The screech of his tyres was all he could hear as Dean turned sharply out of the parking lot. Foot heavy on the gas pedal, he sped away. He didn't know what he was running away from, and he didn't know where he was going. A rush of blood to his head blurred the scenery into one long stream of trees and black road. His breathing lessened and slowed his speed down. Spotting a small dirt track turn off on the horizon, he impulsively pulled onto it and drove along it. The trees opened onto the expanse of a dried grass hill-top. Stopping the Impala, he got out and went to grab a beer from the trunk. Without even thinking he pulled off the cap and took a long pull. Leaning back against the side of his car, he looked down at the hazy lights of a small town. Peacefully unaware of the magnitude of the forces at work behind their very existence, Dean envied them.
Feeling the coldness of the beer bottle against his hand, he wondered how it had got there. He took another pull. As he closed his eyes his life played before his eyes. Flashes of death and destruction flooded his mind, Angels, Demons, they were all the same. Memories of hell, of Sam feeding on demon blood and then screaming out his name the next. Dying again and again, only to be brought back for more. Sam dying only to be brought back. Every god-damned day a struggle, every day the weight on his shoulder getting heavier, always moments away from pulling him over the edge.
He'd tried to use anger, hate and defiance to fight it, god knows he tried.
He almost laughed then, there is a God, but he doesn't care.
There is no higher power to appeal to, no one left to turn to.
A last vestige of anger bubbled up inside him and he threw the bottle away to smash on the ground as he shouted out.
'Is this what you want? You want to break me over and over until I can't run any more? You save me from hell only to relive it on earth! You took everything away from me, one by one, and now there is not even me left!' He dropped painfully to his knees onto the ground and his body swayed with his grief. 'I don't even know who I'm talking to anymore' he mumbled as tears of frustration and anger escaped from his eyes in catharsis. He curled his hands into fists on his knees, almost lurching forward into the dirt. Forcing through the lump in his throat he let his admission fall from his lips.
'I just want it to end' he breathed.
All that was left, all that could be done, was to give in. To hope that his fate, his 'destiny', would take away his pain, would give him the only thing he needed now, the only thing he ever really wanted. Peace.
