dean could only look at the ground in front of him. he didn't know what to say. he could feel the familiar choke rise to his throat, the few breathless, dry moments he knew all too well. the ground was covered in black; black what, dean did not know. scorched feathers still lingered in the air. they slowly floated down from their high, holy heaven to the cold, lifeless, sinful earth. death was all around dean, but not in death's usual bony form. death had taken on a new form, and it terrified him more than anything ever had.
"why," was all he could mutter. he didn't hear himself say it, he couldn't feel his lips move. in an instant it came out, all inhibitions towards the punishing retaliation lost. he just wanted to know why, even though the only answer he wanted wasn't true nor righteous.
"he did wrong by me, dean."
the voice made dean cringe. at one point, the voice he had just heard seemed so different, so comforting, so beautifully trustworthy and good. but its tone had since changed. the growl that once seemed like a father's stern, loving word now came out like a punishing threat. any semblance of "love" that had been attempted to be put into it seemed like a pathetic attempt.
god's love was always promised, but never given.
dean didn't expect him to come. he didn't want him to come. he knew that this was his doing, that this was his way of saying, "fuck you" to all of his former oppressors. the logic behind it, however, was never clear to dean.
"you still don't understand, do you?"
the tone of his voice became smug. he could do that now, you see, because he was entitled to it. he was better than us all, bigger than us all. dean still couldn't envision it, his former friend, his former brother, sitting atop a hallowed throne with all of the golden kingdom at his every beck and call.
behind him stood god, a holier-than-thou smirk played across his lips. the lips that once spoke of righteousness and what was good for man, but now only twisted words to make them his own.
he was god, and dean was just a man.
"this is how it's supposed to be, dean. you'll see one day."
dean couldn't feel anything. for once in his entire life, he couldn't feel. he had always thought that he was able to block away pain, numb it out, but he never really was. but now, in this dim and barren parking lot somewhere in new mexico, dean couldn't feel. and he cried, a childlike cry, a cry that he tried to cover with his hand over his mouth. he didn't understand what was going on. there was nothing for him to do, no way for him to fix it.
"dean," the voice beckoned. "don't make me ask again."
god moved closer to dean. he placed his hand on dean's shoulder. it felt like a knife to his back, and dean winced.
"this is no longer your earth, dean."
he couldn't leave sam. not like this, not now. dean looked to the sky, jaw clenched, face soaked with tears, looking for an answer that didn't have to come from the man behind him. for the first time he prayed, he prayed to the god that had long since disappeared, he prayed that the man behind him would never speak to him or look at him again, he prayed that his brother would just be happy and that the earth would retain it's happiness, just like dean had hoped for.
but it just could't be.
"it's time to go, dean."