Broken Hallelujah

"He made broken look beautiful, and strong look invincible.

He walked with the universe on his shoulders, and made it

look like a pair of wings."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPSNSPNSPNSPNSSPNSPN

Everything changed, everyone was different now, including himself. Two days had passed since he was back at the driver seat of his own mind and body, two days since he was Dean again. Every 'adventure' had a start, and this one was his beginning...

The bunker used to be a quiet place to live, a place that he got to, finally, call home. Dean remembered the good old days, when he and Sam would live alone, making breakfast in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

Those memories were the ones he lived by these days, dreaming awake without other strange, but familiar people at the same time, glancing him at the slightlest move he made, their bodies tense and alert, flinching to his presence. He certainly did not miss these new people eating all their food, or claiming rooms, sometimes locking themselves in the five available bathrooms for hours, which created constant fights between them.

Jack was powerless, trying to learn how to fight like a full human, as his grace recharged. Lucifer was dead, but Nick, his vessel, was still alive and sitting in a bed in the middle of their dungeon, traumatized, barely speaking or eating. Sam was the one that took care of him the most, or so he had seen in the few times he had walked out of his room. Apparently, Nick would only open up to Sam. Maybe it was a thing they shared because both had been used by Lucifer. Maybe because they had both been abused by him, suffering, feeling guilty for the damage they caused. Needless to say, he knew now how that felt.

These other dimension survivors would even read books and forget to put them back where they belonged, which would have made Sam go crazy. When it came to organize books or those kind of OCD stuff, Sam was the first one to take control over everything he could manage. His little brother would have bitched about it to him,making him smile, but now, Sam would not care about it, making him be the obsessive one. Just freaking great...

He would have saved all those people again if he had to, but he really missed something he lacked off... and damn, that thing, or that who, better said, was his brother. Yeah, he missed the tall and smily little brother. That same man was now different, wearing a poker face all the time, being unreachable, if were honest to himself.

He had been in Sam's shoes before, seeing his little brother be possessed by Lucifer, failing at taking control of his own self. By that time, he could not know if Sam was still there, or if he had become just a ghost of the man he was, feeling his soul vanishing in the thin air sorrounding him, as if he had never existed before being possessed, as if he had never had a will to begin with. Maybe he had felt that same anger and fear running through his veins, trying to find his way home through the darkness. At least he felt that way.

The wound was still too fresh, and everything, even the smaller detail out of place, would trigger him. What he had been through was something... difficult to explain, and luckily, no one dared to ask him about what he had done or felt because of it. He barely talked, or made eye contact with other people, so they could not see how broken he actually was. The invisible blood of innocent people covered his hands, his whole damned body actually, but no one could see that. There was one person that could,one person that could read him as an open book, even if it were closed, but...

STOP IT, Dean told to himself.

Sam tried to get close once, but his dry response pushed him away, again. And now, he was alone, feeling sick by those pity looks on his loved ones faces, trying to patch him up, when he was bleeding out, dying in a very slow and painful way. He supposed that Sam was just giving him some time to recover. That was what he did too when Sam was having hallucinations. They could not talk about hell, because Sam didn't want to hear the pep talk about that everything was gonna be okay, so he just focused on fixing his beloved car till Sam opened up and told him he was not okay. His sibling would have to knock his room's door one day, freshly shaved, for God's sake, and in a silent way, sit down right next to him, waiting for Dean to talk first. He called that the 'Old Winchester Cure All Method'. It was mater of time before Sam would go back to his normal self, right? Would he be fine, too? Dean had to had hope, however, it was a difficult thing to retain when he was falling apart.

Saying yes to Michael had been the right desicion, but now knew that the consequences were even worse than the ones he had anticipated. Michael was determined to make this new world a better place, under his own point of view, of course. He was still out there, probably using another man's vessel, deciding who got to live or die, giving the monsters a free ride to be scary predators, protecting them under his big black wings.

Michael's thoughts invaded his head; they took his anger and frustration and turned it into something else. He twisted it, twisted his soul, shaping it as if his life were made out of fucking mud. He was not just a vessel. He was more than that, right? He had to believe that. Even if it sounded far from the truth that his broken self murmured to him in the long nights after he came back home.

Dean's voice was muted most of the time during his time as Michael, however, his eyes could still see everything. It was almost funny in a ironic way, since he loved the old black and white movies, where he got to analyze the characters intentions, wishes, plans and motivations. When he did that, he got to get some sort of fake sense of control over what sorroundings, studying every single move, trying to anticipate their actions before it happened. He'd never told that to Sam. It was pretty nerdy, and his pride was not ready to be ashamed by his intelectual, book eater, brother. There was no way he was gonna, ever, tell Sam anything about that. If it stole one smile from him though... Maybe he could try it some other day. He had to think about it, but later, when he were about to sleep. In that moment he would not be trying to pretend that he was living the life he wanted to live, he would not be trying to fake anything.

A loud noise interrupted his track of thoughts, sending him back to reality, back to his present. Dean registered and analyzed where the noise came from, making him unlock his room's door for the second time in the day, quickly running towards the kitchen, where, moments later, saw that Maggie was picking the pieces of broken plates, her body showing signs of being nervous and probably still shocked by what had happened to her. Poor girl, she had been brought back to life and been thrown into a new world where she could barely understand how people lived by pathetic rules and a president that sucked.

"I'm sorry-I didn't mean to- I just slipped" Maggie apologized to the people that were around her, finishing that night's meal.

"Maggie, there's nothing to be sorry for. They're just some broken plates. Don't worry about that" said Mary, smiling at her, trying to calm her down.

She smiled back at her, but when she looked down, desperation invaded her sense of control again. Her smile disappeared. She was not okay. No one was.

They weren't "just some broken plates". It was something that went wrong, something that people could have avoided, but no one cared enough to see it coming. Not even himself... Actions and consequences were a bitch. He and his family were the living proof of that.

Dean walked away from the kitchen, heading towards the only place he felt peace. His room.

While walking towards it, stopped in front of the library. Sam was sitting in front of one of the tables with some men, including Bobby and Castiel, but he was too focused on his laptop to hear what they were talking about. It looked like he had not slept in a very long time, his facial hair was still there, and stress was eating him alive. Dean didn't need to guess what he was looking for. He was looking for signs of Michael, or some hunt that he could be a part of to distact himself from the fact that his stupid big brother had screwed up everything, again. Dean felt guilty as hell. Sam didn't deserve this. He was just trying to protect his younger sibling, but he ended up hurting him in ways he could not even imagine. What a great job he was doing by taking care of Sammy.

Giving up his will to get near someone, at least to be updated on what was happening, decided to walk away. In the morning, he would not see his brother leave with some men to hunt a couple of werewolfes that were killing people in Texas, not showing up for two entire days. Again, it would be too late to protect his brother from the evil things out there. Was he evil? Did he have to protect Sam from himself as well?

Dean did not want to think about that just yet. One day, he would have to face what had happened, however that night, he chose to try to sleep and sink his problems away for a couple of hours, only to have another nightmare that did not let him sleep until six in the morning. He was so screwed...

Author's Note: Hey guys! This is gonna be a two-shot fiction. If you want me to keep on writing it, please leave a review :) Reviews are love! Hope you like this fic and enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! See ya soon!

KW.-