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Wednesday 10 August 2011

Jukebox Tales III - Hey, Jude

Banner by Ashesatmidnight Fanfiction


Title: Hey, Jude
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: We own nothing!
Synopsis: Third part of our 'Jukebox Tales' series. AU Season 5/6.

 
                                                                     Hey Jude

There was nothing left, and his time was up; the last grain of sand had slipped through the hourglass, and although Dean Winchester had averted the apocalypse, in so many other respects he had failed. Sammy was gone, and from head to toe Dean was numb. Not the delicious lack of feeling that comes from consuming too much liquor on an empty stomach, but the kind of paralysis that occurs when you are standing in the ruins of your life, and everything you care for has been stripped from you. Well, almost everything.

For several hours, he and Bobby had sat in that damned field, simply staring in silence at the patch of ground where Sam had disappeared. After allowing Dean to wallow in shock and the mire of his own guilt until dusk had fallen, Bobby had finally decided that the time for action had come. Dean barely recalled the old man hauling him to his feet, cajoling and gently coaxing him towards his car, and the soothing promises of a hot meal and warm bed that awaited him back at the scrap yard. However, he remembered with perfect clarity the punch he had landed to Bobby's left eye, and the quarrel that had ensued not a minute afterwards. The two hunters had yelled and screamed for all their worth, Dean maintaining that he was not about to choke down a burger and take a nap when Sammy still needed him, and Bobby demanding to know when Dean would finally be wise enough to realise that when folks were gone, that was generally the way they stayed. Not several seconds afterwards they had parted ways, the tyres of the Impala screeching and throwing up clods of mud as Bobby ran after Dean's retreating headlights, calling out pleas that fell on ultimately deaf ears.

Then, Dean simply drove. For hours, he circled the back roads, avoiding the glaring lights of the highway that seemed too alive to really be comfortable for him at present. With no destination in mind, no passenger for company, no characteristic rock music blaring from the stereo, and no hope, Dean simply drove.

That was, until he had almost wrapped the front end of the Impala around a tree, as his eyes slipped closed in a betrayal of just how exhausted his body and mind really were. Then, Dean had pulled over into the cover of some dense foliage at the side of the road, deciding that whilst committing suicide in his beloved baby would be poetic, it would most certainly go against the promise that he had made to his brother only hours beforehand.

The gentle touch of a hand drifting across his forehead awoke him with a start, and Dean blinked against the confusion that settled upon him as he found himself staring up into impossibly blue eyes. Shaking his head vigorously, Dean swallowed, suddenly reeling back from the woman now sitting beside him.

“It's okay. It's okay, baby,” she soothed, peering down at him with concern clouding her expression.
“Mom?” he breathed, watching as she nodded, and an undeniably sad smile settled across her face.
“What are you doing out here, Dean?” She shook her head, surveying her first born with her brow furrowed, and her lips pulled into a disapproving frown.
“Sam... Sam's gone,” he stammered, blinking as tears began to descend from his eyes, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I couldn't save him. I...”
“Shhhh,” Mary murmured, her fingers brushing against the hollow of Dean's cheek as he screwed his eyes closed.

“I- I don't know what to do,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking and his bottom lip trembling as he fought to prevent a further onslaught of tears. His breath hitched in his chest and he would have released an audible sob were it not for the pair of arms that encircled him in a motherly embrace.
“You make this better,” Mary said softly, her lips brushing the crown of Dean's head as she rocked him gently, “you take all the hurt and the pain, and you make it into something good, you hear me Dean? Don't let this all be for nothing.”
Dean shook his head, his face buried in the fabric of the his mother's white shirt, which had become stained with his tears.
“I have nothing...” croaked Dean, pulling away from Mary's embrace and regarding her with an oddly impassive expression. “I don't even have a place to go.”
Mary shot him a look, that Dean assumed from his limited memories of the woman was her patented 'cut the bullshit' stare. Blinking in surprise, he watched as she crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to one side.
“You know that's not true,” she replied, tossing her shoulder length blonde curls almost derisively. Dean shook his head, turning to stare out of the windscreen and at the stars that permeated the night sky.

“Bobby?” Dean demanded with a disdainful snort. “Right... a scrapyard, an old drunk, and a lumpy mattress. Great.”
“Bobby loves you... both of you boys like you were his own,” Mary chided, a smile replacing her scowl as she thought with affection upon the man whom she had never in fact met, but who had so readily stepped up to the role of surrogate parent to her children.

However, Mary's expression grew sombre as she added, “But I didn't mean him.”

Dean simply stared at her in silence, understanding her inference, but not wanting to discuss the subject any further.
“I can't do that, Mom,” he replied, his jaw set as he shook his head resolutely.

“Your brother wanted you to be happy,” Mary urged with a sad smile as she added, “and I want that for you, more than anything. That's all I ever wanted for you and Sam... but you have to grab on to happiness when you can, Dean. Don't let it slip through your fingers. You have a place to go, you have somebody who loves you... don't let this chance pass you by.”

“I can't,” Dean remained steadfast in his resolve, and he avoided his mother's gaze in favour of staring at the dash of the Impala, willing the lump forming in his throat to disappear.

“Because you're afraid,” she stated, through her tone was not unkind or accusing.

Dean smiled miserably, fighting further tears as he eventually nodded, reaching out and grabbing at her hand as he held it against his jaw, “I can't lose somebody else, Mom. Everybody... everybody I love gets hurt. You, Dad... and now Sammy. I- I can't lose her too. I can't put her at risk, she- she's safer without me in her life.”
He peered up at Mary through his tears, and instantly her heart began to ache for her son.

“I used to say that me and your Dad were fated,” Mary revealed, leaning back against her seat and pulling Dean's body into her lap. It barely mattered that he was over twice her size, he still seemed to fit so perfectly and snugly against her, as he had always done as a child. Now he was grown however, Mary's job was far from over, and the comfort of a mother's touch was something she had rarely had the chance to give.
“Boy did we hate each other when we met,” she whispered, a husky chuckle spilling from her lips as Dean shot her a surprised glance, “that man really knew how to get on my last nerve.”
“For real?” Dean pressed, his nose scrunched up in surprise as he regarded Mary, who bobbed her head in quick confirmation.
“Oh yeah,” she breathed, her eyes flitting upwards for the briefest of moments, almost as though she were shooting John himself a glance, “then one day, I finally saw him for what he really was; a brave man with a good heart, capable of incredible love. And, I guess he had a certain goofy quality that was kind of charming.”

Dean smiled, remaining quiet as he considered his mother's words, and reflected upon the far from perfect yet steadfast relationship that his parents had shared. Many times throughout Dean and Sam's childhood, John had revealed that he would have taken Mary's place in a heartbeat that fateful night, and Dean had grown up never once doubting the words of the man who had been smitten by love and near destroyed by grief.

“But what we had... it's nothing compared to what you could have,” Mary continued, ignoring the shocked look that Dean bestowed upon her. It was evident that he wished to bury the matter at hand, but there was no way that Mary was going to let it rest until her piece had been said.
“You were made for each other, Dean.”

“No,” Dean snapped, shaking his head but making no move to back away from his mother despite his anger. “The minute I let her under my skin... that's when I'll get her killed, Mom.”
Mary shook her head, eyes sparkling with fresh tears as she replied, “No sweetheart, that's the moment it all gets better. When everything makes sense again... when you can let all of this go.”
Her eyes swept the inside of the Impala, and the desolate road outside, surrounded by throngs of twisted trees and overgrown brush. It was then that Dean realised he had pulled the car over just a few metres shy of a crossroads, and a sudden nausea overcame him. The inference behind Mary's words was evident, and Dean blanched under the weight of her stare.

“Maybe I don't want to let it all go... I have responsibilities,” he choked out, unwilling to go quietly, and dragging up every last excuse his frazzled mind could lay claim to in the darkness.

Mary sighed, heavy hearted at her son's refusal to act upon his feelings, and also at the weight he continued to carry on his shoulders. The guilt and grief at the life she had doomed her children to constantly ate away at her and, as she watched over them from a place so far from their horrifying reality, the extent of the burdens placed upon them almost from birth bore heavily on her soul. If there was even the remotest possibility that Dean could now find some shred of happiness, Mary was adamant that she would not allow him to throw it away.

She nodded unwillingly, squaring her own jaw, “Alright. Then you'll have someone to share the responsibility...”

“No,” Dean said vehemently, interrupting his mother in a desperate tone, “it's not her fight. I can't do that to her... I won't doom her to this life. I can't watch her die, Mom. She's got a chance at a normal life, I won't take that away from her.”

“Does she even get a choice in this?” Mary demanded, leaning forwards slightly, her arms folded in the traces of a confrontational gesture.
“No, she doesn't.” Dean's tone rang with such finality that Mary blinked in surprise.
Mary finally let out a dry chuckle, and Dean glared at her with unchecked anger.
“You're a fool, Dean, as stubborn as your damn father,” Mary barked, allowing Dean just a glimpse of her natural ferocity. He swallowed, and sagged back against his seat, massaging his brow with the palm of his hand.
Mary's tone softened, “You're making things so much worse for yourself, honey.”

The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, the gentle chirruping of the crickets outside the only sound to pierce the night air. Slowly, Mary's hand came to rest on his knee. She squeezed his leg gently, and watched as the resolve began to melt away from behind his green eyes.

“Don't let me down, Dean... go get her,” she encouraged, her voice adopting an almost musical quality as it became affected by her excitement. “Do what your Daddy never could, and stop looking around the corner for trouble. If it's there, it'll find you soon enough.”

“Mom, I can't...” Dean whispered, looking so lost and alone that Mary immediately gathered him back up into her arms without a moments hesitation.
“Yes, you can,” she said firmly, lowering her mouth to his ear as she whispered, “make me proud.”

“I can't,” Dean repeated, his tone laced with sadness and defeat, “I love her too much, Mom.”

Mary smiled, ruffling his hair just as she had done when he had been a little boy, and she replied in a voice that left him little room for further argument, “Well, then you love her too much to be without her.”

Dean closed his eyes, sighing miserably as he tried to find a suitable response. However, deep down he knew his mother's words to be true.
“I miss you,” he choked out, reliving a hundred childhood memories at the scent of her perfume that evoked so much sadness, and yet also a sense of comfort and safety he had long ago forgotten.

“I miss you too, baby. But I'm never far away,” she promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead and staring down at him with painful regret.
“Keep the promise you made to your brother,” she implored, her blue eyes focusing intently on his. “Go to her, Dean... be happy.”

Dean nodded slowly, giving in to his brother and mother's demand but also to the yearning in his heart,as he decided to take a chance- to find the happiness that thus far had alluded him.

Mary's voice seemed to drift further and further from his ear, and a gentle 'I love you' were the final words Dean Winchester heard before the blaring horn of a passing truck startled him awake.

Sitting up straight in the driver's seat, Dean panted, trying to process his muddied thoughts as he rubbed at his eyes. The radio station crackled and hissed quietly, and it took a few moments for him to recognise the song playing in the background; the chorus of 'Hey, Jude' suddenly caught his attention.

Dean batted clumsily at his cheek as a single tear descended from his eyes and he thought for just a moment that his mother's perfume lingered in the air around him.

x-x-x


Jo gazed idly out of the window, her eyes drawn to the site of the birds that hopped around the lawn, pecking the ground in their search for food. Pushing away the plate of untouched pasta before her, Jo let out a sigh.

The last few days, her thoughts had never been far from Dean and Sam Winchester, and the call her mother had received just hours ago from a frantic Bobby had both of them worried. Sam was gone and Dean, well, he was as stable and well-functioning as anyone who had just lost the very last thing in the world they cared about could be expected to be.

“You have to eat, Jo,” Ellen chided, resting a hand on Jo's shoulder as she swept by the breakfast bar and began clearing her own untouched dinner into the garbage disposal.
“You think he's ok?” Jo murmured, propping her chin in her hands as she watched her mother work.
Ellen let out a breath, and squared her shoulders in the way she had always done when she was trying particularly hard to convince Jo of one thing or another.
“I think he's a big boy...” Ellen began diplomatically, uncertain of how best to proceed and answer Jo's question without directly lying. “Bobby will find him soon enough, sweetie.”

Jo nodded, although obviously unconvinced, and joined Ellen as she busied herself with clearing off the plates into the garbage disposal. Rinsing the dishes under the faucet, Jo scrubbed at the china, her thoughts drifting to the whereabouts of Dean Winchester.

Becoming so immersed in her musings, Jo did not hear the uncertain knocking at the door, nor the hushed conversation that ensued between her mother and their visitor.
“Jo?” Ellen called out, walking back into the kitchen and loitering in the doorway, “there's uh... there's someone here to see you.”

“Hey, Jo.”

Her eyes widened instantly upon hearing the all too familiar voice, and she dropped the plate in her hands, blinking as it clattered against the bottom of the sink and sent a wave of water and suds up over the edge of the counter.
Turning around uncertainly, Jo's breath caught in her chest as she stared up at the face of a clearly exhausted and broken Dean.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked, taking a few steps toward her and blinking in evident surprise as she closed the remaining distance between them and threw her arms around his neck.

Jo did not bother with unnecessary questions; any such inquiries seemed ridiculous given recent events. Dean closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her and holding onto her tightly, as Ellen whispered her excuses and left them alone.

From the corner of the kitchen, unseen, Mary Winchester watched as Dean's head dropped to Jo's shoulder, his lips twisted into a grimace of almost physical pain, and finally he broke down.

They stood for some time locked in their embrace, Jo whispering gentle words of comfort and stroking Dean's hair as he wept soundlessly, opening up in such a way that Mary knew things with Jo would be so very different to what Dean had been used to. When they finally broke apart, Dean collapsed at the table and Jo brewed a pot of coffee, all the while listening to him pour out his suffering with her hands encasing his own.

Nodding her head in approval, Mary bestowed one final satisfied, yet saddened smile upon her son, and disappeared in a flash of white light, knowing that for Dean at least, things were about to get better.

The End



1 comment:

  1. that was sad but in an amazingly good way. I'm glad Dean could get something good out of Sam's death here *cough* not Lisa *cough*

    ReplyDelete