Always there when my world starts closing. Something to hold no matter how long it's been.
Dean sat at bar staring into the bottom of his tumbler looking at the amber colored liquor that was there. The color of the drink reminded him of staring into deep brown eyes that haunted his everyday he couldn't close his own eyes without hers being there. He began to suffocate in the stuffy smoky bar that he sat in. When he remembered her, the pain of hell was no longer present and the rush of the purity of purgatory gone only the sinking feeling in the bottom of his heart was there, the feeling of a heart breaking into so many pieces that it was beyond repair. The ache so intense that it threatened to choke him; the glass of whiskey was all that kept him from sobbing it was something that was real and tangible that he could hold and it didn't matter how long it had been it would always be his comfort.
Gets me high then knocks me to the ground. Soothes my mind and then begins to break me down.
Dean ordered another glass and he drank deeply and greedily. He held on to the glass as if it was a lifeline and that kept him tethered to this reality and in a way it was. The burn of the liquid always made him feel alive it was pain and it made him soar. The drunker the grizzled hunter could get the better, but there was that point when the high would wear off and his mind would go back to that fateful night and her lips would sear on his and her eyes would burn deep into his own reading his very soul. And then he would order another drink and his mind would ease and the pain would dull only if he could learn to stop at that point but he couldn't or wouldn't. He was no longer sure which it was. Sometimes he felt that he deserved the pain and would bring it on his self. And another glass he would have poured and that was always the last drink he could stand. That was the one that would break him. Silent tears would roll from the broken man's eyes and land in his drink. He would slump further over his glass and sink deep within his own sorrow that's when he would look for his sweet release.
Whiskey and you ain't nothing I can do but come crawling back to whiskey and you.
Dean would pull himself together and put on his best face and seek her out. The one that could make him forget, when he spotted his intended target he would turn on the charm that worked every time. It amazed him his ability to be completely drunk and walk a start line and act as if everything was normal. He would spot her somewhere across the bar and saunter over. He would make small talk and push a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and lean in and whisper and the girl would giggle and nod. The girl he wanted to hold would never have giggled but as long as the long blonde curls and the dark eyes would hold his she would work. He would take her by the hand and lead her out to his car and drive to some hotel and get a room. He would pour them drinks and they would sip them quietly. Dean would then start making his move and it would never fell before the night was over she would be in his bed.
Dean would close his eyes and imagine she was in his arms. He would make love to girl and it would last forever as long as he could see her face and at the end of the night he would always whisper her name with the sweetest reverence and love it didn't matter that it was only in his mind all that matter was that she was there for those few short precious hours. As long as he had whiskey he had her.
I never asked you to love me. I never asked you stay. But I never want you to leave I wouldn't have it any other way.
The nights that were the worst were the nights he couldn't get to a bar. Those were the nights he would find himself alone. He no longer would share a room with his brother things were so broken that in all honesty Dean didn't know if it could be fixed or if he really cared enough to try anymore. He would break into the whiskey he kept with him. Those were the nights that he would hear her voice and see her face the clearest. Those were the nights that he would curse God and scream his anger. Those were the nights that she would stand before him. He never asked her to love him back he had never really and truly ever told her his feelings. He regretted never calling her or seeing her again until years later in River Pass Colorado when War had made his appearance. He never asked her to stay with him he never told her that every time he saw her that he wanted her forever. She had been his salvation and he had not known it till it was too late and nothing could bring her back. He never wanted her to go the way she had and he never wanted her ghost to leave him he couldn't stand if she did. He held onto the shotgun that she had given him as if it was the very thing that kept him alive. The nights that he was alone were the nights he cursed her for leaving and cursed himself for saying goodbye. Nights like that he wished for a bar and a blonde woman in his bed because those nights she was in his arms and not in his head.
Whiskey and you ain't nothing I can do but come crawling back to whiskey and you.
Dean always drank himself into nothingness because all he had left was her memory and the amber liquor that burned his throat and warmed his belly. The only thing that matter in his heart and mind anymore was her and the whiskey it seemed that they went together even from the first meeting they had shared all those years ago at the Roadhouse and it made perfect sense. The whiskey was the only thing that stopped the smell of flesh from scorching his nose, or the feel of her warm blood flowing onto his hands as he carried her to her grave, and the feel of her cooling lips pressed to his. Whiskey and the memory of the girl with the blonde hair, brown eyes and a smile that would warm the coldest man to the soul was what he crawled back to.
As darkness finds the candle and the flames stops flickering.
It had been twenty years since the hardware store had blown up and it had been twenty years that Dean had seen her beautiful face every time he closed his eyes. He had never given up the love he held for the blonde reckless hunter that he had met all those years ago. He had since left hunting up to younger men that could keep the pace, his old battle wounds wouldn't allow him to keep up any longer. He had became nothing but a washed out drunk but what they didn't understand was the whiskey kept her close and the pain real. The hunters that had taken over were so different then the when he had hunted. They networked and always worked in a large group with at least one medic the loss was at a minimum and they never settled down with a hunter. It was like a well organized business and the honor was gone. They would never know what it was like the watch the girl you loved more than your own life have her guts ripped out by a hell hound or the sound of her screaming in pain. They would never know the look of sheer terror on her face as you sat her down in the finally place she would ever be. They would never hear the words that she intended to blow herself up and her mother a woman that you looked up to as a sergeant mother decided to stay with her dying child. They would never kiss cooling her lips as they handed the detonator to her that would take her life and most of all they would never watch as the love of their life was blown up so that they could get away. Dean had lived through all of that plus more loss. The younger hunters had called him a wash out a drunk and he would sneer at them. They would never understand what it meant to be a hunter. Dean had watched as Jo's candle had burned out and it had been in vain their goal failed and in the end it had cost him more than anything else ever had. Dean had stood watching the building burn until there was nothing left and he had burned the only picture of her he had the only thing that remanded was a sawed off shotgun and a memory that haunted his life.
Girl I know and I hope it won't be long till we light it up again.
Dean laid down that night for the first time in twenty years sober. His chest had been hurting something fierce that day and he was so tried and worn out. He laid down in the motel that he had bought for the week and went to sleep clutching a full flask with her shotgun next to his bed. Dean never woke the next morning he had died in his sleep but his angel had taken him home. Jo had come to take him to his heaven and he couldn't have been happier. "Told you I'd see you sooner or later." Dean said with a smirk on his lips, he looked like he had the day she died all his aging had disappeared. "Glad you made it later." Jo said as she took his hand and led him home.
Garth had tried to call Dean the next morning and when he didn't get an answer he rushed over to the motel and picked the lock. He found Dean laying in bed with a smile plastered on his face and he looked at peace. Garth let a tear fall from his eye as he mourned one of the last true hunters that still lived. He called Sam, Dean's brother they had not spoken in years and Sam's heart broke for his older brother. Sam had found peace and gotten married and raised a family the way he had always planned. Dean couldn't let her go and it had killed him Sam knew it would. The only four people that showed up the last legend's pyre were his brother, the man that found him, an earthbound angel, and a lesbian that had loved Dean as a brother. For a man that had saved the world more than anyone else had or ever would was forgotten as his body was burned in the old junkyard that had belonged to Bobby Singer but that was okay with Dean because he was home and Jo was by his side as they set on their front porch sipping whiskey, holding hands and smiling because in the end it had always been whiskey and Jo that Dean had crawled back to.