Set: After Asylum Prologue:
Dean Winchester isn't afraid of anything. I've known him since he was born and on a hunt he lives in his own little world, a protective bubble of toughness and sarcasm. I've seen it it's quite impressive, actually. Anything he's ever faced has seen the cold, almost comical look in his eyes as he takes them down. I could never shoot something in the face with that little emotion. Don't get me wrong, I kill things…I'm not exactly what you would call a saint. In fact Dean is after me right now. I hate to say it, but I'm not one of the good guys.
The trick is to know your enemies weakness, and that's exactly what Dean does. He finds their weakness, and uses it against them. It works, it always has. He's killed more evil sons-of-bitches then he can count, and he's damn proud. I'm damn proud, to tell you the truth. He is a good guy, a hero, nauseatingly Indiana Jones like. They, the bad guys, all have something, a curse, a spell, or an object, something that knocks them out for good. No one is a perfect hunter. Except maybe Dean. It's striking; he might actually be a better hunter then me. Maybe.
He's taken on big bastards before, hugely evil guys, and he's always won. He's taken some hits along the way, but the fact that he's still standing puts him above all the evil he's faced. That's because they all have something, a mirror, water, or a bullet that can bring them down. However, Dean does have something. One thing, one solitary thing, one hole in his steel wall of self-preservation. You see, the difference between the good guys and the bad guys is the bad guys have something they can die from, the good guys have something they'd die for.
It's cold, really cold out and I've been standing here for hours. I saw the two of them climbing out of the car, Dean loves that car, saw Dean walk stiffly past his brother. That wasn't like him, it wasn't like him to not joke, to not be swaggering after a fight, they had obviously won but Dean looked hurt. Not physically, of course, but in some other way he looked like he was in pain. Something had gotten to him. Something had penetrated his wall, but what was powerful enough to do that? Or should I ask, who?
They walked into that seedy motel, the paint was practically jumping off of the walls. I saw them from where I sat in the shadows, in the cold. I saw the soft glow of pale lamplight from their window. I sat there all night, watching them. Imagining what they were saying inside that motel room, w hat had happened tonight, what they had killed, what they had gone through. What had happened to Dean, what had hurt him? It couldn't have been a monster; no creature could make Dean walk like that. Walk with his head down, his arm limp at his side, nothing of his personality shone through in his stride. He was wincing, maybe something had happened to physically hurt him, maybe…but there was something else.
I have seen Dean hurt before, really, really hurt. Physically I mean, but not like this. This was something I'd never seen before, or something he had never shown me. Whatever had happened had hurt him deeper then any knife or bullet could. Something had found his weakness, the hole in the steel, his Achilles heel.
Like I said before, there is a difference between the good guys and the bad guys. Dean is a good guy, even though he seems tough on the outside he helps people, it's what he does. He doesn't think of himself in that dark basement, cellar, alleyway, or whatever other dark place he goes into. Wherever he ventures gun raised he does it to stop the evil. That makes him a good guy, good for the sake of good and for love. Love of his dead mother, I know all about that, everyone in my circle does. The bad guys do evil for the sake of evil that makes them the bad guys. But they can be stopped; they can be killed by the good guys, light chases away dark, et cetera, et cetera. I won't bore you, you know how it works.
The weaknesses that the bad guys have are corporeal, something that hurts them, kills them physically. For the good guys it's an emotional thing. Something that gets them where it really hurts, in the heart. Don't get me wrong, good guys can bite a bullet too, but they're easier to bring down once you know how to hurt them. These hero types are tough, they've got an emotional barrier, but everyone has a breaking point. I've seen Dean at his, I've been there for his entire life. Watching him, seeing him slowly put up his wall, only a few times before have I seen him get knocked out, emotionally that is. I saw it the night of the fire, even the night his brother left him. It takes him completely off guard, and I can see it in his eyes that his wall just fell down. But time is the true panacea and he always put it back up.
Tonight I saw that body language again. He walked like a beaten Doberman; a once top dog was knocked out of his place. Something had happened, something big. I saw Dean leave the motel room alone at four in the morning, a bag in his hand. I saw him start his beloved Impala, but he didn't drive off. Of course he didn't, Sam was still inside the motel.I heard the dull throbbing of music that was turned up way too loud. I saw his head drop to his chest and was certain something horrible had happened. I've known him for his entire life, yet tears were always something he hid.Had his brother left him? No, that couldn't be it, yet I was certain that it had something to do with the boy. That's his one weakness. You see, the bad guys have bullets, knives, or potions that can hurt them. Dean... he has a brother.