A/N: Just a short little story tag to 'It's a Terrible Life'. I know it's not the first tag to this episode, but I was bored this afternoon and came up with this. Hope you like it. :D
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not mine, I just borrow them periodically.
Sad But True
Dean tore off his tie as he exited the high-rise office building, not daring to look back at Sandover Industries. He had only two things on his mind. Find Sam, then find his car. They had to get out of this city and the sooner the better.
Finding Sam didn't turn out to be so hard. He was sitting right outside the building on a bench, his yellow shirt standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other darkly attired office workers. Dean took off his jacket just as he came up to him and sat down on the bench beside him.
"How did we even end up here? I mean one moment I'm quitting my job and worried about how I'm gonna find another and the next thing I know everything just hits me, I remember you and me and...I can't believe I'm wearing this awful shirt."
"Yeah, I know. It is pretty hideous."
"Divine douchbag intervention."
"More angels. This one's named Zacariah and he's even more of a dick than the others we've met so far. He messed with our heads, made us think we were office minions." Dean's stomach rumbled. "God, I need something real to eat and beer...lots and lots of beer."
"Angels did this? Why?"
Dean looked away from Sam, staring at all of the people coming and going, living 'normal' lives, he wondered how many of them felt just as empty as he did. Yet at the same time...some of it had been appealing. No danger, no worries about demons, no Apocalypse to stop, no hell...It had been almost restful in a way, yet at the same time, it was as though a part of him had been missing the whole time. "Said it was supposed to some kind of lesson."
"A lesson? Could you be a little more vague?"
Dean sighed. "Yeah..."
"Dean. What did he said...exactly?"
"Okay...he uh, started spouting all sorts of crap about destiny and shit. Said how we were born to do what we do and how it's in our blood and we'll always come back to it."
"I don't see how this is such a revelation. I mean, what else would we do? I sure as hell wouldn't want to come to this everyday and wear this god-awful shirt and keep telling people to turn their printers on in order to get them to work. I mean, this isn't what you wanted, is it?"
Dean didn't turn to face his brother. "Course not." He told him without conviction.
Sam gave Dean a confused look. Never before had he seen his brother sound so conflicted when it came to their job. Realization hit Sam after that. Since the whole disaster with Alistair, his brother had changed. He was withdrawn, broody and Sam had been too wrapped up in his own obsession to find Lilith that he hadn't stopped to take notice of how much the whole thing had cost his brother. He hadn't just been beaten in body, but in spirit and Dean was on the verge of giving up. Sam kicked himself internally for being too blind to see it until that moment and he felt a wave of guilt overwhelm him for his oversight.
"But you've been thinking it, haven't you?" Sam asked, swallowing the lump growing in his throat "You've been thinking that you'd rather be leading Dean Smith's life? That it would be easier, that you could just leave our lives behind and forget about us...what we do?"
"Can we just get something to eat now?" Dean deflected the question. How could he tell Sam, that maybe he had been thinking that before all of this crap Zachariah had pulled on them, that he was simply just tired and used up and just for once in his life, he had wanted some measure of peace.
"No. We need to talk about this." Sam pointed towards the tower behind them. "That guy up in that office, making deals and pushing invoices, that wasn't you."
"You're right. It's not me. I'm stuck with this crap life, always will be. Now will you drop it?" Dean got up from the bench and began walking away.
Sam quickly followed, grabbing his older brother's arm. "Dean, wait...Look...I get it. I really do. I know what it's like to want to get away from our lives, but we don't need angels to show us that this is what we should be doing. Right?"
Dean stopped and turned to face his brother, his face a mask, but Sam could see plain as day the anger and weariness that lay behind it.
"I know Sam, you and heaven don't have to remind me that the world is going down the shitter and I'm somehow supposed to stop it. I get it, doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?." Dean took a step away to compose himself and push back down the anger swelling up inside of him before he continued and before he could face his little brother again.
"But, right now I'm hungry, I want to put my own clothes back on and I want to find my car and get the hell out of here, is that too much to ask? We can get all introspective on why the angels were dicking around with us later, okay?"
Dean walked off again and Sam could only follow, unsure how or even if he could help, but he would try. Somehow, he had to make Dean see that he wasn't alone in all of this, that the weight of the world didn't rest squarely on his shoulders, that he would gladly take the load from him if he could. Dean suddenly stopped and turned, confusion marking his face.
"You wouldn't happen to remember where the car is, would you?"
Sam had to raise his eyebrows at that. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember how they got into this city in the first place, that angel ass must have zapped them there. He could only shrug his shoulders in response and wait for the inevitable explosion.