(no subject)
This is my first Supernatural Fic... solely inspired by me bouncing off the walls of work all day thinking of absolutely nothing else other than the premiere tonight (4 hours to go!) and sort of sprung from that obsession. It was written in the span of a half hour and born of a half-thought-out idea, so forgive the lameness.
Title: Dean's Regret
Author:
the_sac_fly
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Gen-ish (I always love hints of Castiel/Dean)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 634
Summary: Lucifer is rising and Dean feels like a failure. What goes through Dean's mind in the final moments of 4.22
Spoilers/Warnings: Up to and including 4.22 'Lucifer Rising'
Disclaimer: The characters, the plot, the show, and all things lovely are not mine.
Ruby’s blood was on his hands from where it had dripped down her knife, reddening his palms deceptively - making her seem more human than she had any right being associated with.
But there was no time to gloat as Lilith’s blood pooled around in front of them in a fashion that could only mean trouble. The World’s imminent demise taking up most of the airspace leaving no room for the, “I told you so,” that was itching at the back of his throat. The pattern swirled around, giving way to a beam of light that looked so much like another he had seen that night.
They had lost. ‘They’ consisting of him and Sam - and the rest of unsuspecting humanity who hadn’t even known a war was raging. But in hindsight there had never been a winning side to choose. Hell and Heaven had been striving toward a common goal, albeit separately, and with an offense like that the Winchester defense could never have held the line.
The Demons’ leader was about to arrive at the station and the Angel’s commander had been M.I.A. for, well, God only knows how long. And at this rate Dean was fast becoming a believer in lose-lose situations being the best one could hope for these days because, really, who was left?:
To-Hell-And-Back heartbroken and self-loathing Dean Winchester.
A Sam Winchester that had a demon blood addiction so fierce that it made Meth-Heads look like cherubs.
A small, unconvincing, handful of hunters that hadn’t been kill off in the battles over the Seals.
And whatever poor fucks that would escape the mass possessions that were bound to take place over the next few days now that Lucifer was crawling out of the pit.
Dean thought of Bobby, hoped he was alright, and bit his tongue so hard it bled when he absently though about praying for him.
And Cas. Castiel who had risked whatever soul Angel’s had three times now to help Dean. The “Something Worth Dying For,” speech having sounded a lot better of an idea when Dean was sure the target on his own back had been the biggest. But Cas, all doe-eyed and terrified and brave, had busted him out of Angel Prison, gotten him to Sam, leaving the Warrior alone in a light as equally beautiful as the one Dean stood in now, an announcement citing the impending arrival an equally deadly enemy.
Dean had needed to leave. He was the only one Sam would listen to, the only one that had the chance to stop him. Castiel had needed to stay. Only he could hold off the Archangel and give Dean the time he needed - the difference between them all being dead within minutes and them all probably being dead within the hour. But Dean hadn’t wanted to go. Hadn’t wanted to leave Cas, an ally, a friend, behind to face certain shiny death alone. And Cas - because he was good and selfless and knew Dean too well - hadn’t given him a choice.
Only now he had failed and everyone has doomed anyways, all because his mother once made a bad deal and Dean had made a worse one.
The intensity of the light made Sam’s face look ghost white, his eyes blown open wide, so painfully a mirror image on the Angel’s in Chuck’s kitchen. In that moment, when he should have only felt panic all Dean could manage was regret.
He was sorry he still couldn’t forgive his father for pushing Sam so hard, always pushing him away when Dean always wanted him close. Sorry he hadn’t trusted Bobby when he had more than earned the right to it. Sorry for abandoning Sam and blaming it on feeling abandoned. And sorry for not having the opportunity to tell Castiel, “Thank You,” even if he probably didn’t have the strength to had he the chance.
Hope you enjoy it!
Title: Dean's Regret
Author:
the_sac_fly
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Gen-ish (I always love hints of Castiel/Dean)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 634
Summary: Lucifer is rising and Dean feels like a failure. What goes through Dean's mind in the final moments of 4.22
Spoilers/Warnings: Up to and including 4.22 'Lucifer Rising'
Disclaimer: The characters, the plot, the show, and all things lovely are not mine.
Ruby’s blood was on his hands from where it had dripped down her knife, reddening his palms deceptively - making her seem more human than she had any right being associated with.
But there was no time to gloat as Lilith’s blood pooled around in front of them in a fashion that could only mean trouble. The World’s imminent demise taking up most of the airspace leaving no room for the, “I told you so,” that was itching at the back of his throat. The pattern swirled around, giving way to a beam of light that looked so much like another he had seen that night.
They had lost. ‘They’ consisting of him and Sam - and the rest of unsuspecting humanity who hadn’t even known a war was raging. But in hindsight there had never been a winning side to choose. Hell and Heaven had been striving toward a common goal, albeit separately, and with an offense like that the Winchester defense could never have held the line.
The Demons’ leader was about to arrive at the station and the Angel’s commander had been M.I.A. for, well, God only knows how long. And at this rate Dean was fast becoming a believer in lose-lose situations being the best one could hope for these days because, really, who was left?:
To-Hell-And-Back heartbroken and self-loathing Dean Winchester.
A Sam Winchester that had a demon blood addiction so fierce that it made Meth-Heads look like cherubs.
A small, unconvincing, handful of hunters that hadn’t been kill off in the battles over the Seals.
And whatever poor fucks that would escape the mass possessions that were bound to take place over the next few days now that Lucifer was crawling out of the pit.
Dean thought of Bobby, hoped he was alright, and bit his tongue so hard it bled when he absently though about praying for him.
And Cas. Castiel who had risked whatever soul Angel’s had three times now to help Dean. The “Something Worth Dying For,” speech having sounded a lot better of an idea when Dean was sure the target on his own back had been the biggest. But Cas, all doe-eyed and terrified and brave, had busted him out of Angel Prison, gotten him to Sam, leaving the Warrior alone in a light as equally beautiful as the one Dean stood in now, an announcement citing the impending arrival an equally deadly enemy.
Dean had needed to leave. He was the only one Sam would listen to, the only one that had the chance to stop him. Castiel had needed to stay. Only he could hold off the Archangel and give Dean the time he needed - the difference between them all being dead within minutes and them all probably being dead within the hour. But Dean hadn’t wanted to go. Hadn’t wanted to leave Cas, an ally, a friend, behind to face certain shiny death alone. And Cas - because he was good and selfless and knew Dean too well - hadn’t given him a choice.
Only now he had failed and everyone has doomed anyways, all because his mother once made a bad deal and Dean had made a worse one.
The intensity of the light made Sam’s face look ghost white, his eyes blown open wide, so painfully a mirror image on the Angel’s in Chuck’s kitchen. In that moment, when he should have only felt panic all Dean could manage was regret.
He was sorry he still couldn’t forgive his father for pushing Sam so hard, always pushing him away when Dean always wanted him close. Sorry he hadn’t trusted Bobby when he had more than earned the right to it. Sorry for abandoning Sam and blaming it on feeling abandoned. And sorry for not having the opportunity to tell Castiel, “Thank You,” even if he probably didn’t have the strength to had he the chance.
Hope you enjoy it!