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I was looking at the screencaps by ExtremeFanGirl of Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things and suddenly found myself writing a story. It's actually a tag for the final scene. You know the one...the one that left us all teary-eyed and wanting to give poor Dean a hug!

I've never actually written a complete fanfic before. I've had ideas and sometimes even started on some, but never actually finished them. This one just sort of poured out of me like water. It's funny how suddenly a creative urge can take over and you just have to let it out.

Anyway, it's short (only around 700 words) and yes, there is sort of a hug at the end. Now if only we could have gotten one in the episode. *Sigh* Hopefully sometime this season we'll get a nice hug between the brothers.

So please leave your comments. Criticism is welcome, even though this is my first fanfic. Hope you enjoy it.


No Words
By: Raloria


Sort of an end tag to Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things from Sam's POV.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or Dean, they are Eric Kripke's creations.



I've never seen Dean like this, so raw, so open. I feel the pain and remorse coming off of him in waves. Tears flood his eyes as he explains how he should have died back at the hospital. How can he think such a thing? As much as it hurts to not have dad, I can't even begin to imagine my world without Dean.

Yet here he is sitting next to me, pouring his heart out. It's difficult for me to even see him like this. But this is what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted to him to talk to me, to feel something, anything. All that I've felt from him lately has been anger and violence. Now, it's sadness and regret that tinges his voice as it quavers. I let him talk, knowing how difficult this is, letting his emotions be revealed.

Everything makes sense now in the light of this revelation. His anger at someone being brought back from the dead. "I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn’t natural and now look what's come of it. I was dead and I should have stayed dead." I want to tell him how wrong he is, that I would have done anything to keep him alive. But I know he wouldn't accept that. He said it himself "what's dead should stay dead." and I know now how much he meant those words, even if my heart cannot accept them. I ask myself what I would have done if Dean had died after the accident. Would I have tried to bring him back even if it meant turning to supernatural means to do it? Thinking back to when I saw the doctors and nurses trying to bring Dean back to life at the hospital, I can honestly say in that moment that I would have done anything to bring him back. I could feel his presence at the hospital and all I could think was that I never wanted to lose that.

When Dean recovered I was so relieved to have my brother back. Yet, even though his body had healed, his spirit was shattered. And while he denied the pain of losing dad, I felt the pain of losing Dean as well as dad. Dean's distance and silence were deafening and punctuated only by his sudden outbursts of anger. I wanted him to talk to me, to tell me what he was feeling, to take the doubt and fear away. Now as the tears fall down his face, I'm almost sorry I pushed him so hard. How much more responsibility does he feel he needs to carry all on his own? I want to help him like I said I would, but now it seems so impossible. He blames himself for something I can't change and wouldn't want to even if I had the chance. Dean feels he doesn't deserve to be alive, yet how could I even go on without him.

He finally asks me for a response..."what could you possibly say to make that all right..." He turns his head away and I want to say something so badly. I want to take his pain away and tell him that even though dad's gone I'm so grateful to still have him here. For all the times he wouldn't let me blame myself for Jess's death, I want to tell Dean he isn't to blame for dad dying. I want to tell him how much I need him, that he shouldn't feel this way. I slowly put my arm across his shoulders and I feel a hitch in his breath as more tears come. He won't look at me and I understand he feels the need to hide some of the pain and grief. But I want him to know he doesn't have to bear this pain alone. We sit there in silence, grieving for what's been taken away and can never be given back. I search for a way to heal my brother, to say the things he needs to hear, but there are no words.

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