Dean had always appreciated the taste of whiskey.
It was like warmth on a cold night.
As yet another sharp pulse of pain set his nerves on fire, trembling fingers scrambled for the half-finished bottle of whiskey at his side, seeking the promise of oblivion.
Deep down, however, Dean knew that whiskey would not help. Not this time, not tonight.
Dean hunched up as yet another wave of pain wracked his body. His fingers fell from the bottle and he knocked the drink away, sending it flying.
Dean watched as the cheap motel carpet soaked up the whiskey, the amber liquid making its way through the fibers like the poison currently swimming through his veins.
It was supposed to be an easy hunt—something to take his mind off Sammy and Kevin and everything he had fucked up so far.
But given his record, Dean supposed he couldn't help but mess that up as well.
He had found the creature troubling the nameless town he'd ended up in after leaving Cas and Sam swiftly enough and ganked it too—but not before getting hit by a lethal set of claws.
A few hours later found Dean sitting alone in a motel room, almost outright spasming as his body began to shut down.
Dean curled tighter in on himself in an effort to remain still for just a moment-or at least warm up a little. Everything felt like ice.
At this rate, Dean knew that it wouldn't be the fever or the possibility of bleeding to death because stitches weren't enough to put him back together again that would get him, but the poison.
How fitting.
All his life, he'd been poison, leaving a trail of dead bodies wherever he went. Naturally, there would be bodies—he hunted things for a living after all-but that didn't mean that there weren't some good people who'd died just because he hadn't been good enough.
And now, dying like this, it was like finally being able to apologize to everyone he had failed—or would fail—to protect.
Dean thoughts wandered to Sammy and Cas.
Dean couldn't fix all the wrongs he'd done by them, but the least he could do was give them the fighting chance- against Heaven, against Hell, against all those sons of bitches out there-that they never really had with him.
Maybe, just this once, he could keep a promise, do it right.
"… I can't - I won't... Drag anybody through the muck with me. Not anymore."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the general crappiness, but just some thoughts while I try to hide from calc homework.