Shattered: The Sequel to Mirrors

Almost Something

Please don't hate me, but this is a break from your regularly scheduled programs so that I can bring you a hella angsty one-shot. I'm in a horrible mood, so I need to take out some of my frustrations on our poor babies. Please forgive me....sorry in advance for the T and S references. It's really just the song, which, btw, I'm high-key obsessed with right now.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

Dean Winchester, since he was a kid, was good at rushing into things. He rushed into almost every dangerous situation he could. He got in fights, he threw punches at kids who probably didn't deserve it. He went hunting with his dad when he was far too young. Dean Winchester rushed into the arms of Death and the risk of pain every time he could. He rushed into pain and suffering for the sake of everyone around him, and often for nothing more than to punish himself. That was the real reason why he never hesitated to put himself in the line of fire. Because if he was the one to die...well, it would just be God, or fate, or whatever mystical thing was at work correcting what was supposed to have happened a long time ago. Dean knew if he was to die, it wouldn't change anything. He was always the first to rush into death because he believed that he deserved the worst of it.

But Dean didn't rush into the good things in life. He stepped tentatively into nice homes with warm kitchens, searching each and every cupboard for danger. He walked as if on hot coals into calm restaurants, searched each and every passing face for the flash of black eyes. Dean knew that he couldn't afford to put his guard down. Dean didn't get to be happy. So whenever anything could make him happy, he pushed it away. He had rushed into a happy, normal life with Ben and Lisa, and look how that had turned out. It was always just going to be him, Sam, and the road. Anything else vaguely happy would disappear like sand slipping through his fingers. No matter what he did, his mind knew that "happy" wasn't something Dean got to hold onto. So he didn't ever rush toward it. He let it come in and out of his life like waves on the sand. He let it flow in when it wanted, and he never tried to chase it when it decided to leave. The fear of drowning in it was far too much for Dean to face.

But I can't help falling in love with you

But Dean was always a man caught between his heart and his head. His mind was what he chose too often, why he killed everything that wasn't human, why he hooked up with random women to get a fix, why he was gruff with everyone around him, so they would all know to stay away. Dean's mind was set on being alone, and that was okay with him. He knew that was the life he had chosen, that was the way it had to be. It was the life of a hunter.

If it hadn't been for the Apocalypse, maybe it never would have happened. If he hadn't been the one chosen to break the first seal, if he hadn't made the deal to save Sammy....if, if, if. But it was too late for ifs, and Dean knew that. It was no longer a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

When he was dragged from hell, pulled close to an angel with a soul the same sky blue as his eyes. When he dug himself out of his grave, when the name Castiel was first whispered to him, the first time the man in that dirty trenchcoat had walked into that barn....when, when, when. When had he let himself care about someone other than Sammy? Was it when Castiel had rebelled against Heaven for him the first time? Perhaps it was the second, perhaps the third. Maybe it was when he had stared at him with confusion and pain-filled deep ocean blue eyes and marveled at the fact that Dean Winchester, the Chosen, the Sword of Michael, didn't believe he deserved to be saved. Or maybe when was the wrong question. It was in every little moment. Dean had found something beyond his little brother to care about. That, well, that was a scary thought.