Sunlight brought a new day.
Metal clanged as the heat bore into his skin, nestling there and yet not filling him with warmth. Not the way she had. Sweat formed on a furrowed brow, frustration tight and echoing through every muscle that worked beneath the underside of Baby inside a stupid, random storage unit with the door open to allow air in. Although his actions were alike most times when someone in his life died - this time there was a difference.
Allie was gone.
Bobby was gone.
Everyone was gone.
The remains left were him and Sam. They weren't even fucking close to Dick, still seemingly miles away from any sort of a solution. He had tried not to think about it, tried to push on despite the growing pain whenever he talked or ate or fucking breathed. Every simple act felt like a grand gesture of energy and the exhaustion? Just grief. Overwhelming grief.
He had plans with her, for her, of her. The first time where being a coward didn't feel like the best option. Dispose of the Leviathans and Dick, then take a drive to a hill and set a blanket down. Let her watch the sunset and the stars without needing to worry over the next bad guy, hunt, or apocalypse. Let her breathe a real breath and watch her chest give way to a normal moment with a man that fucking loved her. The blonde-haired beauty would never have to worry again because he'd be there, and he'd protect her, and he'd do anything to give her a peaceful life - even if that meant walking away from the family business.
There'd been a lot of ideas in his head of what the moment would be like; what he would do but instead of some grand gesture, or maybe a date, he knew her. He knew what she'd like because they'd been connected so long. No matter how much the ribbon frayed it stayed. Now it was severed and the hole inside of him was unfillable. The void from all of his fucking work. Work and death and pushing! Pushing to save people and hunt things and work himself to the bone for someone else left him empty and rageful! No one fucking helped like Allie! No one understood him like her and she died in his arms in the backseat of his fucking car! The car that housed them! That rode with them while they sang shitty karaoke together and flirted and bickered and yelled at each other and gave small glances through the rearview mirror! Every piece of him was connected to her and by her!
Frank Devereaux's words lived inside of him and they were all that he had to abide by but he was so fucking tired. He had to keep pushing for Sam and that meant working on the car like every other time someone vanished.
Decide to be fine till the end of the week.
Make yourself smile because you're alive and that's your job.
And do it again the next week
Do it right, with a smile,
or don't do it.
Yeah, that had worked originally. Frank's words lifted Dean temporarily back into his father's mindset of 'do the job.' regardless of anything else, the job came first. Soldier on the front lines. In fact, smiling through the worst shit on earth actually worked for a few months, and smiling when you don't mean it... eventually, that smile stays, even though your heart is a rotting corpse.
For years he had abated his own need in favour of the job. Sure he had sex, and ate, drank, smoked... He was well-fed and yet entirely unfulfilled. Constantly going through the motion without any real semblance of happiness, of comfort. John had beaten the idea of "Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy!" into him for so long that even as a child, Dean had no sense of prioritizing himself.
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From The Very Beginning
Fanfiction'Allie held a deep-seated resentment towards god. As a child, she was raised Lutheran Christian though it never settled in. She figured her mother needed something to believe in. Leslie Smith was a hopeful woman, despite her life's transgressions. H...
