"Coming down the years turned over and angels fall without you there. And I go on as you get colder or are you someone's prayer?" – Goo Goo Dolls
Jamie Bower wasn't supposed to die so young, Dean knew that, but Jamie had and now suddenly he felt as though his entire world was stopping. When his parents had rang Dean on the telephone he'd just known. There was no denying the hole created in his heart when it had pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears after getting that call. His hands had been shaking so hard he could barely hold the phone and Sam had heard his voice crack as he spoke the very few words he could squeak out. The younger Winchester had never seen Dean so upset, not even when they were children and their mother had died. Something was terribly wrong indeed and Sam was helpless to figure out what it was. Sam had tried to console Dean, to ask what was wrong, but Dean had been irritable and he'd denied the sentiment and the words Sam had said and slammed the door behind him to his room. Dean hadn't come out of the room all night and into the morning and Sam hadn't tried to initiate any kind of contact. He knew for whatever reason Dean was too upset to talk.
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Dean didn't go to the actual wake when everyone else was there. He entered just after everyone had left and before the coroner had taken the body. He hated having that many people around him when bad things happened. He preferred to keep things and people separate when tragedy happened. And this was certainly a tragedy. Dean was somber, his eyes even darker than usual from the lack of sleep and energy. He was shaky on his feet and he felt a cold chill creep up his spine the second he entered the church. The air was thick and the sun shone down through the stained glass painting of Jesus and Mary on the ceiling. Dean wanted to flip it off, he wanted to break it, and curse it. At the same time he wanted to let in as much sun as possible. Jamie hadn't possibly seen enough sun in his life. Dean approached the coffin slowly, as if he were a ghost sliding through time and not fully getting anywhere. He hesitated before looking over at Jamie. The sight of him made Dean's stomach flip and he felt sick, but he sucked it up and stayed put. They'd dressed Jamie up and caked him in makeup. He didn't even look like himself. Dean stared, half expecting his eyes to open and him to spring up and grab Dean's arm then they'd laugh at the joke, but Dean's laugh wouldn't be to the fullest. He knew the laughter would only last so long until the black balloons flew again and the fires ignited beneath pieces of metal after Dean left. Jamie's face looked hollow as though Dean could just touch his cheek and he'd turn to ashes right then and there. His eyes looked sunken and the makeup barely hid the awful sores. There was still dried blood under his fingernails and his calluses had faded and all but disappeared. Dean theorized he hadn't played guitar in years since they'd met. In fact last time Dean had asked him about the guitar collecting dust in the corner Jamie had snapped at him and Dean hadn't brought it up since then.
Dean knelt down so he was almost eye level with Jamie and he took him by the arm. He rubbed a little and the makeup started to come off. The arm was bruised beyond belief and the injection sites were still there. There were more than before. There were more than Dean had ever seen before. Dean laid his forehead on Jamie's hand and let out a sort of choking sound. He was trying so hard, but a man could only be strong for so long. Dean looked up to the ceiling with tears in his eyes and swallowed hard before looking back down at his cold friend. He wanted nothing more than for Jamie to get up and they'd get into the Impala and drive until they couldn't drive anymore and Jamie would've gotten help along the way. Dean would've made sure he'd gotten the help he needed. Dean would've gotten him the help he'd needed.
Dean pictured the past. The first time he'd met Jamie. All crystal blue eyes and jet back hair which he'd told Dean was 'one hundred percent real, no fooling'. His smile had been the brightest part of him. And Jamie sure had smiled a lot. His attire had been nothing like it was now, lying in the coffin. He always wore jeans and t-shirts and long sleeve shirts when times got rougher. That had been a dead giveaway when Dean had met up with him again. Besides the smell of vinegar in a house with a young man who barely cooked. Jamie had been slipping and Dean hadn't been there to lift him up. He hadn't said anything, hoping his parents would straighten him out before Jamie went off on his own, but that hadn't happened and Jamie had been in a downward spiral ever since. Jamie's laugh was also notable. It fluctuated and it had been so full of life. Now no one would ever hear that laugh again outside of memories. The boy who'd grown into a young man and still dreamed of flying would never spread his wings. He'd flown in the only way he knew possible and it had been his demise.
Dean wiped his hand and the makeup on his pants and left. He couldn't stay another moment. Sam didn't make any wisecracks about his pants when he came back, no comments, not even a word. It was as if he knew to leave it alone and Dean was thankful for that.
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Two Years Later...
The sun was shining and the sounds of birds could be heard in the distance. Dean had the Impala parked off to the side of the road as he visited an old friend for the second time that year. The gravestone didn't do him justice and Dean felt as though everyone should've known Jamie. They should've known his struggle and his story. No one did though and Dean only had his memories left. He turned the bracelet he always wore around in a circle before smiling. Jamie had made it before things had gotten bad and when he'd still been interested in things. Before he'd taken flight and impaled himself all the time. Jamie had been preparing to sell it along with all the other jewelry he'd made. Dean had tried it on and never taken it off. He liked to think it was the good piece of Jamie he had left.
When Dean had seen the future he'd looked at Castiel surrounded by girls and hopped up on various substances and seen the blue eyed, black haired youth he'd met so many years ago. Even their smiles had almost been the same. Dean took a deep breath and let out a sigh, closing his eyes as the breeze kissed his face. He heard a familiar flutter of wings and opened them, slowly turning his head in the direction of his friend.
"He is in a better place in Heaven Dean," Castiel stood, hands in the pockets of his trench coat and stared at Dean with the gentle look he normally gave the older Winchester. "He can feel good without harming himself further."
"He was a great guy," Dean replied. "He was until he started using."
"He was a great man even then," Castiel explained, hesitating to come closer. "The greatness was masked and shielded, but it was still in him. He was just too caught up to let it out anymore."
"I think you two would've gotten along great." Dena smiled over at Castiel and the angel smiled back. "C'mon Cas let's go home."
Dean walked with his friend to the car, all the way feeling as though someone was reaching out and touching him, like they were there, like Jamie was there still. And as Dean turned around to face the hill and unlock the hill, he could've sworn he'd seen a man standing and waving, a man without addiction and a man who was finally free. And Dean couldn't help, but smile as they drove off as he knew if it the man was there it was most indeed, Jamie Bower.
Reviews are appreciated!
This story came out of nowhere. I was listening to Goo Goo Dolls and it hit me. Dean's had a lot of friends die, but what if one of them was from something more normal than a vampire or a werewolf?
If no one figured it out Jamie was a heroin addict. A 'black balloon' is used to tie off an injection site to inject the drug into the arm. And Jamie has scabs and scars from picking at his skin. It wasn't a happy death, but as Castiel said he lives well in Heaven.
I hope you guys enjoyed this.