Basically I've got a few of these smaller stories just hanging out on my computer and it's time I started posting some, so here's one. Set in 8x19- Dean makes one of his biggest sacrifices yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (and thank goodness because then the show would just be a big pile of angst...oh wait...)
As long as he didn't look at the body, he could just keep pretending it was a normal kill. As long as he remembered not to stare too long at those dead eyes that had been laughing with him only a few moments ago, he could keep his emotions at bay. He stood there for a while, just trying not to listen to the blood seeping slowly through the cracks in the pavement. Logically he knew he needed to get moving. He needed to pack the body into the trunk of his car, clean the blood off of the knife still held firmly in his grasp, and then he needed to drive to Maine and be there when his little brother got back. He knew all of this, but his feet remained stubbornly rooted to the ground, the heels of his boots dug deep.
It took everything he had to finally unfreeze, to take that first step towards the car and toss the long, menacing blade into the backseat of the Impala. He realized a moment too late that he'd forgotten to clean off the blood off. Any other day, any other kill, he would've hastily corrected his mistake in an attempt to save the upholstery, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care. Right now he was too busy trying to decide if it would be easier to pick up the head first, or the body.
He chose the body.
Wrapped it up in the long white tarp he'd gotten specifically for this kill and hauled it painstakingly into the trunk. He was panting by the end of it, long tracks of sweat running down both cheeks. At least, he refused to believe it was anything but sweat.
The head was lighter, but about a thousand times more difficult to pick up. He really had to force himself to block out what his eyes were seeing, though his suddenly blurry vision helped prevent him from really having to take in the details of the face staring blankly back at him.
His friend. One of the only ones he'd had left. And he'd killed him willingly. It was so many kinds of wrong, his brain really couldn't process what he'd done. And for what?
Ah. There it was. There was the thought that helped him finally stoop to pick up the disembodied head at his feet. There was his strength. He gripped it tight, repeating it over and over again to himself.
For Sammy. You did this for Sammy.
And then Dean Winchester hopped in his car and tore down the road towards Maine, hoping against hope that it wouldn't just be his brother waiting for him there. Hoping that Benny would make it back too. But also already knowing he had just said his last goodbye.
Thanks for reading, reviews are truly appreciated. Hope everyone enjoys tonight's episode! I am not prepared.