DISCLAIMER: I do not own or did write the poem "Peace, My Heart" By Rabindranath Tagore. I also do not Supernatural or any of it's characters, although God knows I wish I do. They belong to The Kripke and The CW network.
"Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness."
Dean was struck by the hopeless feeling of loss, the ever strong sense of grief and the prospect of never feeling like he would be able to swim rather than sink. His father was dead, his hero, the man who raised him to be the man he was today. There was no-one who could replace him, Dean would never want to. Desperation fuelled his tears and he let them flow as hammer after hammer crashed down onto the Impala. The last piece of his father. The gift. His heart was crushed, his hopes, his dreams and ultimately the anger that his father had died for him. He could not see a way past the devastation that he felt. He still had Sam. But Sam was only his brother, the kid he'd practically raised. He didn't need a son. He needed a father. A father who did what was best for his kids and even giving his life for them.
"Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest."
He was alone at last, all previously healed wounds re-opened. Flesh, raw and bloody. Pain was what the future held, there was no escape, no release. Dean was left to suffer alone, in silence and in grief. He was always the one who had to watch from the outside, as one by one those that were important to him, were cruelly snatched away. This time he saw a way, a way to make it all stop, to rescue himself from oblivion and to finally prove that he was worth the oxygen. His brother, who may as well have been his son, was everything to Dean. He was all he had left and Dean could not bear to let him go.
"Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence."
It was over. He was gone. Sam was now beginning to understand how Dean felt. Why he made the deal. Sam was alone. He could live his own life. Before Dean had come to Stanford, that was all he'd ever wanted. Now, he'd give anything and everything to have him back, at his side, out of hell. But no demon would accept his offer. Dean was to stay in the pit for eternity and Sam could not live with the fact that he was there for him. Dean had mirrored his father's actions and given his life for a relative he deemed worth the sacrifice. It killed his heart and soul to know that. It killed his mind more to realise that this was the way it was going to be. Forever trapped in the cycle of pain, desperation and the blood-boiling anger. Sam's life was only going to be that. A life. Not worth the struggle for survival and sanity. Sam didn't want to live anymore, but he had to. It's what Dean would want.
"I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way."
Due to school commitments all of my current stories have been placed on hold. However you will see some random one-shots, drabbles and bouts or poetry.