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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She reached out, scooping up some of the dirt in her hand, and let it crumble as she rubbed her fingers together. "Ara," she murmured, a tiny sound of discovery. "We should give it mine. It's not-- I've already murdered people. If there's a hell, that's where I'm going."

O-Ren looked up at him. "Could you get it back if we did that?"

Dean shook his head, eyes hard on the ground to prevent himself shouting at her. For all that the Winchesters were willing to toss their souls around like playing cards, it was no kind of way for O-Ren to live.

"It's not about deserving it," he said when he could. "It's a trade - what you want for an eternity of torment in Hell. There's not much that's worth that." He smoothed his fingers over the upset in the dirt she'd made. "What you did wasn't murder."

"You can't go too," she said in a tiny voice. O-Ren hugged her knees, closed her eyes, mostly because she hated crying. "We still need you."

A tiny hiccup escaped her, and she stood up, wiping dusty fingers against her hot eyes. "Everyone leaves."

The worst part was, Dean couldn't deny that that was true. He'd seen every member of his family die, every person that'd ever hard a part in raising him save Bobby, and now Sammy was gone. Sam was gone. The only thing that hurt more than that was the thought of O-Ren feeling it, too.

"I won't go." Dean took a deep breath. "Not by choice, I promise."

"Do you mean it?" O-Ren stood where she was, looking about five years younger than usual and trying to fight it. "Not even if they let you?" Who they were, she didn't know. Except that they took everything away, eventually.