I'm broken (Destiel)

somewhere between here and nowhere

The soft rumble of thunder boomed in the distance as the sleek black 67 Chevy impala rolled over the interstate. It was 5 in the morning and nothing filled dean's ears besides the familiar purrr of the engine. The soft leather seat was relaxed around his form like an old friend, and the cold from outside wafted in. The remedial scent of nigh time air relaxed  his muscles and the cool breeze soothed the tension in his neck. A nostalgic song hummed softly from the radio and he couldn't help but sway gently to the lyrics. His mind settled into the comforting familiarity of the drive. Dean had never felt this way besides when he was driving; serene, as if the world could be on fire and he was floating on air, without a care. 

So little in his life was common place. There was no "normal". All he really had was neutral familiars. Things that didn't make him worry or happy- just content. He found it so hard to be context, so hard to find satisfaction in everything around him. When dean was driving, there was no "what if" or rigid plan. He could just put his foot on the pedal and go. Nothing to stop him and no one to chastise him- not even his own mind. 

The lyrics of the song struck his core, making him feel like his truth had been released- like he had been freed. 

"Till all my sleeves are stained red

From all the truth that I've said 

Come by it honeslty I swear 

Thought you so me wink, no

I've been on the brink so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that will light those ears
Sick of all the insincere
I'm gonna give all my secrets away"

All dean had ever wanted to do was let the world know everything in his head. To free himself from all the guilt and all the pain. Be released. But it was so hard, god he couldn't even put it into words. He kept piling it in and suddenly, turning on the tap would flood the town. It tortured him; he had so much to say but there was no possible way to say it and get it out. He would look into his own eyes, see the pain in them, and remember what lies and cruelties hid behind them. Dean wished he could take his past and throw it away, but it lingered, like a fever you can't sweat out. 

God, this drive was supposed to be relaxing, he thought to himself. He wondered what cas was doing, if he took his harsh words to heart. He replayed it all. Monopoly, getting drunk, the next day, cas's Confrontation, talking to jack, walking silently past cas in front of sam's room, getting in the car, and here he was. His personal life managed to amount to that of a teen in a life time drama within two days. God he wanted to sleep and never wake up sometimes. It's not that he wanted to die- he just wanted the pain to stop. Faking a mask over everything that was hurting got so mentally exhausting, sometimes he felt like he was drowning- physically drowning- like his lungs weren't breathing deep enough and his motions were slow. His stomach was weighted with an invisible stone and he couldn't get his head above water. Every day was like a fever dream. 

Here he was, 40, single, and dying in Kansas. He had to have high hopes for a living, but pulling that out of himself was impossible. His life was nothing normal or hopeful. In his life, love, home, or family weren't permanent things- and they were the only things people really hope for. Especially love. He's been to a wedding before. Pacing the pews of a church corridor and hearing an exchange of words. "What a beautiful wedding" he heard a bridesmaid say to a waiter. He thought to himself, what a shame the poor grooms bride is a whore. How in the world was he of all people supposed to have high hopes if even at places like a wedding, where everyone is supposed to be happy, are weighted with the blunt truth of things?

His life was going somewhere between here and no where and all he wanted to do was go back home.