The Cross

A Story by Ashley~Faye

How far would you go to save the one you love?

The tears began to bite at the edges of my eyes, begging to be free but I couldn’t let him see me cry so I turned around and began to walk away. Despite his voice carrying loudly across the sound of the pouring rain I continued walking aimlessly down the side of the road. Headlights shimmering on the wet asphalt and the mud that began to cover my boots but I didn’t care what my boots looked like, I didn’t care that he was still standing there, about ten feet away from me now, screaming my name and commanding me to go back to him. No, the only thing I could think of was what now? After all that time we spent together I thought he would have taken it better or at least would have tried to think of a way to help me out of this whole mess, even though I knew it was completely hopeless. Instead though he just retorted and recoiled, but honestly who could blame him? What else could I have expected him to do when I told him the truth about me? Did I expect him to hug me and let me know that everything would be ok, that he was there so nothing bad would ever happen to me?

Of course that’s exactly what I expected him to do because that’s what he has always done. He always use to take me by the hand and as his face lost it’s hard a*s features and his eyes had a glistening softness in them he would say “it’ll be alright now, I’ve got you and I’ll kill any evil son of a b***h who thinks they’ll lay a finger on you. Sammy, I’m your big brother, it’s my job to watch over you” and at the end of his little speech he would smirk, it was his way of promising me. Now, there was no smirk, no glistening softness in his eyes; no there was only fear. A fear that can only be found when you realize that everything you’ve been fighting for was for nothing, a fear that surfaces when you realize that you will be dead by sun rise with the only thing that you managed to accomplish was bringing yourself closer to the thing you tried so hard to escape.

Feeling guilty for the actions I took that day now, though I know if I was given the chance I wouldn’t have changed a single thing that day because I was so angry by the way he dealt with the situation. Again though looking back, he was probably angry at the fact that I didn’t tell him sooner. By sun rise he would be taking a trip to hell and there I was telling him everything about all of my little secrets I’ve kept locked away and hidden from him for so long. Why, may you ask, did I choose that time and that place to tell him about everything? The answer would be because I knew I was losing the only thing I ever counted on, it was out of pure desperation. I was terrified at the thought that I would be left to face these secrets alone. I know Bobby and Ellen would have been more then happy to help me out, but I needed my big brother, I needed Dean and I knew he wouldn’t be there for me anymore; as if telling him the truth would have broken the deal he made with the devil but it didn’t. Now I sit here alone and unsure of what will happen to me now that Dean is dead, now that Dean is burning in hell. It is all my fault and there is no way to fix it, no time machine to change what I have done.

I continued walking down the road, mud now seeping into my boots making it feel as though I was walking bare foot across an ice rink. I could still hear Dean’s distant shouts behind me, yelling my name in his frightened and worried tone. He may have been worried and afraid but I just felt like punching him, knocking out a tooth or two. I felt so betrayed, how could he just withdraw from me in my time of need? I’ve tried so hard to fight for him, to try to break his deal and now that I needed him, now that I was reaching out to him he left me reaching for nothing; might as well leave me reaching for a .45, at least then he would have left me with more then his fears.

I am alone now, in an empty motel room with two beds because I’m use to having someone occupying the second. I lay down and I’m over whelmed with this loud silence that use to be broken by the sounds of his steady breathing. Dean is dead now, Dean is burning in hell now and there is nothing I can do about it, no time machine to change what I have done.

I get a call late one night, it’s Bobby telling me that they buried Dean today. I missed the funeral and not by accident, I can hardly bare the fact that Dean is burning in hell now because of me, I wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of them lowering my last hope into the ground where he would spend the rest of time until maggots devoured his rotting corps.

I sit alone in this dark motel room with two beds and I research and I wait because there is nothing left for me to do. Dean is dead now, Dean is burning in hell now and all I can do is brood, I’ve found nothing with my research and time has been moving so slowly, though I barely keep track of it these days. I don’t recall the last time I slept and I can barely remember the last thing I’ve eaten, but how could I go about a normal life when everything is falling apart, crumbling right before my eyes to quickly for me to fix.

After some days pass since Bobby called to tell me they’ve buried Dean, though I’m not sure how many days pass because I don’t keep track of time anymore and the days seem to melt away into the darkness of night with out my awareness; I go to his grave because I know of nothing else to do, there is nothing left to do, there is nothing in the books, nothing on how I will be able to bring him back from the fiery grip he has fallen to. I walk to his headstone, which is a black glossy stone with white writing, and I read what has been written on it:

Dean Winchester

Beloved Son and Brother

January 24 1979 - May 17 2008

At the very bottom there is a small cross which is ironic because Dean was the least spiritual person I’ve ever met, in fact when I told him I prayed he nearly had a heart attack. Now though, as I kneel down in front of his headstone I cannot control myself, I begin to cry. As if all this time I’ve been denying what has happened but now this proved it, proved that Dean is truly dead now, that Dean is truly burning in hell now and there is one, only one way of saving Dean.

Even though it means the lives of others, I don’t care, none of it matters to me anymore because it’s my fault he is dead and burning in hell. I’m going to save Dean because he has saved me so many times before in the past. I get into his car and speed away to Wyoming, to the only place I know I can save Dean from his fiery damnation that I sent him to. I open the trunk of his 1967 Chevy Impala and reach for the Colt, the key to saving Dean. I shut the trunk and walk over to an old western graveyard that has an old, small building in the middle with a pentagram design on the doors and a small hole that the Colt’s mussel fit into. I turn the Colt like a key and the doors begin to unlock. Once they are unlocked the doors fly open with a blast, pushing me back. I lay on the ground, on my back, and watch as the world becomes infected with demonic black smoke and ghostly figures. I glance to my right and I see Dean and I’m overcome by a happy relief but the look on his face tells me that in his mind this is not a happy reunion. A look of disgusted terror covers his face as he fades away into nothingness.

The world is coming to an end and it’s all my fault but I don’t care. By the time dawn breaks I can smell the world burning all around me and I hear the suffering screams of its inhabitants but I don’t care, Dean is still dead but he is not burning in hell anymore.