Friday, November 7, 2008

Angels And Demons No More


A tear winds its slow and lonely way down my face. It reflects in the harsh light of the room, showing a clear trail that I would hide if I could feel its presence. Too many other thoughts and feelings intrude on my mind and so this weakness it not removed.

Sam Winchester is watching me, his dark eyes gauging my own, assessing the damage done by the past year of separation. I try to smile, I try to let my eyes speak for me, but there are no more smiles. I’ll never feel my lips curl upwards again, they are leaden and heavy with memories. They are overburdened and weighty. No. That is my heart, not my numb lips. Everything is numb. I do not feel the second tear that snakes its way to my shirt collar.

I’m the older brother here, I should be the one to break the silence that has engulfed us these past few minutes. The first time in twelve months we meet in the middle of a hotel room. The “old days” come back in a rush of sepia-laced memories. I breath in sharply, bittersweet feelings pumping through my veins. I know what he represents, what he became all those months ago and he knows the true me.

If I could go back in time and warn myself about what would happen, even I would never have believed it. Not in a million years.

Sam had let himself turn into a demon. That sweet, caring man I had called ’Sammy’ and looked out for all my life. He had turned evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. I had seen him in all his darkness, the bloody violence so hard to watch. I knew what he had become. The eyes may no longer be yellow or red or even black, but behind their hazel guise I read the truth in them. Their iron core daring me to speak aloud my reservations at being in the same room with this killer. The monster Sammy.

He opens his mouth and I visibly flinch. For some reason that even I cannot comprehend, I had expected him to burst into a Latin saturated exorcism that would banish my soul. Sam could extinguish angels now too and I was an angel.

Castiel had shown me the metaphorical ropes. I gulp down the urge to whisper his name for help. This meeting I need to handle on my own. Two brothers, two different sides to a war that started so many eons ago. I wish it would all go back to the way that it was, but logic dictates that can never be allowed. We are not truly the same two men that we were before.

The physical, the mental, the ideological sides of our characters have changed so very much since my twenty-sixth birthday. I stare at my brother.

“You should leave, Dean.” Sam says calmly, as if I had not just seen him massacre an entire family.

My feet stay rooted to the floor, I could not move if I had wanted to, because there is something about the way his mouth curves to easily at the corners. He is grinning at me. The same smile I used to treasure, to coax out of him, now gives me chills. I feel the hairs on my arms stand up. Everything is so wrong.


I do not need to be told twice. Tearing my body out of its stunned freeze, I turn my back to him and to that genuine smile. I walk away. My brother is dead.