weary_head | (no subject)

Dean's body ached from the inside out, every last part of it wound so tight it was a wonder he had any strength left for walking, but walk Dean did. His feet had carried him to every part of the island at least twice, and now they'd brought him to the tree Sam had taken from the jungle and planted the last time Dean disappeared.

What, you made me into Arbor Day?

Sam hadn't smiled then, and Dean didn't smile now. Between Sam's screaming absence and Castiel's news, Dean wasn't sure he'd ever smile again. Not once, back home, not once had he taken Sam for granted, and on the island it'd taken all of a year to relax his guard, let himself reach for things that made him happy, and now his little brother was gone. Back to the worst of all possible futures, and Dean was as powerless to save him as a child.

He pushed his fingers over his eyes, holding back the panic as best he could. Sam was out there, fighting Lilith with only Ruby at his side, and Dean was in fucking Margaritaville. With a grunt of dissent, Dean walked forward, head shaking angrily from side to side. They hadn't been through all of this to be separated now.

The fistful of leaves tore easily away from the branch. Dean stalked north with his prize, to the place where the path split four ways. In times past, a left would have taken them to the baseball field where the both of them had played in a way they'd never been able to as children.

He punched rather than dug the hole in the ground.

When the last leaf was buried in the ground, Dean sat back on his haunches and waited. He didn't have anything left to barter with, even if a demon did come, but he had to know.

He had to know if this was truly done.

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Jess felt like she was wandering more than searching now, exhausted and a bit bruised up from pushing her way into places she was never meant to go and still wandering up and down paths looking, looking everywhere, waiting for that moment when she saw that familiar stance, those familiar hands, those familiar eyes.

It wasn't a surprise when she came across Dean instead; since the moment Sam had first disappeared, Jess hadn't really strayed far.

"Why isn't there something to shoot?" she said. "I could do that. I'm ready for that."

"There's always something to shoot," Dean murmured, wishing he'd at least gotten some water before going to his luck with a tardy demon.

"Doesn't help."

"You sure?" said Jess. "Cause it feels like it would help." She didn't have a gun in her hand at the moment, but if she wanted one there it wouldn't take long. "You found something better?"

Dean shook his head, tired enough that he could swear he felt his brain rattle with the motion. "Last ditch effort," he said, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to get the hell out of here, to leave him alone and go where she'd be safe, but the words didn't come. Sam wouldn't have wanted them to.

"You know he planted that tree for me."

"When I first knew Sam I hadn't even met you," said Jess, fingering the hilt of her knife without even really thinking about it, comforted just by its presence, "and now I can't imagine one of you without the other."

There was more she could say, but she bit her lip hard to hold it back.

Excepting Stanford and the few jobs Sam and John had done without him, Dean had never been apart from Sam. Certainly never in a way that felt as permanent as this. Even though it was happening to him, Dean couldn't imagine it either.

"Jess..." Dean's mouth remained open, but he had no idea what to say. "Do you want - we've got room in our hut, if you want."

Jess had been keeping it together, at this point mostly through willpower and sheer exhaustion, but just those words, just that offer, pushed her over the edge. She tried to say something but her throat closed and her eyes filled against her will and it just felt so final.

She couldn't answer, not out loud, but she wrapped her arms around herself and nodded her head.

Dean pushed himself to his feet. He hadn't been waiting long, but it was long enough to know that a demon wasn't coming. This was happening. This was really over.

"Do you want me to get your things?" He knew what stepping over that threshold would do to him. It was the same thing it'd do to Jess, and if Dean could spare her that, he would.

Jess was silent for a moment, then squared her shoulders and lifted her head and met Dean's eyes. "Thank you," she said, and her voice might've been weak, but it was clearly audible. "I won't need much."

"Tell me what you need," he said. "We've got a couch. If - " Voice threatening to break, Dean cleared his throat. "We can add another room, easy."

Jess took a moment to swallow back her reaction to that, to the permanancy of the suggestion. "I'll take the couch," she said. "I just need... clothes, personal items. Everything else can stay."

Dean nodded. He stood there, fingers twitching for a moment before his hand shot out to take her own. "I'm sorry," he said, holding her hand as delicately as he might've a baby bird. "If I could've stopped it - " Those fingers jerked, tightening Dean's hold. "I would, I swear."

"Nobody can stop it," said Jess tightly. "We don't have any choice in anything, do we. Things just happen and we can't do a damn thing about it, no matter how hard we try."

"No, we can't." It hurt him to say it, and not just for her sake. Back home there was always a way out, however stupid or suicidal, and here there was nothing. No demons, no charms, not even a god to pray to.

But maybe that was okay, in a small but significant way. Dean had just about had his fill of watching people lose their minds with grief. Sam had been all but mad with revenge when Jess died, to say nothing of what their father had done - maybe having nothing to rail against wasn't such an awful thing this time. "You want anything, you need anything, I don't care what it is," he rasped out. "You tell me."

"You too," she said. "All right Dean? You too. Because I just... I can't-- no, I don't want to do this alone. We're not alone."