Title: Image
Author:Phyllis
Disclamers:This is a work of fanfiction. I own nothing except the OC's within.
Kripki and company have that honor.
Rating: Gen
Warning: None
Word Count: 468
IMAGE
He sat, crammed into the corner. His hands flitted from covering his eyes to covering his ears, both fighting for attention…begging for relief. A sob tore from his throat and he buried his face in the depths of his drawn up knees.
The faces invaded his closed eyes; the words slipped past his clenched fists to pound against his eardrums. The words started as whispers, 'help….please….why', and grew to a roar of shouts and screams…screams of pain and terror…pleas for help…for understanding...for release.
Years of faces danced on the dark screen of his eyelids...the faces of lost loved ones…faces of total strangers…all of them asking for something…all pulling at him...tearing at him.
Dean curled in tighter, trying to make himself as small as possible. Tears ran down his face as he shuddered from the constant barrage. He felt his strength fading. He had fought this battle for twenty-six years. It was a battle he could not win and yet could not walk away from. He had a job to do. Until that job was done…completed…he
“Hey”
The dark receded and sunlight replaced it. Green eyes squinted at the brightness.
"Dean?” Sam's voice questioned and his step faltered as he approached his brother.
The eldest Winchester blinked and turned toward Sam as he strode toward him. Dean's hand continued the slow, methodically motion as he wiped the water spots from the slick black paint of the Impala.
“Yeah? What have you got?” His eyes moved to the phone hanging loosely in Sam's hand. He ignored the implied question in Sam's voice.
Shaking his head slightly, Sam looked at the instrument and then raised his hand in explanation. “Oh... Bobby called. I told him we'd meet up tomorrow over in Jasper."
Dean nodded and tossed his brother a tight smile. "Terrific. This place was getting boring." He continued wiping down the car. "Pack the stuff. As soon as I'm done, I'll check us out and we can hit the road."
Sam nodded and turned back to the room.
Dean turned once again to his task. As each drop of water was wiped away, he slowly tucked away each face, each cry and each plea…tucked away the fear and loneliness…into the closet at the back of his mind that he had built two decades before. Once again, he locked them away...if only for the moment.
Like the car he loved, he projected a strong face…a tough and slick exterior for the world to see. And like the car, he kept hidden the small amounts of rust and wear, the cracks and creases, the imperfections. Image was everything and Dean Winchester was all about image.
Stepping back, he took a long look at the forty odd year old Chevy and smiled. She was ready for the next round…and so was he.
Feed the Wolves
