Dean Winchester (imanaquarius) wrote in sceneandsay, @ 2011-12-03 12:39:00 |
|
|||
Current music: | Spoilers for 7x10 |
[ Open, or just narrative ]
Everyone has a breaking point; a place where strength fades, when will power just isn’t enough. No-one is immune to it. You can only be pushed so far; can only lose so much before it becomes unbearable. And that is what Dean Winchester’s life had been; a seemingly unending cycle of sacrifice and loss. The latest chapter threatened to bring everything crashing down. Maybe his threshold for dealing with this was higher than most…but he was just a man, and he’d never felt likes less of one right then.
The motel room looked as if it had been involved in a natural disaster; almost none of the room’s contents where in the same place as when Dean had first rented it. The mattress had been flipped off the bed, sheets and comforter strewn about; there was a noticeable mark on the wall where the lamp had struck it, and the shattered bulb littered the carpeted floor in one corner of the room. Furniture and tables had been upturned. A few of the chairs were broken; wood fragments and splinters having exploded out in every direction.
There had been yelling, angry fists pounding on the door, but none of it mattered. Dean ignored it; let them call the cops, because right then, he couldn’t be forced to care. Seated with his back against the wall, one half empty bottled was clutched in his right hand; his head was tilted down slightly, teeth grit together as he refused to let the bitter tears that were welling up in his eyes spill down. This wasn’t how it was meant to be; should have been a clean getaway. But he’d been driving…if he’d been better, Bobby wouldn’t have got shot.
“What am I supposed to do?” The words were barely above a choked whisper, spoken to no-one in particular…yet spoken to someone who couldn’t answer him. As anger seized his heart, the bottle that had been gripped so tightly in his hand was sent sailing through the air, crashing against the wall with the satisfying sound of shattering glass. “You weren’t supposed to leave!” The voice of his voice rose on the air, turning into a yell, one filled with pain and rage.
Bobby had always been there; the only constant in his life, other than Sammy. In some ways, Bobby Singer had been there for him even more than his own father. When there was a problem, when he didn’t have any other options…Dean always knew that he could call him. With Bobby in his corner, they’d figure out what they had to…and they’d find a way to win. And all that had been taken away. Another casualty of being associated with him; Cas, Lisa and Ben, Bobby….it never ended.
Rising to his feet, he turned and struck the wall with his fist, but even that…it was half-hearted at best. Because the flash of anger was just a coping mechanism to try and deal; leaning his forehead against the cold white surface, despite all efforts, tears were stinging his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. “I can’t do this without you, Bobby…”