(no subject)

[gavemea_45]

He's standing by the edge of Dean's bed, staring down at the floor. Sam's not going anywhere-- even if there were a chance of finding help at Milliways, he's not going to leave Dean alone and undefended. He's not sure what it'll look like when the reaper comes for him, but he's got no intention of just letting it happen.

There's got to be something he can do. That someone can do. He can't just give up. He won't.

Even as he thinks it, Dean gasps in a sharp breath, choking on the tube in his throat as he jerks awake.

Sam's head snaps up.

"Dean?"

Without waiting for an answer, he yells toward the hallway,

"Help! I need help!"

The response from the medical staff is gratifyingly quick.



The doctor's the last one to leave the room, surprise and confusion still written on his face at being unable to explain what had happened. Sam doesn't care.

His brother's alive. That's all that matters.

Comments

[hopeitsworthit]

Blah blah blah, medical jargon.

Dean's pretty busy just staring at Sam and feeling his lungs expand and contract.

It's--it's a pretty good feeling.

And he is not girly for thinking that.

Anybody would, right?

Now, if the doctor would just get off his ass and get out of here--

"So, Sammy--you said a Reaper was after me?"

How the hell does that work?

Wasn't once enough?

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah."

Sam's still watching Dean almost as though he's not entirely sure that this is real.

That Dean's really going to be okay.

"Yeah. It was."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean raises both eyebrows, wincing as it pulls at the cut on his forehead.

"So--"

He waits.

Nothing.

"How'd I ditch it?"

Come on, Sammy. Spill.

[gavemea_45]

He shrugs.

"You got me."

Sam gives him a closer, more careful look.

"Dean-- you really don't remember anything?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Nah."

Dean manages to remember not to shake his head, though his eyes narrow as he stares at Sam.

"Just this pit in my stomach."

Beat.

"Sam--something's wrong."

Something is really damn wrong.

Fuck.

Just when he was startin' to hope things were getting better, too.





Yeah. Right.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

He wonders if this is what other people feel like when they're dying. Old men in their beds or those seconds before the car collides with the tree-- is this what it feels like? With every step, his body seems to be slowing, preparing to stop, creeping to a halt like some fucking watch that won't get another winding.

He leans on the doorway, mostly because he has to, and looks at his boys with a faint smile. Faint, because they'll question it if he doesn't. But he can't help it.

Because it's his boys. And they're both alive.

"How you feeling?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean looks away from Sam for a second or two. It makes his face hurt when he smiles.

And there's still that niggling sense of somethin' going really damn wrong here.

"Fine, I guess."

That pretty much covers it, though he spreads out his hands for effect.

"'m alive."

That counts for a lot right now. A whole damn lot, even.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

"That's what matters."

Not the gun. Not the demon. Not the rest of the fucking world and maybe that makes him a bigger bastard than half the shit he's hunted down over the year that he's done something that undoes all his plans, that will leave things up to fate and luck and other people, and he doesn't care.

Not with Dean there to look at him awkwardly.

Not when he felt himself slowing down towards a stop.

Not when it's done already.

[gavemea_45]

Something about Sam's expression closes up as soon as John appears in the door.

"Where were you last night?"

Levelly.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

"Had some things to take care of."

And he wasn't thinking cause it was done.

It was done and Dean was alive. His boys were all right.

[gavemea_45]

Sam's nodding slightly, almost as if he's confirming something to himself.

"Well, that's specific."

His gaze doesn't waver from John's face.

[hopeitsworthit]

There's a moment where Dean thinks 'I came back from death for this?'--

But it doesn't last.

"Sam."

He's so goddamn tired right now. Can't they just--

Can't there be just one freakin' minute where nobody's fighting?

"Come on."

[gavemea_45]

He hears Dean, but Sam can't let it go.

Where were you, Dad? I... Dean needed you, and you weren't there--

"Did you go after the demon?"

Did you lie to me again?

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

Making him come to me isn't going after him, now is it? You gotta learn how to word your questions, Sammy.

Shit.

Another thing I'm not gonna get to teach you.

"No."

I taught them to fight but I never got to teach them to plan. To record. To network. Always knew best. Always had to do it myself. Couldn't get them involved.

Fuck.

Fuck.

[gavemea_45]

Bullshit.

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

He shifts his weight, unconsciously bracing himself for a fight.

You said it yourself, Dad. Nothing's more important, right? So where the hell else would you have been?

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

There's a game he could play, lines he could use. There's a few things he needs to get done, that he should set up...

But everything's slowing down and everything aches and the worst part is that he's not sure if that's supposed to be reminding him that he's alive or that he'd dying.

"Can we not fight?" he hears coming out of his mouth. It's not what he wanted there, but it's there and now he can't stop. So much honesty, almost too much honesty, and that hurts on it's own. "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads."

He can feel it, feel them scrapping against his throat at the base of his neck and scratch their way out. He's choking and things are slowing down except for the words, the truth.

And he knows he won't be able to get it all done.

"Sammy, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could."

They both have to know that.

"I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

Not anymore. He just can't.

[hopeitsworthit]

Two seconds after John opens his mouth, Dean's head is whipping around, eyes gone narrow in sudden wariness.

Dad?

What the--

That sick feeling in his stomach grows some even nastier claws.

[gavemea_45]

The anger that had been building up is gone, knocked out of him in total surprise-- quickly followed by worry.

He's never acted like -- something's wrong.

"Dad? Are you all right?"

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

I lost!

I'm fucking tired!

I'm dead!

Nothing is fucking 'all right'. Nothing is ever going to be fucking all right. I don't get a happily ever fucking after. I never get a fucking happily ever after. I'm selling my soul and my claws for the chance that my kids can pull this off and I know I didn't give them everything they need and there's not a fucking thing I can do! Not a fucking thing!

You fight and you fight and all you get for it is tired and in debt and hunted and hellfire.

Holy fuck.

I'm going to hell.

I'm going to fucking hell.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired."

This is the last time I get to see them: in a fucking hospital.

He looks to Sam. Smiles at Sam. Tips his head back to see just one more angle, because he's not getting anymore.

"Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

Isn't that just the perfect last meal for the condemned? For me, anyway.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

It comes out a little awkwardly, and Sam's moving just as awkwardly as he comes around the end of the bed toward the door, like he always had been as a gangly teenager when uncertain of his ground.

He hesitates a little as he goes by John, but doesn't stop. The room's silent as Sam goes out the door and heads for the hospital cafeteria.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean kinda wishes he were a little kid again, because not askin' about what was going on would mean nothing was going on.





Not that that ever worked. But--

"What is it?"

He's gettin' real damn tired of elephants in the room. Real damn tired.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

"You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say 'It's okay, Dad'."

He breathes out.

He doesn't know where that--

No, fuck that. He knows where that came from. It came from the guilty little pit at the bottom of his soon-to-be-burning soul that can't stop screaming about all the things he hasn't told them, all the things they'll never learn, all the secrets he'll take to the grave.

All the things he'll never get to say.

This is only one. This is the one on the top of the heap, just happens to be sitting on his mind as he looks at Dean and he wishes he could say the important things--

No, fuck that.

They're all important things.

I love you, boy.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

[hopeitsworthit]

He--

Dad--

This is too--

"What?"

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

"You shouldn't have had to say that to me," and it's gushing out like he's been shot, pumping out like somethings tearing his throat out. "I should have been saying that to you."

A breath. A swallow. This fucking lump in his throat and he doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or all those goddamn words.

"You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders; I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once."

Not once. Of all the things he knows, of all the things he remembers, of the million things swimming around in his head, he knows that.

And there's one thing he has to tell Dean, one thing he has to know. The most important thing, the thing he can't die without saying.

Plans be damned.

"I just want you to know that I am so proud of you."

He sure as fuck was.

[hopeitsworthit]

Those words are--

Dean can't say they're words he's always wanted to hear, because he's pretty much given up hoping for shit he can't have, but--

There's balm in them, something that can fix hurts he didn't even know were there.

And that's--that'd be just why Dean can't trust it, can't trust--

He tries to shift his expression into something cocksure and swaggering, take the sting out of the question he's gotta ask and doesn't really mean.

"This really you talking?"

Well, doesn't really want to mean.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

He smiles.

Smart boy.

His heart pangs as he hears it, though. Here he is, thinking of all the things he didn't get to teach them, all the secrets he doesn't get to pass on... and what kind of father was he?

The demon took Mary. The demon burned their home.

But was he the one who'd destroyed their family?

Everything slowing, everything stopping, and they don't lie. They don't lie because everything is passing before his eyes, every mistake and every decision and every regret is passing through him body and soul and he can feel each one like he's been running for too long.

"Yeah," he says after a million years. "Yeah, it's really me."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean just looks at John, really looks, and he believes him.

But that means--

"Why are you saying all this stuff?"

It can't be anything good. Nothing about any of this means anything good.

Not even--not even him being awake and talking right now.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

He steps forward. Puts his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Get it out. Say it. Do it. It's ending. He's ending. It's stopping. He's stopping. The world is stopping to let him off.

"I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?"

Watch out for Sammy. Standing orders for Dean's whole life.

I'm a fucking bastard.

[hopeitsworthit]

Watch out for Sammy?

"Yeah Dad, you know I will."

Dad really thinks he needs to tell Dean? Hell, he's been watching out for Sammy his whole goddamn life!

Why the hell would he--

"You're scaring me."

Because if Dad thinks he needs to remind Dean about how important Sammy is, about how important keeping Sam safe is--

Something has gone really fucking wrong.

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

Watch out for Sammy... but it means a lot more now.

"Don't be scared, Dean."

Don't be scared of the dark, Dean. Don't be scared of being alone, Dean. Don't be scared of Sammy, Dean. Don't be scared of doing what you have to do, Dean.

Don't be scared of the dark, Dean. Don't be scared of the monsters or the demons or the creatures or the ghosts because I taught you and I showed you and I tried my best and you can do this.

He has to believe it or he's a thrice-damned fool instead of just damned.

And he leans over, says what he has to say, what Dean needs to hear and he believes that because he has to watch out for Sammy.

He squeezes his shoulder.

Is this part of the end? Wanting to die? Hating yourself for wanting it?

Does it matter? Deals done.

[hopeitsworthit]

Listening to John--to Dad--Dean's not scared at all.

"You've got to watch out for Sammy, Dean.You've got to save him."

Right now he's just numb.

"Nothing else matters. Nothing."

Scared comes later.

"Because if you can't, Dean, you're gonna have to kill him."

He's gotta deal with the screaming heebie-jeebies he's got crawling around in his gut, first.

Something--

Something's really not right here.

Maybe they can all figure it out when Sammy gets back.