Hi there! This is my first time here, AND my first story, so I'm kind of excited! Please be indulgent for any errors in english, because I'm not a native. Hope you'll like it, and I'm waiting for your reviews! It is not very long but...I felt like nothing more was needed! One last thing : there are NO SHIPS there.
Disclaimer: the characters are not mine (and I regret it!) They are Eric Kripke's and Supernatural's.
Dean opened the door and left the motel bar, a bottle in each hand. He was completely drunk, but nothing could stop him tonight, and he was ready to imbibe two more of his favourite beer. Dean slowly found his way to his room, stumbling again and again, but as soon as he had arrived there, he put the bottles down on the old wooden desk and collapsed on the bed, his hands wrapped around his head, his tears flowing like a river.
Drinking would not help him forgive. No matter how much alcohol, the same scenes would always haunt him, and he knew that. And that was too much. He held back those tears for too long, now he had to let them go in memory of all those he had lost while hunting. Now nobody was left to be fooled by his "tough-as-nails-boy" comedy. Now he could let everything go...
His father first had given his life to save Dean, and the boy always felt redeemable for that. That sacrifice was something he never really understood and it created so much weight on his shoulders he sometimes wanted to end...everything.
But there was Sam. His Sammy, his little brother he couldn't drop like crap behind him, the one member of his family that was left. Moreover he promised his father he would protect and take care of him each damn day God gave them. But Dean failed. He would never forgive himself for THIS failure. How could he? Because of him, his beloved brother died! Sam always trusted Dean so much and followed him like a good puppy, or anyway that was how it always looked to Dean, and because he took advantage of this situation, he made Sam do that last one stupid and deadly game. That wasn't even a game, or maybe just a hunter's game, but at the moment it felt like one. The aim was simple : track down the werewolf around the city and shot him dead with a silver bullet. However, the simple routine turned out to be a tremendous trap they had falled in. The werewolf they were tracking was just bate for big fish, and Sam was taken into that net. When Dean had realized what was going on, it was already too late : the entire pack had ripped Sammy to pieces and had time to flee before he arrived. All that was left was a disfigured body covered in blood... The only thing Dean did then was to take his brother's corpse into the Impala, drive as fast as he could to Lawrence, Kansas, and bury him next to his parents, his heart full of anger and revenge spirit.
But that was not the last time he had screwed up things... No, he just fooled one more person, the last and only one who really cared about him. But of course he just figured that out when that was too late, as usual... His Jo, his friend, the girl he realised was loving him since the first time they ever met... But each time they met, they were always in a hurry and never really had time to talk or learn about each other. Only the day she died, because of him AGAIN, did Dean saw how much he valued her. He remembered how badly he treated her, like a little sister he never really wanted, like someone who helped them once in a while and saved their lives, but never as an equal, never as the beautiful and clever woman she was. He remembered all the promises he never hold, all those times he said unsignificant things to her, when she already knew that he won't call her back, won't even say thanks...
Now Dean regreted. On her own way, she had protected him... in fact, they were so similar, tough and gentle, bold and daring, which she was so much than him! He felt like...a jerk, remembering his friendly fights with Sammy. Only the minute she died, in his arms, smiling and having that loving gaze to him, did he realize all of this. But that was too late...
Everything he did was always too late... Now Dean was tired, and even revenge or anger didn't help him stay strong enough to fight back. He had screwed up his whole life, killing every loved one, missing good game, and now hunted by the feds...
The only things that were left to him now were his regrets and his pain, and a 67 Impala with guns in its chest...
The detonation filled the night, but nobody in the motel or in the bar seemed to hear it. Nobody moved toward the room it came from.
"Dean...committing suicide is a bad thing... never frighten me again like that! I'm here...I know I won't replace them all, but...I can try and help you.
Cas...why? That would have been a good way to end...I feel so tired ya know...
I know, Dean. But think about all the people that are still to be saved! The hunt is not quite finished. I'll help you!
Thanks Cas...But lemme finish these beers 'nd 've a nap first.
Sure! Er...could you share?
Ya idjit. And stop huggin' me like that."