Watching From A Distance.

Summary. . . . . . . . . Something is watching from a distance as both brother's suffer in silence. A short aftermath tag to Lucifer Rising.

Disclaimer. . . . . . . Yeah, really if they were mine, don't ya think I'd be too busy to write?

A.N. . . . . . . . . Okay, well even though I have some fics on the go, this little tidbit wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it. As always I hope that you enjoy, and for those of you like my mum back in the UK, enjoy tonight's finale. Peanut x

He looked so dejected, so forlorn, as he sat there his body pressed up as tightly as he could get it against the rusted hulks that lay dormant beside him. Scratches, made by fingers desperate to banish an itch that was ever present, ran up his arms, crimson rivulets dribbling from numerous places going unnoticed as they slowly trickled their way down the limb to balance precariously on his fingertips before dripping off and falling to the parched dirt below, to be gobbled greedily up by the scorched earth. Red lids surrounded eyes that had once held such passion, such innocence, such life; the hazel orbs now full of such sorrow, such shame, such guilt. Tears had glistened there previously, but like the blood that fell so freely from his body, they had long since dried up, leaving only tracks on gaunt cheeks, tracks that disappeared into stubble rarely worn. Hair that had once been so carefully looked after, it's length a last ditch attempt at rebellion, now hung lifelessly down from his scalp, falling over his face, blocking from sight the sins he had committed. He still wore the clothes he'd worn that night, the smell of the nurse, and her, still lingering reminding him each day of what he had done, of what he had committed; but each day, after yet another sleepless night, he came out here still dressed in them, almost as if he wanted the reminders, needed them almost, needed to feel the guilt the smells created, because at least then he was feeling something. From a distance it watched as each day he slowly stopped being the son he had once been.

He looked so dejected, so forlorn as he lay upon a bed in a room once shared by brothers, a room he now slept in alone. He rubbed at his shoulder as though to alleviate an ache; an ache that had been ever present since he had been pulled back from the brink; an ache that was a constant reminder of the things he had seen, of the things he had done. Red lids surrounded eyes that had at one time danced with life, with laughter, with passion; the green orbs now filled with guilt, with sorrow, with regret. Tears had glistened there previously rolling down his cheeks only to disappear, to be captured by stubble that grew longer than he usually wore it, but like the brother that had once shared this room, they too had left, leaving him alone and saddened all the more. Everyday he would go over events, wondering if he had done this differently would things have turned out better, but everyday the outcome would remain the same, failure; failure at stopping Lilith, failure at stopping Ruby, failure at preventing Lucifer's resurrection, failure at saving Sam. After a while he no longer thought, the pain the outcome created too much, so he slept, he woke, he washed, he ate, and each day he found that doing just those few things wore him down to his very soul, so in the end he just lay there staring at a ceiling that never changed. From a distance it watched as each day he slowly stopped being the son he had once been.

She eventually came to them in dreams, invading their thoughts and banishing their nightmares so that she could gain access and right the wrongs they had both created. She started with her eldest, Dean; her once proud little soldier; the child that had always placed his brother first; the child that would rather receive numerous beatings if it meant his brother would remain unscathed; the child that wanted so much for his brother that he forgot at times to take a few things for himself; the child that had turned into a man any mother would have been proud to call theirs; the child that still had a job to do in this battle. Placing her hands on each side of his face, she brought his chin up so that their eyes could meet, before softly calling his name. She gasped at the sadness that flowed from his orbs as he finally stirred and looked at the woman he had lost such a long time ago, but yet missed with such intensity each day. As the tears flowed from eyes that reminded her so much of her husbands, she spoke of the need to start fighting again, of the need to start living again, of the need to be a brother again, and watched as a spark once more began to flow within green depths. Knowing her job was done she left, murmuring whispers of love, safe in the knowledge that her son was coming back.

She entered more cautiously her youngest sons dreams, the power still evident within him, the guilt more dense and harder to cut through, but she prevailed determined to save both her sons this night. Sam, her scholar; the child she had been denied the chance to fully bond with; the child that brought great happiness to everyone he came in contact with; the child that had always carried such innocence, such compassion, such willingness to trust; the child that had loved so passionately, and lost so senselessly; the child that, despite what had happened, she was proud to call hers; the child that still had a job to do in this battle. Placing her hands on each side of his face, she brought his chin up so that their eyes could meet, before softly calling his name. She gasped at the guilt that flowed from hazel orbs as he finally stirred and looked up at a face he barely knew, a face that apart from pictures, he had only seen twice before. As the tears flowed from eyes that reminded her so much of her own she spoke of the need to start fighting again, of the need to start living again, of the need to be a brother again, and watched as a spark once more began to flow within hazel depths. Knowing her job was done she left, murmuring whispers of love, safe in the knowledge that her son was coming back.

She watched from a distance as a new day broke, waiting for the moment when she would know her job here was done. She watched as first one son made his way onto the porch of a house they now considered a home before sitting on the worn planks of the steps, the other following soon after. Both sons were silent, their eyes fixated on something in the distance, their thoughts lingering no longer on what had happened, but on what will happen. As her eldest nudged her youngest she knew she had achieved what she had wanted, knew that that little show of affection was enough to start rebuilding bridges that had been broken, knew that her sons had returned and were ready for what lay ahead; for she also knew that alone they would fail, but together they would conquer.

A.N. . . . . . . . Thanks for taking time out to read my little one shot. Will be back soon with new work, Peanut x