It was over.
Finally.
The whole Metatron/Mark of Cain/Angel falling and all that shit. It was finally over. Metatron was dead, thanks to the Mark. The Angels were back in Heaven, thanks to Sam. The Mark of Cain gone, thanks to...
Dean sighed.
Well it´s not like the world was at peace now, right?
No way in hell, there´s always going to be something evil to gank.
But now...at this very moment...he couldn´t care less.
Dean raised his head to see Sam talking to the doctor. No doubt about how they should be happy they avoided the worst. They should be happy by the outcome.
Happy?
Dean clenched his fists. How could he be happy? Of course, he was thrilled to be free from the Mark, but the price... No he couldn´t be happy, until he set things right. Until he has found some way to redeem himself. To make things right again.
Sam glanced at him. Then nodded to the doctor as a thank you and walked to his brother calmly.
"They said we´re lucky. They said it´s not as bad as we thought." Sam said. Dean raised his head to look at his brother. Sam looked tired. No doubt from all the fighting that had happened the last 24 hours.
Dean frowned.
Oh, like he looked any better than Sam. More likely, he looked worse.
"Lucky?" Dean questioned
Sam sighed frowning his face.
"Lucky, that we pretty much walked out of there without a scratch, and he...!" Dean swallowed a lump that gathered in his throat.
Sam´s eyes filled with unshed tears.
Big Baby, thought Dean.
"I know." Sam said. "You can go in now. I´ll wait."
Dean waisted no time rushing down the corridors. When he reached to the door number 401, he halted his hand at the handle of the door.
His hand shook.
Could he really go in there and pretend that everything was alright?
It wasn´t his fault, not his decision.
"Yeah keep telling yourself that.." Dean whispered and took a deep breath and opened the door.
The room was quiet. All tha was heard was Dean´s deep breathing. He carefully sat down on to the stool next to the bed and cast his eyes on to the floor.
"Look...I´m sorry..." He said. "I´m so freaking sorry that this happened. It´s not fair and I know you don´t blame me, though you should, but still I..."
Dean sniffed. He didn´t even realize he was crying.
"I promise to make this alright again, okay? I promise to make things right."
No answer was heard.
Dean knew why. He really was to blame. He was the one with the Mark. He was the one who killed all those people. He was the one who deserved to be saved.
Dean continued to cry softly until he felt a hand on his cheek.
A hand that slowly made its way to his eyes, to his nose, to his lips. It lingered there for a while.
It then slide its way to Deans neck and to his left shoulder. It gently pushed under Deans jacket and Henley shirt.
It guided it´s way to the hand print scar and stopped.
Dean gazed at the arm that the hand was attached to. He didn´t dare to look past the shoulder.
"I´m sorry..." He whispered once more and raised his eyes to face the white, sightless, once clear blue and beautiful eyes on a face that smiled.
"Hello Dean."