I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2005-12-01 01:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | death of the endless, sam winchester |
i_havedreams [log] Sam and Death. How does one react to meeting Death?
Who: Sam Winchester and the anthropomorphic personifcation of Death. ^__^
When: Err... yesterday-ish?
Where: Sam's apartment near Stanford U.
Summary: Things have to come to an end before there can be a new beginning.
For the briefest of moments, Sam thought it was a dream. Why wouldn't he? He'd been having them for several nights now. But this time, when he didn't jerk out of his horrible nightmare to curl around Jessica's sleeping form, when he moved to hold her and the bed was empty and cold, and the body still pinned to the ceiling above his bed, he knew. This was no simple nightmare. Jessica was dead.
The ceiling was rapidly catching fire now, spreading across and down the walls, and Sam was frozen in horror, trying desperately to find a way to save her still, even as her now lifelss form ceased mouthing the words they'd been trying to say. He had to get out. It had happened again, but this time neither Dean nor their dad was there to save him.
She was standing in the corner of the room, waiting quietly. The boy didn't see her, but the living rarely did unless they wanted to. The girl was speaking to him, saying words that he couldn't hear. Death stepped forward as Jessica's struggles ceased, and gently pulled the soul away from the now useless body.
Death held her shoulders while Jessica coughed, rubbing the girl's back until her body realized it wasn't in pain anymore. Jessica held on to her until her breathing evened, then ceased. "Will you tell him?" she asked Death. "Tell him what I said?"
Death shrugged lightly. "That's for him to figure out, dear. But he'll be okay. He's a smart one."
Jessica sighed lightly. "I always wondered what comes next."
Death smiled warmly. "Now's when you get to find out."
It took the sudden penetrating sound of the fire alarm to jerk Sam out of his stupor. He managed to roll aside to avoid a piece of ember falling from the ceiling just to Jessica's left falling mere inches from his cheek. As he lunged for the fire extinguisher, he thought - just for a moment - something was there. It was at the corner of his eye, maybe... He whirled to try to catch it, but there was nothing there. No one.
Jessica looked at Sam reaching for the extinguisher, and blew him a kiss. "Will I ever see him again?" she asked the dark-haired woman standing beside her.
Death just smiled again. "You'd have to ask my brothers about that. It's time to go, Jessica."
Jessica nodded. "Alright." Death stepped close to her, wrapped her arms around one another, and there was the soft sound beating wings. Then her arms were empty, and Death, alone, looked back at the smoke-filling room, moving towards the exit.
Sam turned at the odd sound. It sounded... like the beating of soft feathery wings, like a bird. Or an angel. Tears were clouding his eyes, both from the smoke and emotion, so he wasn't sure if he could trust what he saw - the shape of a body, moving through the smoke, towards the exit. "Wait," he yelled and immediately started coughing, choking on the smoke. He dropped to a crouch and was sure he caught sight of heeled boots - the kind that made feminine clicking noises on hardwood flors. His floors were hard wood. These shoes weren't making that noise.... Maybe that was just his imagination. He tried again, inhaling the fresher air towards the floor. "Stop! Wait!"
It wasn't in her nature to follow orders, but she did like people enough to listen to requests. And Sam seemed like he needed someone to talk to right now. So she stepped back a little further, moving out of the range of the smoke for his benefit, and halted.
Sam practically flung himself out of the room, still gasping from lack of air. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks, just the woman standing there. In his apartment. Someone he'd never seen before. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" His voice was a little high, hysterical. No one could really blame him for that, nor for his suspicion of the stranger. How did she get in and why the hell was she even there?
"I was supposed to be here." She put a hand to his shoulder, not quite touching him, but to guide him towards the outer doors. "You need fresh air. Come on."
"You what?" But he followed, not arguing. He needed to just... get away. Now. And if she was offering, he was accepting. Once outside the room, he eyed her with far more suspicion than inside the apartment. "What do you mean you were supposed to be here?"
Questions, questions. What was the human preoccupation with wanting to know before wanting to breathe? "Sam, you're not going to get far with all that crap still in your lungs. Come on, work on breathing first." She patted his back. "No point in passing out from carbon monoxide poisoning."
"I'm breathing fine. If you didn't notice? My girlfriend just caught fire and now you're here saying you were supposed to be here..." Sam coughed again, and would have had a sheepish look - she was completely right about that whole breathing thing, obviously - had something not occurred to him. "You didn't answer my question. What do you mean you're 'supposed to be here'?" His eyes narrowed. "And how did you know my name?"
"You're not breathing fine, and if you're too stubborn to admit it, then at least pretend I'm being a terrible person and refusing to answer your questions until you get outside and have more oxygen than carbon in your bloodstream." She started leading him out again. "Get your thoughts together, prioritize your questions, and you can ask them after the air problem is cleared up."
Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, this time waiting until they were outside the apartment building, not just outside his room. "There. Outside. Now will you answer my questions?"
She waited a moment, making sure the wheezing was gone from his airways, and shrugged. "As much as I can. Got them all in order in your head?"
Sam eyed her suspiciously again. "Yes. Who are you? Why were you supposed to be here? How did you know my name?" That was a start at least.
She tilted her head just a little, a touch of a smile on her lips. "Sam. Come on. You know who I am." The answer to that one question, would give the answer for them all.
Whoa. That niggling little suspicion came back as full on certainty. Sam forcibly stopped himself from taking a step back. She was supposed to be there. Because... because Jessica had died. "You... you're. Oh. You're." Oh, profound. Then again what did one expect when he just watched his girlfirend die and then came face to face with Death it- er... herself... apparently.
She nodded. "That's right." Death quirked a brow. "Feeling better? You're not straining to breathe anymore."
Breathing well? Check. Feeling better? Hell no. Sam suddenly found himself wishing Dean were there. He shoud have gone with him... "No, I cant say I'm feeling better. Jess... You..." He swallowed and tried again. "What happened to Jess? What... what did that do her? Was it you?"
"No," she said. "I only helped her afterwards." She laced her fingers together, waiting to see if he had any more questions or accusations. It wouldn't do for her to console. Once you started that habit... it had taken two hundred years to break, last time. It just didn't do anyone any good.
"But you do know what did it." It wasn't a question. "And my mom too."
She had to nod her head. "Yes. I do."
"And I'm going to guess you can't - or won't - tell me." Sam felt oddly detached from the conversation.
She shrugged lightly. "Sorry. Wish I could help." She looked up brightly. "Maybe your brother can help. I think he's looking for you. You might want to try and find him."
"I know he is." Sam shifted and pulled out his cell phone. Time to call big brother. "Listen... I don't expect people really thank you very much for what you do. But if you made it easier... then I do thank you. For both of them." He had to leave now. For some strange reason, he really didn't want to cry in front of Death.
She smiled, and it was a real smile, grateful and just a touch sad. "You're welcome," she said. "Take care of yourself, Sam. I'll see you again." She turned and started to walk away. After a few steps, she was gone, as though she'd never been there at all.