(no subject)

[weary_head]

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.

Comments

[off-the-ceiling.livejournal.com]

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."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"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."

[off-the-ceiling.livejournal.com]

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."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

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."

[off-the-ceiling.livejournal.com]

"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."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"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."

[off-the-ceiling.livejournal.com]

"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."