Gone
by Sapphire Silhouette
Street lights pass by in a blur as his father drives faster. Dean glances at him, unsure of what to do or say. It has been three and a half hours since Sammy left, and still no words have been spoken.
Dean has never been the eloquent, comforting one. That is - was - Sammy's job. Sammy was the one with the kind words when someone was upset. Sammy was the one who always knew the right thing to say. And it was Dean who kept the family together.
But now he doesn't know anymore. The family has fallen apart. Sammy is gone. Dean doesn't know what to do.
The car speeds up. Rain - how typical - falls harshly down on the hood. Old windshield wipers move frantically from right to left, trying to shield the car from the torrents of rain that are currently assaulting it.
There is no sound except the engine and the rain. All he wants is to turn on the radio. Music is calming, music makes sense.
Nothing has made sense for the past three and a half hours. How could it? John and Dean are alone. There is no semblance of a family. Family is all that Dean has ever wanted. It is all he ever needed. What else can he count on in this messed up world?
The car comes to a rather sudden stop at a cheap, visibly sleazy motel. Instinctively, Dean gets out of the car and starts taking out the meager luggage that they have with them while his father gets them a room. After dropping the bags on the floor of their room, he leaves to get some air. When he returns, it is empty.
Confused, Dean walks over to his bed and sits down, unsure of how his father could have left without him noticing. Hadn't he been protectively watching the room the whole time? Shaking his head, he walks over to the bathroom to ready himself for bed. But as he reaches the door, he hears something.
Is someone crying? He leans his head against the door in an attempt to hear better.
It is not a normal, meaningless cry that Dean hears, not the type of tears that he sees in those movies that make him roll his eyes. No, this is harsh, choked crying, filled with bitterness and regret. The tears of a man who has not cried in years, who wants to do anything but cry. A man who likes to have everything in order, to be in control of himself and of others at all times. A man who has lost that order, that control.
Dean backs away from the door quickly, frantically trying to get the sound of his father crying out of his ears. He wants nothing more than to sleep forever, forgetting everything that has happened today. But he can't drown out the sound. It is haunting him, haunting him like the very spirits he hunts haunt those they vehemently detest. And he wonders if Fate hates him like that, if maybe that is the reason why his world has turned upside-down in just a few short hours.
The sound of crying stops, but Dean can still hear it. It won't leave him alone.