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All The Pieces
tall one
gayeld
I signed up for a Supernatural Summer Gen fan fic thing (you receive someone else's story prompts/wishes and have to write at least 1,000 words based on them.)  Which lead me to the conclusion that maybe I should actually finish something in this fandom before I get my assignment.  This is what I finished.

BTW, Jenni, it's gen so you can uncover your eyes now.

Summary: All Hell Breaks Loose, Part 2 - Missing scene
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen/None


Disclaimer: Eric’s. None of the really good toys are mine.

 

Spoilers: They exist. Such is life.

 

A/N: Much love to my Beta Goddess, Keri, who took time out of editing her Zines to check over my little piece. I must write her something naughty soon.

 

 

All The Pieces

By Gayle

 

It’s over.

 

It’s over.

 

He should be happy. He should be celebrating.

 

The demon is dead, and Dad is free from hell and it’s over.  After almost twenty-three years and so much loss. Mom, Jess, Dad. The demon is dead and it’s over.

 

But he can’t be happy, he can’t celebrate because something is wrong. Something is missing from the neat little story his brother spun him in that dusty old ghost town.

 

“You were dead. I killed you.”

 

He leans on the shovel, uses his weight to work it further into the hard soil, and tries to quiet the voices and images in his head.

 

“You were dead. I killed you.”

 

“You almost died in there. What would I have—”

 

But they won’t be quiet, won’t let it be over, won’t let him pretend nothing’s wrong.

 

Bobby’s stare, wide-eyed and pale, liked he’d seen a ghost, as he looked at Sam.

 

Dean’s laughing, perched on the edge of a tombstone while Ellen wipes the blood from his face and tries to check him over, but his eyes keep flying over to Sam. Sam can feel the burn of his brother’s attention, even when he turns away.

 

Dean looks panicked and relieved, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, on the edge of tears. So much slipping across his normally stoic face before he pulls Sam into a hug, a hug, holding on so tightly those few seconds, like he’d never let go.

 

He digs faster, deeper, like the answers he seeks can be found at the bottom of a grave.

 

“I killed you.”

 

Maybe they can.

 

Maybe Jake’s words really do explain all the missing pieces, but the picture they paint, it terrifies him. Because they can only mean one thing.

 

What would I have—”

 

He wanted to believe his brother wouldn’t do it. Even as he’s dragging Jake’s body and dumping it on top of the other, he tells himself he must be wrong. Dean wouldn’t do that. Dean knows better.

 

“I cut clean through your spinal cord.”

 

He remembers how hurt and angry Dean was when Dad traded his life for Dean’s. Dean wouldn’t do that to him.

 

“But Dean you . . . you can’t patch up a wound that bad.”

 

“No, Bobby could.”

 

He wouldn’t.

 

“Can’t you just take care of yourself for a little bit?  Just for a little bit”

 

He can’t help looking over at his brother again, can’t help seeing the way all the pieces seem to sort themselves into a whole he doesn’t want to see.

 

“You know, what I don’t get Dean, is if the demon only wanted one of us, then how did Jake and I both get away?”

 

“I killed you.”

 

“Sammy. Thank God!”

 

He’s not the only one. It hasn’t escaped him how Bobby’s eyes keep seeking out Dean, checking and double-checking that he’s still standing. Even while he salts the bodies and dumps the last of the gas over them, he’s watching Dean.

 

“Sam. It’s good ta . . . see ya up and around.”

 

The flames reflected in Bobby’s face do nothing to hide the pain in his eyes as he looks at Dean. Pain, sorrow, fear, anger.

 

“I killed you.”

 

Sam’s stomach twists with it. He feels ill and angry and more frightened than he ever has in his life.

 

“I killed you.”

 

Two hundred or more demons have been let loose on an unsuspecting world, but all Sam can think about is the look on his brother’s face when he came through that door.

 

“Sammy. Thank God!”

 

And Jake’s shock when he saw Sam in the graveyard.

 

“You were dead. I killed you.”

 

Oh, God, Dean, what did you do?

 

Dean’s looking at him again, probably hasn’t stopped since the last time Sam caught him at it, and there’s so much there, so much love and loss and relief and a fear Dean’s trying to hide that Sam can see as clearly as he’s ever seen anything in his life.

 

“What would I have—“

 

All the pieces fit snuggly against each other. Creating a picture, one filled with darkness and demons, crossroads and sacrifice, life and death.

 

He knows what his brother did and his heart aches with the knowledge. He doesn’t want to believe it, desperately wants to be wrong, hopes with all he is that it isn’t true. But he knows, knows he doesn’t have time for denial, doesn’t have time to celebrate or be happy, doesn’t have time to lose.

 

“You know when Jake saw me, it was like he saw a ghost.”

 
 

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(Deleted comment)
LOL! Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I know a lot of my happy places seem to begin and end with Sam or Dean in pain and/or angst.

I refuse to analyze what that means about me. *g*

(Deleted comment)
This was really good :)

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had fun writing it (although there wasn't nearly enough Winchester blood shed) *g*

LOL it was good nontheless :)

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