So You Think You Know Better
(Or Hospice Care)
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural, or any of the characters you find here.
Spoilers: Continued coda to 5-22. Dean POV.
Warnings: Angst, references to suicide
AN: As stated above, this story has (completely non-graphic) references to suicide, which are far less ambiguous than they were in the previous chapter. I'm a little nervous about this, and feel the need to assure readers that I am in no way condoning this action. I have some thoughts about character motivations and whatnot, and am more than happy to share them, if you're curious.
Chapter 2: Dean
Ben didn't ask what happened to Sam. He just cocked his head and said, "So, you're alone now."
Dean ruffled a hand through the kid's hair, and nodded.
"He's dead. Or, might as well be," he told Lisa, a week later.
He asked why she wanted to know.
"I don't want to upset you," she said, "but I think I've seen him. Watching you."
"Watching me?" he asked.
"Just there," she said, pointing out the window. "From across the street."
He kept his eyes trained ahead, and fought the urge to check.
"Sam's gone," he said, and went up to bed.
That night, he woke up gasping, his pillow wet with tears. Lisa was beside him, running a cool cloth over his face and neck.
She whispered promises that no, Dean, shh, this isn't hell, this isn't hell.
She asked him to talk, so he did. Spilt out all of his secrets, like red wine on a white carpet.
"Better?" she asked, when he was done. She looked nauseous.
He didn't answer. He couldn't tell her he felt nothing. Only guilt at the stains his confession had left behind.
The weeks stretched out like dog years, like hell years. His promise to Sam was like a burden around his neck.
He waited for the worm to turn.
He applied for a job at a local garage. The owner sat him down, to discuss his skills and credentials. He told him about rebuilding the Impala, and working on Bobby's junkers. It went well.
Then, the owner asked, "You have family in the area, son?"
"My family's dead," he replied, and left.
He stopped looking for work after that.
Six weeks into his stay, he saw Sam.
He told Lisa, and she told him about Cas.
She looked bemused, and tried grasping for a reasonable explanation. Dean didn't need one.
He knew what they were doing, and why. He just wished someone had thought to ask him what he wanted. Of course, it was only now, that he knew.
He waited three days to call Crowley. The demon appeared in Lisa's entryway, soon after. Dean led him to the living room, but didn't speak.
Crowley asked what he wanted.
"I want the Colt," he said.
"What for?" Crowley asked. He sounded surprised.
"I can't go back to hell, and I didn't much like heaven, either," he explained. "This way, everyone gets what they want."
Crowley bitched and argued, but eventually agreed.
That night, Dean slept soundly, for the first time in months. It was a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Colt felt at home in his palm. Its warm weight grounded him, and the last of his doubts fell away.
He washed his sheets, and emptied his things from Lisa's guest room. He took Chuck's books out of the Impala, and gave them to Ben.
They had diner food for dinner, shakes, burgers and fries. He said his goodbyes after, and drove away from them. He expected some pang of regret, some leftover longing for the life he was leaving behind.
Those feelings never came, and he kept driving.
He drove out to an abandoned field, where Crowley would know to find him. He got out of the Impala, and gave her one last glance.
He walked about fifty yards out, took in one last breath.
The Colt felt at home in his palm, and he was happy.
I should note that, in my canon, the Colt does to vessels what it does to demons, and destroys them completely. Dean here wanted to avoid both heaven and hell, so made sure to use a weapon that wouldn't leave his soul behind. I know, it's incredibly depressing. I'm considering doing Sam POV and Cas POV, for a little more perspective. Please review if you have a moment, and let me know what you think. Thank you!