How Do You Love What Hurts:
All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2 AU, where Dean laments over his Brother's dead body for days.
{Inspired loosely by The Song of Achilles}
5.8k | Explicit | See tags/warnings on Ao3
//
First, there’s nothing.
And then, there’s only pain.
Sam is shuddered into consciousness by the weight of it. His body is mind-numbingly aware of the festering hole at his back. It pins him where he lies, paralyzed and unmoving. His brain flitters across the awareness that something isn’t right.
Something is wrong.
But he can’t focus on it because the pain overwhelms him. It feels like an ocean is funneling into his lungs, the salt feeding hungrily at the scream of it. It’s the kind that is nerve-searing and electric, the kind that takes your breath away and leaves you empty. It hums, bright and lucid, like a lightning bolt cracking against the sky. It becomes him, eats him up like a cavity, and eventually, he can’t decipher where it begins or ends.
An unbearable need to rip the cords on the source overrides everything else. It needs to stop, needs to—but Sam’s hands are still, and his eyes will not open.
This is wrong.
He mentally wills his body to move, screams it at the tops of his lungs. He just needs a breath—just one breath without the insanity of this fire within him. He feels like he’s gasping, like a fish on dry land. His lungs burn with misuse, and that’s when he notices the absence of his heartbeat.
This is very, very wrong.
Panic floods him, but still, there’s only stillness—only a blood-boiling agony from which he cannot escape. There is nothing, nothing except him and the pain and the wrongness.
Suddenly, there’re hands on him, hands fisting into his clothes and rattling against him. They shake, and they pull, they let go, and then they’re sliding through his hair and down along his cheek. Sobs follow; they echo in the room around them and reverberate in Sam’s unmoving chest.
“S-s—” A voice trembles, a heated breath against Sam’s cold skin. “Sammy!” {Continue Reading on Ao3}
