(Xander was invited. He's going to sit in the car until he feels compelled to get out. He can hear and see the conversation taking place. Jump in when you like man
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Sam walked right up to the stone, flowers in hand, and gave it a little nudge with the toe of his sneaker-- not a kick, just a gentle tough. "Hey mom." He thought about the last time he'd seen her, when he was strung out, in withdrawal, locked in the Panic Room, losing his mind. Dean doesn't understand, she'd said, but Sam knew (now) it had just been his fucked up psyche telling him what he wanted to hear. "Been a while."
Dean turned a deaf ear to his brother. Let him say what he wanted in private, Dean was going to silent. He opened the bottle and proceed to poor the little bit of water over the stone, washing the weathered face of it to take away the stains of dirt and mud.
Why on earth they came back to this place was truly beyond him. It was his idea. There had been no body. They buried a casket with some of their mom's personal possessions. Little else. Pictures, a pretty dress, things that reminded people of her that they would part with.
Dean remembered putting in a homemade macaroni picture of the whole family, one right after Sam had been born and a birthday card he had been saving at the time of her death.
He worked quietly and with vigor, rubbing the last bit of dirt from it's letters. "We should get one for Dad." He murmured quietly, mostly to himself.
"What's that?" Sam asked, resting a hand on the top of the stone, and leaning down to place the flowers between Dean and their mother's name. "We don't have anything to bury. Not even mementos or anything." He sat down on the grass, hands restless, picking at the grass, piece by piece, and throwing it over his shoulder. "We could get a small one. John Winchester, husband, father, warrior."
Dean frowned. "We could bury the journal. Copy all the notes out it." He said. "There wasn't anything for mom either. We just put things in the coffin that reminded us of her."
He rose up and dried off his hands. "They make those bronze ones for people who served in the war. Those are free. We can get one I think if we send in his d.c. and tell them were to put it." Dean smiled just a little. "They'll even make sure there's a flag on it for Memorial Day."
Dean scanned the cemetery, checking it over to see if there was any disturbances like last time. Thankfully, it didn't appear that way.
He stood a deep breath, thought carefully over his words and then decided there was no other way around it.
"You didn't start this." Dean said after a moment. "You didn't start the Apocalypse." He turned to his brother and looked him in the eye. "I did."
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Why on earth they came back to this place was truly beyond him. It was his idea. There had been no body. They buried a casket with some of their mom's personal possessions. Little else. Pictures, a pretty dress, things that reminded people of her that they would part with.
Dean remembered putting in a homemade macaroni picture of the whole family, one right after Sam had been born and a birthday card he had been saving at the time of her death.
He worked quietly and with vigor, rubbing the last bit of dirt from it's letters. "We should get one for Dad." He murmured quietly, mostly to himself.
Reply
Reply
He rose up and dried off his hands. "They make those bronze ones for people who served in the war. Those are free. We can get one I think if we send in his d.c. and tell them were to put it." Dean smiled just a little. "They'll even make sure there's a flag on it for Memorial Day."
Dean scanned the cemetery, checking it over to see if there was any disturbances like last time. Thankfully, it didn't appear that way.
He stood a deep breath, thought carefully over his words and then decided there was no other way around it.
"You didn't start this." Dean said after a moment. "You didn't start the Apocalypse." He turned to his brother and looked him in the eye. "I did."
Reply
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