Hearts of Glass

by impatient14

Dean Winchester has lost what he thought to be the love of his life, his wife Lisa. After her death, he moves to a small beach town off the coast of Delaware. It is in this small town that Dean meets Castiel, a reclusive anomaly that gives Dean a reason to keep going. **Chapter titles are song titles, the lyrics will give you insight into one or more of the characters.**

1. Wait

It's days like today that make our lives less complicated.

Today is unlike any other, and yet it is so very simple in its uniqueness.

There are some things that I will do today, that I will not repeat tomorrow, or any day after.

If I allow it to be, I imagine I could find comfort in this. I could allow myself to see today as any other that begins with a pink sky, and ends with a black one.

I can look down at her, and inhale her beauty like every other morning for the last fourteen years.

Today doesn't have to be any different.

I can kiss her lips and be grateful she never liked wearing lipstick.

I can brush the stray hair from her forehead, and imagine her skin is as warm as it once was.

It wasn't always so pale. The natural olive tone that once kissed her flesh, has now been forgotten by her body. Her soul's hasty retreat took the color of her skin along with the light in her eyes.

There are no tears in my eyes this morning. I have none to give, she took them when she left me.

Surrounded by soft pillowing fabric, her body looks swamped, like its fighting for dominance in her own coffin. I want to pull her free, deliver her from the dirt she will call home from now on, but I find myself unable to move.

Standing over her, pretending not to hear the whispers behind me that tell me I should step away soon, I can't bring myself to do anything but stare down at her. I want to categorically memorize every aspect of this version of my wife, and erase it from my memory completely.

I will forget the paste of her skin and the odd smell that has replaced the lavender that belongs to her. The uncharacteristic manicure of her nails, the eyeliner she never wore in life- all of it will be forgotten.

I will stare down at her and replace each lie with the truth.

The white dress she picked out herself. The bareness of her feet. The earrings her mother gave her when she was a little girl. The scar under her chin. These things are what makes this moment real. These are the things that mean I am burying my wife today.

So I will stand here, and I will forget and remember simultaneously.

Because if I stand here long enough, maybe I will overcome the urge to climb in with her.