Disclaimer: I don't own
You close your eyes and you allow your mind to wander – there's nothing else to do now that it's over. You can feel you blood, your guts, your life spilling out onto the floor and you can't help but think 'what a waste'. How is it that your life, which was once the turning point of the world, can end so meaninglessly? Surely you should go out with a bang, surely you've earned that right by now? Then again, perhaps not.
Silly as it seems, you're kind of scared. You know you shouldn't be – not after the number of times you've died, but … it sort of seems final this time. No God to save your ass and no Cas to bring you back.
You can't help but think, now, when there's simply too much time and all you can do is think, about what life would've been like. Not just life, but life. There's so much you haven't done yet. You've lived, but you haven't lived – not even close. And now you're going to die. And not just 'die' either, but die.
The finality of it all stings, so you try to forget, and then you try to remember. Just one last time. So that the last memory you have on Earth can be a good one to go out on. You remember – just one of those times. In one of the endless dingy motel rooms, thick with the scent of diner food and somebody else's sweat. You've just got back from a hunt – just your standard salt-and-burn or something of the like. Something comforting, something safe. It's just you and Sammy, and then it's you, Sam and Cas. You talked – you don't remember what you said. Probably something about the end of the world, but you can't be sure. And then, something is said.
You don't remember which of you said it, but you like to think it was you. So, you say something, and they smile. Both of them, in unison. They both reluctantly let the corners of their mouths be dragged up and their teeth flash. You see those sugar-sweet dimples make an almost apologetic appearance on Sammy's face, and you see Cas' blueblue eyes sparkle with mirth. Just for a second. And then it's gone, they're gone.
And you're alone again. Alone and dying. And you know you should be cold – dying's always cold – but you're not. The warmth of the memory heats you from inside, and you're sure that if someone were to see you now, if you could see yourself now, you'd be glowing.
Just in case it wasn't clear, this is from Deans POV, and he's dying (I'm not quite sure why, but I wanted a sense of finality) … and it's set some time in season 6.
thoughts?
xx