Dean

Fist rage upon indifferent walls.

Young yet hardened flesh so pale against deep bruising.

Crinkled paper falls gently from blood-soaked palms.

A brother is still a brother even when the other half of you is gone.

~~~~OOOO~~~~

Sam's Discarded Letter

Gray skies resemble an endless sea filled with the day's uncertainty, akin to a foreboding blanket void of all warmth, woven together with materials made of fear, it covers me.. shrouds me.. drowning me until I can no longer breathe.

Unkempt hands, calloused and rough- nails chewed to a nub; too much stale whiskey wafting from shouting lips; stupid jacket collar; leaving us with people I wouldn't trust with a dog- let alone children; a car is not a home. And no, I don't care what you believed, a motel is not an upgrade. I love you anyway Dad.

Strong arms wrapped around me a thousand times if they did it once- whether to throw me against the wall for something stupid I had done or was about to do, to stop the flow of tears or to bring me back from death's untimely advance; bowed legs; learning to hustle people at pool, cards and darts may not have been the true north of my moral compass but I enjoyed those times with you nonetheless; being broken down on the side of the road and instead of being as frustrated as I, you crack a few beers and some dirty jokes making the day at the very least, tolerable; that stupid jacket collar; and I don't care what you say either- the Impala is not a home, but at least now I understand why it is for you; unkempt hands calloused and rough- you remind me so much of Dad; vibrating beds which run on quarters; Busty Asian Beauty mags; pie- peach, apple, pecan, cherry, it mattered not -

"Bring Me Some Pie!"

- I must of heard that more times than the words I love you, but that's okay because I don't need to hear what I've always been shown. No, I do not need affirmation of what I've always known.

Christ.

I'm going to miss you Dean, but when children play with fire I guess at one point or another one of them is bound to get burned.

Sam Winchester

~~~~OOOO~~~~

Somewhere an eldest son cries.

Somewhere a brother is about to fly.

Alone in the darkness a second father downs a fifth of Jack.

John watches from the bowels of Hell no longer able to fight back.

And like the rarest of flower seen by only the privileged few, upon an idyllic hillside its time has come to an end.

Wilted and dried, the strain of fighting against such opposing strong winds has taken its toll, its petals silently fall to Earth just as the last Winchester takes his own life, leaving the veins of the living aching for saviors which shall never come.