[SPN] Passing Through Gethsemane, 1/1
Title: Passing Through Gethsemane
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Spoilers: Vague AHBL/season 3
Summary: It’s Dean’s last day, and he drives. Companion to The Deconstruction of Falling Stars and Confessions and Lamentations. For a challenge in my head to write fic using Babylon 5 episode titles. It seemed like a plan.
Sometimes, as night gives way to dawn, and the silvery fingers of a new day inch across whichever motel room he’s in, Dean wonders if he’s being a coward. If he’s just giving in when he should fight. Is he wrong to make no challenge? It’s not like he wants to die. He said, once, that he was tired, but that was then and this is now and he doesn’t want to die. Sam’s looking for a way. He tries to hide it but, dude, come on. Dean’s not stupid and Sam’s not exactly the poster child for subtle.
It’s at this point of the nocturnal conversation that Dean knows it’s not about cowardice or surrender. It’s about looking out for his family. That’s what it’s about, that’s what everything’s about. Not just for Dean, for the Winchesters, but for everyone. It’s having people you love and who love you, and keeping them. Keeping them safe. That’s what matters. That’s what’s important. Dean doesn’t want to die, but he has to keep Sam safe, and he’s OK with that.
The last day, he drives away.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know how it’s going to go down. He doesn’t know if it’ll hurt. He doesn’t know how it works, not really. But he knows they’ll come for him, and he doesn’t want that to happen anywhere near the people he loves.
The Impala races along the road, smooth as silk, and Dean rubs the steering wheel with his thumbs. He’s had this car since he was eighteen; it has been in his family for as long as he can remember. He knows it’s just a car. A machine someone made, forty years ago, that’s been driven by more people than he knows about. Doesn’t matter. He loves her. The way she smells, the way she sounds. She is freedom and home. He hopes Sam will appreciate her. He sucks at car care, but maybe she’ll understand.
He drives on and on, and the sun gradually disappears. Dean thinks suddenly, maybe they’ve got the day wrong. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing, skulking home, asking for pie. Going through it all again. Nah, that wouldn’t be fair. He’d find a motel, stay the night. Or, no. Just drive. Carry on driving. It’s not running away, cuz it doesn’t matter where he ends up, they’ll be there, and that’s fine, because it doesn’t matter what he does, the end is already written.
He hears growling, growing louder, a counterpoint to the beat of his heart. He checks the glove compartment, checks that Bobby’s details are clearly visible, because he needs Sam to get the car back. He should have borrowed one from the yard, but he couldn’t bring himself to drive anything else. Not today.
The growling fills his ears, and he pulls over. He thinks maybe he is scared. And he really, really doesn’t want to die. Sam, as a kid, really used to piss him off. Families are funny things. But really, they’re what it’s all about.
. . .
Highway patrol find a vintage black car pulled up on the side of the road, and a middle-aged man, who’s at the end of his shift and eager to get home, shines a torch into the window, opens the door, and leafs through the papers in the glove compartment.
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Spoilers: Vague AHBL/season 3
Summary: It’s Dean’s last day, and he drives. Companion to The Deconstruction of Falling Stars and Confessions and Lamentations. For a challenge in my head to write fic using Babylon 5 episode titles. It seemed like a plan.
Sometimes, as night gives way to dawn, and the silvery fingers of a new day inch across whichever motel room he’s in, Dean wonders if he’s being a coward. If he’s just giving in when he should fight. Is he wrong to make no challenge? It’s not like he wants to die. He said, once, that he was tired, but that was then and this is now and he doesn’t want to die. Sam’s looking for a way. He tries to hide it but, dude, come on. Dean’s not stupid and Sam’s not exactly the poster child for subtle.
It’s at this point of the nocturnal conversation that Dean knows it’s not about cowardice or surrender. It’s about looking out for his family. That’s what it’s about, that’s what everything’s about. Not just for Dean, for the Winchesters, but for everyone. It’s having people you love and who love you, and keeping them. Keeping them safe. That’s what matters. That’s what’s important. Dean doesn’t want to die, but he has to keep Sam safe, and he’s OK with that.
The last day, he drives away.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know how it’s going to go down. He doesn’t know if it’ll hurt. He doesn’t know how it works, not really. But he knows they’ll come for him, and he doesn’t want that to happen anywhere near the people he loves.
The Impala races along the road, smooth as silk, and Dean rubs the steering wheel with his thumbs. He’s had this car since he was eighteen; it has been in his family for as long as he can remember. He knows it’s just a car. A machine someone made, forty years ago, that’s been driven by more people than he knows about. Doesn’t matter. He loves her. The way she smells, the way she sounds. She is freedom and home. He hopes Sam will appreciate her. He sucks at car care, but maybe she’ll understand.
He drives on and on, and the sun gradually disappears. Dean thinks suddenly, maybe they’ve got the day wrong. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing, skulking home, asking for pie. Going through it all again. Nah, that wouldn’t be fair. He’d find a motel, stay the night. Or, no. Just drive. Carry on driving. It’s not running away, cuz it doesn’t matter where he ends up, they’ll be there, and that’s fine, because it doesn’t matter what he does, the end is already written.
He hears growling, growing louder, a counterpoint to the beat of his heart. He checks the glove compartment, checks that Bobby’s details are clearly visible, because he needs Sam to get the car back. He should have borrowed one from the yard, but he couldn’t bring himself to drive anything else. Not today.
The growling fills his ears, and he pulls over. He thinks maybe he is scared. And he really, really doesn’t want to die. Sam, as a kid, really used to piss him off. Families are funny things. But really, they’re what it’s all about.
. . .
Highway patrol find a vintage black car pulled up on the side of the road, and a middle-aged man, who’s at the end of his shift and eager to get home, shines a torch into the window, opens the door, and leafs through the papers in the glove compartment.