Title: 1/5 "Awake" Series
Characters: Mostly Dean, Dean with mentions of Sam
Genre: Mostly Angst
Rating: PG-13/R - All stories I write have this warning for one reason or another.
Summary: Separate mini stories involving Dean & Sam Winchester.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Nada. Zilch. Kripke holds the pink slip. I just play around with it ;)
Feedback: Please! I'm a glutton and I'll take what I can get!
1. -- His body was tired. Hell, everything seemed tiring to him anymore. Eating. Sleeping. Fucking. Breathing. But today somehow felt worse. His soul wore an unknown weight of abandonment; the absence of self that was uninviting at best, horrifying at its worst. Waking, his strong legs lapsed to the side of the beaten mattress, eyes unfocused and uncaring.
Dean just didn't care for anything anymore. His logic and reasoning had been left at the door 294 days, 14 hours and 36 minutes before this very moment. That was when he sold his rights to life for the one person he gave a damn about; a death certificate written in his own pen.
Glancing around the vacant room, his eyes set on the full size bed laying approximately three feet from where his own rested, the sheets as they were when he bought this room. Unused. Cold. Empty.
Sam left him approximately 293 days ago, the gravity of Dean's actions having brought on a silence so deafening, he couldn't bear to look at him a moment longer. The older brother's life had ended, began and then ceased to exist for the second heartbreaking time in a matter of days.
He understood why Sam ditched him.
"Are you stupid, Dean?"
"How could you do that, Dean?"
"What am I supposed to do now, Dean?"
Over and over his little brother's voice permeated his thoughts like a virus spreading out and claiming all cells as its own. This kind of torture was underrated, he thought, as another moment of solace and peace was lost for the infinite time that month, just like all the weeks prior.
Rubbing his midnight eyes, he reached to the table stand closest and retrieved his phone. Two missed calls. Two voicemail's. One text message.
All from Bobby.
Sighing outwardly, his concentration locked once more on the hard truth that Sammy couldn't hack it, not this time, but Dean was okay with that.
It was nearly the 294th time this year that he began the day without his brother, but Dean was okay with this isolated reality. Sammy was alive somewhere, and that was all he needed to know.