Title: Come On and Cry (Cry Baby)
Author/Artist: Hanyo
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean, Madison, Sam/Madison
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG? PG-13? Somewhere around there. There's blood and stuff.
Summary: (Coda to Heart) That was like now. Now was like a big, bad dream that Sam wanted, and needed, to wake up from.
Warnings: MAJOR spoilers for Heart. Also; this is short, it isn't a novella.
Notes: Okay, looked over my flist before going to school and I HAD to write something for Heart. A couple of idea plagued me today, and if I remember right, I started this while my class was in the middle of Grease. By that standard, I was only half-into this and wrote the bulk of it during last period, and finished it here at my place. I hope it's good, because I'm not exactly sure about it, though I must say I am pleased. Concrit is welcomed with open arms, as is praise. Flames are mocked, and if you'd like to friend the journal for updates, then by all means go ahead and do so:) If you'd like to archive it somewhere, however, please ask. I'll more than likely say yes, but asking can't hurt, can it? Also; I am not Eric Kripke nor am I Janis Joplin. Like I'm that awesome.
The sound of a gunshot rang out and it made Dean wince. And if that wasn't enough, he just had to start crying. That was peculiar; he hardly ever cried. Then again, Sam hadn't sobbed in a long while, either.
He sighed as the echo fluttered away, died down, leaving room for his breath to hitch once more as he heard a heap of something seeming collapse to the floor. Within seconds, he was at Sam's side, curving an arm around his shaking shoulders. Sam had fallen to his knees, unable to stop his tears. Dean didn't say anything, didn't whisper stupid lies of comfort that would've just made Sam either pound his fists against something or cry harder, just piled Sam into his lap and let Sam cry into his chest.
Dean tightened his grip and kept Sam right where he was, unable to move his head and look behind him and catch sight of Madison's bleeding and limp body.
Dean wistfully stared at her, the body lying messily on its stomach. He sighed again and focused on Sam. He soothingly rocked the both of them back and forth, ran one hand up and down Sam's back and held Sam's ear to his heart. He usually didn't act such a way, this we all knew, but for Sam he would. And Sam needed him.
So here he was, holding Sam, reminiscent of the nights when they had been kids and Sam had had a bad dream and had needed his big brother to comfort him. Dean always had, of course. He'd always let Sam wake him up at oh-thirty in the AM and crawl into his bed and wrap his tiny arms around Dean's entire body, making Dean promise to never leave him or let the monsters in his brain get him.
That was like now. Now was like a big, bad dream that Sam wanted, and needed, to wake up from.
Sam tightened his grip on Dean now, sobbing even harder and even teetering toward the edge of hyperventilation. He wheezed and sobbed out Dean's name, to which Dean responded quietly with what he refused to tell Sam earlier,
"It's okay Sammy. It'll be okay."