Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Epilogue

There's a reason why death is such a deep wound.

When somebody dies, they are no longer present in your life. They can no longer make you laugh, make you cry, make you scared, or walk away from you ever again. When someone dies, that's it.

It's the end.

Some people's endings are sadder than others. Some people leave behind bigger legacies, or break more hearts. Maybe they left a huge mark on the world, good or bad. The concept of this is quite simple, actually.

Some people will be missed more than others.

Dean Winchester was a good man. The best man. He was the only true love I ever knew, the only person I ever trusted as much as I did. He made me feel safe. Not so much special as they say in books. No, Dean Winchester made me feel normal.

Dean, along with Sam, but mostly Dean, taught me that it is okay to cry and scream when you're upset. He taught me that it's okay to go on hold for a little while, and just grieve.

He also taught me that if you're happy, you hold onto that. Being a hunter means a happy life is damn near impossible. So, he taught me that if you ever catch an ounce of happiness, to hold onto it with every ounce of your being. Because not much is happy in our lives, so all the good things? We need to hold onto them as tight as we can.

Except my hand slipped, and I lost hold of what made me happy.

I lost hold of Dean, and I don't know if I can hold onto myself anymore, either. It was supposed to be me who died, supposed to be me who used that blade. Not him. He didn't deserve it- he didn't deserve any of this life. But for some god blessed reason, he kept with it until the end.

He always told me that if anything ever happened to him, that I was supposed to carry on. To persevere. He said to not be broken up over him, or at least not for too long. He told me to carry on, to keep swimming through the hurt, no matter how hard the waves tried to push me under.

But I can't.

Sammy wanted to salt and burn him. I said no. I made a vow that if a demon possessed him and I saw him walking, then I'd kill him myself. But Dean deserves more than a hunter's funeral.

Dean deserves more than a sacrificial death.

Why did he do it? People are going to try and tell me that it was because he loved me. That's not a good enough answer. At least not for me. His death should not have amounted to as little as a self sacrifice for love. It should have amounted to him dying in his sleep, because he was too old and rugged from saving people to hold on anymore.

But that's not the case.

"You've got to get up."

I glare up at Sammy.

He stands in the doorway of Dean's room, where I sit in a chair next to Dean's bed. My knees are hauled up to my chest, and my arms are crossed on top of them. My mouth rests against my arms, and I avert my gaze from Sam back to Dean.

So still. So cold. Dean was always so warm, he was like a furnace. Whenever I was cold, he'd wrap me up in his arms and hold me until I was warm again.

I wish he could do it now.

"We have to at least bury him."

I fly from my chair, and fly into Sammy. In a fit of tears and ugly noises coming from my chest, I attack him.

My tackle sends him flying back into the wall in the hall. I perform a flying roundhouse kick, smashing him in the jaw. He clutches his face, but doesn't retaliate. I sloppily punch him in the gut, but I still land him clutched over and groaning.