Five times Dean died, one time he stayed dead.
Title: Five times Dean died, one time he stayed dead.
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas (gen or slashy depending how you want tot see it)
Spoilers: lets just say all seasons to be safe
Warnings: well character death I suppose
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Dean seems to die, alot. What happens when he dies one last time.
The first time had been the hardest, even though he didn’t actually die. He should have, was perhaps even meant to. She had been waiting for him. He fought it, wanted to stay, he wasn’t ready to leave, and his family needed him. Till he realised if he stayed he would become nothing more than a spirit, perhaps even the very thing he spent his life hunting. For so long after that time he had wished he had gone with her, had stayed dead. Instead his father took his place and he had to live with it.
…………………
The second time he thought he had accepted it, that he should have gone the first time and was simply evening out the balance. But it had been a cover, one his brother forced him to face. He didn’t want to die. She hadn’t been there waiting for him that time, something far worse had. He sold his soul to save his brother, and the price had been almost too much to bear, and far more costly than he had ever imagined. He almost lost himself in those forty years between lives, but he had been saved. Perhaps not in time to save the seal, but in time to save what was left of his soul. He thought he had been lost, but Castiel had brought him back. With help he was able to put the pieces back together, though it had taken a while.
……………………..
The third time he died, in the end, never really happened. It was meant to be in a rose garden at the hand, or rather foot, of Lucifer. That future self had all but given up and perhaps even welcomed it. He had just sacrificed the last thing he had been holding onto. The angel who had stood by his side through everything, who had looked him in the eyes without hesitation, knowing he was being sent to his death. As his eyes closed for the last time, he remembered the recrimination in the eyes of his younger self, thinking maybe he would do things differently, and he had.
……………………
The fourth time had been in some motel room, at the hands of two vengeful hunters. He had just watched his brother die, but he knew it wouldn’t last. They were needed, pawns in someone else’s cosmic game of chess. The jaunt through heaven had left him hollow, faithless. Forced to face his brothers desire for independence, and his own less then happy life time of memories. Was this all there was to look forward to when he was finally allowed to die for good? He had returned, only to watch Castiel, who had been with him every step as they fought to avert the apocalypse, lose what faith he had left. He’d have given anything to not have caused that pain.
………………......
The fifth time, of all the ways he had died, was the most mundane. In the end it was a car crash. Nothing supernatural, no deals, no angels. Just some random drunk who had swerved and hit his beloved Impala head on. She had been waiting for him, Tessa, the reaper who had been deprived of his soul all those years ago.
They sat by the side of the road, watching as paramedics swarmed the wreckage of the two cars. She had simply been sitting there waiting for him. He had walked over and sat down next to her in silence. They sat now companionably. She knew he would not resist this time so she gave him this moment. She didn’t mind the wait, she had waited far longer already after all.
She studied him for a moment, not sure what it was about him, but of all the souls she had reaped, something in him touched her. She thought it may simply be that she had been denied him so many years ago. Yet then again, maybe not.
“I knew it would be you,” he said, still watching the paramedics and fireman try to free his body from the wreckage.
“Of course Dean,” she replied.
He was watching the scene before him, but his thoughts were else where. Thinking of all the years that had passed since he had first seen Tessa. Thinking of Sammy, probably sitting down for dinner with his family, and the phone call he would shortly be receiving. Of Bobby in South Dakota, and the visit he would get in the next day or so. Sammy could never break the news to him over the phone, they would grieve together. Of Castiel, wherever he was, who probably already knew. Would he still visit earth now that Dean would no longer be there?
He winced as he watched the Jaws of Life cut through the Impala. His pride and joy, his home for all these years. Something caught in his chest, he doubted she would be rebuilt this time. She would most likely die with him.
The paramedics finally had his body free. Three of them worked on him furiously, but he knew it was to no avail. This time he was ready to go, the time for fighting was over. He turned to Tessa, “I’m ready.”
She smiled fondly at him reaching her hand to his cheek, she lent forward till their foreheads were touching. “I hope you find peace Dean,” she said as his spirit faded away, leaving her alone. She watched as the paramedics ceased CPR, “time of death, 10.02 pm,” one of them noted.
……………………….
Through swirling mist Dean saw light ahead, as he moved towards it he smiled, content. Of all his memories it seemed fitting that this was the one he stepped into. It was the time where so much had changed. In all the turmoil of the apocalypse this simple memory had been lost, its significance overshadowed. It had been the start of something, though he had no idea at the time.
He stepped out of the mist into a park, in front of him two benches. A figure sat on one, a figure so familiar it deepened Dean’s smile.
The last time he had been in heaven the experience had left him so hollow he had almost dreaded coming back. However in the years since he had come to peace with it. So much had changed since then.
He paused for a moment, drinking in the memory. Yet as he did he felt a touch of sadness. They would only ever be memories now, on constant replay.
He stopped, still a few metres from the benches and the figure so clear from his memories. His head bent, a tear slowly rolled down his cheek. Despite his peace with his death, he couldn’t help the moment of sadness at what he left behind.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and lifted his head, watching as the figure stood and turned towards him. A slight frown of confusion crossed his features.Tthis wasn’t how the memory should go.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel said softly.
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