HERO / KILLER

Not all that much had changed. Lydia was still the pretty girl with the viper tongue. Maybe her opening line had been a little harsh. Shoulders lowered as she took in the sight of DEAN WINCHESTER. was he still wearing that same jacket? she couldn’t help the twist of a smirk that formed on her lips. 

He still dodged subjects like a pro too. And maybe Lydia had perfected her own skill in that as well. 

The coffee was offered out to her but Lydia ignored it, stepping into his frame with an unapologetic purpose. Arms wrapped around his torso and held on a little too tight for a regular hug. After those years of not hearing from him, Lydia had often wondered if something had happened to him. The relief was unexpected. Cold fingers pressed into the warmth of his back. 

She hadn’t been planning the embrace. After a few seconds she twisted on her heel and pulled away, seamlessly taking the coffee from his hand in one swift motion. Lydia expected him to follow.

    despite his surprise, dean was quick to embrace her back and forget the job for a moment there.  he got so wrapped up in his work that he hardly paid attention to the small acts of affection that build and maintain important relationships over the course of his life.  dean now acknowledged how lydia had become a part of that, and he shouldn’t take it for granted.  a sigh of gratitude escapes his lips before she lets go ... 

SHE’S QUIETLY GRATEFUL FOR his relatively nonchalant acceptance of her reappearance;  it brings a semblance of something like comfort.   it helps to counter the memories that flash through her mind when she looks at him.  the sensation typically leaves her strangled,  frustratingly helpless by the unwanted panic building in her chest,  heartbeat thundering in her ears   &  shaky hands.   this time,  it isn’t so bad.   at least she has something to focus on.

❛   good is probably a bit of a stretch.   ❜  she lowers her gaze quickly.   her tone was sharp  &  a little biting;  she didn’t mean it to be.   bitterness just persistently seeps into every fiber of her being,  infecting any remnant of her former self.   jess looks back up,  attempting a smile.   ❛ why’s that?   ❜   she wants to ask about sam.   the words are lodged in her throat,  on the tip of her tongue,  begging to be said;   but she remains silent for the moment.    

      he acknowledges his selfishness ; dean is not oblivious to the fact that is he willing to use any means necessary (  including his brother’s long lost girlfriend  ) for the sake of helping him.  however, in his mind, he knows that he is doing the right thing while sam is doing the wrong one.         ‘   it’s sam.  he needs you    --   probably more than ever right now.  ’            at least, it’s what dean believes his brother needs, but he has no doubts about that, because he knows  him better than anyone. 

❝ Look, I’m sorry, okay! I messed up. I get it. Can you shut it now!?  ❞ The small towns sherif releases him from holding, sending him off with some cautionary warning about turning his life around– Sam wasn’t paying attention. He brushes angrily past his brother and out the station doors. Sam already felt bad enough, he didn’t need Dean piling on. The youngest Winchester wasn’t sure who would be more angry with him– his brother or their father. Either way, Sam wanted to skip the lecture and find the vamp that gave him the slip. ❝ –Are you going to tell Dad? ❞

     dean was just as frustrated, knowing that they should have finished the job that their father had given them.  he couldn’t lose the opportunity to prove himself to his father, who had been doubting him all his life about his capabilities   --   dean was restless and determined ; they had to make things right.  he didn’t intend on wasting more time by lecturing him ; he headed straight towards the car.           ‘  no.  we’re gonna kill the sucker before dad finds out he escaped in the first place.  ’

          a sigh, and all at once, the youth leaned back against the wall, wishing it would simply swallow him whole. he didn’t want to answer that question, didn’t know which answer dean would want. it would be simpler, wouldn’t it? if he didn’t have a soul. HE COULD SHOOT HIM, GET IT OVER WITH!! but if he didn’t… they were stuck with him ; the little monster who… who killed… ——–

          breathe. breathe. a few blinks, breath shaky as eyes briefly, nervously, flickered in the other’s direction, holding back tears he couldn’t understand the point of. “ … i don’t know. ” was honesty. the answer he’d hate the most, probably, but the truth. they’d spent weeks before, not knowing, not knowing, ignoring it, until they couldn’t ignore it anymore… until it went too far. look where it got them. “ it’s not like… before. ” was the only hope he could manage to give him. it wasn’t nothing, he knew that. but there was a tiredness to his shoulders, an overbearing weight he carried, and it wasn’t nothing… but he felt so numb. what was that empty pit, in his chest? the one where such a joyous heart used to be?

          black holes, black holes, sucking everything up…

          “ … i don’t know who i am, this time… ”