By Gumnut
23 Apr 2007
It was raining.
Water spattered against his forehead and tangled with his eyelashes. He blinked and raindrops became tears, running down his face, his cheeks, dripping off his chin, pooling at the base of his neck only to overflow and track a chilling trail down his bare chest.
It was raining.
Off in the distance a single white street lamp attempted to light up the night through the rain and failed miserably, its glow shattered into thousands of tiny reflections, rippled by water.
They had come to Seattle in the hope of finding a little relief. Or so he had thought. Days had passed where one hunt blurred into another, where he sought rest and found only violence. Demons, spirits, evil that reached into his heart and ripped it out piece by bleeding piece. The scream of a dying man, a terrified woman, the eyes of child possessed by a spirit that literally tore her soul in half. Pain etched into every day, be it physical or not, and he found himself running, fleeing, reaching for some mythological rest he believed in yet never found.
The air was cold and tossed by an erratic wind that forced the rain to dance across his skin. Muscles tried to shiver, tried to trap heat, but the wind and the rain pummelled them into knots of icy pain.
He should have been thankful for the meagre warmth of the old pair of faded jeans, the only piece of clothing between him and a breach of decency, but they were as wet as he and as cold as his soul.
His toes curled up in icy puddles as his mind sought reason.
He wanted.
Wanted surcease, release, a freedom from it all.
But 'it' had become blurred. What was 'it'? He no longer knew what he was fleeing to or from.
The Impala took him wherever he needed to go. Her familiar lines, her rumble, her music, she took him, kept him safe, ensconced in her metal and vinyl.
But what about where he wanted to go?
Where did he want to go?
Sodden bandages flapped loosely against one shoulder, the bloodstained material as chilled as the skin it was trying to protect. He twitched as hard rain caught in scratches.
Lightning flickered across the sky, leaving fireworked impressions across his retinas.
He wanted out.
His eyes closed a moment, as if of their own volition. Control was an illusion. An illusion that no longer blinded him.
There was no out. If he left, his brother would fall. He didn't know what the hell was going on, what that bastard wanted with little Sammy, but be damned if he would let him have it.
Tears burned in his eyesockets, taunting the freezing rain.
He would stand between hell and his brother if he had to. His teeth grit and rain leaked into the corners of his mouth.
He wanted out, but he didn't want to leave.
It was raining.
He had run out into the night, into the freezing rain, attempting to flee his own thoughts. Sometimes he could banish them with a beautiful woman or a large bottle...or three. But not tonight. Tonight they climbed into his dreams and ate away his sleep.
Tonight fate whispered in his ears and taunted him with what he couldn't have.
The soft breathing of his brother threw him out the door.
He wanted out.
But it was raining.
"Dude, what the hell do you think you are doing?"
Answers didn't seem to come to mind in time to stop the raincoat from being shoved over his shoulders.
"Man, you're going to catch your death."
No, death was going to catch him. It was going to grab him and his brother and anyone else who got in the way and strangle the life out of them.
"Dean?"
Hands gripped his forearms and a pair of dark eyes blinked at him through the rain. Sammy was getting wet. He reached up a hand and touched a lock of that damn long and lanky hair of his. "You're getting wet, Sammy."
"Me? Dean, you're soaked to the bone. What the hell are you doing out here? Come back inside." There was a tug on his arm as Sam tried to lead him away.
Dean dug his heels into the drowned blacktop. "No."
Fingers caught on the raincoat and it shifted, falling off one shoulder. The brief warmth was sucked away by the wind and shredded by the rain.
"Dean!"
He blinked, turning to stare at his brother.
"Dean, come inside, man." There was rain running down Sammy's nose. "Please."
"I don't want to." But Sammy was getting wet. He shifted his feet and his heel came down on a stone. He stumbled.
Hands caught him before he could fall.
"Dean, please." And those familiar eyes pierced him to his soul. Water flickered in the light of a distant street lamp. "For me."
For Sammy.
"Okay." His voice was small.
The coat was wrapped around him once more, its transient warmth shutting off the chill of the rain. His brother's hands held him up, protected him from falling as his bare feet tripped on stones. Needles of pain were ignored. Sammy didn't ask him any further questions and Dean didn't offer him any answers. Only the rain broke the silence.
Light poked at his eyes as his brother opened the door to their dingy motel room and attempted to usher him in. Dean threw up a hand to ward it off and stumbled backwards.
He wanted out.
"Dean." He had stumbled into his brother. Strong arms caught him and propelled him through the door.
He wanted out.
He struggled, tangling with those arms, trying to free himself. Rain slicked skin caught on cheap polyester as Dean spun on the spot, clumsy in his urgency, and collided with a human wall. He barely registered the surprise on his brother's face as he turned again. To flee. To get out. He wanted out.
Sammy caught him.
"Dean!"
He had to get out. He needed release. He had to run. He struggled, unbalancing his opponent. They fell sideways, knocking a lamp from a table and dousing its glaring light.
"D-!" An elbow silenced the voice and for a moment Dean thought he was free. He stumbled to his feet, his toes meeting broken glass. The door was open. The rain was beckoning.
He wanted out.
He moved.
And found himself on the floor eating old carpet.
"Damnit, Dean, what the hell?"
There was pressure on his back, pinning him to the floor. Something had caught his wrists. Still he struggled. "Lemme go."
"Not on your life."
"Lemme go!" He wanted out. He wanted out, he wanted out, he wanted out... He had to...needed to...he wanted out! "Please, Sammy, let me go."
The pressure lessened just slightly.
But that was all he needed.
He flipped his body sideways, throwing his brother off his back and into a side table with a clattering crunch. He was free! And he moved, his feet under him, propelling him towards the door as fast as possible.
There was a yell behind him; his vision was suddenly laced with stars.
And then the world just let him go.
-o-o-o-
TBC?