Pull Me Up (a destiel au fanfic)

chapter 1

I don't quite know what I was expecting the day he died.

Maybe dark clouds overhead, rain pouring on the city, thunder rumbling the earth.

But it was just as it had been for the past weeks; quiet, peaceful and sunny. The only clouds white, plush cotton. So I pulled the curtains together and acted like the world outside wasn't bright and carrying on.

I didn't know how to react either, and I couldn't pinpoint how I was reacting naturally. I'd pictured devastation taking me over, the inability to sleep or speak. I thought my sadness would drive me to insanity.

But there was nothing. No feeling; no emotion. All I had was a heavy weight on my chest, in my throat. It was hard to breathe, but... there was no sickness turning my stomach, no tears burning my eyes.

I'd slept countless hours over the past days, unable to dream but also unable to fall deeply asleep. I always only brushed the surface when I slept, never quite getting to escape. The lingering knowledge that my brother was gone was like a dam looming over me, threatening to burst at any moment and yet... I couldn't quite find the ability to care.

I knew Ellen, bless her soul, was planning the funeral and had asked my opinions on any songs I wanted played or urns and I'd tried to be sincere, really I did but it didn't matter the type of vase his ashes would remain in. Sam wouldn't have cared if he was put in a shoe box.

Jo tried to get me to talk or show any emotion, too, but she understood. She knew I wasn't up for anything and she knew I couldn't talk. So when Ellen asked her to come check on me, she'd let me sleep while she sat on the edge of the bed, sometimes rubbing my back, other times playing with my hair. Whether she knew it or not she helped, she made me feel safer.

One day, I don't remember how long it'd been, she came in with food, like she would every morning and sat near my pillows. I actually turned to look at her today, rolling over so I could see her.

"Hi, Dean," she said softly, putting a hand to my forehead, probably to check if I had a fever again. I must not have because she pulled it back to her lap.

"Hey, Jo," I tried to smile but knew I'd failed. She tried to hide her sadness by not meeting my eyes.

"Dean..." she started.

"Don't," I interrupted softly. "Please, I just... I can't right now. I'm not hungry, so tell your mom I'll try later."

"That's not what this is about," she shook her head, taking my hand in hers. "Dean, it's almost been a week... you have to help us with funeral plans-"

"I can't, Jo, I really ca-"

"We can't do it without your input, okay? I think this would really be a good way to ease you into the fact that Sam's gone," she said, swallowing as she finally looked at my face. I furrowed my eyebrows when she said it, not feeling the extra pang in my chest as I'd expected. I continued to remain numb, unaware still. "You should get up, shower, at least drink some water or something," she shook her head. "I promise it'll help you feel better, okay? At least a little," she touched my cheek and stood, turning to leave.

"Jo," I called hoarsely, waiting for her to turn back and sitting up. She looked at me hopefully. "I'll get up," I nodded. "But I don't know how much I can help," I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down. "But I'll try."

She smiled a small victory grin and nodded, answering, "Dean, that's all we want." After that she closed the door and I heard her receding footsteps.

I sighed deeply and ran my hands over my face. I couldn't find the ambition to do what I'd promised as I sat in bed when finally I turned to my bedside table.