Hellatus Thoughts

Last week the unthinkable happened
Dean Winchester died in his brother's arms after being brutally stabbed by
being brutally stabbed by Metatron. Before he died our hero
said to Sam "I'm proud of us" . I ain't gonna lie
folks.  That episode did me in. I was simply not
okay. I felt in those last five minutes that I had
really lost someone I loved. And I have.  I lost
Dean Winchester. My hero. The cocky boy who
drives a hot car and saves the world. The sweet
big brother who would move heaven and hell
to save his brother. The man who doesn't realize
that in saving Sammy and the world, he saved ME
So where do I go from here? Because the fictional love of
my life is dead and reborn as a demon. I am truly grieving
as in real grief. I am crying and losing sleep.  I am plagued
with nightmares. I am consumed with thoughts of
why? I am basically devastated. And yet I am amazed
at Supernatural. I am still so on love with this show. It has
given me hope and courage and sometimes enough
meaning to keep going a little while longer.I have
experienced denial, anger and bargaining:begging
the writers to fix my broken heart. So I
I'm stuck here in the depression stage. So broken
and unsure if what's going to happen. Fortunately for
me I've been blessed to have some of the best
friends I've ever had thanks to my boys and social
media.And we encourage each other.We're lovingly
getting each other through.We say we're proud
of us because we are. We are a little Supernatural
family. And if not for them I'm not sure I'd have
made it to this side of the week. I have no idea
where we're heading. I know I'll love Dean demon
or not. I want him back so bad it physically hurts.
And I am not looking forward to those emerald
green eyes going dark.  But he's still Dean so hr
gets my heart. Once upon a con the very beautiful and
awesome Jensen Ackles held me close and said very
softly to a visably shaking and crying me "You're
okay". I'm not right now but I hear him say that
and I working on it.

Just a little Mother's Day ficlet...

Remembering

“Sam, could you please just stop.”, Dean growled. Sam looked up from his research with a surprised look. He hadn’t been aware he was doing anything to stop.

“Sorry? What?”, he asked. Dean gave him an eyebrow raise and look that clearly meant dude-you-know-what-you’re-doing. But Sam didn’t. He refused to let this go.

“Dean, what? What was I doing?”

“Beating on the  table? How do you expect anyone to get anything done?”

"You Okay?" This was dangerous territory where his brother was concerned.

“I’m fine Sammy.” Ah. The typical Dean answer which could mean anything from I’m fine to I’m near death here but I don’t want you to know. Sam put his pencil down and stood up. He walked to the coffee pot. “Ok. Just checking. You need more?”, he asked holding up his cup. Dean responded by holding his own cup out to Sam without reply. Sam moved to take it and Dean looked up, their eyes locking for just a moment and then Dean returned to his research. It could be a long day, Sam thought to himself. He filled the cups, added cream and sugar and placed Dean’s by his elbow. He returned to the laptop on the other side of the table. Dean reached for a folder and the coffee cup went flying and crashed to the floor, splattering Dean as it went. He jumped up.

“Son of a bitch Sam!”he snarled. He moved to the sink to grab a towel and began gingerly picking up broken mug pieces. Sam jumped up and tried to help but Dean snatched a large jagged shard  up before San could reach it.

“Dean, I’m just trying to help.” He reached for the towel and again Dean snatched it away.

“I don’t need any help !” Dean was angry and in that growled response Sam heard, at least not from you. He tried to remember how Dean had felt recently about things he’d said and decided to not listen to that inner voice. He stood up to get another towel and as he took a step away his brother hissed and swore under  his breath. Sam turned back to see blood pouring down Dean’s arm.

“Dean!” He dropped to his knees beside his brother and grabbed the hand before Dean could pull it away. He opened it up and removed the shard of ceramic coffee cup to reveal a long jagged cut. It was bleeding badly and he knew it hurt because Dean was breathing rather rapidly. “That’s going to need cleaning and stitching bro.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah”. He tried unsuccessfully to get to his feet. Truth be told he felt a little dizzy. Sam slipped an arm under his right elbow and pulled him upright, guided him to a chair. He took the towel in his hand and pressed it to the cut.

“Hold that.” He directed as he left the kitchen for the  first aid kit. Dean pressed the towel to his left hand and tried not to look at the blood. It reminded him suddenly of his right hand being covered in blood after killing Abbadon and then other bleeding moment memories began crowding in. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the table. He just didn’t want to walk down memory lane.Not today. Don’t remember Dean. Don’t remember. He kept repeating this to himself silently, grateful when Sam returned.

Sam pulled his chair close to Dean’s. putting the first aid kit on the table. He rested his hand on the back of Dean’s neck and squeezed.”Hey, you with me?” Dean picked up his head, revealing pain filled green eyes.

“I’m here. Just a little dizzy.” He allowed Sam to remove the towel from his hand, wincing as it was cleaned with peroxide and sat patiently as Sam began to stitch. He could focus on that. He wouldn’t have to think about anything else. He’d give anything to not remember, to not feel. So he focused on Sam’s small neat stitches and pulled himself together.

“All done. Ten stitches Dean. At least it’s your left hand.” He gently dabbed antibiotic cream over the cut and covered it with a bandage. He returned the supplies to the kit and closed it with a snap. He then jumped up and finished cleaning up the spilled coffee. Then he filled a glass with water and handed it to Dean who was still quiet along with two painkillers. “Take those.” Dean swallowed the pills and drank some of the water.

“Thanks Sammy”, he almost whispered. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He got up and patted his brother on the shoulder with his good hand. “I think I’ll lie down for a little bit.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll wake you up for lunch.” Dean nodded and left the kitchen. Sam finished cleaning up and as he stopped before putting the trash in the can. He glanced at the calendar. Crap.Mother’s Day. Generally Sam tried to divert his brother’s attention when this day rolled around. He remembered how Dad refused to acknowledge it and frequently left them at Pastor Jim’s that weekend. No wonder Dean was so short tempered. Thirty one years of being cheated out of having mom around still wasn’t easier for Dean. Sam could be okay. Sam didn’t know  the difference. But Dean remembered and all Dean’s memories were deep. Sam washed his hands and dried them on his jeans as he hurried to his brother’s room. He knocked on the door frame but got no answer. Dean was lying on his side, cradling the hurt hand close to his chest and Sam’s heart hurt a little at how young and sad he looked. He walked to the opposite side of the bed and crouched down. He realized tears were flowing down Dean’s face. Tucked under the hand his brother was holding was the old black and white photo of Dean and Mom. Sam touched Dean’s face gently stopping tears from falling.

“Dean. I’m sorry.I forgot. I didn’t mean to. It’s just it doesn’t mean the same thing to me, you know?”

“No. I’m sorry Sam. I just tried so hard not to think about it. About her. I’m afraid, she …might…not …be…”

Sam sat down on the bed close to Dean. “Might not be what?” he asked starting to card his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Might not be …proud of me…” That Dean thought this broke Sam’s heart. How could he fix this?

“Dean. Of course she would. You are brave and you’ve done way more good than bad. And I know she’d be so proud of how you have always taken care of me .Because you have  Dean. I didn’t know Mom. I wish I did. And Dad. He ..didn’t. .. it was you who was everything Dean, both parents. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Dad. And I’m sure he did everything he could, as best he could. But Dean, God everything a mom was supposed to do for school. Or making dinner…everything. You just took over and did it. From the time you were four years old. I’m not saying I didn’t wish I had a mom, a regular family. I did. You know I did. But I never felt unloved or not taken care of. Hell, I even had you to rebel against. You were the most  over protective parent ever man. Not proud of you? Don’t go there Dean. Of course she would be.”

“Sammy? Are you trying to wish me a happy Mother’s Day?” Sam noticed the trace of teasing in his brother’s voice. He stopped stroking Dean’s hair.He slipped back down to a crouch so he could look at his brother’s face.

“Yes Dean. I’m wishing you a Happy Mother’s Day. For everything.” He smiled and because Dean could never resist those dimples, he smiled back.

“Thanks Sam”he said. Sam reached for the picture and they looked at it together for a minute or two.

“Dean, I know it hurts to remember .Because she’s gone. But I think maybe if you do remember instead of burying it, it’ll make it easier. And you can keep the good and maybe get past that night.”

Dean looked up at Sam from the picture. “You may be right little brother. Maybe I can do that sometime. But not today. Today I’m just thankful I have you Sammy. You’re my whole fanily. “ Sam grasped Dean’s right hand.

“I know. Dean she loved you. “

Dean squeezed Sam’s hand tight. “She loved you too Sam. “

“I know.I do. Because you never let me forget.”

The brothers stopped talking and looked at the picture again. Dean looked back at Sam . He didn’t know what they were facing in the future but Sam was here with him. And it was enough. Memories of Sam suddenly flooded his mind, in rapid succession.Dean realized he could remember things and not be sad or hurt. He closed his eyes, still holding his brother’s hand. Thamk you Mom, he thought, thank you for Sam.

 

 

 

 

A Couple of Fanfics for my Fandom Sisters Angie, Elizabeth, Jilly and Amy!

Midnight Musings (tag to 9.19)

 

Dean paced around the kitchen. It was midnight but he wasn’t really tired. It had been awhile since he’d been able to really sleep. He opened the cabinet and pulled out the Jack Daniels bottle. It was half full, or half empty since he’d drunk it. He held it, thinking if he drank it he might be able to sleep. This routine, these nightly visits to the bottle while Sam slept weren’t helping. What the hell is wrong with me?, he thought. After Bobby died when he used the booze to numb the pain, at least he finally went to sleep But not now.  He felt restless, caged, unable to relax. And there was the other thing.

“It seemed to me like maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.” Sam standing there, almost saying “I’m worried about you” but not.  Dean knew intellectually it was true. Not enjoying so much as simply not caring. It was instinctual, the killing of the vampire. It was feral. Protecting his own. Protecting Sam. Protecting Jody. He took no pleasure in it, he didn’t feel happy about it. He’d said he did. It was plain old Dean bravado in reply to Sam. He was stronger which  both scared and exhilarated him. He was precise. No margin for error. He was angry enough to make hunting effective, he was driven. He was busy so why the hell wasn’t he tired? Physically he should be exhausted. Emotionally he must be because he wasn’t feeling remorse . Not like Dean Winchester usually did. There was still this overwhelming need to protect Sam. That would never, could never go away. It was so much a part of who he was that to lose it would be to lose who  he was entirely.

Dean sat the bottle on the table. Why bother when it wouldn’t help. He truly wanted to go to sleep. To have a normal restful night. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He walked towards the bedrooms, turning off the lights as he went. He stopped at his brother’s open door. Sam was on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, the other holding on to a book that was upside down across his stomach. The light on the bedside table was still on. Dean smiled. How many times had he come across this same scenario in the last thirty years? He crossed the room and gently took the book out of his brother’s hand. He closed it and placed it on the table. He turned off the light and adjusted the comforter. For a minute he stood there just looking at his brother. This is what Dean Winchester had always lived for. Sam, safely sleeping. All the crap they’d seen and done, this had been his main mission. Dean sat down in the chair beside the bed. He leaned forward, head in hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t sure what was up with him. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He wished more than anything it had never come to this. All this darkness he was feeling. But sitting here watching Sam sleep, he still knew this was his number one responsibility. No matter what else happened, he had to take care of Sam. It didn’t matter if Sam   saved him, it didn’t matter if Dean died,he’d done that before. Sam still had to survive. Dean slouched back into the chair. He put his feet on the edge of the bed. He didn’t close his eyes because he wasn’t sleepy but he did, without realizing he did it, reach out towards Sam with the hand closest to the bed. Like he’d done for forever, just I case Sam needed him while he slept. God he wanted to sleep so badly. Instead he just sat, watching Sam.

Sam stirred softly. He realized the book was gone and the light off. He opened his eyes to see Dean in the chair. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Sammy. Just go back to sleep”. Dean barely recognized his own voice it was so deep and gravely.

Sam sat up slowly. “When was the last time you slept Dean? Really slept?” Dean shrugged.

“Not sure.” Sam swung his feet out of bed, stood and crouched in front of Dean. He gripped the open hand that had been reached out to him, placed his hand on the opposite wrist.

“Why don’t you just lie down? At least you could rest.” Dean blinked. Maybe . Sam pulled gently on his hands, got him to his feet. He pushed his brother down on the bed. And reached down to take off his boots and covered him up. He returned to the other side of the bed and crawled in. He placed a hand on Dean’s arm. “try to sleep Dean. Please. You need it.”

“Okay Sam .Go back to sleep.” Sam plumped his own pillow and sank back down. Dean lay there wide awake  listening to Sam’s breathing. He didn’t sleep but he did relax just a little. Even if sleep didn’t come, and he doubted it, he was where he needed to be. He looked over at Sam again. He traced the mark on his arm. He knew something about the damn thing was changing him, making him different but he knew in his heart of hearts, nothing, nothing would change how very much he loved and needed Sam. It wasn’t possible to change that.

This is for my personal SPN Family Angie, Elizabeth and Jilly. It’s just a little H/C fluff but… we love that!  I love you girls TTMAB!! (Borrowed the first little bit from The Real Deal  by Ridley C. James which you can find at hunterstomb.popullus.net)

Being  Real

“Pastor Jim?”, Dean said softly.

“Yes Dean?” The pastor leaned forward in his chair. Dean’s green eyes were bright with unshed tears, unusual for the stoic ten year old.

“When will I be real to Sam and Dad?” It broke the pastor’s heart to hear this boy asking in a ten year old way, “When will they love me the way they should?” Jim, because he was always honest, just like the Skinhorse sighed.

“I don’t know Dean.” He brushed his hand over Dean’s short, soft blond hair. “I don’t know.”

Dean pulled the sleeping form of six year old Sammy closer to him. “That’s okay”, he mumbled as he fell asleep, “they’re real to me. That’s all that matters.”

 

Sam filled a glass with  water and headed back to his bedroom. It was dark and quiet in the bunker. He couldn’t sleep. The events of the day had him more than a little concerned. He’d found Dean in the warehouse with  Gadreel, his hands bruised and bloody. He’d totally beaten up a frigging angel  with his bare hands. No easy feat. Cas had hurt Dean on more than one occasion so Sam knew the strength of angels. He paused just shy of Dean’s door. Something wasn’t right. Sam could sense it. Lately he had a sort of sixth sense about Dean. He knocked on the door. “Dean?”he called. No answer.  Sam waited a few seconds and opened the door. Generally he would not enter without permission but he was worried about his brother. He stepped in to find Dean curled into himself, clutching one of the pillows as if he were in great pain.. Sam sat the water glass on the dresser and hurried to the bed. Dean burrowed further into the pillow and Sam realized why. Dean was crying. Not just tears, silent and terrible weeping. Sam’s heart ached when he realized Dean was sobbing into the pillow so he wouldn’t disturb Sam. He reached a hand out to touch Dean’s bicep and pulled gently on it hoping his brother would look up. He didn’t. The anguished sobbing continued.

“Dean, hey. Look at me.”, Sam whispered, leaning over closer to his brother. As he leaned his elbow hit something flat and hard and he reached beneath the covers to pull it out. An ancient, well read, hard back copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. Sam brushed his fingers over the faded cover of the book. He remembered all the countless times Dean or Pastor Jim had read this book to him. That Dean had kept it all this time touched him deeply. He stroked Dean’s hair . “Dean, what’s up with the book man?” Again no answer. Just  sobbing. Sam couldn’t take it. He felt tears well up in his eyes as well.  Sam didn’t ask. He simply crawled into the bed and and wrapped his arms around Dean. He felt Dean relax his shoulders a little against his chest. The sobbing slowed a little. Dean reached his hand up and covered Sam’s with his. Sam ran his free hand over the cuts and bruises on the knuckles of Dean’s hand.

“Whatever it is, can you tell me?” Sam asked, no pleaded. All he wanted was to take away the suffering. Dean shook his head.

“It …doesn’t ….matter”, Dean said between shuddering sobs. Sam leaned forward and rested his head on the top of Dean’s.

“No, It does. Whatever it is, it matters to me.”  He hugged Dean even tighter. He didn’t speak. He just held on, waiting for the crying to stop. Minutes passed and Sam realized his brother was still. He wondered suddenly if his brother had fallen asleep. He pressed his cheek to Dean’s. “Dean?”

“Sam”, Dean said in a raspy, tear filled voice. “You remember the striga?”

Sam sat up a little. “Yeah. You killed it. Saved that kid’s brother. Why?”

Dean sighed deeply. “That night. That night it came after you. Dad was mad. I mean really mad.”

Sam pressed his head back close to Dean’s. “Maybe he was just scared Dean.”

“No. He was totally pissed. He grabbed you up, threw us in the car, high-tailed it to Pastor Jim’s and…he just…” Dean’s voice trailed off. But Sam remembered what his brother said that night when he told Sam the story. Heard Dean saying Dad, he just never looked at me the same again.”  He waited for Dean to continue.

“Dad.. in the car…he said ‘Your brother is your responsibility Dean. It’s the one thing I ask you to do. Take care of Sam. And tonight Dean you screwed that up. Do you understand how important that is?’ Then …he ..didn’t ..say anything all the way to Jim’s. Didn’t say goodbye. Nothing.”

Sam felt a tear leave his eye and run down his cheek. “Dean, you were what? Ten? That was a lot to pin on you.”

 

“No Sam. He was right. I screwed up.But that’s the night I realized….I’m not real.”

Sam was confused. “Dean what? What does that mean?” Then it hit him. Real as in The Velveteen Rabbit.  Loved so much your fur fell off . Real to the one person who loved your fur off.

Is it painful?, the rabbit asked. Yes , said the Skinhorse. But it’s worth it.

Suddenly Sam realized why Dean was crying, None of the great making-people-real-love he’d given had been returned. At least not in the way Dean needed it. Sam knew Dad loved Dean. Sam did too. So much it hurt.But no one made a habit of telling him, showing him. All the sacrifices, all the times he gave up what he might have dreamed or wanted were all secondary to the need to be real for Dad, to Sam, to take care of his family.

“I just keep screwing it up Sammy. Over and over, and all I kept trying to is make sure you’re okay, safe. I’m sorry Sam. I’m so sorry.”

Sam kissed the top of his brother’s head which he couldn’t remember doing ever, but it felt right, and said softly. “Dean. You haven’t screwed it up. I know I’m the boy who abandoned the rabbit.”

“No Sam. It’s all on me. I keep on screwing it up just like Dad said. I’m afraid I can’t …ever be real. Not like that. How could I? I mean the crap I’ve done? I don’t know where all this is going. I’m…afraid  of….this thing, with the mark and Abbadon. I just wanted to make up for it all. And I know I can’t Sammy. It’s too late for that.” Sam realized Dean was crying again, not sobbing. Just silent tears. He felt the wetness fall on his hands as he continued to hold his brother close.

Dean, listen, “Sam said, his mouth close to Dean’s ear. “You are the realest person I know. You have always given way more than you got. I’m really sorry Dean. I should have told you  I love you more often. So should Dad. Please Dean believe this. I would not be anything, if not for you. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. And no matter what I said on that bridge Dean, I’m glad I’m alive and I’m glad I have you. Not real? I’d say you skipped the rabbit and went all the way to the skinhorse.”

They lay there close and safe and quiet for awhile. Then Dean said, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know about me being real Sam, but you were always worth it.”

“So were you Dean”, Sam said. Neither Winchester made a move to let go of the other and Sam knew he’d stay there all night just to let his brother know just how real he was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fandom Friends

I have experienced something through Supernatural I have not before. Not only does the show speak to me, but I'm not alone in that! I have actually, thanks to the magic of social media found real friends in fandom. See if you're addicted to a television show to the level I am, most of the people you interact with on a daily basis think you're pretty much, to quote Dean Winchester, "cuckoo for cocoa puffs". They will stare at you and kind of nod and as my tweep Elizabeth says go "You're in love with who? But he's a fictional character..." They can't really be blamed. They just don't get it. It's not a fault they have, it just limits me from being me. Because ever since I accidentally fell in love with Supernatural and Dean Winchester, a huge part of who I am is ....Supernatural and Dean Winchester. So I've been thankful to find some special Dean girls out there in twitter world to share my Winchester journey with. It's quite wonderful for me to be able to able to say "God, I'm so worried about Dean" and have someone else tell me they are too. The other night when a headache and some speculations on twitter had me breaking down I confessed to my girls and they were like "let us worry about Dean tonight" and I will tell you, no one I see every day would say that to me.Nor would they watch an episode long distance with me to make me feel better. I've been way more blessed by Supernatural than just having a show to watch. I've found community, sanity, acceptance....family. because as Bobby Singer told us all a long time ago, "Family don't end with blood"

 Regarding Negativity

I love this show. I do. I am committed so deeply I cannot begin to express it. I tweet about it. A lot. Daily, A lot daily. But I have never, ever complained or belittled any of it. I cannot understand why anyone would spend literally hours out of their day being miserable . But I've been noticing a growing rebellion of so called "fans' who rant on and on about characters, writers, producers and storylines and I can't help but wonder if it makes you so angry and hurt why keep watching? Now I think everyone should be watching. But to say you're glad ratings go down and you hope they keep falling or to make a writer take a twitter break because you're bullying him...doesn't make you a fan. It makes you a complaining ..bully. I truly get my own feelings hurt when characters and actors are attacked on twitter. It hurt me deeply when Adam decided it was too much. I hated Beliebers hating on Jared. I cry and defend Jensen and Dean when they are hated on. I worry when I see Cas referred to as TGDA . I don't like negative speculation about what's going to happen. I think the thing that upsets me the most outside of the hating is the "fans" that say something as if someone at the show has given them the 411 when the reality is... it's their own head canon. Now this sounds a little negative, But here's the thing...for a whole bunch of us Supernatural is as Adam so eloquently put it "one of the best things to happen to me". We like sharing our fears, tears, joys and squees. We don't enjoy being unhappy in our fandom. One of the reasons BATB beat us for PCAs is the fact that they are not a divided fandom. Sam girls and Dean girls and Cas girls need to live in harmony. I love them all. As well as a certain Trickster...and a lost prophet or two and a devil and a king of Hell. So I'm going to continue being positive. I am supporting my show, my boys, my writers and producers. Because it makes me happy. My friends in this fandom make me happy because they share my joy. I'm not engaging in negativity anymore. If that means unfollowing, I will. This means too much to me and lots of others to be dwelling in the purgatory of fandom. It's my little slice of Heaven. So.

A Love Letter to Adam Glass and other SPN Writers

There was a lot of negativity yesterday addressed to our writers and in particular to Adam Glass. A few folks took a statement from an interview that Adam clearly stated was a joke and proceeded to run wild with negative posts, and hateful comments. I don't get this. This people are looking for something to tear apart. Adam Glass has given us some of the MOST beautiful episodes on Supernatural. "Bad Boys" in particular and "Mother's Little Helper" stand out to me right this minute. He is very careful to put both Sam and Dean in the most positive light even in bad circumstances. And YES. He GIVES BOTH OF THEM POV! The POV comments are driving me crazy so I know they are the writers! Adam has expressed his admiration for the fandom and his desire to give us the best possible show over and over. AND HE HAS! I guess it's true you can't make some people happy. But I am. Happy with my show. Delighted the writers care so much about the characters. If you're feeling negative don't take it out on the folks who are devoting their lives to giving you the gift of these beautiful characters. Either you love or you don't. Watch or don't but let the rest of us enjoy it without your issues. Adam, you and the other writers have my undying love and support 100% of the time. I'm just one person in millions and my humble opinion may not count but it's here. So THANK YOU Adam from the bottom of my heart for what you do. It doesn't go unappreciated.

A fan fic :)

 

 

Thirty Eight Hours

(I don’t own these men. Kripke does. Caleb and Mac belong to Ridley. I just play with them from time to time. Brotherhood AU. T  With Dean’s deal coming due in less than 2 days, everyone’s feeling a little emotional.)

 

Dean stood on the bank of the pond. Time was running out. He had barely forty eight hours before the contract  was up. He was terrified. He was alone in this. Nothing Sam and Caleb could glean from the wealth of the Hunter’s Tomb was going to save him. No. He was going to Hell. He stood in the sunshine letting it warm his face, looking out at the water. In less than forty eight hours, he would have hell hounds upon him and he would never see Sam or Caleb or Mac or Bobby again. He would never know what it was like to stand here on the farm, listening to the water and the animals, the dogs barking. Two more sunrises and then nothing. He would do it again. Sam was worth it. He realized now that the deal would hurt Sam too. That Sam was just as scared as he was. The difference was that he was certain Sam could get through this, could go on living without him. Unlike Dean who could not have lived without Sam. Everyone else would be up soon. They would all be trying last ditch efforts to save him. Or pretending it would all be okay and God knew how much he loved them for that.  Dean knew he should go back to the house, be there for the rest of his family but he needed the chance to breathe fresh air, to hold onto the sunshine, to be able to remember it in the depths of Hell.

“Duece?”, Caleb’s voice was full of concern. “You okay?” Dean smiled to himself before turning to face his best friend. All of them asked him fifty times a day if he was okay.

“As okay as a guy with less than forty eight hours to live is Damien”. He tried to be lighthearted. It only served to provoke Caleb. The older hunter roughly grabbed his friend’s jacket jerking him closer to him.

“ Damn it Dean! Can’t you be serious just for once in your life? Can’t you just look me in the eyes and admit you’re scared? That you’re freaking terrified of what might happen?” Dean looked into his friend’s red rimmed eyes and saw the absolute sorrow reflected in the amber orbs. He placed his hands on top of Caleb’s and released himself from the older man’s grip.

“Calm down man”, Dean said, no sarcasm in his voice. “ I’m sorry . I am afraid Caleb. I don’t want to go to Hell. But I did it for Sammy. And I’d have done it for you too. You’re my brother too. You know you are. But Damien, nothing’s going to save me now. You and Sam have tried. You looked up and into everything possible. So did Bobby, so did Mac. But it’s over man. I can’t be saved.” He held up his hands, palms open and shrugged. Caleb noticed the defeat in the gesture and it ripped him to his core. Dean started walking towards the house. Caleb had no choice but to follow. He had an overwhelming desire to be as close to Dean as possible. How would he be able to say all that needed to be said? So much had been left unsaid, all their lives. Growing up here together, living within the Brotherhood, they had an unspoken love, so deep it was indescribable. But Caleb needed to voice it. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Deuce. Please.” The pain in Caleb’s voice made Dean stop. He could feel every emotion from his friend. The distress Caleb was feeling, Dean knew it. It was his connection as Guardian to the Kinght. He touched the silver ring on his right hand. He turned to face Caleb and was shocked to see tears streaming down  his best friend’s face. “ I need to say this Dean. While it’s just you and me.”

Dean nodded. He knew these speeches from his loved ones were coming. He steeled his own emotions and waited. It took several attempts before Caleb could speak. “Go on.”, he allowed. He freaking did not want to cry. Shit why did it always come back to having to admit how you feel?

Caleb took his wrist and jerked him around to face him. He was rougher than he wanted to be. On the contrary he only wanted Dean to know how much he had meant to him all these years. A quarter century this kid had been his little brother. How did you put a lifetime into a few sentences spoken before the one person you love most in the world is gone forever, because he sold his soul for the one person he loved most in the world? It didn’t bother Caleb that Sam was Dean’s priority. He knew without a doubt he came a close second on the love list.  “Dean, I would give anything, even my own soul, my own life for you not to have to do this. Please let me keep looking. Try to find a way out.” Tears gathered in his eyes and clogged his throat. He clutched Dean’s jacket lapels. “Please little brother. I’m not ready to let you go. Deuce I love you. You can tell anybody I said it out loud. Damn the chick flick stuff. I do and to lose you is like losing me. What are we going to do? Me and Sam and the others, how are we going to get up on May third and act like nothing’s wrong?”

Dean closed his eyes. He gripped Caleb’s wrists and squeezed. “You don’t. You get up and try to deal with it. You take care of Sam for me. And Bobby and Mac and the farm. And you wait until you can stand it and you find another Guardian. And that’s how it’s got to be Damien.”

Caleb shook his head. “No .No Dean I can’t.” Tears were falling unheeded and he didn’t care.

Dean smiled at his best friend. He reached up and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. He cupped Caleb’s face on both sides and forced him to look at him. “Nothing else to do man. I’m tired of fighting it. I did it, I’d do it again It’s on no one but me. And I love you Damien.” He hugged Caleb close. They stayed that way for awhile. It seemed funny to Dean how he didn’t shy away from physical contact anymore, even craved it. He didn’t pull away first. Caleb was showing him his broken heart ,the least Dean could do was try to keep it together. Caleb finally stepped back.

“Y’good?”, Dean asked him. “They’ll be up. Looking  for us. Making sure I’m okay. God I have never been asked that so many times in my whole twenty eight years of living. Seriously Caleb, I need to keep it together for Sammy you know. And tomorrow, needs to be about him. It’s his birthday and I don’t want him to spend it thinking about me dying.”

Caleb threw his arm around Dean’s shoulders as they headed towards the house. “Doubt he’s gonna forget it’s the day you die Dean. I wouldn’t make a big thing of us trying to forget .We won’t.”

Dean leaned into Caleb a little. “What if I want to forget it?” Caleb stopped walking. Dean’s eyes filled up with tears then.”What if I just want to pretend it’s just Sammy’s birthday? God I’m scared Caleb. I don’t want to go to sleep  tonight. I don’t want to miss one second of living. But I don’t want Sam to know I’m afraid. Please help me keep it together man.”Dean admitting he was truly afraid was so rare it made Caleb shiver involuntarily.

Caleb gripped his shoulders hard, pulling him back in close. “Okay. We’ll play like it’s just another day . Today anyhow, can’t make any promises about tomorrow Deuce. Don’t wander off again though . Stay close.”

“I needed to see the sun rise on the pond, feel close to Jim you know? I don’t want to be alone Damien. I want to be with you guys.” If you only knew what it feels like, he thought. To know you’ll never see these people and places that mean so much, the people and places that had shaped who he was. The two hunters stopped walking when they reached the back steps. Dean turned to face Caleb.

Mac had been watching them watching them walk across the yard through the kitchen window He looked at the brave men they had become. Bobby   came to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Funny “ Mac began, .”Those two represent the best a secret order fighting Evil has to offer and all I see is two boys. Boys who had nothing in common but losing their mothers and fathers who were hunters. And yet they literally became brothers.” Bobby sighed. His own heartache over what Dean had done could not be expressed. Both of the hunters found they could not move, could not stopping watching , making a memory of this moment for later.

Unaware of the older men watching Dean looked directly into Caleb’s amber eyes. Caleb into emerald green ones. They stood there as if memorizing every detail of the other’s face. As if either could forget it. There would be goodbyes tomorrow but they would never be alone together again like this. They were too close to the house to lose it Dean thought, But suddenly he was .Panic engulfed him, surrounded him, cut him to the core. He felt as if everything was spinning, moving too fast. He felt sick and so damn scared. He reached out a hand to Caleb as his knees gave out and he started to fall. Caleb caught him under the arms. He gently sank to the ground beside his best friend. Dean clutched the front of Caleb’s shirt with both fists. “I gotcha  Deuce. I gotcha . You’re okay. You’re okay.” Caleb held Dean close as they sat there on the ground. When Dean’s sobbing started he rocked back and forth with him, whispering words of comfort.

Mac and Bobby forced themselves to stay rooted inside, to give the boys space to grieve together. Both men never realized they were shedding tears of their own. Sam came into the kitchen and looked out at his brother and Caleb huddled on the ground rocking back and forth. He pushed past Mac and Bobby and ran down the steps. He reached Dean and Caleb and dropped to his knees beside them. He reached both arms around them, and the three of them were connected.  Sam dropped his head on top of Dean’s listening to Caleb’s reassurances, ”It’s okay. Breathe Deuce. That’s it, It’s okay ,Sam and I gotcha.  Shh,..” Slowly as he felt their love surrounding him, Dean started to regain control. His brother and his best friend continued to hold him. Tomorrow might

be the day hell hounds ripped him apart but today he was surrounded by more love than any man had a right to and for today, that was enough. He let go of the panic and the fear and  found he was able to focus again. Caleb stopped the rocking and just held on. Sam sat up and ran his hand over Dean’s hair. He felt their despair at not being able to save him. He tried sitting up. Caleb and Sam released him and they sat there side by side. Silent.

“Hey, I’m okay.” And he laughed .Really laughed. .Full body, head back laughing  Laughed because he couldn’t count how many times he’d been asked that over the course of this year. Laughed because Dean Winchester and Caleb Reaves had just lived through the biggest chick flick moment in history, Laughed because Sam Winchester was dumbstruck that his brother could laugh at a time like this.

“Damn it  Deuce, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Caleb growled. He brushed himself off and looked up at Dean.

Dean laughed again, “Hell Damien. That’s what’s wrong with me.” He stood up and held out a hand to his brother, pulling him up to his feet. He held out the other to Caleb who allowed himself to be helped up as well. Dean threw an arm around both of them.  Pulled them close to him.”But that’s not today.” He pushed them towards the house. Inside Mac and Bobby hastily moved to begin preparing breakfast. Caleb and Sam looked at one another over Dean’s head. They had all day today and tomorrow to save him. And they knew they would try, Dean did too. As they reached the door he turned to face them. The two faces of the two people he loved most in the world were looking back at him with so much unspoken grief and love.

“I’m okay.,” he repeated .He opened the back door. Motioned for them to go in. Then followed them. Caleb grabbed a coffee cup, poured coffee, Sam opened the refrigerator and pulled out orange juice, filled a cup. Bobby was setting the table, Mac scrambling eggs. The others greeted one another and the Guardian of The Brotherhood leaned on the counter of his kitchen watching his family.

I’m okay and I need you guys to be too. Caleb looked across the kitchen at Dean. He’d heard the unspoken request, reading his friend without permission and he knew Dean knew it. He winked. Dean nodded and moved to join them. He glanced at the clock. Ten o’clock. Thirty Eight hours. He would treasure all thirty eight for eternity.