Atelophobia (SPN)

Part 10: The End...Or Is It?

They boys gave you a proper "hunter" burial. They wrapped your body up in a silky white sheet and burned it. It was what all the hunters wanted, and especially you. They stood around as the flames rose and just stared. No words were exchanged that day. Sam wanted to comfort Dean, but by the look of him, he could burst anytime. Especially him being the one who "did" it.

Dean just stared at your lifeless body as the flames danced around and cried. It was a silent cry, but on the inside, he was screaming. Bobby was a different story. Dean lost the love of his life, Bobby lost the closest thing he had to family, besides the boys. He said nothing but gripped your knife in his hand. He was the one who transported you from the tiny room to the car.

After Dean killed you, he went away. Mentally. They left from your burial and parted their ways. Bobby went home and the boys went to a motel. He slid down the wall and just stared. He hasn't spoken since. And he doesn't think he ever will.

Weeks turn into months and months turn into a year. One year. One long, painful year of you being gone. When Dean and Sam went back to the motel, Sam went out to get dinner as Dean destroyed the whole room. One bed's flipped over, a lamp is shattered and the bedside table was thrown across the room. He screams and cries and breaks whatever's in his way. And Sam says nothing.

He walks in and looks terrified. He finds his brother sitting in the bathtub, fists bloody from repeatedly punching the walls. Sam walks out and fixes the bed, leaving the rest. He helps Dean up and walks him to bed. He lays down and cries himself to sleep. You were gone and so was he.

Bobby called all the time to check up on the boys, especially Dean. Making sure Dean hasn't done something too stupid. Ever since that first outburst, Sam made sure to never leave Dean's side. That meant no hunting. With Dean being as reckless as he was, Sam didn't trust him. As much as it pains him to admit it, he just doesn't.

One year and three days since you've died, Bobby called up the boys and invited them out. They agreed and decided to go to the local bar. They arrive and spot Bobby leaning against his truck. They get out and greet him. He hugs Sam first and then hugs Dean. He holds his shoulder and looks at him.

"How you doin' boy?" he cautiously asks.

Deans barely grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. The life in them is dead. He shrugs and looks away. Sam watches and quickly switches the subject.

"Shall we?" he asks, taking a step towards the bar's entrance.

They nod and walk in. It's dark and the smell of cigarette smoke burns their throats. They go around a small group of people walking to the pool table and take a seat at the bar. Sam and Bobby order their drinks and the bartender nods at Dean. He's been in this bar so much in the last year she knows exactly what he wants. Whiskey. Straight. That's all he'll drink anymore. It's the only thing that tastes good anymore.

They get their drinks and listen to music fill the air. Minutes pass and the boys exchange no words. Silence. It's what they're used to now. Dean takes a sip and looks down. Just then the bar doors swing open and footsteps slowly walk up behind him.

"Hello, boys."

Dean's whole body stops moving. His heart lurches to his throat and he feels his stomach turn. That voice. He knows that voice. He slowly turns his head and in sync, the boys slowly turn their barstools to see a familiar pair of eyes staring back at them. Shock runs through Dean and his body goes numb.

His drink slowly falls from his grip and shatters on the floor. The whole bar goes quite at the breaking of the glass and they all stare. This isn't real. He must be drunker than he thinks. How is this possible. How?! For the first time in one year, he speaks.

"(Y/n)?!"