A/N: Trying to get myself back in the fanfiction game after a very long hiatus. I really enjoyed the collaboration between Avril Levigne and Chad Kroeger on Let It Go and the lyrics really spoke to me related to Dean and Sophia. And yes, I haven't given up my penchant for breaking them up and getting them back together... Any errors are mine and sadly, I don't own any of the characters mentioned here except for Sophia.

Let It Burn

The flames shift and flare as the fire comes to life. Odd shadows dance on the ground and the trees. It's not completely dark, but the sun is hanging low in the sky. Low enough to make the crackling fire look bright.

Dean Winchester stands stiffly, eyes fixed on the blaze in front of him, but not really seeing it. He wonders how he got here. How he ended up in this place, trying to burn away memories he'd been convinced he'd never have the opportunity to make. How everything went to hell so damned fast.

A small voice in the back of his mind says he could have it back if he wanted. He doesn't have to let it all burn. He could make it right if he wanted it badly enough. He could…

Shaking his head, Dean reaches into his shirt pocket for the last thing. The very last bit that remains. The last physical bit anyway. Part of his soul would always be spoken for. Part of his heart would always have this claim on it. But if he can just get rid of these physical reminders, maybe it would make it easier to get through the day. Or sleep through the night without booze to dull the pain.

Maybe.

His thumb strokes over the well worn edges of the photo. He remembers the day it was taken. A good day. Happier than he ever remembers being. They're both smiling, heads tilted together, fingers linked. Christ, the sun is even shining behind them. All the damn thing needs is friggin' rainbows and unicorns. Sighing, he steps closer to the fire. It's just a printed piece of paper now. Doesn't mean anything.

The flames are flickering, dying down. With a frown, he kneels down and tosses another piece of wood on, swiping his arm over his brow. It's really too warm to be doing this today, but he has to do something. Something concrete. Something to move forward. He's been stuck in neutral for months now. Waiting. For what, he's not quite sure. It's pretty clear things are over. But moving on, that's another thing altogether.

So is that it then? We're done? You're leaving?

Yeah, I am . There's just... I can't anymore. I mean, we're just making these circles instead of moving forward. And I don't think I can keep doing it.

Right. Okay. Sure. Whatever.

Is that all you... You know what? Forget it. I'm not dancing this dance with you. Not again.

Fine. I'm not forcing you to stay. You do what you need to.

He stands again, wiping his hands on his jeans, but doesn't drop the picture into the now happily crackling bonfire. It's time to let go. He shouldn't have let her go then, but he's going to now. To burn it all down. Set it all on fire and hope the flames can cleanse him. Make him forget. But somehow, his fingers won't move. Won't let him take that last step. Won't let him admit there's nothing left. No hope.

His eyes sting. He blames the smoke. This is stupid. It's just a picture. There's nothing left for him to say. Nothing left for him to do. Let it go. Need to let it go. Let them go. He repeats the words in his head, but he still doesn't move to do what he came here to do. Doesn't move to get what he hopes is release. Doesn't say goodbye.

He hears footsteps behind him, crunching lightly in the dirt and leaves. Assuming it's Sam come to check on him, he ignores it. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"So, is that the answer then? I hadn't thought of fire."

Dean freezes. That voice sure as hell isn't Sam. Must be warmer than he thought, making him imagine things.

A petite figure stops at his side. He can see her from the corner of his eye. He's afraid to turn to her. Afraid she'll disappear. Afraid it really is his overheated imagination.

"God knows I've tried everything else," she continues, ticking the things off on her fingers as she speaks. "Booze, hunting, more booze, sleep, not sleeping, going out, hiding away." She sighs. "Can't say as any of it worked."

He can't speak. Can't hardly think really. Too much to process. His fingers tighten on the picture, as if it might ground him back in reality. Make sense of what's happening.

"So is this the ticket? Burning it down? Is this what it takes to get you out of my head? Out of my heart?"

He shrugs, tucking away the photo, as if he's afraid she might snatch it from him and toss it in the fire, just to prove out the theory. "Don't know yet."

"Is that what you want?"

Something in her voice tugs at him. Whispers that maybe she hopes the answer is no. That maybe there's still a chance for them. A chance to stop making those circles and make a real future.

He turns toward her, dragging his gaze to her face. She looks exhausted. Thin. Pale. It takes all the control left in him not to touch her. But a voice he doesn't recognize as his own whispers her name. "Sophia…"

She doesn't look him in the eye. She swallows hard, fingers twisting into the hem of her t-shirt. "Dean...you...I..." Shaking her head, she drops her gaze to the dirt under their feet.

The words come easily. So easily it's as though he's been dying to say them for months. Hell, he has.

"No, babe, that's not what I want. It's not ever what I wanted." He shuffles his feet, staring down at the top of her head. The dark brown strands almost glow in the combined light of the fire and the setting sun. He thinks again of touching her, running his fingers through the strands he knows will feel like silk. But he's still not sure. Still doesn't know what she's thinking. What she wants.

Sophia's voice is tight and so soft he has to strain to hear her. ""I thought it was what I wanted. What I should do. But somehow I haven't been able to stop lov..." She bites back the rest of the word, but he hears it as if she's shouted it and he freezes. Shrugging, she continues. "I haven't been able to stop how I feel about you. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you. To stop missing you."

He's still frozen. But now it's clear why she's here. What she's looking for: him. Them. She's opened the door. The next move is definitely his.

Slowly, Dean raises his hand, lets it drift down over her hair, fingers lifting the strands, then watching them fall away. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I let you go and I shouldn't have. I was..." The words are there, but locked in. He clears his throat, and moves his hand to cup her cheek. "I was afraid. Afraid of what I felt. Afraid to watch you leave, but terrified of what I'd have to say to get you to stay."

He shakes his head, feels the tension in her increase. He needs to say the rest. Say it all. Grazing his thumb under her chin, he urges her to look at him. When her gaze finally meets his, he forgets everything for a moment. A sheen of tears shimmers, and her teeth worry at her lower lip. It's nearly his undoing, but he closes his eyes for a second, gathering himself.

"I missed you, Sophia. Every minute. Every second. I..I..need you. I need you with me. You keep me whole...keep me sane. And since I was too stupid to say it before..." He pauses, runs his thumb over her lip, teasing it from under her teeth. "I want you to stay. I need you to stay. I'll do whatever it takes to convince you."

The tears that have been threatening as he spoke finally spill over, but are offset somewhat by an uncertain smile. "Are you sure, Dean? I need you to be sure. I don't think I can do this again."

His nod is quick. He wants to kiss her now. To show her. But he's relied too much on that. He knows she needs to hear it now. "I'm sure. Very sure." His grin is not as cocky as usual, but it's genuine. He swipes away her tears, his touch as tender as he can make it. "I promise. I won't let you go again."

Her eyes search his. He works to drop the walls, the things between them that kept him from truly being with her. Holding her gaze, he lets himself feel the happiness reflected in that picture he wanted to throw in the fire.

Sophia sucks in a breath, her hand trembling as she cups his cheek. "Oh, Dean," she breathes, and he doesn't hold himself back from kissing her this time.

He's not sure which of them makes the keening sound he hears, but it doesn't stop him from devouring her mouth. One hand tangles in her hair, the other finds the small of her back and pulls in her in tight against him. Releasing her lips, he rests his forehead on hers, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "God, I'm sorry." He swallows hard. "I thought I was too late. Too late to fix things. Too late to…"

She shakes her head, leaning into him, arms tight around him. They don't move for what seems like ages, but somehow couldn't be long enough.

Leaning back, Sophia looks up at him. "It was never too late, babe. My heart never let go of what I thought we could be. It never let go of you."

Just as he was about to lose himself in her eyes again, he vaguely hears the door of the Impala squeak and close and looks up to see Sam shuffling awkwardly next to the car. He looks back down at the woman in his arms and she smiles and nods.

One more lingering kiss and Dean turns them both away from the fire and toward his brother. Toward a new road he could follow with her. Toward something even brighter than the fire behind them.