At The Crossroads
When two roads diverge, in a yellow wood or else where, you can take the one less traveled by, the high road or the low road, whatever path you choose, and it may make all the difference, and you may get to Scotland first, or wherever it is you're trying to get
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Comments 44
Everything is very still.
Dean grips the steering wheel hard, white-knuckled, eyes red-rimmed and tired. His brother has been --
Sam's been --
It's been three days, and that's too damn long. (Hell, the first five seconds aged him a hundred years, and ain't nobody ever lived that long in the first place.)
It's tempting to just sit here, lean his head back, close his eyes, and just wait until everything gets better. Maybe he'll get lucky and wake up and it'll all be a shitty dream.
But every second wasted is another second Sam's body is rotting away, and one thing Dean cannot handle is letting more damage happen to his little brother.
So he gets out of the car, slamming the door like that'll do anything, like he's even frustrated at all (that's not his goddamn problem, he's just so tired), and opening the trunk ( ... )
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And Dean, as he has been for days now, is alone with his thoughts and his failures and the sound of his (but no one else's) breath and the night.
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A thought he hasn't let himself have (on top of the thoughts about what a shitty, shitty idea this is -- because that voice sounds like Dad, sounds like Sam, and if they fucking want to take him to task for this they can goddamn well be here or they're just gonna have to suck it up and deal) is what if this doesn't work?
God knows maybe he'll be a fuckup at this, too. Nothing else he's turned his hand to has ever worked.
Why did Dad save me, anyway? Sam's the one --
Sam --
Oh God, I can't do this alone.
"Where the hell are you, bitch!"
Yelling doesn't make him feel better, but the pain in his throat from that scream is at least a start on what he deserves.
A pathetic, shitty one, but that's par for the course in his pathetic, shitty life to date.
"It's like a frickin' free meal! Don't tell me you're gonna come over all hesitant on me now."
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"No such thing as a free meal, darling."
When he turns, he'll see a woman in a black dress, with dark hair and grey eyes, that shift over to red for no more than a second or two.
Just so that he knows who he's dealing with.
"But if you want my attention all that badly, well . . ."
She's never exactly been accused of being coy.
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