I'm so, so, so sorry. Come at me with pitchforks, torches, I deserve it. My personal life has just been so hectic. But I never forgot about this. Now you've got me for seven weeks. Forgive me for the shortness, but you'll get the first proper chapter soon!
Stupidity, that's what it was. Stupidity. An infatuated nineteen year old, and an ignorant twenty three year old. We were a bad match from the start.
I hadn't cared back then, and I certainly didn't care now.
If I regret anything, it would be how long we felt the guilt for.
Through John's disappearance, Azazel's games, the demon deal, the fallout from Hell, Alistair's obsession, the seals, the impending Apocalypse, I was there. I watched as he fell apart, and waited until I could glue him back together again.
Call us stubborn. Call us hard headed. But we didn't give up, not even when the odds were stacked against us.
And now, as Armageddon approaches, and I can feel death's icy fingers closing around my throat, I still can't find it in me to want to change it for anything.
He's looking my way. He's mouthing something, or maybe he's saying it, but I can't hear the words. He's shouting, at Sam, at the monster wearing him. Maybe I'm too oxygen deprived, or maybe the blood in my eyes is blurring my vision, but I think I can see some movement behind him.
The backup plan.
As the blackness that pricked the back of my eyes finally offers me an escape, the last thing I see is wide green eyes and a flash of silver.
Then I see nothing at all.
Dean Winchester, I love you.