It’s the first time they’ve both left the motel room since That. The air is a brisk November cool, there’s the definite smell of winter in the air. The seasons are changing and the evidence is rolling in the wind. Dean hopes that something changes soon; he’s not sure how long he can take the silence.
F.
F+1.
The graveyard is almost empty. Friends and family stand around on the grass with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their words. Dean and Sam stand away from them all. Jess’ parents greet them at the beginning, and although they seem sincere in their grief, Dean imagines he can see the blame in their eyes, the age old question of ‘Why did my daughter have to die and not you?’ He doesn’t answer. He can’t. Sam is cold and rigid against his side, staring at the closed coffin as if he’s willing it to open and Jess, beautiful Jess, to climb out and announce that it’s all a dream.
No such thing happens. Instead – the sun shines obscenely brightly, the wind is scented with the last of the autumn bloom. It makes a change from the stench of fire but it still curdles in the bottom of his stomach like bad milk.
They’re the last people there. The stragglers have followed the family of the deceased. A morbid quiet falls onto the quaint scene. Tomorrow most of them will wake up and their hearts will be whole. Today is just another day for them. Dean wishes today was just another day.
Sam shudders; it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s holding back tears. Dean has seen Sam cry. He saw him cry over his first broken leg, first fractured rib, and first break up with his first girl friend. This time is different.
Sam’s making gasping sounds, as if he’s a fish that’s been recently gutted – desperately trying to breathe while simultaneously trying to drown.
Dean wants to take him into his arms, rub his shoulders and wipe away his tears like he knows a mother would do. Like he knows his mother would do. Instead, he reaches into his back pocket and hands over a crisp tissue he put in there for this exact reason. It startles Sam into a half laugh-half choked cry. One look at his baby brother gives Dean all the information he needs.
Their eyes meet for a moment and there is an understanding between them.
‘I loved her.’ Sam’s say.
‘I know.’ Replies Dean.
There’s a car horn blaring somewhere in the distance. The impala waits across the green grass to take them forward. Life goes on.
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carisma_sensei
Re: FILLED (:o) 3/3
Date: 2010-03-02 04:20 pm (UTC)F.
F+1.
The graveyard is almost empty. Friends and family stand around on the grass with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their words. Dean and Sam stand away from them all. Jess’ parents greet them at the beginning, and although they seem sincere in their grief, Dean imagines he can see the blame in their eyes, the age old question of ‘Why did my daughter have to die and not you?’ He doesn’t answer. He can’t. Sam is cold and rigid against his side, staring at the closed coffin as if he’s willing it to open and Jess, beautiful Jess, to climb out and announce that it’s all a dream.
No such thing happens. Instead – the sun shines obscenely brightly, the wind is scented with the last of the autumn bloom. It makes a change from the stench of fire but it still curdles in the bottom of his stomach like bad milk.
They’re the last people there. The stragglers have followed the family of the deceased. A morbid quiet falls onto the quaint scene. Tomorrow most of them will wake up and their hearts will be whole. Today is just another day for them. Dean wishes today was just another day.
Sam shudders; it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s holding back tears. Dean has seen Sam cry. He saw him cry over his first broken leg, first fractured rib, and first break up with his first girl friend. This time is different.
Sam’s making gasping sounds, as if he’s a fish that’s been recently gutted – desperately trying to breathe while simultaneously trying to drown.
Dean wants to take him into his arms, rub his shoulders and wipe away his tears like he knows a mother would do. Like he knows his mother would do. Instead, he reaches into his back pocket and hands over a crisp tissue he put in there for this exact reason. It startles Sam into a half laugh-half choked cry. One look at his baby brother gives Dean all the information he needs.
Their eyes meet for a moment and there is an understanding between them.
‘I loved her.’ Sam’s say.
‘I know.’ Replies Dean.
There’s a car horn blaring somewhere in the distance. The impala waits across the green grass to take them forward. Life goes on.