Chapter Number Two. This is post 'The Purge' and sort of the beginning of 'Captives'.
Seriously, the ending of 'The Purge' was just a big punch in the feels, then someone got you in the balls at least twenty times (if you're a guy), then you had an entire month of menstrual cramps without pause.
Maybe I'm exaggerating, but basically the whole thing hurt and was just one giant emotional button.
I mean, there are fics of suicide on AO3 after it and damn if they make you cry.
For this, it's going to be that Dean takes Sam's words way too seriously and has the stereotypical emotional range of a teenage girl after she has been dumped over text and is having her period.
WARNING CURSE WORDS IN CHAPTER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
It hurt. Like a friggin' son of a bitch it hurt.
It hurt worse than the Asylum nine friggin' years ago.
It hurt worse than when you found out that Sammy had been drinking demon blood.
It hurt worse than when you realized that Sammy was going to hell and he ain't coming back.
It hurt worse than when Cas told you he had betrayed you over and over again for Crowley.
It hurt worse than when Bobby was dead.
It hurt worse than when you found out that Sam hadn't even tried to save you from Purgatory.
It hurt worse than when you found out Sam wanted to die and leave you.
It hurt worse than all of those times put together.
You drank another swig of whiskey and continued listening to AC/DC and all the other bands Dad had liked.
Were you really selfish?
You drank again.
You supposed you were and chose a different song.
It was all your fault anyway.
Listening to Ezekiel, tricking Sam into saying yes, Kevin dying.
All of it.
Your fault.
Just because you couldn't let go.
But you couldn't bring yourself to apologize.
To apologize for keeping Sam alive.
You had wanted to tell. Hadn't you?
But hadn't Ezekiel always reminded you what would happen if Sam found out?
And you always never tried, because you were too afraid to be alone.
Sam had been right.
Sam had always been right.
He had always been the smart one.
But then, you tried to make yourself seem to be right, hadn't you?
Said that if you were dying and that there was no other way, Sam would have saved you.
Like you've always done.
But he didn't.
He didn't and it hurt like in a fucking chick flick where the couple breaks up.
You emptied the bottle and realized that there wasn't any more.
How was it that you sacrificed so much, and asked for so little and Sam didn't want to save him?
Hadn't wanted to be brothers, a family like you've always been?
Had ripped your purpose out and spat on it like you hadn't devoted your entire life to saving him.
It fucking hurt like someone had punched you right in your chest and ripped your heart out and stepped on it. Maybe you was being dramatic, but damn if it felt that way.
You dropped the empty bottle and kicked it over the edge of the bed, not caring about the loud crack.
How long ago was it now? You thought,
How long ago had it been since you first dragged Sam back into all of this?
Nine years?
Nearly a decade.
You realized that you were 35 and had been hunting for over three quarters of your life.
You missed everyone.
Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, the list went on.
You snorted a bit when you considered adding Meg to the list and added her anyway just for the hell of it.
You thought back to the earlier times and laughed a bit when you recalled the pranks you pulled and Sam's face when you had tossed him that clown doll.
You had been brothers back then.
You turned over on to your side.
Not anymore.
The song changed.
There was nearly no other possible way to hurt you like this.
Unless your name was Sam Winchester of course.
You loved him more than life itself and he threw it back in your face.
Then kicked you in the stomach for good measure and ran away.
You knew, though, Sam had good reason to be angry. Angry that he had been possessed.
Again.
But it didn't mean that if you were dying, he wouldn't lift a finger to save you.
But now it did.
The song changed and you listened without really hearing, but something caught your attention.
You thumbed back to the song and read its name.
Carry On Wayward Son - Kansas
Why the hell not?
You hit the play button.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
You didn't need to listen to this. You reached over for the skip button, but paused.
Ah
Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high
It sounded like Cas, a bit. The flying part at least. You wished that Cas was here.
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,
I can hear them say
Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
This song didn't apply to you at all. You were happy with your life. You couldn't be anything else but a hunter. Hunting was what you were.
Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man,
Well, it surely means that I don't know
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune,
But I hear the voices say
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more no!
Well, that sounded a bit like you; never taking the easy way. You certainly wasn't a wise man either, Sam had proven that.
The other bits, they hit too close for comfort.
Carry on,
You will always remember
Carry on,
Nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you
You snorted. Not friggin' likely. Chances were, with all that had gone down, you were headed below.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry,
Don't you cry no more,
No more!
You thumbed over to the next song and reached over for the next bottle of whiskey.
Okay, you've seen Dean's point of view. Are you feeling like you just had the worst betrayal and feel like going to the corner and crying for a bit?
A) Yes
My job is done. I give you virtual tissues.
B) No.
You are a emotionless rock. I call you, the Tin Man.
C) No, because your writing is really bad and I can't see the feelings at all.
Tell me in the reviews!
~Cyfir
