Disclaimer: I own nothing of Supernatural. If I did, Gabriel would be in more episodes. Also, the lyrics are Metallica's.
AN: So this was a vocab assignment for my English class, hence why names are not included. I'll be posting more oneshots every week or so.
Enter Sandman
The tall man looked at the ground despondently, still not comprehending what had really happened. He wished that this was just some Tuesday nightmare that he could just wake up from. When his older brother had apprised him of the situation one year earlier, he had not taken it well. He had a lot of pent of rage. Eventually he accepted that he couldn't change what had happened but believed they could possibly find a cure. His love for his older brother became his impetus for finding a solution. His brother put little heart into finding a cure until the last few days. Looking back he wanted to smack his brother for being so stupid and reckless, but it was an extenuating few months that had them both on edge. His brother was living like he was dying, and that's what he was, dying.
The older brother had put on a façade to try to keep his brother's spirits up, but the hope that he could be saved was long gone after numerous individuals had asserted that there was no cure. The younger brother, as usual, had rebelled; he impugned the unanimous belief and searched tirelessly for answers. The search ended abruptly in the middle of almost finding a cure.
The man sighed as the wind whistled through his shaggy hair. The tall trees surrounding the small clearing created a veil of shadows that seemed fitting for the man's mood. He grew irritated though when a spot of sunlight filtered through to land on the rugged cross in front of the freshly dug grave. Irritated at the sun for impeding on his sorrow, he could practically hear his brother snorting and telling him to stop being a girl and to cut the chick-flick moment. The side of his mouth quirked at the thought.
He turned and started to walk away before turning to glance one last time at the grave. He tilted his head upward towards the few patches of blue sky that could be seen through the trees and muttered, "Please. Please, God…"
When he got back to the '67 Chevy Impala, he realized that it wasn't his brother's car anymore, it was his. He ran his land along the hood of the car; he started to understand why his brother was, had been, sentimental about the car. He slid into the driver's seat, and a thought came over him, he would never ride shotgun again with his brother driving. His head dropped down, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He believed that his and his brother's lives were tantamount in importance when juxtaposed. Why then, did his brother have to die when he lived?
He turned the keys and heard the car rev up beneath him. How his brother savored that noise. He flipped on the radio and sighed when a Metallica song came on. Of course his brother's cassette tape collection of 80s rock bands would still be playing. He moved to turn it off but paused. He was partisan to most anything that his brother didn't play in the car, yet he couldn't bring himself to flip it off. Leaving the radio on, he looked ahead. The road would be a lot lonelier without his brother at his side.
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
We're off to never-never land