Dean Winchester liked the rain.
He liked the way any sort of light seemed to dance upon the wet streets, turning the usually plain and dark roads, into bright and colorful ones.
He liked the smell it created. Sort of a misty, earth-y kind of mixture. His nose always welcomed it graciously. It reminded him of home for some reason. He took deeper breaths on rainy days.
He liked the way rain rolled down windows and created some type of weird abstract art upon them.
He liked the way rain brought back unwanted memories. As if the rain knew that deep down you wanted to re visit them.
He remembers sitting in the back of the Impala once, he was around 8, with a sleeping Sam leaned up against his side. His Dad was leaning against the window in the drivers seat, also fast asleep. They hadn't been able to find a motel to crash in, due to the heavy downpour, so the Impala substituted as their shelter for the moment, as it had many times before. But Dean didn't mind. He enjoyed being inside the car. He felt safe. He felt at home.
He remembers leaning his head against the cold window, shifting carefully as to not disrupt his little brother's sleep, and letting thoughts of his mom flood his mind.
He never talked about his mom but he thought of her often. He remembered her smile. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed. He remembered her hugs. How tightly they enclosed him, as if she were afraid of losing him. He remember how her lips would twitch up into a beautiful grin as she told him she loved him. He remembered hearing her cry quietly at night, while his dad was away, and how he consoled her until she was laughing and smiling again.
Thunder suddenly clapped, as if the sky were trying to awaken him from his memories, but it only reminded him more of his mother.
The way she would cradle him against her chest and stroke his hair as she whispered soothing words to him.
"It's okay, love. I'm here. Thunder won't hurt you. I promise."
She would then proceed to sing 'Hey Jude' until he fell into a deep, content sleep. He felt safe lying there in his mother's arms as rain continued to pour.
Thunder clapped again and this time it woke a startled Sam up, finally taking Dean away from his memories. Sam
looked around the car terrified, unsure at first of his surroundings, and whimpered as thunder clapped again.
Dean pulled his younger brother closer to his side and soothed him the way his mom used to do to him.
"It's okay, Sammy." he whispered. "I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you."
He remembered Sam hugging him close, as tight as his mom used to, and falling asleep a few minutes later.
Dean enjoyed the way rain would hit the pavement and jump off of it. He liked the puddles it left behind.
He enjoyed stepping into them and creating a splash big enough to soak the bottom of Sam's pants. He would always chuckle as Sam rolled his eyes annoyingly and called him childish, a hint of a smile on his face.
He liked the way rain brought distraction.
He remembers all the times John left them in crappy motels for days at a time. Sometimes even weeks.
And he remembers staring out the window, waiting patiently for his Dad to return, as Sammy slept.
He liked watching droplets race each other to the bottom of the window, and smirked as his droplet won.
As childish as it was, it kept him calm as he awaited night after night for John to return safely.
So now, as he stared out the window of the crappy little house he was situated in, Dean waited as he watched droplets roll down the window.
Thunder clapped but he continued to wait.
He waited for his brother to return.
Thunder illuminated the dark sky.
And waited.
Rain started falling harder. The wind was howling.
And waited.
His droplet won the race, but he didn't smile.
He knew his little brother would never be returning, but Dean still stood by the window.
He had let his brother down. Of course he wasn't coming back.
But Dean continued to wait. As if waiting by some window in a crappy, tattered house would bring his little brother back.
He liked the way the sky seemed to mirror his pain. As if it, too, were mourning the death of a younger brother.
Thunder clapped again.
It was like the sky was screaming for the sun. It wanted to see the sun again, but it seemed like it was never going to appear again.
The sky continued to scream for the sun. It screamed for what felt like hours, but the sun still didn't emerge. Had the sun died as well?
It sure felt like it.
But the sky continued to weep, and for a brief moment Dean began to grieve for the sun as well.
He was all alone, but he continued to wait. Happy, somewhat, that the rain was there to keep him company, and most importantly, distracted. Happy that something else felt his pain. Happy that something was expressing his pain.
He was alone, but at the same time he wasn't.
Dean Winchester liked the rain.