Hello everyone and thank you for taking a moment to read this next chapter. I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear what you think of this story so far. Reviews and comments are always welcome. Thanks and happy reading! :)
He feels a flutter of air beside him and instinctively turns his head towards it. Now, that is one thing he did not expect to see. Castiel. He stands there, intact, and Dean wonders if hallucinations are a side effect of being on the edge of the abyss. On the edge of death. "Cas? Alive?" His voice is hoarse and weak in his ears and he isn't really sure if he expects an answer or not. After all, this is the first time he has faced death as it was meant to be. No one to interfere, just his number being called and his time to face the music. Maybe the mind play tricks when you are ready to finally leave this world and its pain behind.
"Dean." Huh, well, it sounds like Cas. But it can't be, he saw with his own eyes what happened to his friend. Cas. He was blown into about a trillion itty bitty pieces so there is no way he is actually standing there. Dean shakes his head to try and dissolve the vision and realizes a moment too late that it was a very, very bad idea. An explosion rocks through his head. He can't help but gasp as the pain intensifies and rips through his brain. Out of reflex he brings his hands up, as if to try and prevent his brain from oozing out through his ears. And that movement only serves to set off a chain reaction of sensory overload into the rest of his body. The pain, too much, so much, seems to reverberate through every muscle, every joint, every cell in his battered body. As he fights to gain control over the agony that swells within him, he hears the angel provide an oh so Castiel-ish matter of fact kind of explanation. "I was brought back, new and improved."
Dean opens his eyes to see the angel lean closer to him, his fingertips set to touch his forehead and he feels his breath hitch. The vibe he gets off of Cas is that he is in his full on healing the injured mode. Dean figures his mojo must of had a recharge, his tank is back at full. But, right now, Dean is not so sure if he wants to be healed. If he wants to be saved. If he deserves to be saved. The pain that pounds throughout his body provides him a strange sort of comfort. He can concentrate on it, focus on it instead of the pain in his heart. The pain which runs so much deeper. If he lets Cas touch him, if he allows himself to become whole again, then he will live. He will be able to walk away from this bloody place. And then what? The only pain he will have left then is the sheer agony that comes from utter and complete loss. Of Sam. Of Adam. Of...Bobby.
God. Bobby. The strong, tough as nails, do anything to help the Winchesters out, mentor and friend to them is dead. His neck snapped like some kind of flimsy ass twig that couldn't stand the storm that it was forced to face the brunt of. So why is it? Why is it that Dean is still here? Still alive? Still able to breathe? Maybe this is his actual destiny. Maybe he is meant to be tortured until the very end of his life. To be reminded of what, of who he didn't have the strength or power to save. He couldn't save Sam. He couldn't save Adam. And he couldn't save Bobby. Zero out of three. That would make him a certified, 100% loser. He never believed in all that destiny crap, and now he knows why. It sucks.
But wait. Did Cas just say new and improved? Dean shuffles back with a painful moan just as those angel fingertips are about to land on their target. "Wait Cas. Can you bring him back? Can you save Bobby?" He watches him do that annoying tilt of his head thing to contemplate the question and Dean looks up to him, through clouded and blurry eyes, in anticipation. Please, let someone who is worth saving make it out of this nightmare.
"Yes, I can and I will. But Dean, listen to me, you are critically injured. Let me help you." Cas takes another step towards him and Dean drags his butt along the ground again in an effort to stay out of reach. By the time he speaks his head is fuzzy and it takes more effort to get the words out. Good, not long now.
"No Cas. Not yet. Yeah, 'm hurt but Bobby? Dead remember? Please Cas, please, fix him...first. Before me." Dean can see the uncertainty in the angel, torn between helping him and doing what he has been asked. "Please."
Dean feels a smile cross his face as, after the angel seems to hesitate for a moment longer, he nods, leaves his side and heads towards Bobby. Please, let Bobby be okay. Let him live. Dean closes his eyes and lets that one tiny glimmer of light, of relief, of hope wash over him. It lasts only a second as he finds he suddenly can't tell which way is up anymore. The dizziness escalates and he can feel his body pitch to the side. It kinda seems like he is stuck in slow motion, it takes forever but he has no energy to stop his descent. As he hits the ground he can hear the noise of his body's impact on the earth. It echoes through his ears and drums into his brain. His broken bones jostle around his insides and he feels sick. The familiar burn of bile, of sickness works it's way up his throat and as it does he can taste the distinct presence of blood. He swallows, tries to prevent it but in the end it is to no avail. He heaves and lays the contents onto the ground below. Yeah, he is in bad shape. The blood that trickles from his mouth tells him that much. He knows he will not be going anywhere. But, it's okay, it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to move. Not anymore. He is perfectly fine where he is. He still has the rings, he is still where he wants to be. He never needs to move again. This is as close as he can be to his brother. To Sammy. And he will not leave him. He will stay right here until the darkness comes. Until he takes his last breath.
TBC...