"Dean."
He whirled around. "Shit."
Still in my trench, tie, slacks, clothing untouched. Blood and soot stained from inside, tomato and charcoal on my clean white shirt. One arm I hold up, the fingers curled unnaturally, unmoving, and blackened.
"Dean." My voice is chalky, cracked. A whisper of the pain I feel. My mouth doesn't completely close between words; my lips were almost all burnt away. My eyes open (a miracle) but can I barely see. My vision fogs slowly around the edges. "Dean."
"I'm here Cas." Couldn't bring himself to touch my cooked and cracked flesh. Where it hadn't been scorched dry, it oozed. Pink and wrinkled and raw. A perfect reflection of my grace; where fire had burnt my vessel, damnation had scorched my soul.
I try to stretch out my hand; between the blackened claws, skin shriveled and stuck to bone, I have something to return to him.
"Find.. fi..." my body quaked. My hands shook. I could hear the skin break, like peeling off bark from a tree. He could hear it, too. He was the only reason I don't let go.
He put his hand up, unsure. I imagine his own fingers brushing against my burnt ones, brittle bones snapping, leaving a stub. He might be thinking the same thing.
My hand shakes again. The pain, only easing in one place when another hurts more, blurs my thoughts.
The object fell to the dying grass below. A metal charm on black string. Bits of blistered skin stuck to it.
"Find..." I didn't have time. If he could do one thing for me... The skin on my neck, crispy and flaking, shifted as my jaw worked silently. "Find... my Father." Please, I cannot say out loud. Finish my search.
Dean slides the familiar amulet into his pocket, looks up at the sky. His eyes are cold.
It feels like eternity, those ten seconds. My vision leaves me, but I can hear. I will him to speak, and quickly.
Somber and deep, his voice is coming to me from a great distance... I am fading. His are the last words... I will hear...
"No. Sorry, Cas. I've been dragged through that Hell too many times. It's time to move on."
-.-.-
Title, from 'Set Fire to the Third Bar' by Snow Patrol.
(Please look up that beautiful song if you haven't heard it.)
#77 Abandoned
