Just a quick story based around my favorite C.S. Lewis quote at the moment. Let me know what you think!
Dean ran his hands down his face, wearily attempting to push away the sleep that wanted to take him away. He sat beside his brothers' motel room bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His wrist and hand were wrapped in a stark white cast, which was propped up on a scratchy, burgundy red pillow.
His brother was going to be fine but it didn't seem to stop the nagging concern that Dean had felt at the time from revisiting now. That zombie had tossed him around like a rag doll; it was shocking that a cast was all that Sam had to show for it. The older Winchester stood but immediately sunk back into the chair that he hadn't left since returning with Sam from the hospital. He couldn't leave him, nobody else could leave him. He couldn't stand to be alone, couldn't watch anyone else being taken away from him.
He could still see, through four year old eyes, the vision of his Mom pinned to the ceiling: blood and fire, coloring and encircling her. He could see her eyes wide with pain and fear as his Dad shoved his baby brother in his arms and shouted for him to run.
He could hear Cassie telling him that it was over, to get out and leave her and her family alone. Tears had fallen from her eyes as she said the words and Dean felt like the wandering dog being shooed after being given the hope of a home. And years later he heard himself telling her goodbye yet again, this time for her own safety, holding her close one last time before pulling away forever.
He remembered the night that Sammy left him for Stanford; the night when his heart was torn from his chest. When hunting became his only concern and life had simply become the constant waiting line for death.
Finally he remembered his Dad collapsing on his hospital room floor. When the man he considered to be the strongest, was still. When he realized that his Dad had gone in his place. That his Dad had taken his ticket out of the waiting line and left him behind. He remembered watching him burn and the hopeless void had filled his soul.
He would always be alone. As the realization dawned on him a lone tear tracked down the elder hunters face, wondering just how many more he would watch die before his time would finally come.
"Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden; it is easier to say "My tooth is aching" than to say "My heart is breaking.""
-C.S. Lewis