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Saving Grace
Chapter Fifty-Four: Unthinkable
Lawrence, Kansas — Stull Cemetery — 01:37 PM.
A lone tear traced down Dean's cheek. The walls that he had spent years building up around himself like a fort—the structures that kept him safe, kept him strong, forced him to keep going when he just couldn't see a way of doing so—crumbled away into nothing. Brick by brick, they had collapsed around him when his entire world had shattered from beneath him like the thin glass of a window, and all he was left with was a pile of debris and dust. He felt raw, as though the grief that consumed him was an open wound. It physically hurt. Everything he felt—anguish, loss, devastation, remorse—pierced through his very existence. And a part of him wasn't sure that he could make it through again. Not alone. Not this time.
As much as he wanted to, and as much as he needed to, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to tear his green, watery eyes away from the girl who lay before him on the grass, bloody and broken and still. He hadn't moved an inch since her eyes had closed for the final time, he couldn't. In that moment, there was only him and her, and maybe that was what he needed.
The only sound throughout the graveyard now was the soft humming that came from him. It was an old song, one that he couldn't recall hearing since they had been small children, yet, somehow, it was still comforting. The picture was clear in his mind; their mother, sitting on the couch with a tiny, brown haired little girl and a small bundle of blue blankets, humming softly. It had always soothed them, no matter what. Perhaps, on some level, he still believed that it could.
Everything had come to an abrupt stop, and, to him, it felt as though the world had stopped turning. Or, at least, his world had.
Despite the trembling of his lower lip and the urge that seemed to overcome him to give in and cry, he didn't so much as release a breath. He held onto every emotion that threatened to spill from him, because, somewhere deep down within himself, he truly believed that he had to.
What was the use in crying? Where would it get him now? He considered the idea for a short moment, maybe the solution was to give into his sorrow, the way that anyone in his situation would do. Maybe he was supposed to sit there and cry until he could barely catch his own breath, until he was light-headed and exhausted, but nothing would change. Haley and Sam would still be dead, Castiel and Bobby and Adam would still be gone, and the world would still be empty to him. What was the use in crying when there was no one left in the world who cared enough to show him comfort. All the tears he could cry would do nothing to change the desolate situation he found himself locked away in. Inside, he felt as though he needed to cry, it was what his body was telling him to do, because that was what people did when they were hurting the way that he was. When someone was gone and there was no bringing them back, it hurt, and so people cried. But did that really make anything better? A part of him wanted to get it out, maybe to relieve some of the pressure from within himself, to try and rid himself of the overwhelming pain that strained his chest. Maybe just one single tear would be a slight escape from the pain that weighed on his shoulders.
But that wasn't who he was.
And, no matter what, Dean just wouldn't give into his emotions that easily. The daunting realization came to him; there was no escape. From any of it. It was just there, and it was always going to be there. He knew that he couldn't expect it to go away, and he couldn't expect it to fade. He had lived it all once before. And he knew that the grief never truly went away.
In those twelve years he had found that out the hard way. Even as time had passed them by, there were still moments that he had awoken from dreams of that night. There was always that rush of anger in his blood at just the mere mention of his sister's name. Every thought of her, every single memory, it all brought him back to that place where he remembered that she was gone. Twelve years had passed, and Dean had still missed his sister each and every day until the moment they had found her again. He knew, the grief never went away. And it never stopped hurting.
So, maybe this was his new normal. Maybe this was his new world.
And it was a world that he wasn't sure he could face.
The dark place he had found himself in the weeks after his sister had died was somewhere that he never wanted to be again. This time, he didn't have a brother to make things seem brighter, he didn't have a father to steer him back on track, he didn't have an uncle to show him that her death didn't mean the end. This time, he was facing it alone. And it was so much more than it had ever been before.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the ground approached from behind. Dean didn't turn. He wasn't interested. He couldn't bring himself to look. A part of him simply didn't care anymore, and he found himself wondering how much of a fight he would be willing to put up if it was something that had come to finish it all off for him. He wasn't sure that he had an ounce of fight left within him anymore. There was no point, was there? He couldn't find a reason to keep on fighting anymore, because the only two reasons he had ever had were lying on the grass before him, dead.
Subconsciously, he held a tighter grip on his sister's hand, as though he truly was afraid to let her go. Dean realized, he was more than content in dying right there alongside her. Maybe that was what he wanted.
With her and Sam, everything had been so different, it had been as though they had given him a reason to get up in the morning. When his darkest days had rolled around, when getting up and fighting the fight had seemed impossible, there they were. Haley would be sitting on the end of his bed, a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon held between her teeth as she grinned at him. Sam would be stood there, waiting with a black coffee, as though to coax him from his slumber. Between them, they had made giving up and walking away impossible, and, in the end, it had never been a question. When he had needed someone or something to fight for, when he had craved a cause, they had given him the strength to go on. He couldn't fight for himself anymore, not now, he wasn't sure that he wanted to. But, for them, for his family, he could have killed. Hell, he had.
But now they were gone. They were all gone. And so was any hope that he had ever held onto.
The horrid realization came to him, and it hit him, hard. There was no point in carrying on without them. What was the point in hunting if he had no one left to hunt with? What was the point in checking into motel room after motel room if there was no one there to fight over the shower with? What was the point in sitting down to watch a bad horror movie if his sister wasn't there to turn it off and replace it with one of the shows he claimed he loathed but secretly enjoyed watching with her? What was the point of driving from state to state if his brother wasn't there to complain about the volume of his music? What was the point in going out for a beer if there was no one left to laugh with? Everything that had once seemed so insignificant to him had been so important, and he had never realized that at the time. Maybe he had taken his family for granted, maybe he had tricked himself into believing that they would always be there, because he had never felt the true pain of being alone until that moment.
But, they were gone. All of them. Sam, Haley, Castiel, Bobby, Adam, all in the space of about fifteen minutes. He had watched their lives end, one by one. He had watched his entire world crash down around him, and he was done. He was well and truly alone, and, at that point, life was too dark and too hard to face alone. He was finished. Completely.
Dean wasn't sure quite how long he had been sitting there on the grass beside the dead body of his only sister as though she was the only thing left in the world that he could hold onto. Frankly, he didn't care. His gaze was focused off ahead in the distance, and he stared at the empty graveyard until it became nothing but a blur of deep green. It could have been hours, yet it could have been merely minutes. He didn't know. It didn't matter to him. The only things that mattered to him were gone. Every single one of them. And he couldn't bring them back. Not all of them. Not this time. He didn't have enough souls to sell. This time, he was out of chances.
His eyes closed as the footsteps behind him grew louder, closer, and, whoever it was, came to a stop. He could feel their presence towering over him, and he still couldn't bring himself to care enough to look up and face them. He was far beyond the point of caring.
"Dean." A voice spoke his name in the calmest way possible, yet it hit him like a punch to the face.
Dean's eyes were blown wide at the sound of the all too familiar voice, there was no mistaking it, and he looked around to where Castiel stood over him. There was a small, sympathetic frown on his face, mixed with a sadness that he just couldn't keep from showing in his features. Whether he knew it was there or not, he looked nothing but sorrowful for what had happened in that graveyard. The remorse that shone in his blue eyes was genuine, and it couldn't be ignored.
"Cas?" Dean looked him over slowly, hardly able to believe that he was standing there at all. He looked so different. "You're alive?"
Castiel gave a slow nod, and the smallest hint of a smile graced his face. "I'm better than that." he stated, and there was something about his tone that confused the hunter before him. There was a confidence behind his words that hadn't been there before, it hadn't been there for a long time.
Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion, curiosity, and he was about to ask what it was that he meant, but Castiel didn't give him the chance. With a simple touch to his forehead, all physical pain ceased to exist in his body. He was healed.
Dean stared at him as he returned his arm to his side, and, suddenly, things didn't seem so hopeless. Was this his chance? Maybe it wasn't all over. Maybe there was still some light left in the world. Maybe it didn't have to be over.
Without a single word, Castiel crouched down beside him, and his attention was focused solely on Haley for a moment. He didn't speak, didn't blink, simply stared down at her with a frown, solemn. He placed a hand to her forehead and his palm was flat against her skin. But nothing happened. His eyes closed, and a deeper frown came to his face. But, still, nothing.
"Wait." He pulled back his hand, and, for a moment, Dean could have sworn that he looked worried. "Something is wrong."
His eyebrows raised, perplexed. "What does that mean?" he urged, desperate.
But Castiel said nothing.
"Cas?" Dean pressed. He was on edge. "What's going on? What, are you out of angel mojo?"
Castiel looked confused, but, still, he didn't speak. He rose from where he was crouched, and Dean looked on at him for a moment, not sure of what else he could say. He watched as the angel turned from him and walked away across the field in silence. He approached Bobby's body, cautious, as though apprehensive, and he crouched down beside him. Seeming hesitant, he reached out and rested a hand to his forehead, the same as he had done to Haley.
Bobby gasped awake, and his eyes were blown wide at the sight of the man before him. He looked between him and Dean, perplexed, and then his eyes fell to Haley, and then to Sam. His mouth opened and closed, and he scrambled to his feet.
But Castiel looked concerned, maybe even afraid. Dean could tell, something was wrong. Something was going on inside his head. He moved towards Sam, and he pressed a hand to his forehead, too. The same as Bobby, he gasped awake.
Castiel took a step back from him, and he looked to Dean. The look they shared was not one of confidence.
Sam looked from Castiel to Dean and back again. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to ask what was going on, to ask what had happened, or to ask why his sister was still lying on the ground not breathing, but nothing left him. Slowly, never blinking, hesitant in his own movements, he pushed himself up from the grass beneath him, and he approached, cautious. He didn't like the look on his brother's face one bit. His eyes were bloodshot, and they shone with fear. The man who sat on the grass before him looked like someone who had lost their little sister, not someone who was about to get her back. What had he missed? What was going on?
"Dean?" He dropped to his knees beside them, afraid. He almost didn't want to ask. "What happened?" His gaze lingered on the large patch of fresh blood that stained the front of her shirt, and he knew that, whatever she had planned, it had gone wrong. "What..?"
"This isn't right." Castiel concluded, a comment made more to himself than anyone else. "Something isn't right."
Sam, Dean, and Bobby all stared at him, expectant. None of them knew what to do, or what to say.
Castiel knelt beside the youngest Winchester, and, once again, the palm of his hand rested to Haley's forehead. His eyes were closed and there was a concentrated frown at his brow, he almost looked as though he was in pain. He gave a slow shake of his head when nothing happened, and he drew back his hand.
"Lucifer took her." he stated. His voice was soft, sorrowful, and his tone was laced with grief. "He held on. He took her with him."
Dean shook his head. "No." He wouldn't accept that. "What the hell does that mean? We killed him. I stabbed her myself. I saw him die. Haley said it. She said that he was gone." His words were fast, scrambled, begging for reassurance.
"You stabbed her, but Lucifer held onto her until she died." he said, apologetic. "He kept his grip on her until she went. This is just her body. There's nothing left. No soul, no part of your sister, nothing. It's an empty vessel."
"I—I don't get it." Sam stammered. "So, where the hell is Haley?"
"Haley is with Lucifer, and Michael. He dragged her down into that cage with him." he told them, remorseful. "She's gone. I can't bring her back. And I don't know who can. I'm sorry."
"So, what are you saying?" Sam urged, because he was starting to panic. "Are you saying she's stuck down there?"
"No, she's not. I am not leaving my kid sister in a cage with Michael and friggin' Lucifer." Dean snapped, abrupt. "It's not happening."
Sam frowned. "We don't know that she's down there." he countered, and he forced himself to remain calm. "Do we? Cas?"
Castiel shifted his weight on his knees, and he looked uncomfortable. "It's more than likely." he offered. "She's in the cage."
"So, what do we do?" Bobby pressed, curious. "Even if we did find something that could work, poking at that cage again, it's risky—"
"No, he's right, Bobby." Sam interrupted. "We're not leaving her down there. We can't." He looked to the angel, desperate. "Cas? Come on, man. Say something."
For a long moment, Castiel looked conflicted. His gaze was focused on her, and he refused to look anywhere else. A part of him looked as though he wanted to agree with Bobby, because that was what his head was telling him to do. He knew the risks of tampering with the cage, and he knew what could happen should they poke it the wrong way. But, the larger part of him told him something else, and he was inclined to side with the brothers whose eyes pleaded with him to tell them it wasn't over. In that moment, all Castiel saw was a girl who hadn't deserved to die the way she had, who didn't deserve the hell that he knew she was facing.
"We'll look." he stated, sincere, because he truly meant his words. "Being in hell is torment enough. Being locked in a cage with those two," He shook his head. "It doesn't bare thinking about."
Sam took a short breath, and he looked between the three men before him. He didn't want to be the one to ask, he didn't even want to think about it, but he knew that one of them had to. They couldn't sit there forever. They had to do something.
Hesitant, he cleared his throat, and his gaze shifted towards his brother. "What do we do with her body?" he asked, tentative.
Dean's face visibly changed at the question, and he appeared as though he wanted to be sick at the thought of it. His eyes fell back to her, and the sorrow that washed through his features was clear. He just didn't know what to do.
Castiel offered a shrug. "It's just a body." he stated, calm. "An empty vessel. There's nothing left of your sister in there now."
"We're not burning her." Dean told them, blunt, and his tone was a warning to them not to argue.
But Bobby looked to him, and he frowned, confused. "What?"
"I said, we're not burning her." he said again, and his voice was hard, authoritative. "That's still her body. And she needs a body to come back to. We'll bury her."
For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Dean moved. Reluctant, he released the grip he still held of his sister's hand, and he pushed himself to stand from the grass. Without a word or second glance to anyone, he stalked off towards the Impala.
Sam sighed, and all he could do was sit there and watch him go. He didn't know what to say, what to think, how to help him. The only thing left in the world now was the lingering presence of death, and the harrowing feelings that came alongside it. They had stopped the devil, yet it felt like anything but a win. And he couldn't push away the impending feeling of guilt that was knotted in his stomach. He regretted the day he had ever pitched the idea of saying yes to Lucifer, because he couldn't shake the feeling that he had pushed her to do what she had done. The feeling was overwhelming, and he didn't know how to face it. Honestly, he felt numb.
Finding some source of strength within himself, he managed to look at her. Everything about it was so wrong. He had to wonder, what had their sister ever done to deserve such a horrible end, again? Twice now her life had been taken away from her at the hands of evil, and he wasn't sure that he or Dean could make it through another twelve years without her. Thinking back, he couldn't quite remember how they had done it the first time around. Maybe it was just that they'd had no other choice but to keep going. Maybe back then it had been easier to believe she had gone to a better place. Back then, Sam had held onto some source of faith. He had clung to the idea that his sister had found peace in a world better than theirs.
But, this time, it was different. This time, they knew exactly where she was, and it wasn't hard to take a guess at what was happening to her. He had seen the effects hell had left on his brother, and he knew what she was facing was going to be so much more than that. This time, it was too much.
Tentative, and not noticing how his hands were shaking as he did, he reached out and brushed the brown hair from her pale face. That was his sister. His dead sister. And the ghastly reality was beginning to sink into his head. She really was gone. It wasn't fair.
"I'm sorry, Haley." he said, sincere. His voice was soft, quiet, barely audible. "I'm so sorry."
Bobby cleared his throat, and a soft sigh escaped him. "Sam." he pressed, hesitant. "Are you sure about this?"
Sam tore his eyes away from his sister, and he looked up to face him. He was the picture of a broken man. His eyes glistened with pain, loss, and grief, there was no hiding the true horror that had taken over his features. But, more than that, he looked confused at the question.
"Are you sure we're gonna bury her?" Bobby clarified. It wasn't a question that he wanted to ask, but he knew he had to.
Sam gave a slow shake of his head, because, honestly, he didn't know.
"Your brother ain't thinking straight." he stated, sorrowful. "He ain't gonna cope with this, Sam. After what hell did to him, this is gonna crack him."
For a long moment, Sam remained silent. But then, he nodded. "I know." he admitted. The truth was, he didn't doubt it. "But I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Tell me, what am I supposed to do here? He needs her, Bobby. We both need her."
"I know you do." he offered a sorrowful shake of his head. "And, I'm sorry, kid. I am. But, burying her—"
"It wasn't up for discussion." A voice came from behind him, firm.
They both turned to look up at Dean, and he appeared far more composed than he had done when he had walked away. There were two shovels in his hands, and his face was stony, void of emotion. His eyes were cold, unforgiving, and he looked like a man on a mission. Sam could see it right there, he was blocking away the emotion, he was pushing back the horrible feelings that threatened to take over, because that was the only way he was going to make it through what they were going to do next.
On some level, Sam understood that his brother was simply trying to get through what they all knew had to be done before the point came that he physically couldn't. The longer they sat there and thought about it, the harder it was going to be, if that was even possible. The time was going to come that the initial shock would wear off, and all they would be left with was the daunting reality of the situation. That was when everything was going to crash and burn around them, when they would be locked away in their own grief for their sister.
Hesitant, and hating the idea of what was to come when he did, Sam rose to stand and face him. His brother handed him one of the shovels, and, for the briefest moment, green eyes found hazel. For a moment, there was only the two of them in the world, and everything that needed to be said was promised in that simple look without the need for words; we've still got each other, we can get through this, it's not forever. But, neither brother was so sure about that last idea. What were the chances they could break someone out of a cage made to hold Satan himself?
But they were thoughts that they couldn't afford to dwell upon. That would come later.
The blade of Dean's shovel pierced the soft earth of the ground, closely followed by Sam's. And, just like that, they were digging their sister's grave. Everything about it all just seemed so wrong, so unthinkable, and it was something that neither of them ever could have anticipated that day she had regained her memories. That day they had promised themselves, promised her, that they would keep her safe. Maybe they had both been naive in believing that a return to their life wasn't a death sentence for her.
Were they to blame for what had happened?
Sam had thought about it every single day since she had returned, he couldn't help it. Who was really winning by bringing back her memories that day? Haley had been happy where they had found her, she'd had a life, friends, a job, a house, everything that just couldn't be achieved in their lives. He and Dean had made that choice for themselves, never for her. They had wanted her back, they had needed her back, and, on that day, he had to wonder if their morals had been clouded by their emotions. After every awful thing that had happened to her since she had returned; the kidnapping and torture at the hands of Zachariah that had resulted in her death, the constant manipulation by the angels in way of getting them to say yes, the beatings and the loss she had experienced, becoming the vessel of Satan, he had to wonder who had gained anything from her return, because it certainly hadn't been their sister. And that was on them, and the choices that they had made.
Every shovel of dirt that he moved brought back another memory of her, and he couldn't take it. It was surreal. How had it come to this? How had it gotten to a point that they were digging a grave for their only sister? How had they let her slip through their fingers again? Why hadn't they protected her? Why hadn't they stopped her before things had gotten too far? Why had they, once again, allowed her to be taken from their family?
Castiel and Bobby watched on, silent, because neither knew what to say.
Haley had been like a daughter to Bobby. The truth was, he wasn't quite sure how to react to the situation. A part of him knew, it hadn't hit him yet. The moment he had seen her body, immediately he had been dragged right back to that night when he had received the phone call from her father, those two words still echoed in his mind, and he could hear them as clearly as the night John had spoken them; She's dead. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. Nothing that happened to those brothers ever seemed fair. They had been through too much, they had seen too much, and, this time, things had gone too far. How much more could that small, battered family face? How much more could they take? They didn't deserve it. To him, they were still those same three kids who had bounced into his home and raided his refrigerator. They were still those same three bright-eyed children who had once had so much life within them.
Haley didn't deserve to be where she was, and Sam and Dean didn't deserve to face the world without her again so soon.
The moment she had returned, the day that she had gotten back her memories, the day that they had become a family again after so long, Bobby had seen the hope in Dean's eyes once again, he had seen the belief in Sam again that they could win. For the first time in so many years, they weren't weighed down with loss and grief and hunting. They had gotten back the one thing they had been missing for a lifetime, and now it was gone again, and they were right back in that place they had been the night she had been taken from them.
The truth of it was, and everyone who had ever met that family knew it, the three of them relied upon each other in ways that no other siblings did. They had grown up knowing nothing but complete trust in one another, and there had never been any question that one of them would gladly step in front of a bullet and give up their life for one of their siblings. And, when one of them was missing, that was when everything went to hell for them. They couldn't cope without one of their own.
A part of him wasn't so sure that they could make it through again.
There came a point that Dean just couldn't take it anymore, and he tossed the shovel he held aside to the ground. This was it.
Sam stopped where he was, and he followed his brother's lead. They both looked to their sister, lying on the ground, still.
With a short, steady breath, his jaw clenched in way of biting back any emotion that threatened to spill, Dean stepped towards her. Tentative, as though she was made of glass and could shatter with too much force, he reached down and picked her up gently. She felt so small in his arms, so light. Her head rolled towards his chest, and for a moment all he could do was stare down at her face. In that moment, she looked so peaceful, so innocent, and maybe he could will himself into believing that she was merely sleeping. But there was no escaping the horrible reality around him, because he knew where she was, and he knew it wasn't in his arms. He knew exactly what she was facing down there, and that only made it harder.
Sam stepped into the grave, and he looked up at his brother, expectant. His arms were outstretched, waiting, yet Dean appeared reluctant to let her go. The sadness was clear in his green eyes as he passed her down to Sam, and the younger brother lowered her to the ground gently. There was still some subconscious regard not to harm her, not to be too rough with her, and he couldn't determine why. They were careful with her, maybe because they still believed that moving her too harshly could hurt her.
Dean extended a hand to his brother, and Sam took it. He pulled him up from the grave, and, for a long moment, the four men simply stood there and stared down at her.
Her face was pale, and it stood out against the long brown hair that framed her face. She was bloody, broken, dead. And, in that moment, looking down at her lying in the dirt, it seemed more real than ever before.
Dean was certain, he promised himself, it wouldn't be the last time he saw her. That wouldn't be the last image he had of his sister. He was going to find a way to bring her back, because he couldn't live with himself knowing where she was, knowing what was happening to her. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He was going to find a way to save her.
Determined, he grabbed the shovel from where he had tossed it aside, and he took a short breath. The dirt they shoveled slowly covered her body, and there was no doubt in either brother's mind, it was the hardest thing they had ever had to do. With every chunk of soil that landed upon her still form, the less they could see of their sister. Were they ever going to see her again? Was this the last imagine that would be ingrained in their minds of her? Was this really the end of it all? It couldn't be.
Dean shoveled the last few grains of dirt to the top of the grave, and the sight they were left with twisted his stomach. He felt sick. Everything around him seemed a blur, and there was no making sense of a world without her.
For a long moment, everything was silent, and everything was still. The wind no longer existed, and the birds didn't sing in the sky.
Castiel cleared his throat, as though awkward, and he took a short step towards them, as though to remind them that they weren't alone. His blue eyes lingered on the grave for a short moment, and the thought of the body lying inside it threw him a little. It wasn't right. And he hadn't been prepared to see her die again so soon. A part of him knew that he should have stopped her that day, that he should have known her well enough to realize something had been wrong when she had reached out to him from that motel room. The moment he had realized her intentions, he should have dragged her back to Bobby's house before she had made her move on him. Maybe, had he made a different choice that day, they wouldn't have been standing there without her.
Haley deserved nothing that she had experienced, and, once again, he felt a familiar sense of guilt creeping into the pit of his stomach. It was so wrong. Time after time, Haley had been at the brunt force of everything that went wrong, and it seemed that she was always the one who ended up suffering at the hands of heaven. Why hadn't he stepped in sooner? Why hadn't he done anything to save her? Why had he allowed himself to once again die before him?
"I'll be in touch." he stated, resolute. "I'll work on finding a way to help her."
Sam and Dean looked to him, curious, because neither of them truly believed that it could be so easy. But, they nodded.
Castiel seemed to understand the look they shared, and he offered the smallest smile of reassurance. "We'll find something."
And, with those simple words, he vanished from before them.
Bobby looked between the two broken men who stood before him, and he gave a sorrowful shake of his head. A part of him didn't want to leave them, but he knew that he had to. Right there, Sam needed Dean, and Dean needed Sam.
"I'll call you if I find anything. You do the same." Once again, neither brother spoke, but they both nodded. "You boys know where I am."
Sam and Dean stood, side by side, and watched as he walked away across the graveyard. His shoulders were hung, and the defeat in his stance was more than visible. He was a man who had lost the closet thing he had ever had to a daughter, and he was hurting. The sound of the engine of his truck roaring to life seemed to echo around the field, and the gravel of the path scraped beneath his tires as he took off slowly down the road.
And then there was just the two of them. And the silence that surrounded them suddenly seemed so deafening.
There, in the middle of an abandoned graveyard, stood two brothers who had lost the last piece of their family they had hung onto.
With a soft sigh, Sam looked up to his brother. "Now what?" he asked, lost.
Dean gave a slow shake of his head. "I don't know, Sammy." he admitted, despondent. "I really don't know anymore."
If he were being honest, Dean wasn't sure what they were supposed to do at that point. Were they supposed to just walk away from that place? Was it really that easy to just turn their backs on the grave of their only sister and go on with their lives? Wasn't that what normal people did? They lost someone, they buried them, and then they got on with their lives again. How could they do that? It just seemed so wrong, so fast, so cruel.
Dean gave a low breath, and he turned from his brother. Slowly, his movements unsure, he approached the Impala. He wasn't ready to leave her behind just yet. He reached into the back seat and opened the cooler, and he pulled out two beers. Without a word or glance towards his brother, he moved to sit on the ground, and he leaned up against the side of the car.
A soft, sorrowful smile crossed Sam's features, and he moved to sit down beside him. He took the beer that was offered to him, and, for a moment, they simply sat there together.
Dean's elbows were rested against his knees, and he raised his bottle slightly. "Haley."
Sam clinked the bottle with his own, and he nodded. "Haley." he repeated. "She really saved our asses this time."
Dean gave a nod in way of agreement, because he would never deny it. She had sacrificed herself in way of keeping them alive. "You really think there's a way to bring her back?" he asked, cautious.
"I don't know, Dean." he muttered, despondent. "But, like you said, we can't leave her down there. I mean, if we thought she'd gone to heaven, maybe... but not knowing where she is. There has to be something. There's always something."
"I hope you're right, man." he answered, sincere.
The two of them fell into a silence, not necessarily uncomfortable, locked away inside their own thoughts of their sister. Time passed them by, maybe hours, maybe minutes, yet nether of them noticed much of anything that happened around them. They simply stared off ahead at the field before them, unseeing. All thoughts they had were focused upon Haley, and how they could bring her back from the hell she was facing at the hands of the devil and his brother. The horrors she was experiencing didn't bare thinking about, it was unimaginable.
"We're gonna be alright." Dean suddenly said. "We'll fix this, Sammy."
Dean was lying through his teeth, and they both knew it. Whether it was a statement made for Sam's piece of mind or his own, neither was sure. But neither of them truly believed that it was going to be okay, there was no way that what had happened could ever be okay, because there was no making it better this time, and there was no getting over it. It was just there. Suddenly, they were right back in that place they had been thirteen years earlier, sitting side by side as they grieved for the loss of their sister.
Sam said nothing. There was nothing that he could say. There were some moments that people just hadn't invented the words to describe, and, if they had, Sam sure as hell didn't know what they were. There weren't any words that could describe how he felt at that point, because the unadulterated grief that ran through his veins was something he just couldn't get a hold of. He couldn't face his brother, because he was the one whom he looked to for strength, and, he knew, should he face him now, it wouldn't be there. He wasn't sure he could bare to see the broken, hopeless devastation that he knew shone in his eyes.
What words were there to describe the unthinkable?
Dean shook his head, and he took a long drink of his beer. Everything felt so empty, as though the world was now void of something it craved. Every part of him just pleaded to whoever would listen for the moment when the torment to their family would come to an end. He longed for the days when the three of them could be safe, when they could be happy, when they could just hunt. But maybe that was out of the question for them. Perhaps there was always going to be some big and evil thing lurking in the darkness in wait. Maybe that was just who they were. Maybe that was the life they had always been destined to have.
There was no light in the world anymore, there was no humor and no laughter, there was nothing left to smile about, and any ounce of hope he had ever clung to had dissipated into nothing the moment his sister had closed her eyes for the final time. This time, he was out of one liners and jokes to make it easier, because he just couldn't seem to find the words to speak. He didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel, and he didn't see a brightness returning to their lives any time soon. There was no glimmer of hope at the end of the empty pit they were stuck in. The colour had faded from the world, and now it was just dark and grey and empty.
He had to live with that. They both did.
And that was just the start of it. All they had now was each other, and they had to stick together, or, this time, they wouldn't survive.
Winchester feelings. Oh, how I love them. So, obviously, someone had to stay dead, and Haley drew the short straw this time... sorry.
When I say someone had to stay dead, she's not going to be dead forever, I'm sure you can guess that much;-))
Heads up for the next chapter; Remember waaaaaaaaaaaay back in the beginning of the story at chapter two (me neither) when Sam and Dean first found their sister, Roxy as she was affectionately known back then... She had that level headed, red-haired friend Rachel who warned her not to go with the two strange men who showed up in the back room of a strip club with fake FBI badges... SHE'S BACK NEXT CHAPTER. BUT WHY. AND HOW. AND WHY. Also more bro moments, and sad moments and, sorry not sorry, a lack of Haley. Don't hate me, it's not forever!;-)
Thank you for reading! xo
