His eyes are no longer shining.
No, they're dark and unmoving, staring at nothing. He's still, chest no longer rising, his pale skin a stark contrast to the crimson splattered across his face. His jaw is slack, expression peaceful, but the memory of it twisted in surprised fear and betrayal is still fresh.
I fall to my knees beside him, ignoring the blood pooled around his body as it soaks into my pants and coat, and let out a choked sob. I feel the weight of what has happened here crash down upon me like an avalanche, my breathing becoming more ragged and uneven by the second.
Leaning forwards, I reach for the hilt of the blade still embedded in his chest, and pull it up with a sharp jerk. The lack of response hurts me more than the noise of metal being torn from tortured flesh. I toss the sword carelessly aside, and place my hands firmly over his wound, and pray. I pray, and hope. I scream. I beg. Not to my Father though.
No, I pray to him.
Dean.
Because I remember it all now. I remember my despair and resignation after telling him to go while I stayed behind in Purgatory. I remember the loneliness, the fear, and the guilt I felt in the months following, only assuaged by my knowledge that Dean was safely back on Earth. I remember my fear and confusion as I was pulled unwillingly out. I remember being strapped to a chair by Naomi and controlled. I remember lying to my friends. I remember being forced to kill.
I remember thrusting my sword through Dean's chest.
I shudder, my breath hitching again as I recall. Blood burbled from his lips as I walked past him and retrieved the tablet we had come for. He called my name, but I didn't answer him. Nor did I turn back. I grasped the ancient stone, and then I left him there, alone and dying, while I was summoned back to Naomi's side.
She congratulated me for completing the mission, but now, with the full knowledge of what I had been forced to do against my will, I snapped. The ensuring battle was fierce, but ultimately short lived as I was overpowered. I can still feel the fresh scars seared into my Grace. It's no less than what I deserve.
By the time I was released, it was far too late.
I cannot say why I remember everything now. Whether it is a side effect of handling the tablet, or by some other means, it matters little. I do know it is not by the will of my controller.
Either way, I'm determined to set things right.
I press my hands down more securely on Dean's chest, and reach out with my Grace, searching desperately for a spark - some remnant of Dean's soul which once shone so brightly. Minutes tick by, as my whole being focuses on this one task. But it's taking too long. Doubt begins to cloud my mind, and I begin to despair.
With a small pulse and a glimmer of recognition, I find him.
It's with no small amount of desperation and relief that I latch onto that feeling and begin to pour my energies into healing his body, and restoring him to life.
I know that what I have done is inexcusable. I have much to answer for. However, if I can absolve my sins here, then maybe I can further atone for the other countless wrongs that I have committed.
It is all that I can do.