Graphics for Hunger by ellispark
Hunger
ellispark
Summary:
Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas - what he kept from both of them?
They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.
A post-13x01 story.
This. Fic. Got me so good.
I adored this. My favorite scene was probably with Dean and Claire, but honestly, so many of them hit you in all the right places. It was the perfect amount of angst, so my little angst heart was so happy. Everyone should head on over to read it and leave Ellispark the love she deserves! Check out the fic here.
SCENES AHEAD -- there is spoilers, so be aware!
Dean jolts awake. He’s sweating, sheets soaked around him, and his eyes ache from crying in his sleep. Jack sits next to him, in the same spot where Cas sat just a minute ago. “
I’m sorry,” Jack whispers. “I tried to help. Sam says you’re hurt, and I just wanted to make it better, to give you what you need...”
And that kills it right there. The brief reprieve from the load he’s been carrying snaps; the world comes crashing back down on Dean’s shoulders. The switch has been flipped, and he knows why he asked Sam that question.
“ Is that what it takes?” Dean asks, and his voice cracks. “For people to know I love them?”
S am understands immediately. His face falls, and he reaches out for Dean, aborting the gesture at the last second. His hand falls empty to the table between them.
Sam pales as he watches the fire swallow the house whole, standing in the overgrown field outside. Dean knows he’s thinking of their mother. But Dean’s watched flames consume everyone he loves most at some point or another. He’s numb to it at this point. Dean doesn’t notice he’s started walking toward the burning building as Sam yells after him. He’s only about fifteen feet away, close enough to feel the heat, for the smoke to roll over him in waves and for embers to singe his clothes and hair.
“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Claire says, voice cracking. “He didn’t even find a kind he liked yet.”
Dean carefully takes the jar from her hand, staring at the looped cursive font proclaiming “20% Less Fat!” He opens the lid and sees the clear mark of exactly one spoonful dug out of the cookie butter at the top.
“Sorry,” Jack says, guilty. “I wanted to talk to you after Sam left, but you were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Dean glares out over the water. He hasn’t had this dream in years, yet it used to be his favorite - a moment of respite in a sea of chaos. And now he knows it’s a dream, and worse - now he remembers Cas standing next to him on this very dock, pressing a piece of paper into his hand.
“Jack, I told you to stay out of my head.”
