-Dedicated to Elsa-
Disclaimer:
About the show: I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters or content; the WB/CW does (in case you didn't know that). I'm just like everyone else, doing something I love with a show I love.
About the story: I always have anxiety about posting on this site, so here is a side note. If you hate it, I get it. No need to tell me repeatedly, or get mad about it. Just walk away, and I'll quit while I'm ahead. But this is something I've put a lot of work into, and I guess I'm fishing here to see if anyone else could enjoy it. I've never written narration-style before, so it's been tough. I've also never been fond of straying from the shows I write about, and though I feel I've stayed true to the characters, I know the story itself is not something I'm used to writing. But, if you like it, let me know and I'll keep it coming.
So this really sucks.
For the first time, in a long time, I was happy. Perfectly content with where I was in life, you know? And, yeah, I know that a lot of people say that one day, and then the next they find themselves trapped back in the same hell hole they started off in. But this was different. This was the real deal.
Pure happiness. And you know how I know that? Well, I just do.
You see, 'happiness' almost never happens for me—or my brother, for that matter. We're two peas in a pod of misfortune, and at a very young age, we were convinced that a 'happily ever after' just wasn't in our deck of cards… Not that we believe in all that Cinderella crap, or anything.
But like I said, this was different. See, there were these two girls—sisters, actually. I know that either sounds either really great or really wrong, depending on your style, but it really wasn't either of the two. It was, like I said, happiness.
We were past all that teenage fantasy stuff, once and for all. I had my girl, Sammy had his, and it was really that simple.
So what happened? That's what you're wondering, right? What happened to screw it all up? Who tasted the forbidden fruit and fell from grace? Who… well, I'm out of metaphors. Anyway, I wish I could point the finger—play the blame game—but I can't.
It was me.
I messed up. I can admit that, but, honestly, it's not 'entirely' my fault. Unfortunately, if I told you the truth, though, you'd just laugh. You'd look at me like I had fifteen heads and walk the other way. You wouldn't believe me, if I tried.
Still, why should that stop my story? I really don't care if people think I'm crazy. For all I know, maybe I am. But as far as I'm concerned, I lost my one chance at happiness, so you might as well too. You might as well know the truth, even if it's crazy like me.
It all started a little over a year ago. My brother developed some super powers… (See? I told you, you wouldn't believe me.) But anyway, we were workin' this one case, and out of the blue he was psychic—or something like that.
At that point, and even long after, we hadn't figured out the full extent of his abilities. Given our family history, however, it made sense that he had'em. Pretty much anyone we'd ever cared about died. And not just 'rolled over and died,' or 'accidentally' died, they were murdered. Not by people, but things.
Our mother, father, girlfriends, family friends, friends' friends—hell, even the people who bought our old house came close to the afterlife, but even with all the misery, we managed to get by. It was hard not to, really. After a while, I think you just plain get used to it. I know I did, and, like my father, I dedicated my life to fighting the freaky and unnatural.
Sam, though? It was different for him. See, he was just a baby when our mom was killed. I was much older, so I got it. I understood why dad was always gone. Why he was always out "hunting." Why we were always on the road, never had a home, or the normal, apple-pie life we used to have.
Dad's vengeance and his quest to find mom's killer rubbed off on me, and viola—instant me. Dean Winchester. Hunting became my life, but, like I said, it was different for my brother. The poor kid never knew what being normal was all about. He wasn't like me, and he didn't have my memories to fall back on. He never knew mom or the life we lived before her death. He never knew our house, our neighborhood, the dinners, holiday decorations, the parks, or the play dates.
The more I think about it, now, the more it makes sense. Dad and I both knew 'normal', and while we were fighting evil in hopes of reclaiming it, Sam was fighting just to figure out what it was. That's why he left.
If you're wondering what changed his mind, well, then I would be your answer. But, that's a story for another time.
This one's for the girls.
