Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Happy Birthday, Supernaturalmydreams. I knew what I wanted to write since I got the prompt, but the idea wasn't do-able in 100 words. It's 222. *hangs head in shame* Sometimes, the devil's in the details. *winks* Please let me know what you think!
Catalyst
Dean's eyes opened, powered their own volition, not his. He lay like a coward, trying to summon the will to plant his feet on the floor, begin another day. It was too much, waking up from shredding screams and slicing blades to the nightmare of reality—approaching Apocalypse and grief-hardened Sam.
The fiery guilt that flared whenever he looked at Sam was the catalyst to keep going.
Adrenaline thudded through heart and veins, but he didn't feel alive. He felt like he had in the pit, hollowed out, stuffed with a hatred so vile that it vaporized his spirit. He could never repent, never redeem.
Some died, but there were more. Bodies piled up, blood soaked the floor. Delirious, Dean saw hell, felt its flame. A vibrating crawl slithered up his back, into his chest. It grew, stretching tentacles of icy panic through him like an electric current. He wheezed, choked for breath he didn't deserve.
Sam unbuttoned his shirt and coaxed, "breathe, Dean. Please. Take a breath."
But he couldn't. He clawed at his chest, then at Sam. Sam was warm and capable. Miraculously, he breathed.
He clung, curling around his brother like the kid he'd never been. Sam let him, backing them out, never letting his gun arm drop.
Dean broke that night, but Sam determinedly pieced him back together.