Title: Breaking the Silence
Author: Onyx Wildcat
Chapters: FINISHED
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None
Archiving: Supernatural Atlantis/Bad Moon Rising/FanFiction
Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Anger, Mourning
Spoilers: Pilot and all Hell Breaks Loose part 1
Feedback: Give it to me baby...
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that pertains to the Show Supernatural. This is merely for non-profit entertainment for other writers/readers who enjoy the 'What If' pondering when thinking of Supernatural and all it's Supernatural goodness. Also, the song, "Breaking the Silence" belongs to Queensryche. It's only being used as a muse for this short fiction.
Onyx's Note: Alright...so after doing the Sam angsty story I decided to write a Dean version. A nice, dark, deeply painful Dean version. This was inspired by Queensryche (go figure) and I just started writing. Literally couldn't stop until I got this story out of my head. It's like a lost episode. A, 'What would happen if Sam wasn't brought back' idea that spun a web in my brain and forced me to write it down. A little warning, make sure you have someone to hug after you read this...because after writing it...I felt my heart break.
On that note... Enjoy!
-Breaking the Silence-
His mind drifted back to the hallway where his father draped little Sammy into his arms.
"Daddy!" He called out, his bones filled with fear as smoke began to rise ominously all around him.
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!"
He remembered the feeling of heat, the struggle in his father's face as Dean ran hurriedly outside with his infant brother in his arms. Terror filled his innocent blood like a plague invading the lungs of a dying victim. He knew something was wrong when he stopped just outside on the lawn and turned to see thick billows of smoke rising ominously above the only home he'd ever known.
He looked down to the small green eyed bundle in his arms and tried to comfort him with a small, choked voice, "it's okay, Sammy." Dean said to his little brother when he was the one that needed someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. When all he could think of was where's mommy and daddy and why's the house on fire? He wanted it to be a dream he could just wake from. Though young in body his mind and soul were made of old, wise things that tried to understand things from a much older perspective.
Before his mind could go further with its new found strength, a small explosion erupted bringing his eyes back to the house where a single figure, his father, came barreling out the front door. Dean wanted to know where mommy was but lost the words when his father scooped him up in his arms and carried Dean with Sammy still held close against his tiny chest.
"I gotcha." The rumble of his father's voice echoed over his head as a wave of heat slammed against them followed by a terrible roar as the fire engulfed the very place they had all called home…
Dean plopped his head back against the hard, cold wall and draped his arms over his knees, his boot covered feet planted flat against the cracked floor beneath him. His left hand clenching and unclenching, a slight shake in his bones as his right hand still held one of the many eight inch survival knives he'd owned. Eyes closed, taking a deep needed breath, he opened his eyes and glanced down at the blade in his hand. The stains of fresh blood were beginning to darken to a rusty brown, caking his dry skin in strange splotches reminding him of nasty liver spots crusting with age. And that's exactly how he felt. Old, empty…dry.
He looked at his hands, calloused and rough from working on the Impala and from saving his life and many others for so many years… And all he could think about, was when the very same hands that had held the small body of his infant brother… Had felt the blood oozing from the wound in Sammy's back as his very soul bled out of his body. Dean had saved him when they were young, on the night that changed everything they would ever call a life… But those same hands that brought Sammy from the flames of death, had no more then held his grown body as his life slipped away.
Dean hadn't made it in time… He met his brother's gaze when that knife wielding son-of-a-bitch came out of no where and stabbed Sammy in the back… He remembered the moment the blade slid home, the pain blossoming over his baby brother's face when Sammy jerked, the blade severing the spine…and all Dean could do was scream out No in horror.
He ran to him and fell to his knees as Sammy lopped back and forth in his arms like a lifeless meat puppet. He tried to hold him, tried to tell him everything would be alright as Bobby ran after the killer…
Dean's hand slid over the wound in Sammy's back and felt the liquid heat of his blood running free. It was a strange sensation, not warm like you'd think, but hot, almost coffee hot as it slid over his shaking hand. Dean had rocked Sammy in his arms, trying to keep him alert, trying to imagine that it had all been a very bad dream. But Sammy was already gone… The trickle of blood at the edge of his mouth, the way his head drifted back and forth in Dean's hands as if it were made of nothing more then rubber… The way his eyes rolled back into his head, never to open again… Never to give his older brother a condescending look when Dean said something remotely intelligent.
Dean felt a very faint pang of emotion in his chest, something so faint he cleared it away by a grunt deep in the back of his throat.
He'd been fighting for so long…so hard to keep his baby brother alive. To keep little Sammy from the horrors that hid beneath the bed and lived within the depths of an ominous closet.
But he failed… He was helpless the night he watched Sammy die. All he could do was hold him one last time, the arms that saved him…had held him as that very life was taken away. The life he'd do anything to get back, even if it meant losing his soul.
They told me to run, but just how far?
Can I go wearing the black mask of fear?
The hate in my eyes always gives me away
The tension building slowly
Now I lost everything I had in you
Nothing we shared means a thing
Without you close to me
I can't live without you
The days past but nothing was the same. Time bled into weeks, weeks into months… An endless rotation of minutes that filled an eternity that held nothing more then a promise that one day…it would all come to an abrupt end. It would all go 'poof' and Dean would fight no more.
Faces bled in and out of each other, nameless, empty, no one worth remembering, no one with those hazel green eyes and awkward smile. No one like Sam that could dull the pain or fill the void. The road was like those faces, endless, forever the same…
The Impala would roar down those endless black serpents as an old rock song blared into the ever watchful night. Windows rolled down, the cold wind slapping against his tear stained face as he screamed…and screamed… Calling out to God and cursing the bastard for never lifting a finger. Wailing for the Mother that burned and the Father that sold his soul to save his life…to save his oldest son so that he and little Sammy could carry on with the family business. Dean cursed his father, hated him, roared with fists red and cracked from slamming them against the wheel as the thrumming rock music droned out the sound of his enraged screams.
Everything, in a single flick of a blade…his entire life…gone.
Breaking the silence of the night
Can't you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer me
Years past, demons killed, tortured and murdered…for the sake of all mankind. For the sanctity of innocence. For what? Nothing… It was all for Sammy… It always had been. Sam, soul as pure as the heart that bled its last breath…only wanted the innocent saved. Sam had been the living conscience, the living embodiment of forgiveness and second chances. He had been the reason so many had been saved. But without Sam, without his conscience… Dean had become the envy and fear of all demons…including Hunters. Whenever he made his annual pit stop in some backwater town, all he'd have to do was walk into a run down back of the tracks bar and instantly…the room would clear out like rats escaping a sinking ship. The word traveled fast those days, the talk was dark and filled with horrible things that all connected to the one remaining Winchester with his '67 Impala no longer deemed the MetalliCar… But known to other Hunters as Dark Horse…and to demons as the Executioner.
And Dean liked it that way…
He'd sit at the bar, draining down his third tall glass of whiskey before leaving a wad of cash and taking his leave. He couldn't feel the whiskey anymore. It was no longer a means to dull the pain but only a small necessity to warm his chest and fill his blood with life. It was no longer a poison in his veins…for the plague of hate had already consumed him.
Dean would walk out into the cold, dark night and take a deep breath as rain trickled between the never-ending treetops that surrounded the area in silence. He'd stand there, eyes unseeing, the fire that burned within his soul a dark and terrible thing as the rain continued to fall. On nights like those, as the rain fell from the storm filled skies…he could almost hear his brother's voice calling out to him, calling him home.
Telling him with a wordless song sung softly in his mind, that he was with him…
There's no direction to my stare
No more flame burning in my heart anymore
Quiet, I keep it to myself
Until the sun sets slowly
I hear your voice in the evening rain calling
Nothing will keep us apart
No more lies and fear
There's no end to our story
Dean drove on, the speakers thundering with another classic rock song, the tears drying along his flushed face as he screamed himself hoarse. No one to hear him calling, screaming, crying…for his baby brother to come back into his life. For all the demons he'd slain, for the pieces of himself he lost with every slash of a blade, every squeeze of his trigger… Every drop of rain that fell to the unforgiving earth with Sam's wordless song singing softly in his ears.
Every bar he past, every neon sign that pulsed in the darkness of some oddball motel… He'd think of Sam. He'd find himself just standing next to his Dark Horse, hands dug deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. He'd look up at the pulsing neon sign and think of what Sammy would say. What funny remark would flow from his lips as his unruly hair hung in brown waves over his eyes.
Dean would think of his awkward baby brother, standing next to him with his hands hidden away in the depths of his jacket pockets, staring up at the neon light while talking about some nonsense or other just to pass the time.
Dean missed that. The arguing mostly. But now there was only silence as he gazed at the horrendous bright pink glow of the motel sign that said, "Tree Line In." It let out a weird humming that grew in strength every minute or so as the rain drizzled down overhead.
"I wish you were here, Sammy…" Dean heard himself say as the rain stole away the tear that freefell down his unshaven face.
Breaking the silence of the night
Can't you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer
I could make all the wrong seem right
If you were by my side
I'd gather all the tears you cried
And hide them deep underground
Dean wiped the last of his caged emotion from his face and carried on. What little was left of the loving heart that once beat fiercely within his chest had withered into stone.
He'd rolled on, killing demons everywhere he went and the occasional Hunter that got in his way. Dean had become a force to be reckoned with. Even Bobby had cut ties with Dean after watching him rip the beating heart from a possessed woman's chest , not caring that she could have been saved. To Dean, demons were all the same, the vessel be damned. People were sheep to the slaughter, meat puppets for those hollow, black-eyed sonsabitches.
Can't look back, it's just a waste of time
Can't erase this hate from my eyes
So as the roads remain endless, and the rain continues to fall… If you're at a bar in some back water town or some oddball motel with the neon lights glowing just beneath the trickling of rain…
Just listen for that roaring engine, the pounding of classic rock and you just might hear the wails of a man who's lost his soul, his life… A man who's calling out to his baby brother…
For an answer…that will never come.
Breaking the silence of the night
Through the streets I'm screaming
Looking for you in the neon light
Why don't you answer me?
Breaking the silence with my cries
Can't you hear me screaming?
We could make all this wrong seem right
But you never answer me
-Fades to Black-