Author: KatyMM PM
Aftermath as Dean watches Sam leave. Tag to SN05.02. Warnings for language. Warnings for emo! No spoilers.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Dean W. - Words: 459 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 1 - Published: 09-30-09 - id: 5413100
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Dean was on the brink of telling his brother to stay. But actually, he was so worn out – so disappointed – and so fucking angry – he let him go.
It was only as it got dark and he was still sitting there, his ass completely numb from the hard wooden seat, that he realised he had offered Sam his car. He looked up then – just checking it was still there.
But Sam wasn't. And that hit him like a kick in the gut.
He was completely alone.
He stared out over the lake, not really seeing it. Not wanting to get into his beloved car either.
Not without Sam. The bastard. How could he do that? How could he, yet again, choose something over family – over his own brother? Hadn't he done everything anyone could ask? He'd fucking died for him! And still he chose Ruby. Sam believed a demon over Dean. He'd said it – plain as day. He thought Dean was weak. Not up to the job. Damaged after his trip to hell.
Hah, and he wasn't wrong there really. He hadn't felt the same since he'd been yanked out. Hell, he hadn't felt right since his dad took his place. He shouldn't even be here. He should be in hell.
No, you shouldn't.
"What?" Surely he recognised that voice? His head snapped around. Instantly alert. It was dark, but the moon was full and reflecting off the lake. But, after letting his eyes adjust, and waiting and listening, he was confident there was nothing there.
He finally headed towards the Impala. Troulbe was, the closer he got, the less he wanted to get in. Getting in meant accepting that this was it. His whole life amounted to this car, the clothes he was wearing, and the contents of the trunk.
Nothing and no-one else.
By the time his hand was on the driver door handle, tears were coursing down both cheeks.
He couldn't get in. Just couldn't do it. The thought of sitting next to an empty seat – no Sam…Sammy. He turned and slid down the side of the car door until he was on the ground. And he cried. Broken hearted. With only the solid but cold comfort of his beloved Impala at his back. He cried for his mom, and wanting her to hold him, and he could hardly remember how that even felt. But he needed it. He cried for his dad, who had tried his best to prepare him and look after him. And then, finally, Dean Winchester just cried for himself. Wracking, stomach-clenching sobs of utter despair and loneliness.
You're not alone.