destiel and other short stories ❧

History Repeats

.: Destiel One-Shot :.

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Through the clear glass of the small mechanic shop, blinding orange rays of the setting sun reflected off of the emerald green eyes of the shop's owner, temporarily obstructing his vision.

Dean brought a hand up to his face, squinting from the sunlight and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As the sun sunk lower and lower, soon to disappear past the horizon, he knew it was about time to lock up for the day. Slowly, he rose up out of his office chair and stretched, allowing a satisfying groan to escape his lips as he held his arms above his head. He rolled his shoulders and turned to stretch his back, only content when he heard the series of pops that came from his lower back.

Dean grabbed his keys off of the front desk as he passed, and headed for the door. After he flipped the sign to closed, he gently pulled the door shut and locked it behind him.

The sticky, summer air kissed Dean's skin as he walked down the street in the direction of the cemetery. Although the air was warm, Dean could feel the cold chill that came from the north, whispering that autumn was nearly upon the small city of Lawrence.

He turned the corner and was met with the white, rusty gates at the entrance of the small town's cemetery. Dean swatted a few mosquitoes away from his sweaty face as he strolled into the familiar area, making a beeline for the small headstone that was mostly hidden from view behind a tall oak tree.

It was nothing special really. Just your average sized headstone, with an average stony gray color, and a name and a date carved into the front.

Samuel "Sam" Winchester
May 2nd, 1983 - July 26th, 2019

"Hey Sammy. Just stopped by to see... see how you're doing. Cas and I are doing alright. We miss you, a whole lot. We always will, I think. The shops doing okay, too. Your dog, Orion, he's still broken up about you.. you leaving. He doesn't understand you're.... not coming back. Everyday when I come home he still.. he still expects to see you coming up behind me. He's a good dog."

Dean leant against the oak tree for a long time, longer than he meant to. His mind drifted off to relive pleasant memories with his brother, a small smile visible on his lips. Before he knew it, the sun was gone, and the soft buzzing of crickets could be heard across the grassy hills of the cemetery, filling the silence. Dean brought a hand up to his neck, rubbing subconsciously, and he cleared his throat. He turned his head upward towards the sky, where he was sure Sam was now, finally happy, with Jess by his side.

"Well, it was good to talk to ya, Sammy. We really do miss you, every day. I'll come back soon. Maybe with Castiel, too."

And with that, Dean slowly made his way out of the cemetery, and headed home, to Castiel and Orion. Dean was good, excellent really, at suppressing his bottled up feelings. He could hide them until they were nearly nonexistent, locked up and hidden in a box in the back of his head, never to be seen. But as Dean walked away from the last remains of his brother, a single tear slipped down his cheek, and rolled off his chin, landing in the grass beneath him. That's all Dean allowed himself to release. And then the cold, emotionless wall flew back up, and he buried his emotions.

Unlike most hunter's funerals, Sam's body wasn't salted and burned, Dean wouldn't allow it. Instead, they had a traditional funeral, and they buried him next to Jess. As Sam was dying, his head resting in Dean's lap, he made sure Dean knew that he wanted him to get out. Sam was insistent that him and Cas got out of the family business, and got out for good. So they did. Dean and Cas went back to Lawrence, bought a house, and Dean got a job as a mechanic. They kept Sam's dog, Orion, who was just a puppy when Sam found him. Along with that, Sam insisted that they didn't bring him back. He was ready to die.