Whoever thinks that dying is poetic and beautiful are full of crap. Authors that write about dying being peaceful, and the protagonist seeing a bright white light before the drift into nothingness are full of crap. Dying is not poetic and beautiful and dying is not peaceful. Dying is full of pain, blood and the feeling of loss even though the person dying isn't technically gone yet, but they may as well be. Death isn't any better. Death is the part where the people left behind must learn to live without the deceased, its the time of relief that their loved one is no longer in pain, but its also the time they have to accept that the deceased is never getting better... Because they're dead.
Whoever believes that when they die it will be painless and peaceful are delusional, I mean, I'm sure in some cases it's possible. But in most cases, dying sucks. To put it plainly. I had always been the delusional kind, I believed that I would die in a way that would be poetic justice and I believed it wouldn't hurt. Boy, was I wrong. Dying killed, no pun intended. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever been through and I just wanted it to stop. Ever since my pores had started bleeding, Castiel was on permanent stand by in my bedroom while Dean didn't stray more than a meter from me. Mason and Trent were on the edge of my bed while Kevin sat in the chair in the corner of my room. Olivia, Emma, Brax and Bianca had stopped by yesterday to say goodbye. Everybody knew today was the day I was going to die.
"Hey, Mase," I coughed violently, sitting up in bed and coughing up a lung, nearly literally, into a tissue before throwing the bloody mess away and leaning back down on Dean's chest to relax, "Remember that time with dad that we were hunting that Arachne and I fell over and cut my arm open?" After being sure that he remembered the experience, I continued, "I told you that I was bleeding out and that I was going to die and you told me to stop being such a pushover and that I'd be fine. I never thought that I would actually die because I was literally bleeding out," I coughed again and the fit went on for several minutes before Castiel crossed the room and pressed his fingers to my forehead, taking away the violence of the coughing and some of my pain. Though no matter how much he tried today, he couldn't take as much as he used to away, that's why everyone was surrounding me. They all wanted to be here for my last moments.
Mason cracked a smile but it was a small, sad one and I watched as tears welled in his eyes. I had known my brother for approximately all of my life and not once had I ever seen him cry. Not when our father died, not when his first girlfriend broke his heart, not when he accidentally stabbed himself in the thumb with a fork while we were eating dinner one time several years ago. I had never seen him cry and I never thought I would, he had always been such a strong person, and he was the reason I hadn't broken down from our way of life years ago, because he was always there as a reminder that it was possible to still stay strong knowing what we knew about the world. But as he watched me, his sister, dying, I guess he just couldn't hold it in anymore and he hid his face as he wiped at his eyes before looking back at me.
"I still think you're a pushover," He said, "And that you'll be fine," If it was any other day, I would have believed him. Mason had the kind of voice that made me believe that things were going to be okay, that we would all be fine, but this time... This time when he was speaking, his voice cracked and we all knew I wouldn't be fine. Trent reached out and held onto his best friends shoulder while Mason extended his arm and placed his hand over my foot. He seemed to feel a little better just by touching me and I waved him over to sit on the other side of me and he did so, leaving Trent at the foot of my bed and I shuffled my position to lay on Mason's chest, he needed the close proximity, but I kept a firm hold onto Dean's hand, which he squeezed back in response.
"You're such a little bitch, Kale," Trent snorted and I looked at him, surprised, before I saw that he was joking, "I'm surprised this stupid plague thing even works on a Reed... You guys are hard to kill," He rolled his eyes and I smiled at his joke. But it was true, we had all been hard to kill. Reed's went back generations and nearly everyone had been really hard to kill. Nonetheless, Trent was just trying to lighten the air and he had succeeded, he had even made Mason chuckle which had been a hard thing to do lately. Though unfortunately, the moment had to end because the plague wouldn't give me a rest and I coughed into another tissue, the blood thicker and redder than it had been. I threw the tissue in the bin and grabbed the face washer from the bowl of pinkish water, wringing it out and running it over my face and arms to get rid of the blood that had budded there. Things were silent again.
"Hello, sweetheart," Everybody's gazes snapped towards the door of my room, that held a short man wearing a smirk with a British accent, "I'm Crowley, King of Hell, can't believe the Winchester's haven't introduced us yet!" Crowley came closer and winked at Dean, who released my hand and balled his hands into fists, standing up and pulling the demon blade out of his jacket pocket. Crowley glanced at the blade and laughed before looking past Dean and at me, "I heard you were dying," I opened my mouth to reply but ended up coughing again.
"What the hell are you doing here, Crowley?" Dean glared at the King of Hell, his eyes zeroing in on his target and close to striking out with the knife. Crowley just laughed, before his smirk widened and he looked me over again.
"Please," Crowley said in his accent, "Moose called me. I have the cure to her disease," And for the millionth time that day, the room fell into silence. Mason and Trent looked at each other and Dean stared at Crowley with his mouth wide open, obviously thinking it was a joke as he reached out with the knife and tried to take a swipe at Crowley, but missed as the demon disappeared and reappeared beside Castiel, who didn't make a move to kill him and instead looked thoughtful.
"Dean," Castiel said in his low voice, "I think that he is telling the truth," What had once been silence filling the room, it was now chaos. Dean began to yell, and so did Mason and Trent. But finally they seemed settled on something that I hadn't quite caught and were all staring at me as I coughed into a tissue and then proceeded to throw up a bunch of blood into the bucket beside my bed. Castiel was the first one to break the new silence, "What do we need to do?"
"A bit of blood, here and there, some Latin, some herbs and spices, actually, its pretty easy," Crowley spoke vaguely and watched me as I coughed.
"Please," I finally whispered, "I can't die yet," I mean, I had made my peace with dying. I was ready and willing to accept it to make the pain stop completely, but I wasn't so sure that Mason and Dean and the others would be okay after I died. And if there was a chance that I wouldn't have to, well, that would be nice too.
-----
Things were ready. There was a bowl on the coffee table in the living room, where I had been moved to the cough and was laying there, continuously throwing up blood into a bucket and getting closer and closer to death every time I heaved. Every person in the apartment stood around, watching me and waiting for Crowley's next instructions.
"You'll need blood of an angel," Gazes flocked to Castiel and he nodded solemnly, cutting his hand with a special knife made of dragons bone that Crowley had provided and bleeding into the bowl, "Blood of a hunter," Dean immediately took the blade from Castiel and sliced the palm of his hand, bleeding into Castiel's blood. There was a sizzling noise that came from the bowl and Dean looked at Castiel with wide eyes, but the angel didn't say anything and so I assumed that it was working.
"Blood of a blood relative," Crowley spoke over my coughing and Mason took the blade and cut his hand even faster than Dean had, the blood in the bowl making another sizzling sound and I saw steam rising. I really hoped this worked. Not necessarily for me, but for everyone else. If it didn't work, I would be dead and gone, but they would be left with broken hope. "Blood of the infected, so hand that bucket over, sweetheart," Trent took my bucket of blood from me and poured some of it into the bowl, the same sizzling noise erupted as more steam came out.
"What else?" Dean asked, his voice rough.
"Blood of the King of Hell," Crowley smirked and his eyes flashed as whatever hope Dean had began to possess fell and crashed as he realized Crowley was the King of Hell, "But I'll give you the blood, for the small fee of a favour," He smirked wider still.
"What sort of fee?"
"Of my choice. When I need your help, I'll come knocking," Usually, Dean wouldn't have gone for such an abstract deal with the almost devil, but this time he jumped at it. Nodding, he gave Crowley his word and Crowley happily bled into the bowl of blood. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but a lot of things did. First, the contents of the stone bowl erupted in flames, burning the normal orange fire colour until Dean dropped in the Faerie dust and several other root looking things, which made the fire burn purple. Next, I was racked with such a violent burst of pain I wanted everyone to stop what they were doing and let me die, my chest bucked upwards as a howl of pain left my lips and I screamed up into the air. My neck felt like it was, on fire as Dean began to chant in a different language, but I could hardly hear him because of the fiery pain that was in my ears and neck.
"Shit, Dean, hurry," Mason commanded as he ran to the kitchen, grabbed the first aid kit and hurried back to me while Trent leaned down beside me with crazy eyes and began to put pressure on my neck. It was starting, the end. Mason pushed Trent's hands away as he pressed a gauze to my throat, Trent's hands bloody. My neck had ripped open as if by magic, just like the final step in the crimson plague. Either this was apart of the ritual, or we weren't quick enough and I was going to die. I could feel the blood from my pores dripping down over my eyelids and coating my eyes in a sticky redness and I bucked forward, blood cascading like a fountain out of my mouth, ruining the cream couch and getting it all over Mason's hands and chest as he applied more pressure to my neck, so much pressure that I could hardly breathe.
"Dean!" Mason yelled again and in the back of my mind, I heard Dean's voice hurry and trip over several of the words as my mind exploded in fire. Another scream ripped through my mouth and echoed in the air as I yelled out in pain, begging for them all to just end it. Tears fell from my eyes and mingled with the blood on my face and I heard Mason quietly praying to God, which was something he didn't even believe in. I vomited blood again and just as I thought I couldn't handle any more of the fire in my head, throat and veins, Dean's voice chanting the Latin ceased and the pain disappeared, which had me slumping into the couch and breathing as heavily as I could as Mason slowly removed his hands.
Everything that happened after that was a blur, and I thought that I was dying. I thought that the ritual hadn't worked and that this was the end of the line for me, but I still wondered why nobody was calling an ambulance or keeping the pressure on my neck as I bled out. But as I looked around, my eyes blurry and still coated with blood, I saw everyone relaxing. Dean and Mason were by my side, my head finding its way into Dean's lap and Mason holding my hand as he let out a nervous laugh. I didn't know what it meant, but my consciousness was slowly fading and I welcomed it, I didn't want to deal with what pain was left anymore.
Um, okay. Hey there Crowley. How did you like it? Did this seem believable? Idk. Comment what you think and I'll probably update again today! (I'm hoping???) ... XO
YOU ARE READING
State of Seduction. // Dean Winchester COMPLETE
Fanfiction"You can call it a choice but it never really feels like one. Its like, I make a conscious decision to leave you behind but some unconscious result has me running back. I don't know, does that mean we belong together? Because I sure as hell hope it...
