A/N: I do not own Supernatural or the characters in this story. Created for entertainment purposes only. All credit goes to Kripke and co. Hope you enjoy and feel free to read and review!
May 15, 2008
Those eyes, once shining and full of life, are now dull, staring blindly in death. Eyes that were once full of mischief, playfulness, anger, sadness, and (though he'd be damned if he'd admit it) love now are lifeless, unblinking. I stare in those eyes one final time, and I see the anguish from just moments ago as the Hellhound's viscous canines sank into the flesh of my brother. When, a moment later, those eyes blur before me, I realize that my own vision is obscured by my tears. I cradle my brother's body in my arms, my chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs, Dean's body pressed against my chest. I feel that my own heart has stopped beating; that I can't breathe. I close my eyes and moments from my past flash before me: Dean soothing my scraped knees after falling off my bike; carving our initials on the side door of the Impala; Dean taking me out for my first beer on my 16th birthday (no waiting for legalities for him); our weekend in Jericho before Jessica's death….
That moment in Cold Oak, the embrace which I had initially found awkward. Had I known initially what my big brother had done, I would have held on to him so fucking tight, sore back or not. The image disturbs me and I open my eyes…
And look into my brother's unseeing green ones. I can't take it any longer. I gently kiss my brother on the shoulder, and lay my hands over his still face. Those green eyes close for the final time.
September 18, 2008
Those eyes, shining and full of emotion. Eyes I had given up hope on ever seeing again, and yet there he is, standing at the door of the cheap motel.
I don't hear the knock, drowned out by the sound of the radio. The only reason I can tell that someone is at the door is the somewhat agitated voice of the brunette who is with me. Curious, I head to the door, only to stop dead in my tracks.
At the sight of the man at the door, my heart nearly stops beating in my chest. Standing at the door is my brother, full of life, the brother I had buried four months earlier. I stare, dumbfounded, as Dean smiles at me, those eyes bright with the tears he is trying so hard to hold back.
And I lose it. Some asshole is wearing my brother's meat suit. What kind of sick fuck would play such a cruel, heartless joke? Without hesitation I pull out my knife, on the attack. This can't be my brother. I had done everything humanly possible (and some things not so) to bring him back, and all to no avail. And yet here he is, fighting me off, those eyes now bright with anger. And yet, somehow, I can hear Bobby's voice in the distance.
"…I've been through this already, it's really him!"
I freeze, look into those eyes. And I see not some supernatural being wearing my brother's body: I see Dean, the man who has been there for me, who had sacrificed his very life and soul for me, breaking the ice with one of his smart ass comments. I feel the blade slip from my fingers as Dean approaches and I wrap my arms in his, holding him close.
I feel the heartbeat that, four months earlier, had been silent.
I feel the tension in his muscles as he holds me tight and then relax as he rests his head on my shoulder.
I don't want to let go. I can't let go. I struggle to contain my sobs of joy and relief, and barely regain my composure when Dean finally pulls me away. By some miracle, I have my brother back. I manage to steal a quick glance into my brother's jade irises and see the emotion, the confusion, joy…the love. Eyes that pierce into my very soul.
They comfort me.