[Dean is sitting on his bed. It's a double bed across from Sam's bed. There's only about three feet separating the beds. Just like in all the motels they grew up in. Sam is lying on the bed obviously dead. He's still wearing the clothes he was wearing when Anna stabbed him. The sheets around him are stained with blood as well. Hygiene isn't really
(
Read more... )
Comments 87
It's Dean's birthday. He made it back just on time.]
Hey. [It's a strangled sound, coughed out like there's no oxygen in his lungs, and there isn't.] Think you can stop grieving long enough to help me up?
Reply
[Of course the fact that the words are choked with emotion and breathlessness totally confirm that]
Reply
He hugs Dean back. Hard. Like he's so much lighter, he feels like he's falling away. So many people have been hurt and so many have been ruined, possibly forever, Sam among them, but this moment, right here, means so much fucking more. Sam has his brother, and he has himself.
There are no words. There just...aren't.]
Reply
[Sure it's something he might have said to Sam years ago when he was a little boy waking up from a nightmare but right now, the words seem like they need to be said]
Reply
If he's honest, he would feel the same way Dean did. Hell, he felt responsible for Anna's part in it all; he should have been able to restore her memories, keep her as herself. He'd promised to, and failed.
Now Sam was dead, Dean was nearly inconsolable and Anna...he wasn't quite sure anymore, about anything. There was a time he would feel no guilt for his part in ridding Lucifer from the City, but now, something gnawed at him, small and almost insignificant. But enough to make him wonder.]
Reply
Reply
Reply
I can't--he has to come back, Cas. I can't--
[He scrubs his hands over his face.]
I have to make sure he comes back.
Reply
He got Sam killed. What is he supposed to say? It doesn't matter if Sam comes back or not...he got Sam KILLED.
...so he says nothing, and goes off to try and kill himself through the power of alcohol.]
Reply
Reply
Reply
She did this. She did this to her friend.
...and maybe she knows she would do it again.]
Reply
Get out.
Reply
She wishes the memories hadn't come back.
Fumbling at her wrist, she undoes the familiar clasp, the handmade bracelet sliding off her wrist. Setting it on the table by the bed, she steps back, head down.]
I won't apologize for what I did. I knew... I knew something like this would happen, eventually. But I'm sorry it hurt you, perhaps if we hadn't... This would be easier.
Reply
You remember now?
Reply
Leave a comment