Title: Sorrow's hold

Summary: He'll be okay – you whisper in another dark room, downing yet another bottle of Scotch. The clatter of a gun hitting the ground is the only sound amongst the suffocating silence. A dive into Dean's mindset on Season 7. Set after 7x10.

Situation: One-shot / Complete

Word Count: around 1200 words

Characters: Dean, Sam, John (mentions)

Genre: Angst, drama, hurt/comfort (minus the comfort ;D)

Pairings: Gen (no Wincest intended)

A/N: The point of view stated here isn't mine, I'd like to make it clear. The story is a study of Dean's character and, especially, of the dark place Dean is in season 7. I'm sorry if it's too dramatic or un-Dean-like. I really hope it's not, I'm trying hard! Let me know if I succeeded or not ^^

A/N 2: The title is inspired on Evanescence's song "My Heart Is Broken". You should listen to it, it's beautiful! The quote is also from this song… I don't own any of it, alright? Okay, shutting up LOL.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or anything Supernatural related. I'll leave it to the professionals to handle the show. LOL They belong to Eric Kripke's crazy and genius mind. I'm not making any profit, just playing with the characters minds and giving them right back to The CW ;D


"I can't go back the way I came
Chained of this fear that I will never find a way
To heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time

Half alive without you"

Deep breath. In and out. You can do it – the voice in your head says – Gotta keep going. Work through it. Don't be such a baby. Stop whining, you brother needs you. Or another victim... Or the world! The lines are so blurred now that you can't see it, but there's definitely something still worth fighting for.

Or… Is there?

Keep your eyes wide open. Keep your hands on the wheel. Move, just move, damnit! Keep squirming! Don't drown, you must break through the surface and breathe fresh air. You're supposed to be the strong one!

Except… You are not. And maybe you never were.

The sun's up again; another countless indistinct sequel of hours-minutes-seconds starts, all blurred and fading, so far out of reach. You just want it to be over, to cut to the scene where you figure out how to keep going, 'cause it sure as hell doesn't seem possible anymore.

But, just maybe, you're not meant to figure it out.

It's all ugly. Your reflection, staring back at you, is so distorted and broken, unlike the person you thought you'd be by now. Far even from the strong-willed guy you used to be, with a lot of attitude, who worried about saving people and killing monsters. A long sigh punctuates how sorry you feel for yourself. That should never be you, the figure at the corner of a nameless bar wallowing in self-pity.

And, somehow, it just is.

Broken pieces of a puzzle: once the image of a warrior, who was always eager to serve and protect. Someone else so buried and lost, you're not even sure how it felt like to be on his skin. You've forgotten how it felt like to really feel.

Broken shards of glass filled with the blood of the boy who would.

Now, you're just the broken shell of a hunter. Like the pieces of the old smile; – the one you are convinced you should pick up off the ground and glue back together. Plastered on your face, creating this messed up version of a smile you now wear, just because they told you it was the right track – like the Goddamn soldier you always were; it should comfort you, make you feel grateful for being alive for another day.

Deep down, you just want it to be over, despite the broken smile and fake lightness.

Nothing ever really changed, did it? Not really. You've been alone, every single moment of all this time. They all left. They always leave. Nobody cares and you know that they never will. It's simple: you're not important. To anybody. You are the brother, the protector… The second best. You come after college, after the "apple pie life", after the desire of normal. Absolutely bellow the revenge and all the lies

And you wonder: Would they have shot me if it was me instead of dad the one possessed by the Demon? Does revenge mean more than family? More than me?

You know the answer. Even if you try and bury it at the darkest corner of your mind, every day, you know the score. What really matters. Since you were a child, dad made sure you had your priorities straight. Watch out for Sammy. Protect him, no matter what. Family is what matters. But, no, it's really not. Revenge is what matters. Avenging your mother, that's all he could ever think about. You know it, even if you lie to yourself.

It's not supposed to be like this!

And yet, it just is.

You close your eyes. It's hard to face another day, to joke around, and hide behind more excuses. It's not easy to have to drown your sorrow on booze; to work again, just business; to try and protect Sammy, even if he doesn't care. Even if he thinks you are not worth the effort anymore. Even if he would be better off on his own today.

He doesn't need you! Don't you get it? He never really did. Not the way you need him!

And it hurts. The invisible enemy keeps coming. The whispering voice, it comes from deep within your very core. It says: give up! What are you still fighting for? Who are you supposed to protect now? You can't jump in front of Sam's bullet, not anymore. It's inside his head, and you can't even suck it up and put yourself together to reach out and help him.

And maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to be saved for you anymore.

Revenge is your only reason. Killing Dick is your motto. And eventually, when you do kill him, there's just nothing else for you. No hopes and dreams, no happiness, no light at the end of this tunnel. Nothing will ever bring your loved ones back. Nothing will take away the pain. The alcohol can numb your body, but, at back of your mind, the pain is always ready to jump you. You can always feel it somehow.

The pain is a part of you now. It hurts so bad! It just needs to end.

Maybe the end is there: at the bottom of a bottle; at the next path you choose on that road; at the next careless hunt. Maybe it's here: at the sharp tip of a blade against your pulse point; at the cold nuzzle of a gun between your parted lips; at the next fake smile, half-truth.

Or maybe it's right after the corner, beckoning you with open arms, offering reprieve from all the pain.

Sam doesn't notice. Deep down, you know you're halves of a whole. And, where you're not strong enough to steady Sam, the kid can't carry your burdens either. You're both too broken, you can't even recognize each other anymore.

And maybe that's just as well. Maybe it will be easier on him when big brother is gone, sooner than later.

The broken pieces of who this guy's supposed to be.

He'll be okay – you whisper in another dark room, downing another bottle of Scotch

He's just fine – You mumble, while faking another painful smile in front of the mirror

He's strong – You say, tearful eyes lost in memories of lives long gone

He'll be fine – Your eyes convey while the cold gun presses against your skull, fingers eager to pull the trigger and get it all over with.

But you don't do it. You can't. The clatter of the gun hitting the ground is the only sound amongst the suffocating silence. A lifetime of tears the old you would never let himself cry rolling down your face.

I wouldn't ever do it, the man you don't recognize anymore thinks, sounding oh-so-sure and drinking yet another bottle.

Cause Dean Winchester is always fine – he whispers, with a chocked up laugh and a crazy smile, while his eyes close and his own blood pools around his feet.

"DEAN!"

"Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold."

Evanescence


A.N.: Angsty one! I can't help myself! XDD I keep promising happier stories, but the sad ones are just THERE, they just draw me in LOL. Anyway, you can take it either way. The story is NOT meant to be a death fic, though. I'm thinking some hurt Dean and awesome protective Sammy. And they probably have a big chick flick after this ;)

Anyway, the idea is just to write a study of Dean's character and his mindset in season seven… My poor boy! Y_Y I wanna do a Sam one too, but it's harder to get into his head, with the whole Lucifer storyline (which is delicious, by the way LOL)

I'm talking too much again! OPS! I wanna say, sorry for being absent. Seems like me and my muse have been on a break! Major writers block! I'll try to keep writing and never stop again ^^

Kisses lovelies and leave your thoughts! This is the first story I wrote directly in English, if I'm not mistaken. Find any grammar/typos? Let me know, I need to improve.

Don't be strangers o/

Rosetta