What Matters
Spoilers: Generalized series seasons 1-11- a few quotes tossed in from 'On the Head of a Pin', 'Swan Song', and 'Do You Believe in Miracles', including previews for the finale next week. This is my imaginations take on the season finale. Character (possible?) death.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I couldn't conceive something as multidimensional as this show. They are solely the property of its creator and I'm just borrowing them for a few. I should also state that I have not wrote anything in almost ten years (fan fiction or my own fiction) and so I'm a little (read that as a lot) rusty. I also suffer from some pretty severe insomnia and may at this point be delirious and not making sense. Please send reviews. Maybe some Ambien. Right now it's a stand-alone, but I may add chapters.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean stood before Amara, hands down at his side, alone. Behind Amara was nothing. No light, no shapes, just nothing. It could be called darkness, for even Dean knew that dark is the absence of light, but still his mind could not rationalize what he saw, the absence of everything. Only a moment before Sam, Cas, Crowley, and Rowena, what had remained of their rag-tag army, had stood with Dean in the garden sanctuary that Amara had retreated to. There had been sunlight and flowers blooming, the air was crisp and cool and the fountain emitting soothing sounds of flowing water, and now, nothing. Everything had disappeared with the simple snap of her fingers.
"What have you done? Where is Sam?" He wanted to sound strong, but he knew he just sounded tired. Broken. Weak.
"They are gone." Dean's felt his heart quicken. Amara took a step toward Dean, and with her the nothingness inched closer.
"Bring them back. Bring Sam back," he pleaded. "Bring it all back."
She tilted her head slightly, a move eerily reminiscent of Castiel when puzzled. "You knew this would be the final outcome. Just you. Just me. Together as it was meant to be."
Dean felt his knees weaken. None of this was meant to be. Everything that had led up to this moment could be traced to the trials and tribulations of Sam and Dean. There were a thousand ways the world was supposed to end, but this was not one of them. In his mind he thought of all the what-ifs that could have prevented this moment.
What if they had never been born?
What if John Winchester had not sold his soul, paving the way for Dean to do the same to save Sam just a year later?
What if Dean had not been raised from hell and Sam had not broken the final seal, or if they had played their parts in the apocalypse? Or they had closed the gates of hell?
The multitude of ways the universe had been screwed because of their actions was overwhelming to Dean in that moment. The darkness crept closer, and with it that undeniably urge to allow it to embrace him.
"I can feel your thoughts, the regrets you have." A faint smile, perhaps the first real one Dean had ever seen, graced Amara lips. "They are horrible, and sad and filled with regret," Amara said raising her arms to what was left to the roof of the sanctuary. Through what remained of the glass, Dean watched the sky go from a vibrant blue to black. "Why do you still cling to this damaged pit of existence?"
Dean closed his eyes, trying to find the words to explain to Amara what she would never understand. That despite the pain, the fears, the agonies that life had provided him, it was the love, the light when one soul connected with another-even if only for a moment, that mattered and made every breathe worth it.
He saw:
His brother, small and innocent wrapped in the blanket from his crib, so small in his four-year old arms, as the fire raged behind his father, and remembered the fierce feeling of love and protectiveness he felt toward Sam.
He saw Sam asleep in the passenger seat of the Impala, a spoon dangling out of his mouth; the two of them singing horribly off key to Bon Jovi as Dean drove towards his date with hellhounds.
He saw Sam as he stood before the pit telling him "It's going to be okay"; the way Sam held him up as the blood poured down Dean's chest after his ill-fated attack on Metatron, the metallic smell of his blood and how the tears glistened in Sam's eyes as Dean told him "I'm proud of us".
He remembered the faces, the smiles, of his father and mother, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Kevin and Charlie, of so many people he had loved and lost that he couldn't quite remember their names as quickly as he remembered their sacrifices.
Dean remembered a simpler Castiel, one who still believed in destiny and had not been broken down by the weight of the saving the world, sitting beside Dean as he lay in a hospital bed saying "Our fate rests with you".
Dean opened his eyes, tears threatening to fall. Amara reached over and rested one hand on his shoulder. "These things, these memories, they won't haunt you anymore."
"I don't expect you to understand," Dean said. He didn't move from her touch. He needed her close. It wasn't wrong to avoid it anymore. It was necessary. "And I'm really sorry that you can't."
He could feel something, almost electric but yet vibrating, pulsing through his body. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but a warmth began to spread from the center of his chest. Dean pulled Amara into an embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. He could feel her body tense at the contact but she was unable to move. Dean thought of the bunker, the first home he had since his mother's death, and how just hours ago he had stood with Sam, Cas, Crowley, Rowena and what remained of Chuck, of God, as they discussed their final plan. He remembered Rowena stuffing what remained of God's essence deep into his body, and then marking his arms with the binding symbols, making Dean the only weapon that would destroy the darkness.
"What, what is this," Amara stammered. She couldn't move. He couldn't move. They stood, locked together as the warmth and light began to emerge from Dean. He watched as the light began to push back the darkness behind her, slowly at first, and then a rapid expansion of light and sound swept across the landscape, and suddenly Sam was there, as were the others, as if they had always been. Sam took a step forward, began to call Dean's name. Crowley and Cas held him back, their eyes betraying any sense of stoicism they tried to impart to Sam.
He felt himself being pulled toward something, he wasn't quite sure what, not even God had known. Dean looked toward his brother and smiled. The light within him shone brighter, if such a thing were possible. Amara let a terrified scream, and Dean felt the energy overtake her and begin to burst through every fiber of her being. Though mere feet away from each other the light had begun to dim his view of his brother. Dean knew it was almost over. He smiled at Sam.
"It's gonna be okay Sammy."
The light took over.
