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Dean Winchester hugs baby trees (withgunsdrawn) wrote in wariscoming,

Dean fell into step with his father almost effortlessly. It was something he was used to doing, habit after years of wanting to be just like his father, following in his literal footsteps and trying to be just like him. He hadn’t understood why he shouldn’t, at the time - had always been a little confused by his brother’s disdain for the man, and even now he was still following, matching up, trying to be something he wasn’t ever going to be and didn’t even want to be anymore.

He didn’t know what he did want, but he knew the way things had been before wasn’t it, not really. There were parts of that old life he wouldn’t mind having back, parts he liked - loved, even. But he didn’t think he could go back to who he would have to be to fit back into their lives, and it didn’t matter anyway because he couldn’t travel through time or anything.

If he could, he’d stop a lot of things from happening.

>"She's tough, Dean. We're not going to lose her again."

He wanted to believe his father, when he said that. He wanted to be sure everything really would be okay, and that Mom would be fine when they found her (because they’d find her, he knew that. Azazel wanted them to - but maybe not alive)... He wanted to, but he didn’t know how to, because if he was wrong, if he believed it would be fine and then it turned out that it wasn’t fine at all, if she died, and he’d believed that she wouldn’t...

And some part of him wanted to believe, because not believing was shoving him towards the edge of despair and all he wanted to do was beat something up, tear something apart, and he couldn’t because there was nothing, and...

“I know,” he responded, quiet enough his voice almost disappeared in the sounds of the city, eyes not lifting from the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to look up and meet his father’s eyes, didn’t want his father to see the lie there. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, and he wished the air was cooler, thinner, wished it smelled less like smoke and ash.