A brilliant shaft of light spills up from the floor. That's the last clear image Sam registers. After that it's Dean's hands steadying him, yanking him out of the convent while Sam stumbles along, weak and cold-hot. It's not just Sam's demon powers that he spent on Lucifer, it's all of himself; his own strength from his flesh and blood, the blood that's the same as in Dean's veins, all given just so he could get here. He shudders, can't get away fast enough and Dean's a force that keeps moving him, putting distance between then and Sam's monumental fuck-up. all my fault, Lucifer rising the world will burn and oh God I did it, should be dead
Sounds blend into white noise, his vision edging into black, and Sam's too weak to shake Dean's hands off, to tell him that he shouldn't be there. I'm a monster, blood-sucking freak you said so and why're you here, am I gonna be next, please Dean you should be the one to do it, I want you to do it please He feels Dean's palm between his shoulder blades,
( ... )
It's bright, so bright when Sam opens his eyes, and for a moment he thinks he's still staring at the first step of apocalypse. But he's lying down, pressed down and warm-hot under blankets, something solid against his side. Sam ignores the daylight from the window, doesn't panic over the unfamiliar room and stops when he sees Dean. He's asleep, the solid weight Sam's feeling, but there's a frown on his face, the corner of his mouth shaped unhappy.
Sam shifts, tries to turn around to face Dean, but notices Dean's arm across his chest, the palm fisting Sam's jacket tightly. This, this Sam remembers happening before he blacked out; they were clinging to each other and somewhere Dean said that everything's going to be okay. His muscles are too sore and weak to obey when he attempts to run his hand through Dean's hair, curl it around his neck and so it falls on Dean's shoulder, palm against the bone. Sam slips his fingers under the collar of Dean's shirt, pulls Dean closer.
It won't last, the moment where Sam can just look at his brother
( ... )
Oh, this is perfect! ::melts:: Dean wraps Sam in his jacket, and carries him, and holds him when he sleeps! ::melts into a puddle:: I'm so glad they can be there for each other like this again! Thank you!
A brilliant shaft of light spills up from the floor. That's the last clear image Sam registers. After that it's Dean's hands steadying him, yanking him out of the convent while Sam stumbles along, weak and cold-hot. It's not just Sam's demon powers that he spent on Lucifer, it's all of himself; his own strength from his flesh and blood, the blood that's the same as in Dean's veins, all given just so he could get here. He shudders, can't get away fast enough and Dean's a force that keeps moving him, putting distance between then and Sam's monumental fuck-up. all my fault, Lucifer rising the world will burn and oh God I did it, should be dead
Sounds blend into white noise, his vision edging into black, and Sam's too weak to shake Dean's hands off, to tell him that he shouldn't be there. I'm a monster, blood-sucking freak you said so and why're you here, am I gonna be next, please Dean you should be the one to do it, I want you to do it please He feels Dean's palm between his shoulder blades, ( ... )
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Sam shifts, tries to turn around to face Dean, but notices Dean's arm across his chest, the palm fisting Sam's jacket tightly. This, this Sam remembers happening before he blacked out; they were clinging to each other and somewhere Dean said that everything's going to be okay. His muscles are too sore and weak to obey when he attempts to run his hand through Dean's hair, curl it around his neck and so it falls on Dean's shoulder, palm against the bone. Sam slips his fingers under the collar of Dean's shirt, pulls Dean closer.
It won't last, the moment where Sam can just look at his brother ( ... )
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