HOPE
It was just too weighty. All of it was just too weighty. And yeah, Dean's sure he looked like a fool when under that spell. But hell, he'd felt so good...so light. He'd smiled again, he'd wanted to smile. And it was fake and twisted and he'd hit Sam but still...well no buts. Because Sam didn't have a plan. Little shit.
Dean laughs affectionately to himself, still nursing his beer. Sam was always the one with a plan...for everything. For even the smallest thing, but Sam was going to worry himself into an early grave. There was no point in this ceaseless raking himself over the coals. And there was no point in fear.
Fear was something Dean and Sam felt all the time in their line of work. But it wasn't a fear they felt all the time, it wasn't trepidation they felt twenty-seven for the next ghost, the next vampire or demon, or angel. They didn't live like that, because you couldn't, you couldn't live in the future, in the possibility of getting hurt or losing someone...or losing. Losing and the world having to forfeit, or Cas and his mom having to forfeit...of Sam paying the price.
Faith and hope was something they had to have in their life. And Dean's main source was Sam. And it's okay, he can be there for Sam, like Sam was for him. But still it wore on him, wore down on his soul. Sam's hope was so beautiful and bright and dammit...Dean's spoiled on it. He misses it so freaking bad.
Dean rubs a hand over his face in a dry scrub.
"Such a pouter." He mumbles to Sam, letting himself have a dry laugh.
"Why the knee?" He asks out loud as he groans getting up and stretching his muscles and joints. "And hammers, c'mon, this ain't a horror porno." He shakes his head half at himself. This is what happened to him when Sam went reclusive...yup: Dean Winchester talked to himself.
"Witches." He shudders, a hand on the wall helping him down the hallway towards the library. "Disgusting. Completely zombified their Mom. Not only disgusting but incapable...I mean if you're gonna be bad at least be kick ass at it..."
He stops in the door looking out into the empty library slightly out of breathe. "Am I right?" He asks, hands spread and shrugging to the silent, empty room.
"Yeah that's what I thought," he responds to the no answer. "I'm right."
He limps to the table and stands looking down at Sam's for once sloppy research, books and notes scattered everywhere. That in and of itself spoke of his little brother's state of mind. Dean sighs, knowing there was nothing more he could do. He'd done what he could for Sam. Worked to get to him, talked to him like Sammy often craved, was patient, shared his own thoughts and hopes and faith. Sam didn't even realize how alike they were...the youngest Winchester just needed a damn win.
"He's such a cocky, pitiful bastard." Dean says to the room. "Dean, I will hunt her down and put a bullet in her head myself." He makes his voice as high, whiny and self-righteous as he possibly can copying his younger brother.
"Yeah, my ass." He grumbles back to himself. "We both know who'll have his back the whole damn time."
He sighs deep, reaching down to grab the book he'd brought Sam before. "Jour et nuit." He tries again, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure Sam was in fact safely shut in his room. "Jour et nuit..." he repeats with an extra flourish. But throws the book back down distastefully both at the French for having such an absurd language and himself for not being able to speak it, which if he thought about contradicted each other making him look even more stupid...
"Like I said," he says flatly shrugging. "Cocky bastard."
He groans and mumbles as he lowers himself into a chair and puts his leg up again in another. He smiles favorably then.
"Well I beat that cocky GIANT bastard back on his ass twice today so yeah, there's that." He chuckles lightly, and sighs as he settles in to surf the internet on his phone. He looks back up after a second thought, "Not that I'm glad I beat up him up, but still...you know..." he explains to the silent room.
"Now Sammy under a love spell, that would have been something I'd have liked to see." He laughs, "Probably would've have bought her a hundred roses by force of sheer puppy dog loving devotion and sappy chick flickiness instead of the grimoire."
"He's been shut in here with you dumb books so long, he probably wouldn't have even survived a love spell...spontaneous combustion right on the spot." He giggles unsteadily to himself, tears in his eyes at the picture of the girl witches' faces if Sam exploded into flower petals and star light when they tried to hex him.
"God, you are such a hermit." He says, and then suddenly looks to his side as if realizing again Sam wasn't there.
"They were pretty cute." He says, turning his attention back to scrolling down the news app on his phone. Totally ignoring how lame and half way to insane with boredom and loneliness he was right now.
"The less attractive sibling." He throws back his head with a full body laugh remembering his words to Sam. "Oh my god I'm a genius."
His laughs snicker off into the quiet peacefulness of the bunker and he sighs feeling it settle around him securely. "Goodnight little bro, hope you feel better soon." He says softly into the still air, mentally making a pact not to talk to himself anymore until tomorrow at least. He's got the feeling he's leaning more towards the crazy side now than not.
But to Sam sitting just outside the door way in the hall, somewhere between happy and broken tears hanging in his eyes and a feeling somewhere between fear and relief tight in his chest...it simply feels like hope.
the end.
Omggg I love this so much. I kno I'm not posting every episode anymore. But I'm doing what I can. I really hope you guys like, especially my faithful followers. REVIEW MY LOVES!? :):););)