As the loud bang echoed through the room, a single tear ran down his cheek. That was that. She was gone.
Although she was evil and there was no place for her in this world, her death didn’t bring relief to him. No.
No, he wasn’t glad that the world became a safer place now. No.
He was broken, broken deep down inside, but on the surface…he was strong for his brother.
He couldn’t find the strength to walk through the door and see the scene he was certain he would. Tears pouring down his little brother’s cheeks, his face buried in her chest, his hands stained with her blood.
He took a deep breath, the kitchen smelled of coffee, forced himself to calm down as that smell always seemed to do to him and took one step after another into the room.
And there he was. His baby brother. He was kneeling on the floor with Madison’s lax body in his arms. Sobbing quietly. And Dean’s heart broke once again, shattered into a million pieces.
It wasn’t like that when Jess died. There were no tears then. There was just pain written all over Sam’s face. And a sparkle in his eyes that promised revenge. He saw then, in Sam’s eyes, in his brother’s eyes that he knew for so long…the difference…they were an empty shell of broken dreams.
He desperately wanted to reach out and touch his brother, to let him know that he was there for him, that everything would be O.K. But he didn’t know how.
Memories flooded his mind.
Sam’s scared face when he woke up from a terrible nightmare. He could still hear the tiny gasp when his baby brother’s lungs suddenly filled with air. He could see how Sam’s whole body trembled as he cried quietly trying so hard not to wake him up.
He just stood up then, sat down beside Sam on his bed and held him tight in his arms. No need to speak. He just let that little gesture to speak on its own.
He came back to reality as abruptly as he was snatched from it. And he knew exactly what needed to be done. Just as when they were kids, he sat down on the hard floor and pulled his brother’s form into his arms. Even though he would never admit it out laud; the touch wasn’t just to calm down his brother. No, it was helping him too, and finally, after a long, long time, he was feeling like he was where he belonged. With his heart mended.