Hey guys !
The end of My Bloody Valentine episode last week was so sad that I wanted to write this.
So I hope you'll enjoy !!
A/N: English is not my first language so a big thanks to Real Emma Gray, she's a great beta !!
And please, tell me what you think...
Hyperion13 ^ ^
Broken
Inside you're already dead...
It was true.
Dean didn't feel anything anymore, except anger and pain, tinged with guilt, which was deeper every day.
Drinking in front of the panic room, as if it could calm him down, he knew theses feelings would never go away. Sadly, he stared briefly at Castiel.
Dean help me please...
This was what he heard for minutes without any interruption. Over and over, his brother screamed his name but he stayed here, fixed, powerless.
He wished so hard that things turned out differently, that Sam came back to who he really was, the one who Dean was proud to call his little brother. But he had to bow to the evidence, nothing would ever be the same. Never.
He tried to massage his temples to soothe his headache. However, it didn't change anything, the pain was still here.
You're broken...empty... you're already dead...
The Horseman's word resonated again inside him as if he just heard them.
Dean help me please...
Even if listening to Sam's screams and cries was hard for him, he didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything.
He had to leave this place. He had to breath the fresh air, to feel his lungs work under his skin in his tired body. So, he came out and into the coolness of the evening, making his way toward his car.
He stopped there for a while before he stared at the sky and begged God or… someone to help him. When nothing happened, he let his body slide down along the Impala's door to the floor.
He was so alone.
All the people he had loved or had loved left him. No matter what, he knew it would always end up like that. He would be alone. He always was, he always would be. His mother left him, then his father left him, and now it's was Sam's turn to follow in their footsteps. It was just a matter of time before this became true.
It is so hard to keep living like that.
Since he came back from Hell, he had convinced himself that he could retake his life where he had left it, but he was wrong. He was lying to himself because Dean Winchester died the day the Hellhounds ripped his flesh from his body, the day he understood the real meaning of the word 'suffering'.
So why keep pretending everything's okay when it's not ?
Thinking of his little brother, who he had loved so much and still loved, he whispered prayers he'd never even said before. When he was done, in this lonely moment and full of sadness, he cried with all he had. It didn't matter if the angels saw him or the demons heard him, he had to do it. He needed to do it.
You're already dead...
He picked up the bottle he had thrown on the floor and drank it in down one gulp. Once drained, he pulled himself up and walked with weak legs to the trunk where he took out another two bottles of booze. Next, he sat back on the cold floor.
He stayed like that, unmoving, for a long time, totally worn out, and then he opened the first one. As if it was water, he drank it down quickly. After that, did the same with the second one.
His vision blurred. Little by little all his senses dulled further. After all he thought it was better like that because finally the pain seemed to disappear.
He stared again at the sky but this time, said nothing.
He closed his eyes when he felt himself slide into unconsciousness. However, hands shaking him brought him back. He didn't hear what this person was saying, but he thought for a second that he was screaming for help.
A few minutes later he felt that someone was moving him, so he tried to open his eyes but he couldn't cause his head bothered him so much. And this wasn't all due to the alcohol, but also the consequences of the last few hard weeks he had lived.
Maybe if he died he'd go back to Hell where demons could torture his soul again, he thought.
Suddenly, cold water was being splashed on his face, but he still refused to open his
eyes, so someone shook him again. In spite of everything, nothing could get him out of the unconscious state he was in now for minutes, until he heard the only word that had always had an extraordinary power on him: Sam. He didn't understand what people were saying, but it was enough to bring him back to the ones who called his name.
"Dean? Dean? That's it, open yours eyes son. Come on you're nearly there," said a voice he knew well.
Why did his eyelids weigh so much? He wondered.
"Dean, you have to wake up," added another voice he knew so damn well too.
His eyes flew open.
"Damn it Dean, you scared the crap out of us. How you felling?" asked the man he recognized as Bobby.
Why did he have to come back now? Why couldn't people leave him alone for once?
"Dean?" Castiel's voice came into the bunch. And he didn't know what he saw in him, but he looked really frightened at that time.
" Fuck off !" Dean whispered as he stood up.
But he overestimated his strength because within a second he fell back on the couch he was laying on minutes before. Closing his eyes again voices called him back... again.
Bobby and Castiel were worried for their friend because they had never seen him so desperate, so broken. And deep inside, in that place they didn't want to dwell to long on, they had the awful feeling that Dean didn't want to wake up. And now they were afraid of letting him close his eyes, again because if they did, they knew Dean won't give up the fight anymore.
"Dean stay with us...."
He blinked several times, looking at Bobby then Castiel before finally closed his eyes... and never open them again.
The end