Dean stood next to his brother watching the flames lick the night sky from the pyre.
Sam had tears in his eyes but Dean stood there numb, his face emotionless as he watched the figure they'd swathed in white gauze be swallowed up by the fire.
He was watching his father burn. The demon was gone. He himself should be dead and here he was watching his father go up in flames.
"Did he say anything to you?" Sam asked. His voice shaky with pain and sorrow.
Dean didn't answer him right away. What was he going to say? Definitely not the truth. Definitely not the horrible thing Dad had whispered to him in his hospital bed before collapsing in the hall.
"No. Nothing." Dean lied.
The brothers watched the fire again in silence.
Dean thought about what his father had said to him. About Sam. What he might need to do. What he could never do even if it was dad final order to him.
Thinking about it all Dean all of a sudden felt very claustrophobic. The weight of what Dad put on his too much to bear at this moment. Watching his father burn and thinking of those final instructions. Dean felt like he was trying to keep an elephant at arm's length above his head, the pressing weight threatening to crush him.
He wished he could speak to words out loud, wished that he could tell another soul what had happened just before Dad died. Just to have another person hear of his burden would surely make him feel better.
He thought of her again then. He hadn't seen her in so long, hadn't spoken to her since she'd left the room they'd spent the night together in, but right then she was the person that came to his mind when he thought about sharing the burden his father had left him with.
He knew he wouldn't call her. Even in this horrible time and knowing it would make him feel better, he knew that the weight of this was his alone to carry.
