Unsaid
Unsaid
A Supernatural story by Jennie @DeanIsntFine
Featuring Dean Winchester @DWImpala67
Part 1: "VBF"
Part 2: "Welcome to Rocky's"
Part 3: "Last Call"
Part 4: "Nourished"
(Apologies to Mr. Spielberg, Mr. Connery, and Dr. Henry Jones Sr.)
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| GIFs from Canon SPN Gifs on Tumblr |
I stepped carefully across the threshold, into Room 7B. Into the dungeon.
There was a sharp tang in the air, like ozone after a storm, and a faint smell of… rot. Corruption.
I’d seen the black, bottomless force that had invaded this room. I’d seen it through his eyes.
I’d seen it take Castiel, and Death along with him.
I inched between the shelves, past the room’s lone chair, across the devil’s trap etched into the concrete floor.
My best friend was there in the dim, propped up against the brick wall, head in his hands. His phone lit up and vibrated on the floor between his splayed bowlegs.
I crouched down beside him, laying a hand on his knee. “Sam’s trying to reach you,” I said, gently. “He’s worried. Things at the silo… didn’t go so well.”
Dean, unsurprised by my presence, didn’t lift his head. I heard a sniffle, and the faintest, bitter chuckle. “Yeah. Things didn’t go so well here either.”
“I saw,” I said.
His pain rang through me, like the hum of a tuning fork. Somehow, Dean and I resonated on the same wavelength. I could see what he saw. Feel what he felt. And, if I concentrated hard enough, I could visit him here, from a world where Chuck held no sway.
Finally, he raised his eyes to meet mine. The green depths swam with tears.
“You saw?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Did you hear?”
I nodded. I’d heard everything. The boom of Billie’s fist slamming into the door. The sizzle as she burned through the blood sigil that Cas had scrawled there.
The pride, the joy in the angel’s voice as he’d sung Dean’s praises and declared his love.
And I’d seen the odd mix of despair and bliss in Cas’ blue eyes as he was swept away.
“I’ve lost him... again,” Dean managed. “And I never told him anything. I just wasn’t ready, Jennie. Five minutes would have been enough. And now...”
His helpless gaze darted around the room, then came to rest on his empty hands in his lap.
I lowered myself down beside him and put my left arm around his shoulder. I felt the tacky warmth of the blood from Cas’ handprint seep between my fingers.
At my touch, Dean’s remaining strength drained away, and he sank his head into my lap.
The dam broke, and sobs racked his body. I held tight, stroking his hair, whispering words of comfort, hoping that what solace I could give, whatever he could feel of me, would help him heal.
As his regret raged through me and melded with my own grief, I thought of Castiel’s last words, which had exposed Dean -- defined him -- once and for all.
This man I cradled in my lap?
He wasn’t a weapon.
Dean Winchester was love.
heeartbreaking and beautiful!
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