SPN ficlet: End Like This
Sep. 1st, 2011 07:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: End Like This
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I wrote this some time ago as sort of a post S5 tag, I guess. I never liked it much, though, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but since it’s still on my computer in a completed form, I’ll post it anyway. It hasn’t been beta’ed, but I gave it a read through myself. Mistakes are my own, obviously.
Summary: It isn’t supposed to end like this. It does anyway.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this.
It’s all Dean can think. After everything, after all the deals, after all the promises, after all the damn missions--from Dad, from angels, from God Himself--it’s just not supposed to end like this.
Dean would take anything. Fire and brimstone, hell and high water, anything.
The end of the world. Trips to hell. God, any of it.
But screw God. Damn it all. God let this happen. God let it all happen. God had some plan to save the friggin’ world, so why the hell didn’t he save Sam?
Sam, who believed. Sam, who wanted safe and normal and happy. Sam, who wanted to be saved, to do the right thing, to be a good person.
Sam, who had been sold out before he was even born, before he was even conceived.
Sam, who would never know his mother, who would never really know his father, and who would never get to save anyone who mattered.
Dean was going to make that right. He was. He died for that. He went to hell for it. He even came back from hell for it, no matter what some dumb-ass angel wanted to say about that.
So it’s not supposed to end like this.
Not on a warm spring day when the grass is green and lush and the air is smooth and right. Not here in some vast field, some endless piece of heaven standing guard at the gates of hell.
Not like this. Not when people are happy and people are alive and people are safe and Dean’s job is done. It’s done and it’s done and it’s not supposed to end like this. Not with blue skies and warm breezes and happily ever afters that the world will never appreciate.
They’ll never know. They’ll never know just how close they came to oblivion. They’ll never know how much it cost to get them here.
Dean knows.
Dean knows.
He knows a lot of things, but nothing more than this: it’s not supposed to end like this. A damn beautiful place on the most damn perfect day with graves all around but not one for Sam.
Dean can’t even bury his brother because Sam buried himself. And what can Dean use to mark the earth? A cross? Something to represent a God who let this happen? A God who let Sam die, who let his angels create a plan in which Sam was an expendable means to an end?
Sam was right: it was a destiny he couldn’t fight. No matter what choices they made, Sam still ended up here, like this. Not evil, but gone.
And now Dean’s in an open cemetary, and the smell of spring is fresh and green, and there’s a closed hole in the ground beneath his feet, and Dean’s just so very, very alone. No more missions, no more saving people, no more Sam.
It isn’t supposed to end like this.
It does anyway.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this. Not in this house, not with Dean at his feet, ripped to shreds by something Sam couldn’t even see.
Dean’s dead and Sam should be, too, but he’s not. He was but he’s not and he wishes he was but Dean would never let Sam die. Dean doesn’t fail.
Sam does.
Sam can get into Stanford, he can get into law school. He can kill a ghost or a spirit or a vampire or even a human. He can figure out which spirit is behind a haunting and he can even survive a demonic attack without a mark on him.
Sam can do so many things, lots of things, but he can’t save Dean. He didn’t save Dean and that’s the one thing that matters, the one thing he needed to do right, and he didn’t.
He thought he could--he did. He thought there’d be a way. Some last minute fix, something, anything. His dad found one. Dean did, too. And Sam thought he could.
He didn’t.
Sam’s a failure.
Sam would have flunked out of college, he would have bombed the LSATs. He would have let every spirit and evil thing out there go free if he could just get this right. If he could just save Dean.
Bobby tries to help him, Bobby tries to talk to him, but Sam can’t let go, doesn’t let go. Won’t let go. Won’t, can’t, doesn’t because it’s not supposed to end like this, Sam knows it’s not. Sam knows there’s a God who can make things better, there’s a trick Winchesters can pull. But God’s not listening and maybe Sam’s not the Winchester he thought he was.
It’s just not supposed to end like this.
And then four months later, it doesn’t.
It doesn’t, but Sam’s still failed, and Sam doesn’t know what to make of that.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this.
He and Mary, they had plans. They had a future. Two beautiful boys, the perfect house, everything. They were happy, things were good. John liked the way she looked in the morning before she put her makeup on, and Mary always laughed when his rough feet tickled her legs under the blankets. They were meant to be. This was meant to be. Him and her, Dean and Sam, happily ever after.
It was everything John wanted. He lived to make her happy.
So it’s not supposed to end like this. Not in Sam’s nursery, not with him crying and Mary on the ceiling. Not with that look of terror on her face, that look of regret he didn’t understand. Not with fire and smoke.
He can save Sam. He can save Dean. He can get them outside and make sure they’re okay. He can do that. He can. But he can’t save Mary. The ceilings are too high, the fire is too hot, and she’s already dead.
It’s not supposed to end like this but he runs down the stairs anyway. He runs down the stairs and picks up his boys and get them safe, holds them close, and watches the most important thing burn away.
It’s not supposed to end like this, and John will spend the rest of his life making sure it doesn’t.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this. John was hers. Her normal. Her safety. Her out.
He was good and pure and she loved that about him. She loved how he looked at her, the innocence in his eyes. She loved that she could see into his eyes and see a future together, a family, a house, a life. No hunting. No ghosts or demons or anything like that. Just love.
So she knows it’s not supposed to end like this. Not with that vacant look in John’s eyes, not with a demon and a deal she will never be able to take back.
It’s not supposed to end like this, Mary thinks, Mary wishes. It’s not.
But she knows that maybe it is.
She should have cared. She didn’t.
Now maybe she does.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I wrote this some time ago as sort of a post S5 tag, I guess. I never liked it much, though, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but since it’s still on my computer in a completed form, I’ll post it anyway. It hasn’t been beta’ed, but I gave it a read through myself. Mistakes are my own, obviously.
Summary: It isn’t supposed to end like this. It does anyway.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this.
It’s all Dean can think. After everything, after all the deals, after all the promises, after all the damn missions--from Dad, from angels, from God Himself--it’s just not supposed to end like this.
Dean would take anything. Fire and brimstone, hell and high water, anything.
The end of the world. Trips to hell. God, any of it.
But screw God. Damn it all. God let this happen. God let it all happen. God had some plan to save the friggin’ world, so why the hell didn’t he save Sam?
Sam, who believed. Sam, who wanted safe and normal and happy. Sam, who wanted to be saved, to do the right thing, to be a good person.
Sam, who had been sold out before he was even born, before he was even conceived.
Sam, who would never know his mother, who would never really know his father, and who would never get to save anyone who mattered.
Dean was going to make that right. He was. He died for that. He went to hell for it. He even came back from hell for it, no matter what some dumb-ass angel wanted to say about that.
So it’s not supposed to end like this.
Not on a warm spring day when the grass is green and lush and the air is smooth and right. Not here in some vast field, some endless piece of heaven standing guard at the gates of hell.
Not like this. Not when people are happy and people are alive and people are safe and Dean’s job is done. It’s done and it’s done and it’s not supposed to end like this. Not with blue skies and warm breezes and happily ever afters that the world will never appreciate.
They’ll never know. They’ll never know just how close they came to oblivion. They’ll never know how much it cost to get them here.
Dean knows.
Dean knows.
He knows a lot of things, but nothing more than this: it’s not supposed to end like this. A damn beautiful place on the most damn perfect day with graves all around but not one for Sam.
Dean can’t even bury his brother because Sam buried himself. And what can Dean use to mark the earth? A cross? Something to represent a God who let this happen? A God who let Sam die, who let his angels create a plan in which Sam was an expendable means to an end?
Sam was right: it was a destiny he couldn’t fight. No matter what choices they made, Sam still ended up here, like this. Not evil, but gone.
And now Dean’s in an open cemetary, and the smell of spring is fresh and green, and there’s a closed hole in the ground beneath his feet, and Dean’s just so very, very alone. No more missions, no more saving people, no more Sam.
It isn’t supposed to end like this.
It does anyway.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this. Not in this house, not with Dean at his feet, ripped to shreds by something Sam couldn’t even see.
Dean’s dead and Sam should be, too, but he’s not. He was but he’s not and he wishes he was but Dean would never let Sam die. Dean doesn’t fail.
Sam does.
Sam can get into Stanford, he can get into law school. He can kill a ghost or a spirit or a vampire or even a human. He can figure out which spirit is behind a haunting and he can even survive a demonic attack without a mark on him.
Sam can do so many things, lots of things, but he can’t save Dean. He didn’t save Dean and that’s the one thing that matters, the one thing he needed to do right, and he didn’t.
He thought he could--he did. He thought there’d be a way. Some last minute fix, something, anything. His dad found one. Dean did, too. And Sam thought he could.
He didn’t.
Sam’s a failure.
Sam would have flunked out of college, he would have bombed the LSATs. He would have let every spirit and evil thing out there go free if he could just get this right. If he could just save Dean.
Bobby tries to help him, Bobby tries to talk to him, but Sam can’t let go, doesn’t let go. Won’t let go. Won’t, can’t, doesn’t because it’s not supposed to end like this, Sam knows it’s not. Sam knows there’s a God who can make things better, there’s a trick Winchesters can pull. But God’s not listening and maybe Sam’s not the Winchester he thought he was.
It’s just not supposed to end like this.
And then four months later, it doesn’t.
It doesn’t, but Sam’s still failed, and Sam doesn’t know what to make of that.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this.
He and Mary, they had plans. They had a future. Two beautiful boys, the perfect house, everything. They were happy, things were good. John liked the way she looked in the morning before she put her makeup on, and Mary always laughed when his rough feet tickled her legs under the blankets. They were meant to be. This was meant to be. Him and her, Dean and Sam, happily ever after.
It was everything John wanted. He lived to make her happy.
So it’s not supposed to end like this. Not in Sam’s nursery, not with him crying and Mary on the ceiling. Not with that look of terror on her face, that look of regret he didn’t understand. Not with fire and smoke.
He can save Sam. He can save Dean. He can get them outside and make sure they’re okay. He can do that. He can. But he can’t save Mary. The ceilings are too high, the fire is too hot, and she’s already dead.
It’s not supposed to end like this but he runs down the stairs anyway. He runs down the stairs and picks up his boys and get them safe, holds them close, and watches the most important thing burn away.
It’s not supposed to end like this, and John will spend the rest of his life making sure it doesn’t.
-o-
It’s not supposed to end like this. John was hers. Her normal. Her safety. Her out.
He was good and pure and she loved that about him. She loved how he looked at her, the innocence in his eyes. She loved that she could see into his eyes and see a future together, a family, a house, a life. No hunting. No ghosts or demons or anything like that. Just love.
So she knows it’s not supposed to end like this. Not with that vacant look in John’s eyes, not with a demon and a deal she will never be able to take back.
It’s not supposed to end like this, Mary thinks, Mary wishes. It’s not.
But she knows that maybe it is.
She should have cared. She didn’t.
Now maybe she does.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-01 01:16 pm (UTC)This is heart wrenching!
*hugs them all*
no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 11:51 am (UTC)Thanks :)