long as she was there, as long as my soul was alive, I could live. But she's dead now. It's dead now. And it's all my fault.

Sam...