When You Hate Me So Good
Summary: Tag to Dark Side of the Moon. Dean contemplated heaven, and all the things he never know and just found out. M rating for liberal use of the F-word.
Note: Nope, can't leave well enough alone. Once I did the one with Sam (Shameless plug time! "This Isn't A Happy Ending"), Dean was just itching to be written. And then I was listening to this song and BAM! Instant Ficcage. I keep this up and I'm gonna head back to school after Spring Break is up and majorly flunk my developmental psych exam. Oh, and right, I don't own Supernatural, but I did just buy this spanking awesome SN travel coffee cup that I'm super excited to use.
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Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
And all we've been through
I said leave it, leave it, leave it
There's nothing in you
And did you hate me, hate me, hate me, then hate me so good
That you just let me out, let me out, let me out
Of this hell when you're around
Let me out, let me out, let me out…
-Rootless Trees; Damien Rice
Dean dropped into bed without a word to Sam, just dropping his bag to the floor and forgoing his usual bed routine. He wasn't in the mood to play around tonight.
It had been a silent drive, three long hours of nothing but Metallica, Sammy Hagar, and AC/DC until Dean finally decided to say fuck it-they didn't have anywhere they needed to be, and neither one of them could be cramped in that car with each other for a second longer. He pulled off and drove into the first crappy motel they hit, right off the I-190.
Home Sweet Home.
He hadn't had to fake sleep for very long before Sam crept off into the night. Did he have any idea where he was going? No, and he didn't really care. Maybe Sam was running off again, after all that was what made him happy. He'd hate for his brother to keep making himself miserable by spending time with him.
Dean had no idea how enlightening death would be until he got to heaven. He sure as hell never thought that heaven would fuck his life up a million plus times more than hell ever had. To that point, he didn't imagine that heaven would make him that much more miserable than hell-it practically had him wistful for the rack.
It hurt less.
He rolled out of bed, dressed in the jeans and shirt he'd fallen into bed wearing and sighed. What was he doing?
How fucked up are you?
"Yes." The words rolled off his tongue in an uncomfortable, awkward sort of way. Funny, he had always been good with yes, it was no that he spent his entire life struggling with.
'No' had always been easy for Sam. It just rolled right off of his tongue. It was amazing that wasn't his first word. But it had been a major one in his vocabulary not long after, and forever since then.
"Lucky for him." he muttered.
Traitor. Dean blinked away at the angry burning sensation in his eyes as he looked over at Sam's bed.
For all the moments that he knew that Sam had hated, he'd never thought he was one of them. He'd accepted that Sam never forgave their dad for some of the crap he threw at them, and he could understand that, sympathize with him but he couldn't understand this.
Never had he regretted one moment with Sam. He didn't hate what they had as kids. God knew, he would have given anything for them to have had that normal childhood with their mom and dad…but he never wanted to run away.
He loved Sam, and he'd always believed-even after Sam left, in some little place in his chest-that Sam was there for him. That if nothing else, they had each other. That was what the necklace was to him, their entire relationship rolled up and symbolized by one stupid necklace. It was that commitment that maybe, maybe they didn't have anyone else, and maybe they never would-but that Sam knew he'd always be there for him; stupidly enough, he thought that went both ways. He thought Sam was always going to be there for him, have his back.
Apparently that wasn't what Sam needed, or wanted.