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Swing Wide the Gates

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Swing wide the gates,
I’m coming home.
Swing wide the gates,
I’m one of his own.

I fought a good fight,
I’ve kept the faith.
Amazing grace has won the race.
Swing wide the gates,
I’m coming home.


Some how Sam thought it would be different.

His death…

Oh, God…Please, I don’t wanna die…

He can feel Jake yank the rusty knife from his back, its dull blade ripping muscle and scraping against his bones, slicing his skin wider open and his whole body shudders as all consuming fire, a lightning bolt of pulsing electricity races up his spinal cord and spikes through his brain.

”NO!” Dean…

His vision dims, red tinged around the edges and he can hear the staccato beat of his own heart in his ears. Fireworks explode behind his closed eyes and he’s hot, so hot…I’m burning, Dean…like mom, like Jess.

”SAM! Sammy…hey, hey…”

Then he’s legs give way and he’s falling. Forward and on to his knees, into the mud, the impact jars his rib cage and broken shoulder; he bites the very tip of his tongue.

But then someone is there with him, holding him up, and he can smell Dean's aftershave and old leather jacket as the beating in his ears slow.

“Hey, come here; let me look at you…”

Chills begin to rack his body and he's shaking hard, rattling in Dean's embrace, but he struggles to keep his eyes open, knowing that he has to tell Dean…something.

His brother pulls him close again and Sam’s head wobbles on his neck, he can’t hold it up on his own and when he opens his mouth to tell Dean he’s sorry, so sorry that he's leaving, sorry that he wasn't a better brother, sorry for not getting him pie, blood surges up his throat and fills his mouth, he can taste it’s metallic bite on his tongue and he chokes on the words.

“Hey look at me. It’s not even that bad, it’s not even that bad, alright, hear me…Sam…”

His eyes are drooping, but he tries to keep them open, tries to focus because Dean is so scared, Sam can hear the panic in his brother's voice and he wants to tell him not to be.


His head wobbles again and he can see the cloudless night sky, thousands of stars, and the moon shining bright overhead.

Please, me.

He can feel tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and hopes Dean doesn't see them.

“Hey listen to me, we’re gonna patch you up okay, you’re gonna be good as new…I’m gonna take care of you, I got ya, that’s my job, right to watch out for my pain in the ass little brother.”

Sam's thoughts are circling around now and it's hard to hold onto just any one, but an old song Pastor Jim used to sing and hum rises to the surface as he slowly blinks his eyes.

When Sam was little and worried about his dad out on hunts, worried that the monsters would get to him and Dean, the preacher used to tell him to pray.

That God would hear him and comfort him, protect his family, so Sam prayed everyday.

When he was old enough to realize that death meant separation from those you loved, the preacher would talk about life after death. You don't have to be afraid to die, Sam. At the end of your days, when you've fought a good fight, heaven will swing open its gates.

Sam tries to focus his eyes, wants to see Dean just one more time.

“Sam…Sam, Sammy…”

He thought it would be different.

He knew there would be pain and fear and regret, but now he can't feel anything and everything is slipping away, his heart flutters in his chest as he pulls in one final breath.

It doesn't even hurt anymore, Dean.

“No, nononono…oh God….”

There is no tunnel, no bright light, no Mom, no Dad, no Jess…


Only darkness.

The End