Heya there!
I decided to try my hand at a Supernatural fic! I'm only on season 2 atm (I know, it's shameful. Bite me) and I'm pretty sure this bit is in season 5 or something…I sorta made it up from fics/summaries I've read so, if it's factually incorrect or anything, please tell me!
Constructive criticism/improvements are always welcome, so pleeease review, even if you didn't like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/storylines etc. (sadly)
Oh, and a slight warning, there's a tiny lil bit of Wincest in here…it's more suggestion than anything else, but read it anyway even if you don't like Wincest pleeease!
To Hell and Back
He's always been there for you, even at your worst moments. Especially at your worst moments. When you needed him, he gave himself to you – fully. When you were angry, he would let you take it out on him. Never complaining. When you were sad, he would try so hard to cheer you up, to make you smile. And if you didn't want to be cheered up, he would hold you in his warm embrace. He would hold you as you cried. He hated to see you cry. He couldn't bear your sadness like he could your anger. And he loved your smile. He said that it sparkled. You always thought that he was being stupid when he said that, but now you see, in your memories, that his smile sparkled too. Not just his smile, his eyes, his laughter – everything about him. He was radiant. Incandescent. Effulgent. Beautiful.
He had done so much for you. He had cared for you, protected you, loved you, for as long as you cared to remember. What had you done for him? Been a burden. Tagged along. Followed him. Chased after him, always trying to be better than him in your father's eyes. You'd been spoilt by his attentions. Forced him to grow up, to become a parent, long before his time. You'd loved him. You'd sent him to Hell.
Everything he did, he did for you. And everything he did made you feel inadequate. Indebted you to him. Threw the balance even further off the equilibrium. And it was weighted in your favour. But, you try and justify to yourself, you never asked him for anything when you were old enough to realise what it cost him. It didn't stop him though. Didn't stop him from giving. From giving everything he had. Giving everything he had up. For you. He went to hell and back for you. And what have you given him in return? You sent him back there with a life sentence. He paid for your incompetence with his soul. His beautiful, beautiful soul.
In that last night, in those last hours, you realised all this. And you realised how little you had done for him. That your best efforts were painfully inadequate. Not enough to break the deal. To save his soul. You realised other things. How much he had sacrificed for you. How much he must love you. How much you love him. You remember. You remember your childhood together. All those times when he was your protector, your best friend, your brother. You remember how he let you go when he saw that all you wanted was to go to school. He let you go; regardless of how much it hurt him that you would pick school over him. He supported you in your decisions. He even stood up for you against dad. And what had you done? You'd sent him to Hell.
You regret. You regret leaving him. Spending all those years away from him. Thinking you could make a better life for yourself, like you were better than him. You could never be better than him. He was so noble, so brave, so beautiful. You recall him coming back to you, asking for your help. You recall resenting him. Resenting his intrusion on your life. Oh, how the tables have turned. In these last precious minutes before your world shatters, you remember your times together. The happy times. The hunts. The kills. The nights. Oh, those nights when he made you forget. Forget all the blood on your hands. Forget how wrong this should feel, but didn't. Forget the pain, the loss, the grief. Forget your own name. Forget everything except him. Nothing mattered except him. Nothing matters except him.
You swear. You swear to yourself now that you will get him back. You won't rest until he is back by your side. Back in your arms. Back where he belongs. But first he has to go. You feel your heart break, slowly, excruciatingly, as he pulls out of your embrace. He yanks his clothes on from where they are littered on the floor. He looks at you. He tries to be gruff, his demeanour sadly failing at an attempt not to care. He is trying so hard. And it's heart breaking. And it hurts. So much. Because your heart's already been broken too many times this past night. It can't deal with any more pain, but the pain keeps coming. An everlasting tide of pain. Everlasting. Never-ending. You stare into his eyes. You see his pain, but you know that it is not pain of what is to come. No. it is the pain of having to leave you. It is the pain of knowing that he is abandoning you to that everlastingneverending tide of agony. And it kills him. Because he is always there for you. To hold you when you cry. He sees you crying now. You see his face twist into a mask of indecision and pain. He wants to hold you now. To stay with you. To make you forget. He wants to forget. He wants it so bad, but he places your needs above his own. As he always does. He thinks that the more hits you take, the harder it will be to quit cold turkey. He is trying to wean you off him. But it is much too little, much too late. You are addicted to him. So addicted to him that you almost feel like following him into Hell, just so you can be with him. Almost.
You watch him pull on his boots. He is ready to leave. You make eye contact, and hold on for dear life. Staying away proves too much for him then, and he comes to you. He crushes himself to you, melding your bodies into one. His lips capture yours for a searing, blissful, heart-rending moment. And then he is gone. Leaving behind him so huge a hole, that you forget what living feels like. You realise that you had been holding on. Holding on to some hidden reserve of strength. For him. And now he's gone. You break down, utterly and to right to the core. You feel yourself sobbing, crying out, screaming. Screaming for him. You're hitting things, hitting yourself, tearing at your hair, at the sheets. All the while calling his name. Calling him back. Back from Hell.
But there is no reply.
Because nobody goes to Hell and back twice.
Not even him.
Not even DEAN.
Sad as it may sound…this made me cry when I wrote it. =,(
To cheer me up, why don't you review?
LOVEYOUALL
Salvat-wh-ore
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