Warnings:Angst, character death, depression, reader dependency
Word Count: Approx 1,500
A/N: This is for @faith-in-dean‘s June Writing Challenge. This story just kind of jumped out at me. Not sure if anyone will actually like it, but I was feeling all angsty and this manifested from that.
Do not own images.
Silence. It was the most deafening silence you had experienced in your life. Dean was gone.
Despite your and Sam’s attempts to save him from the hell hounds, to track down Lilith, Dean still ended up a bloody, screaming shell of a man. Still ended up dead. Still ended up in Hell. Still left you alone to live a life without him, if you could call it that.
And all that followed - Silence.
You tried to breathe, but it was useless. You were free falling into oblivion where no one, not even Sam, would be able to reach out and save you. The only one who would even stand a chance at renewing the air within your lungs was Dean.
You fell on top of his lifeless body, gasping for breath, sobbing until you were void of all emotions. Moments later the pain of loss would spring forth again, the well of your suffering anything but dry. And through all of this not a sound escaped your lips.
No scream. No stuttering breath. No plea.
As the days passed, Sam tried to reason with you.
“Y/N, we’ve got to do something with his body. We need to bury him. I can’t bring myself to burn his body,” Sam sighed feeling as though he was talking to himself. “We will get him back,” he said, placing a hand on your leg, trying to offer a comfort you weren’t capable of accepting.
You watched, silent, as Sam buried Dean. The man you loved. The man you love, you corrected yourself. You would not accept that he was gone. You could not accept it.
“Y/N, are you coming?” Sam asked as he headed back to the Impala.
Sam huffed, frustrated that you hadn’t spoken since Dean died. He grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. Your face didn’t betray you. It was as if you were a porcelain doll, your stoic face frozen in time. “Y/N, I need you to help me figure out what to do next!” Sam cried desperately, tears streaming down his face. “You aren’t the only one who has lost someone. I’ve lost my brother. I can’t lose you too,” he pleaded.
You turned away from Sam for what you decided would be the last time. You walked back to the fresh dirt pile that Dean lay buried below. You fell to your knees, your hands and face falling to the ground as your tears soaked the soil. You heard Sam stomp out of earshot. Moments later the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires. Then,
Recently, someone made a post stating that John actually buried Dean alive so he would be able to dig himself out of his grave in Lazurus Rising. When I asked them where they read that, they said it was from early season 4. Funny enough that, that conversation never happened because, I know John never did that. These haters are so blind that they believe others headcanons to be true facts, and that is gross.
Hey Dean, what was it like?They, uh… They sliced and carved and tore me in ways that you… Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly… I would be whole again… like magic… just so they could start in all over. And Alastair… at the end of every day… every one… he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack… if I put souls on… if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn’t. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls…The – the things that I did to them. How I feel… This… inside me… I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.