Feedback: Yes, please. And feel free to lay it on me. I don't break ;)
Disclaimer: Based on the characters and world created by Eric Kripke and the CW. No violation of copyright intended, and no profit made.
Summary/Notes: 3x16 coda - what could have happened after the season 3 finale.
Tempt not a desperate man
No more books.
You've picked through every single one, read and re-read until your fingers felt sore from tracing the words on the page, sandpaper in your eyes. Bobby sat with you a while; awkward attempts at comforting you at first, gently trying to persuade you to let go, one last gruff attempt at snapping you out of it before resigning.
You're a Winchester, and a Winchester is nothing if not stubborn.
You follow every flimsy bit of "information" you can get your hands on; myths, fairytales, local legends – grasping for straws and you know it, but you have nothing else to hold on to. Every step carries more dangers than the last, but nothing could be worse than what's playing across your eyelids when you sleep.
You keep trying.
Blood runs freely down your chest and left arm, soaking your shirt and dripping from your fingertips, leaving crisscrossed spatters behind like a trail of breadcrumbs(major fuckup, right this way).
By the time you make it back to the car you've almost blacked out twice, relying on sheer will alone to put one foot in front of the other, fully knowing that if you go down out here there's no getting back up.
It takes three attempts to pry the door open.
Close calls.
Too many fucking close calls; each and every single one of them taking place at another god damned dead end. You find no comfort in the reflection staring back at you from the mirror, a dull throb emanating from the freshly stitched gash on your shoulder, joining in the litany of failure marring the rest of your body.
You should be more careful, but you've exhausted every cautious option there is. The thing is, sooner or later, something will stop you. The grubby mirror cracks as you punch it in frustration. You have to find a way, you just have to.
Your reflection keeps staring back at you, fragmented and disfigured.
Eerie, Pennsylvania is quiet.
You're in a desolate field, shovel in hand, digging your way into the ground. Luckily enough the frost hasn't settled just yet, though it wouldn't really matter if you'd have to spend half the night thawing the moist earth. You'll have time on your side now.
All the time you need to get him out.
And if you don't? Well, they can't hold Dean forever. Sooner or later he'll rip loose, have himself a party and tear through every single son of a bitch standing in his way. And when he does, you'll be here.
You'll always be here.
Remember what dad taught you
(obsession).
And remember what I taught you
(sacrifice).
Can you dig it?