Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine (Season 7 spoilers)
Dean's close to breaking point. this is just my interpretation of how it might go.
27/10/2011: knightcons Drew a lovely fanart linked to this. <3
( Nothing's alright. and nothing is fine. )
27/10/2011: knightcons Drew a lovely fanart linked to this. <3
( Nothing's alright. and nothing is fine. )
But it wasn't going to be today. Where Dean was the pessimist, Sam was the.. well, not optomist, but he had faith in people. He still believed that Cas was alive, and that somehow, they'd find a way to save him. He believed that Dean would find his center again and be the rock that they all needed.
Even if their rock was currently sliding away from him, further and further into darkness. Sam couldn't let that happen. Dean had saved him against Lucifer. He needed Dean to save him again. Like he had since they were kids.
Dean's hand digging into his palm, his eyes wide with fear, the blood still on his lips..
"Yeah. I'm.. I'm here, Dean."
Reply
Not that it would make a difference. Sam was such an open book on this subject. Which was another thing. Which was another thing. By now, Sam should know how much being lied to by family hurt Dean, and still he did it over and over. How was he supposed to help - the little that he could - if he didn't know?
Sam did it with Ruby. Cas did it last year. Sam was doing it again. And look what they paid eah time.
Screw it: Look what he paid each time. Dean gave everything for his family: he thinks he has more than a little right to think about this thing selfishly. Especially when he was paying for it with the family he gave everything for.
Reply
No. It wasn't all right. But Sam didn't know what else to do. What could he do? Tell Dean about his hallucinations? The horrible things he'd see, or the flames and blood dancing just around his peripheral vision. He couldn't. He couldn't watch it destroy Dean a little more each time.
And.. there was nothing anyone could do. Sam had to deal with it on his own or he'd go mad.
He sighed. "I'm not okay. But I'm coping, Dean. It's.. it's all I can do," he offered helplessly.
Reply
He let Sam's hand go and dropped his hand to his side, resisting the urge to scrub it over his face. He can feel that precipice again. Knows he's walking a damned thin line, but knows he's gotta keep walking it for Sam. which is why: no, he won't grieve; he won't talk about it; and he'll keep doing what he's doing. The first two won't help or change a damned thing, and what remnants of his family need him to stay strong. Crying his soul out like a little girl, and screaming to the sky is something neither of them need to see Dean doing. So he doesn't.
"Let's get a beer."
Reply
But he'd do as much good talking to a brick wall, or the Impala.
So he did the only thing he could do. He'd be there for Dean, offer what quiet support he could with his presence. Sam nodded and fell into step with his brother.
"It's okay to miss them," he said quietly, reaching for his jacket.
Reply
It shouldn't have pissed him off as much as it did, that sentence, but he was already hurting and angry and his worry for Sam was not doing anything to help that.
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not crying into my frigging cereal every time we lose someone. But that doesn't mean I don't miss them." Don't you dare tell him that, Sam. Don't you dare.
Reply
He stepped back onto the porch, watching the rain fall. "Look, I know you miss them. We all do. You don't have to try and.. damnit. Do something, Dean. Hit me. Break a window, scream, just fucking do something. Stop holding it all in. You're gonna fucking explode."
Reply
No, it wouldn't.
"And as I said: I'm fine. So this is what I'm going to do: I'm going to check on my baby, and see if there's anything she needs, then I'm going for a damned drink." And with that he turned back and carried on walking through the scrapyard in the rain, hoping Sam wouldn't follow, but knowing better. He'd always been the same.
Reply
He stalked down after him, catching his shoulder and spinning him around. Selfish goddamned sonofabitch. Always about how much burden he could carry, never letting his loved ones.. his brother help. Couldn't even trust him with his grief.
Sam threw a solid left cross, connecting solidly with Dean's jaw.
Reply
No, it was that explosion/implosion that Sam had been trying to prevent. Dean's hand fisted, and drew back. But it went through the window of the nearest scrapped vehicle. As the glass shattered from the impact of his fist colliding with it, it also cut up his knuckles.
He flexed his hand a few times, watching the blood well up. "...Are you happy now?" While the question was seemingly directed at Sam, Dean couldn't put his finger on who he was asking. Sam? Dean? Bobby? Cas? all of them? Everyone that he was grieving for? Did it matter who any more?
Reply
Absently, Sam snatched Deans hand, plucking a few shards of glass out of the cuts. The rain washes the rest of the injuries clean and he reaches into his pocket and produces an old bandana to wind around his hand, staunching the blood flow.
"'s the first normal thing you've done in days," he said, barely audible over the rain. Sam reached for the door to the Impala, opening it and sliding into the passenger seat.
It didn't matter where Dean was going.
Sam was going too.
Reply
why was he back here? He told himself that unless he had to, he wasn't coming back. The car slowed to a stop, and looking out at that damned water supply, he ran a hand through his hair as he let out a shaky breath.
"...He was back. We had him, but those bastards held on."
Reply
He also believed that if Cas could come back from a power trip brought on by every soul in Purgatory - he could come back from this.
Sam.. wasn't stupid enough to give voice to any of these thoughts, though.
Instead, while Dean stared out at the water, he opened the wallet that had fallen from the trenchcoat. A small black and white photograph fluttered into Sam's lap and he felt his throat tighten. The night before Carthage.
"How the hell.."
Reply
"I thought Bobby burned that damned thing." It was quiet. Thhat picture was a testament of almost everything that they had lost, and.... what Dean was losing. He was tempted to take the damned thing and burn it, but then... there'd be almost nothing left at all except for memories.
the dam broke as he looked at it, and he turned his face away to look out of his side window as a tear fell from the corner of his eye.
Reply
He hated feeling this helpless. Dean needed.. something. Something to help him finally grieve, rage, anything. But he wouldn’t, and Sam was tired of getting shoved away when he tried. It was hard enough to keep himself focused on reality some days.
“Dean..”
Reply
He didn't move his head from the glass, but his gaze found the water again. It'd be so easy... Sam wouldn't suffer anymore. Dean wouldn't have to feel the nothing grow a little bigger and more empty every time he lost someone else. So easy.
But he couldn't leave Bobby alone, and they had to save the frigging world. Again.
"Sam.... why are we doing this?" You know.... saving the world. Who'll save us, Sam? Who'll save you?
Reply
Leave a comment