Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Dean felt only pain. The agony of being dragged kicking and screaming back to a fiery pit. The anguish of failing those who needed him most. The sting of leaving behind his little brother to a dark, shadowy world he had to fend off alone. The ache of all the innocent lives he wouldn't be there to save. All he felt was gut wrenching, heart shattering, chest constricting pain.
But he was okay with that, because that was better than not feeling anything at all. The deep burn that laced through his veins and strangled his oxygen deprived lungs was far better than feeling only cold and numb. Once you're numb you are lost, once he was numb he had nothing to remind him he was alive. Once his eyes no longer wept for the victims and his heart could no longer be broken, he wasn't living. A body may be walking with its lips wrapping around countless words and its brain running through pieces of data but to be alive and to live are different things. Dean knew that everybody dies, some too soon…but not everybody lives. He didn't want to become numb or cold. He didn't want his heart to seize up and sputter its last beats. It wasn't just for himself that he took tight hold of the agony sprouting through him, but for everyone he would leave behind.
All the people that might survive in the future if only he had held on and fought away the cold with that fiery burn that burnt at his core. He held firm for his little brother Sammy that wept above him and used precious breathe to beg life into his older siblings body. His mind spiked in agony as tears fell across his cheeks, not from his own ducts, but from an already mourning observer. He wanted to scream that he wasn't giving up that he was still there but no air filled his mouth and only his mind could process the words before becoming dark. Like the fiery pain was slowly simmering, only causing a foggy smoke more than light. As he began to picture a camping fire he could only conceive 'I hate camping' before he realized what was happening. No his life was not going to pass before his unseeing eyes because he could still feel. All that sorrow which could not leak out and the joy which could not be expressed. Every hope and wish that he needed to present for those cowering over his unresponsive body.
Maybe his life flashing across his vision would not be so bad after all; it would be a short presentation at least. Now all that the cells of his over worked and worn down brain could muster where a few little pictures, A lovely woman with golden curls who used to sing the most heavenly tune as he struggled to seal his most curios green eyes. A little bundle wrapped in a blanket which cooed and fit so perfectly in tiny arms as the bundle was pulled from the heat and chaos. The idea that was etched in his mind to keep Sammy safe at a moment like this should be absurd…but it wasn't. An image of Sam, an older Sam, as he climbed out of the impala and got on a bus to Stanford, as he left them behind. The moment when he got Sam back, but a different Sam, a heart broken Sam. The moment when Sam began to laugh again, when they became brothers again.
That was exactly why he lay on this upturned forest floor with pools of crimson rapidly spilling around him. That was why he had jumped in front of the club like paw, with its daggers creeping through the mangy fur, and taken the heat of the blow. Straight through the flesh, muscle, ribs, and lungs. He lay drowning in his own blood, clutching to the pain, because they were brothers again and he couldn't leave that behind. Whether that was good or bad he didn't quite know. Now that Dean thought about it he didn't feel much anymore at all. Maybe being numb here, at the end, wasn't so bad because he could think. The last of his mind was clear to think about everyone that he had helped. His life may not have been long but it had certainly been full. There were a lot of people waiting for him on the other side, maybe he would see them on his way down. The golden curled woman was back and holding him, he could hear the same beautiful tune wafting over him and easing him into darkness.
"Mom…" The voice was so fragile it couldn't have come from his set and stubble covered jaw, it came from a lost little boy.
"It's okay baby." The musical voice twinkled again, "You can let go."
"This is different from last time." The little boy inquired, slipping his tiny hand into her larger one.
"This is heaven sweetheart." She answered back with crinkled blue eyes and a loving expression.
"Will I see dad and jo…?"
"If you want to, I know they want to see you."
"I can't leave Sammy Mom."
"Yes you can, baby. Your job is done." She answered, kneeling down to look her baby boy in the eyes. "You don't have to hurt anymore."
"My job is never done…" As the words slipped away from his full lips he let the pain flood back in and fill every crevice of his tortured body. The beautiful woman's face morphed until he could see a hovering face which cleared and defined into his Sammy's face, "I'm here Sammy. I'm not done yet."