Tuesday, October 28, 2008


In Remembrance of Me
By Ebbtide

Cold, green eyes were locked in an eternal stare of fear and panic. Forever destined to portray the last emotions of their host. The green was infused with a softening gold, tingeing the soul’s windows with equal parts sadness and regret. Dean Winchester was dead and buried. His eyes forever frozen beneath bloodless lids.

Perhaps forever was too strong a word.


Six Months Later…

“Come on, Dean.” Sam taunted his older brother with a giant grin. “You know that you want to.”

“Give it back!” Dean gritted out between clenched teeth. “I’m not joking around, give it back and lets get the hell out of this place!” His voice had risen an octave by the end.

A nearby group of children exchanged frightened whispers before hurrying away at a quick pace. Dean grimaced and ran a hand through his short blond hair.

“Look at what you’ve done!” The elder brother motioned in the direction of the retreating children. “That’s just peachy. Now I’m the Grinch.”

Long, dark bangs fell over wide, hazel eyes. “I’m sorry. Here, Dean.” Sam extended his hand and opened it to reveal Dean’s cell phone. “You going to call her?”

“No.” Dean snatched the cell phone. “Now drop it.”

Sam raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, but you’re going to regret it.”

“Drop it.”

Sam sighed heavily and looked away, shaking his head. “Alright. I’ll drop it. I’m going to go wait in the car.”

“You do that.” Dean balled his hands into fists, trying to find an outlet for the tension that had been building up inside of him. How could Sam not understand that things had changed. Forever.

He watched his brother walk out of the front door of the building. A sadness engulfed him, threatening to drown him in it’s darkness and despair. With months of hell to sort through, his emotions were all screwed up.

It was not Sam’s fault, he knew that, but at the same time he wished that there was a way to make his brother understand the pain he felt inside. He had died in hell. Pieces of his soul being torn apart, swept off in a whirl of savage attacks. Demons loved to torture and there had been so many demons in hell. Their sulfur smiles bleeding the hope out of him slowly.

It had been hell.

A knot formed in his throat and Dean looked around for some place to escape to before the he lost what little composure he had left. He spied a bathroom off in the corner and made a b-line through the crowds of talking people.

Once inside, he closed and locked the door, leaning his head against it. His shoulders slumped, a deep hurt beginning in his stomach and clawing it’s way up his throat before escaping in a sob. Shoulders shaking, Dean let his body slide down the door until he sat, curled on the floor silently acknowledging the loss. A loss he would now and forever mourn. Loss of an innocence he only appreciated after it had been taken.

“Sammy.” His hoarse whisper spoke of all the regrets, doubts, fears and brotherly love he could never voice while in the presence of the younger man.

Dean would die again and go back to that place of endless despair if it would save Sam from a dark ending. Tears streaked down his cheeks in rivers of growing anger. Life had thrown down a perfect hand of cards and Dean was left paying a dept he could not afford. To gamble with his own life was a risk of the job, but to gamble with Sam’s life. Dean covered his face with his hands in shame.

Sam had gotten a chance, one chance, to make a normal life away from all the heartache of the Hunter lifestyle. Dean had literally dragged him back into the supernatural world, shooting down the only normality his brother had ever experienced. Dean could kill himself. A numb grayness edged his vision and he stared blankly down at the dirty bathroom floor.

A feather light brush of air, the approach of footsteps. Dean found himself wishing for it to be a demon, someone to end this torment once and for all. Maybe he should have gave into their dark influences tainting everything in hell, but Dean had held out - for Sammy he had remained human. It had been so hard to gather those broken pieces of soul and hold them tight against his chest, fighting to keep at bay the hands that had tried so passionately to tear them away.

Four months in hell was like forty years. Dean could still feel the heat burning flesh off his bones.

A cool hand touched his cheek. He looked up with fear glazed eyes and found himself staring into the face of an angel. Castiel, god’s warrior from heaven, stood over him with a sad smile shinning down at the hunter.


Castiel smiled at the human warrior shivering at his feet, a sadness gripping his heart. Dean Winchester was crying, his pain almost physically present as Castiel reached deep inside himself and extracted a wave of calm and peace. He reached down and touched a cool hand to the man’s cheek, closing his eyes he let the soothing emotions he had mined travel through himself and into Dean Winchester.

The man sighed, his tired green eyes closing in relief.

“Thank you.” Dean’s voice was harsh, but his words rang sincere. “I don’t know what you just did, but thank you.”

Castiel straightened, taking a few steps away. He kept his blue gaze fastened on the Winchester, he wanted to do more than dull the pain, but god had a very specific plan.

“You are welcome.” Castiel prepared to leap into another place and time, he had another mission to complete, an urgent one calling to him, but still he hesitated a moment. Dean needed reassurance. “You are not alone, Dean. Pray and god will hear you.”

“I doubt I’ll catch him at home.” Dean joked weakly, almost too emotionally spent to give the bravado a go. “But I guess a heavenly memo will have to do.”

“I will be back, Dean.” Castiel promised before slipping into thin air.

Dean felt his heartbeat, slowly thumping against his chest in a reassuring rhythm of promise and hope. He had no clue what that angel had done to him, but all of his fears and doubts had receded with that one simple touch.

Maybe forever was not so long after all.