[Log] we're singin' halleluja | and the edge in your affection broke my skin

[likedillinger]

Who: Dean and Claire Bennet (excheerleader )
What:  In which the cracks in Dean's armor start to really shine through, and he fulfills Cassandra's prophecy.
When:  Tuesday, post Dark Side of the Moon, immediately segueing in from this convo where Dean talks to Claire about heaven.
Where:  New York City, NY ; Dean's motel room
Note:  Banner made for me by marshgammon
Verse:  Brave New World

Dean had been pacing the length of the motel room restlessly as they spoke about Heaven, but he halted when Claire suggested they grab a beer instead of even bothering trying to respond to his statement that God had told them to give up.  He was immensely grateful that she didn't seem about to try to push him into reinterpreting the message into something it obviously wasn't: there was just no way to spin Joshua's message into something positive.  It'd been a slap in the face on every damn level.

Yesterday had just been one of those after another.

"Yeah, I grabbed some yesterday."  Before I got shot in the chest, he thought to himself with a grimace, as he headed towards the mini-fridge, and pulled out two bottles.  He held one out to her and cracked the lid off his own, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and finding a spot on the wall to stare at for a moment with furrowed brow.

"Anyway, it was... a helluva day," he finally said, following a moment where neither of them spoke.  After another pause, he chuckled.  "Ok, maybe bad choice of words."

Comments

[cheerleader]

She was grateful that he wasn't looking at her anymore, because his last plea tugged at her heart enough that she did start crying, despite her best attempts not to. She knew that he'd feel the tears, even if she was crying silently, not allowing herself to give out any sobs. Her cheek nuzzled up against his, and she held onto his hand with no intention of letting go.

"I'm here, Dean." She reassured him, her voice thick and heavy as she attempted to hide the fact that she was crying. It was obvious that she was, she didn't need to draw further attention to it.

"I'm staying." This was said more for her benefit than his, a statement of accepting that her life really sucked and that her one night with Dean was going to be the most depressing moment of her life.

She took in several steadying breaths as she realized she had begun to shake with the effort of not breaking down in an emotional downpour. She could do this, it was only one night. He needed her, and she really did need him just as much now that he understood exactly how she felt for him. When it came down to it, she was still just a scared little girl, and she needed the reassurance and the comfort probably more than he did. He was going to be able to bounce back and move on to the next girl, where it was going to take her a long while to get over this night, if she ever did.

"Do you think that if things were different, you could let yourself love me?" She wondered, surprising even herself by the way her voice didn't break and she didn't crumble in the midst of speaking. She had to know what he'd say, she needed to know so she could force herself to begin moving on.

He had said that he didn't know what he wanted, and she respected and understood that. But with what he was asking her to do, she didn't think just one question was going to hurt him. It couldn't be her always giving, and him taking what she had to offer. "I told Cas that I was ready to die for everyone we know, for you. There isn't anything more real or filled with love than that, is there? I just want to matter too, regardless of if Sam and Zebra are together."

Now she was making noises that gave away the fact she was crying, if her earlier tears streaming down her face and coming into contact with his weren't sign enough. She kept her face against his, and their hands intertwined, because even this minimal contact was so bitterly sweet that it helped confirm that all of this hurt was worth it.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

She was crying now - he could tell immediately, as he wasn't that entirely wrapped up in himself right now to go without noticing. His lips just pressed against her cheek, again and again, parting as he drew out a shaky sigh. It was so wrong of him to keep her here tonight. And he could feel the burden it was putting on her now. Because he knew exactly how heavy his own burden was, the insane weight of it, that Cas had pointed out was more than any mortal man could shoulder.

And here he was, trying to dump it on to hers, and expect her to deal. To keep giving.

If he really pushed all his burdens on to her, let himself go right now, it would simply crush her. That was one of the reasons he didn't do this. Didn't open up. And it was only now becoming crystal clear to him how horrible of an idea it was to crack even for a moment and let someone else bear the weight that was his to carry.

So even if he wasn't sure it was the right thing to say, he couldn't stand just telling her the straight up truth when she asked him: that if things were different, he wouldn't have ever gotten this close to her. He could switch roles and be strong for her here, enough to get her to stop shaking, to stop her having to face the darkness that he constantly stared into.

His fingers wound through her hair as he considered what to say.

"Claire, you know I'd die to protect you too. I'd do anything I could. And you do matter. And if things were different..." His mouth dragged against her jaw again, just gently. Affectionately. "Who knows. I can't say I wouldn't. I mean... you're amazing, Claire. And you're... gorgeous and... smart." He wasn't reaching for compliments, just... unused to giving them, at least without them being just another part of flirtatious banter. He wanted her to know that he meant it. "And you're just one of the best people I've ever met. You give everything you have for everybody else. I respect the hell outta that."

His hand continued to stroke through her hair, pulling her tighter against him. "Don't cry, alright? I don't wanna make you cry."

[cheerleader]

"You're not making me cry. It's just life that is." That was the truth, at least. "I'm trying not to, it just...hurts." She was a little bewildered as she admitted that, because she was always so quick to point out to everyone that she couldn't feel pain at all.

His hand moving through her hair actually comforted her enough to not let herself keep crying. They only had this moment together, and once it was over, everything was going to be different. They could never go back to how they were, she wouldn't ever be allowed to just go off on fishing trips with him, and she'd never be able to even talk to him again without feeling overwhelming guilt. Knowing this was it, this was all there ever was going to be gave her a sense of urgency to cling to him a little tighter, to press a kiss to his chest.

"Don't be sad, please. Neither of us are allowed to be. I want to remember this as being perfect." Another kiss was placed, this time to the area above his heart. The sound and feel of it thumping gave her reassurance, something solid and real to ground herself with. Really, she just wanted to pretend that they were happy and this was perfect, which wasn't what Dean needed. He needed to talk, and to explain what his life was about, and he needed to share his burden with someone else who could support him. She was strong enough to, she knew that she was, she just had to get over being selfish for long enough to stop feeling sorry for herself.

"Tell me everything." She insisted before she could change her mind, lifting her head so she could make eye contact with him once again. She was calm now, and she had a resigned sense of strength. "I'm ready to know."

She pulled herself as close to him as their bodies would allow, and her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. Her hands balled into fists and then she moved her hands so his shirt curled around them as well, and she leaned forward to rest her chin on his shoulder. She realized that they were cuddling, and it almost made her want to laugh. She couldn't have sex with Dean, but she could get him to cuddle. That in itself was probably more amazing than the fact that they were going to sleep in the same bed and not sleep together. It was so amazing, that she actually allowed herself to laugh a little, and she turned her head so that her forehead was pressed up against his cheek and her face was buried up against his neck. It was comforting there, safe, it felt like she fit and belonged there.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

He was relieved when her tears actually stemmed in time, and another empty smile tugged at his lips at her proclamation that she wanted this to be 'perfect'. Really, it should have been as far from perfect as possible, all things considered, but she still seemed as if she wanted to be here, and curled against him as if she could derive some real comfort from it.

When he felt her plant a kiss against his chest, where his heart was, his eyes swept down to catch her pressed against him, obviously listening to its beat. It sort of fascinated him, but he didn't want to get caught staring at her again, afraid he'd only end up wrecking her 'perfect moment' somehow. So he looked over her head, thumb twisting through a strand of pale blond hair idly.

Her next words however, caught his attention again, and he looked back down to meet her gaze, relieved to see her looking stronger again. But he still hesitated. It wasn't right of him to just pour out his whole story on to her. It'd only end with her cryin' again. Any sensible person would. As he searched for the words to explain that, she drew herself even closer, wrapping herself up in him, and his arms tightened around her instinctively. He leaned his cheek against her forehead - the word 'cuddling' not entering his mind at all. In his eyes, he was clinging to her because if he let go, he'd just end up drifting again, and he knew that moment was coming - just not when.

Castiel had urged him, after their return, to open up, to talk to someone, or feel something, or scream it out, and he'd tried then, and failed to find the words to explain what he was going through. How was it gonna be any different now?

"About what, Claire? ... Heaven?" He figured she didn't mean the whole story of his life, from start to finish, because it was just too much.

But he knew she was talking about more than just one event. She wanted him to talk about what he'd been feeling, and going through, and he groaned inwardly, just out of instinct. It'd never been easy for him, and he suspected it never would be.

[cheerleader]

"Everything. Tell me anything and everything." She urged, her words muffled by the fact her lips were pressed up against him. She just wanted to hear him talk, to have him confide in her. If he could share things with her that he couldn't with anyone else, that would be the best gift he could ever give her, and it would be helping him at the same time. They'd both end up getting a little something positive out of this, even if they had to go through a lot of sadness to get to this point.

It was very reluctantly that she removed her face from being pressed up against him, and turned so that their cheeks were touching, but she could speak and he'd actually be able to understand her. She wasn't ready to let him go, and she didn't want him to let go of her yet, but she did eye the rest of the bed and the pillows up at the top.

She attempted to move in that direction while still holding onto him, but that just didn't happen, and she pouted as she glanced up at Dean once again. Hopefully he'd just assume it was because she was still depressed, not because she just wanted him to go lay down with her and she had no idea how to silently get that message across. So she just quickly gave up and decided to work on getting him to talk instead. That was the more pressing issue here.

"I want you to tell me about Heaven, and about the things you've seen and done. I want to know about your darkest and worst moments, and about your best ones. I just want...I want to know and memorize you."

She looked up at the pillows once again, and gently nudged him to move in that direction. All of the emotions they had gone through had drained her, and she had no intention of letting him go, but she kind of wanted to lay down and hoped he wouldn't mind doing so. She had a feeling that just as long as she was there and he could hold her, he wouldn't care where they were.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean took the hint about relocating a lot faster than Claire expected, because he'd already been thinking the same thing himself. All these emotions were fucking tiring. So without any more warning, he kicked his shoes off, and slid backwards on the bed, pulling her with him. It took a moment for them to readjust properly as he settled against the pillows at the head of the bed, but he gave her all the time she needed to wind back up in him, this time pulling her body taut against his, stretched out beside him, one hand coming to rest on her lower back.

He thought over what she'd requested. It was a pretty damn tall order. He decided to just start with Heaven, since it was the freshest thing in his mind, and the most immediate wound.

He really wanted to explain Heaven right to her, in a way she could understand it, because he knew she'd never get to go there herself, and that thought depressed the hell out of him. Maybe in explaining it, she could at least fully imagine what it would be for her.

It was easiest to start at the beginning. For her sake, he figured he'd leave out the part about what it was like to get shot in the chest.

"These two hunters found me and Sam in our hotel... woke us up, and had already taken our guns from us and everything. Got the drop on us real good. Turned out I knew 'em. Called 'em out on it, and they... said a whole bunch of hunters are trackin' Sammy, tryin' to pop him for ... startin' the Apocalypse." Saying that out loud reawakened the anger he'd felt at that moment, not just because those assholes had come after his brother, but because they'd done it over something that was technically his fault. "They did Sam first, and didn't dare leave me standin', because they knew I sure as hell wouldn't stop til I found 'em."

His eyes were fixed on the blank TV screen across the way, and he could see a dim reflection of the two of them there. They looked like any other couple, having any other couple conversation. Except neither of those things were true. He frowned a bit, and skipped the next part.

"First thing I knew... I woke up in my car. Thought I was dreamin'. Kinda felt like a dream, y'know?"

[cheerleader]

Given her small size, she was easily tugged along with him to the head of the bed. As he readjusted, she took a minute to take off her shoes and socks, and threw them over onto the floor. She leaned over the edge of the bed for a few seconds, bracing herself with both hands as she inwardly gave herself courage. She could do this, nothing was going to happen, he wasn't going to let himself lose control. They were going to talk, and she was going to go home in the morning. She pushed herself to sit back up, and she looked over at him with a smile before she crawled over to lay with him.

She was surprised when he pulled her in close once again, although she probably shouldn't have been, and she rested her hands up against his chest. Every so often her fingers would idly fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, opening and then sealing one in and out of its buttonhole. It helped to keep her from clinging too much, and it also offered her something to keep her from talking while he did, as now it was his turn to have a lot of emotions and spill everything he needed to.

As he spoke about how he died, it left her with a bad taste in her mouth, and she realized that he was trying to be as vague about being shot as possible so it wouldn't worry her. That caused her to smile, even if it was still a sad one, and she shifted upward to rest her head on his arm, so she could slide in close and put her face back into its comfort spot up against his neck. She felt the most secure there, and so she really had no big desire to move.

She did, nod, however, as he spoke further, to let him know she was indeed still listening and hadn't fallen asleep so early. Once he was finished, she turned her head just long enough to speak, before nuzzling back into the warmth of him. "You just woke up in the Impala? Not that she isn't a great place to wake up in," She paused, realizing as soon as the words left her mouth how they sounded, "But yeah, that's a weird place to start your time in Heaven in."

She wondered how her Heaven would begin for her, and quickly realized that it was pointless to even really do that. Unless she magically lost her head, she didn't exactly stand a chance of getting to see her Heaven. And even if she did lose her head, she was paranoid that it would just grow back or something, that she really was doomed to live forever. The thought of that made her fingers twist tightly into his shirt, and she pressed herself in as close to him as possible.

"What did you see after you woke up? Was Sam there? Zebra, Elle, or Brooke?"

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, in the Impala," he confirmed, something of a real smile tinging his lips. "And I sure as hell would have been disappointed in heaven if my baby weren't up there waiting for me." Hey, there was a reason some guys wanted to be buried in their cars, and if Dean weren't sure his body was gonna end up on a pyre if he had a 'good death', he'd have been one of 'em.

Claire was pulling herself even tighter and he tried to focus on telling the story because, for her sake, it wasn't a good idea for him to concentrate on the physical end of things. His thumb idly brushed back and forth against her back as he continued.

"The radio was playin' 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door', because apparently they aren't without a sense of irony up there. And it was stormin'. Cold. I got outta the car and..." There was the slightest pause as he saw Sammy's little dark head rounding that corner again in his mind, and this time his smile finally glinted in his eyes as well, still staring forward. "And there was Sammy. He was... all of thirteen. Hair in his eyes and awkward as shit, and carryin' an old crate full of fireworks." He'd already given her the short version of this, but he figured the devil was in the details, to pardon a phrase. "And he says to me 'C'mon, let's go.' So I mean... I figured it was a dream, at that point, and went after him. So we go out to this field, that looked hella familiar, and he asks if I brought my lighter. I figure the answer's gonna be no - I haven't had that thing in years, but I reach in my pocket and there it was, exactly where it always used to be."

Dean was all but lost in remembering the moment now, though words couldn't really explain what it felt like to him. "And that was when it hit me exactly where we were. Not that I was in heaven, but that I'd been there. We started setting off fireworks, just like we had on the fourth of July in 1996. I'd... bought a bunch of fireworks illegally and snuck 'em out of the motel, with Sammy. Dad woulda killed us, but I wanted to give the kid a good time, have some fun with my kid brother. And Sam..." He trailed off, because this was the part of the story that really mattered to him, and that made it the part he just wanted to skip over tellin'.

[cheerleader]

Hearing him talk about younger Sam put a smile on her face, an honest to goodness one that he could probably feel against his skin. She laughed a little as she thought about what the size difference between the two must have been when Sam was thirteen, for once Dean was the taller one. As her warm breath hit him and bounced back into her own face, she just laughed more, and she was overcome by a sudden contented feeling. She was imagining what Dean had seen up in Heaven, and she was able to clearly see the two brothers together. And something about Dean being able to actually spend peaceful time with Sam was so valuable to even her, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him.

"Imagine that, you buying fireworks illegally and carrying around a lighter. You were what, though, if Sam was thirteen? Sixteen or seventeen?" She tried to imagine Dean being that young, tried to picture what he looked like and wondered if he acted the same way he did now. And wondering about ages made her think to how old she had been that particular fourth of July, and it made her eyes bulge a little as she realized the answer. "I...was still five on that day. I was a month away from being six. I don't really even remember what I did."

That put things in perspective to her, about not only how wrong it was for her to want Dean the way she did, but for how awkward it was for Sam and Zebra to be together. All of their lives were entirely screwed up, and she was glad that she had turned back into her comfort spot in order to mask the fact that she had caused herself to cringe.

"What did Sam do? You stopped telling the story." She urged him to continue speaking, so that neither of them would really sit and think about their age difference.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

"Seventeen," he said, sounding as if he really had a hard time with that concept, that he was ever ... seventeen. Claire's sudden realization that she was only five when he was that age might've widened his eyes slightly, and they flashed down towards her, to read her expression. Was she horrified, realizing she'd been making out with a guy twelve years her senior moments before? Or more likely, was she horrified that that guy had kissed her in the first place? Yeah, it was probably messed up. But Claire had been through a lot more in her life than regular teenagers, and Dean never saw the measure of a person's age in terms of numbers (except where it was a legal concern). So while he might have felt uncomfortable for a moment, he was a lot more concerned about her judging him, than about whether it was wrong.

But then again, he chastised himself, Claire was still an innocent eighteen year old, when it came to sex. If she'd let him keep going, who knows what he might have done to strip that away.

Unsettled, he tried to scrabble back for the peace he found from the story he was telling.

"Sam uh, he thanked me. And... gave me a hug. It wasn't somethin' we did a lot, even then, but I mean, he was a kid, and he was just... grateful. And it... meant the world to me. It really did." He felt his heart clench up with emotion just remembering it now, even though it wasn't as clear as reliving it. "We just spent that whole night setting 'em off until we set the field on fire by accident, and had to run for it."

[cheerleader]

She chuckled, not surprised that the story ended that way. Of course the Winchester brothers would end up setting a field on fire, and running away from it. She found it cute, although she should have found it wrong and chastised him for being irresponsible, but she was feeling all warm and fuzzy after hearing about how touched he was that Sam had just hugged him and was grateful.

She was so touched that she slid down so she could wrap her arms around his waist, and she hugged him as tight as she could. She was grateful to have this moment, after all, more grateful than he would ever know. She had already told him how she felt, so she didn't want to make things depressing again by saying more, but a simple gesture like a hug could serve to let him know and comfort them both of them at the same time.

She pulled away after hugging him for nearly a full minute, and rolled over to lay on her belly, and brought her chin down to rest on his stomach. She peered up at him with a lopsided grin, feeling a little sheepish for the fact that she couldn't stop clinging to him or touching him. But he didn't seem to mind, so she wasn't going to pull away until he shoved her aside. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, before a blush rose to her cheeks and she averted her gaze.

"Soooo, what did you see next?"

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

Hearing her laugh at all, and seeing her smile helped remind him of why he was here with her in the first place. So when she embraced him like that, he buried his face down against her hair, kissing the top of her head, and just... letting himself enjoy her being there again. His hand slid down around her hip, and rested there, as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He realized he still wanted her, wasn't sure how long that had even been true, and tried really damn hard not to think about that question as she repositioned herself with her head on his stomach. He smiled back a little, noticing the way her cheeks flushed.

Best to keep talking.

"Well, the fireworks... dissolved into gunshots. From when we... anyways, then Sam was gone, so I went back to the car, and that's when... Cas started talkin' to me through the radio. Told me where I was. That it wasn't a dream. It was actually heaven. He told me to keep... following the road I was on to find Sammy. Sure enough it took me a house, and when I went inside, there was Sam, all cleaned up for Thanksgiving dinner. It was one of his memories - when he was eleven and ... " This was the part that was hard. Had been hard even to talk to Sam about at the time. "It was his first 'real' Thanksgiving. With this girl he knew, and her family. Apparently he didn't count the ones we had with Dad." The bitterness in his voice was palpable, and his fingers clenched against her slightly.

[cheerleader]

She could feel and hear the change in his mood, and she could understand why he was so bitter about the fact that Sam's first part of heaven was with another family. If it had been her up there, and she saw her own brother with another group of people, she would've been furious too, and she and Lyle weren't even that close. She had to wonder what it was like, to value someone so much that one little thing like a Thanksgiving could make you feel entirely betrayed and useless. The only person she currently felt that close and attached to was Dean, and she was positive that she hadn't shown up in his heaven at all. But why would she, she wasn't Sam or his mother. She wasn't his family, which was probably a good thing, based off of the kissing that had happened earlier.

"What were Thanksgivings like with your Dad?" She wondered, choosing to focus on things that Dean would consider happy memories, instead of talking about Sam.

She wanted to share a few of her own Thanksgiving memories with him, but this wasn't about her, so she bit at her lip to silence any further speaking. She glanced up at him one last time before turning her head so that she was using his stomach as a pillow. Her hands moved about behind her awkwardly, until she found his, and she fumbled to grab hold of him. But laying like that wasn't comfortable at all, and so she gave up trying to take hold of his hand, and instead just resumed her earlier activity of playing with the buttons on his shirt.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

His question reminded her of Sam's accusations, and he kept his eyes on the bedspread as he responded.

"I dunno. He'd buy us some takeout, but we were still... together." Well, until Dad 'passed out' as Sam had pointed out. "It's not about the big square table and the fucking turkey. It's about being with the people you love. Or at least that's what I always thought." She was fumbling her hand around and he realized she was trying to put it in his, which helped take an edge off his anger for a moment. He raised his left hand to where she was fiddling with his shirt and slid his fingers around hers.

"Anyways, that's when the lights started flickering, and these search lights came on. We knew somethin' was... wrong, so I started callin' for Cas, and he got a hold of us through the TV. He can't... come back into heaven, anymore." His fault, that. But it had been Cas' choice, and he had to remember that. "He told us Zach was lookin' for us, to send us packin' back home so we could yes to Michael and Lucifer. But that we couldn't go until we found an angel called Joshua. Who talks to God. So Cas told us to follow the road, the... Access Mundi, that led to the garden at the center of heaven."

Once again, Dean found himself at a part he wanted to skip but he forced himself to talk anyways, fingers caressing hers, as he tried to focus back on the sensation instead of what he was saying. "Sam was surprised I even wanted to follow through, but... what choice did we have? I mean... God was the only option left we had. He was the only one who could... do anything to stop all this." She already knew how that story ended, which made it harder to admit how much hope he'd poured into that.

[cheerleader]

It was amazing to her, how things could have been so upsetting five or ten minutes ago, when now she was just filled with a warm sense of absolute contentment. It was nothing more than just the way they were laying, sprawled out together, talking about the things that he wouldn't with anyone else. That was what made her feel special, more than the fact that he had kissed her, more than the fact that he was voluntarily cuddling with her. It was such a chick flick moment, that she wanted to laugh at him, but she couldn't bring herself to do that, not when he was talking about something so serious.

"God may have abandoned you and everyone else, but you still have everyone else. You and Sam can say no without him there, you two can fight, you two can do anything." And she honestly believed that, with all of her heart, that the brothers were capable of doing whatever they set their minds to.

She looked over at their intertwined hands, and smiled a little at the sight of it. He was so sweet and docile when he really wanted to be. She didn't want to ruin that by being negative and talking about God, so she instead kept him talking about heaven. It was what was most important to him, it seemed, because of Sam.

"Family being together is what makes holidays important, Dean. I didn't exactly approved of the animals I wanted as pets that you brought for dinner to Easter, but I just didn't really eat and instead was glad because you and Per- because everyone was together."

Now she was feeling guilty again, and she swallowed that down, and became quiet and somber. She focused on thinking about the poor rabbit and duck that she was supposed to have gotten as a present, to be her pets, but instead were dinner. If she was able to keep talking to Dean after this, she'd never let him live that down.

"So...what other memories of yours did you see?"

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean would have been pissed off if he knew that Claire was inwardly amused by this being a 'chick flick moment', so it was a damn good thing she kept her mouth shut on that particular opinion. Instead, he just felt vindicated when she agreed with him.

"Exactly. I don't know why he doesn't see it that way." He caught her slip about Percy, but he tried to just ignore it. "So anyways. We had to keep lookin' for that road, to get further into heaven, and... we found it in a closet." That was such a weird sentence that it caused him to laugh again. "Well technically it was this... Hot Wheels car on a track in the closet. But it was mine. I mean, from when I was... really young. Just a little kid. And then... there we were. In my bedroom. At our old house in Kansas." He struggled to keep his voice as steady as possible. "And my mom was there." Dean really wasn't sure how to explain this next part without it sounding stupid as hell.

"She made me lunch. Cut off my crusts. Sam wanted to... keep moving but..." He frowned deeply. "I didn't really want to leave. I miss her. Sam... doesn't even remember her, but I do."

[cheerleader]

"I think Sam doesn't think of family the same way you do because he doesn't remember your mom. And it sounds like he didn't really get along with your dad, so maybe he just wants the stereotypical two parents and two point five kids, complete with golden retriever and the white picket fence experience. I'm pretty sure that he'll get that with Claire, though." She shrugged, giving his hand a squeeze.

She thought about what his mom must look like, and what it must have been like for him as a kid. If Sam didn't even remember her, she must have died when they were really young. And as curious as she was, she wasn't going to ask when or how she died. "You'll get to be with her again, Dean. It may not be right away, but you'll eventually be back there, and then you won't have to leave her. But I can cut the crusts off your sandwiches until you get to go back home."

Because maybe that's what he saw his heaven as, was home. Once he got there, he wouldn't have to fight so much, and he wouldn't have to be so upset all the time. His mother could take care of him, and he could just be at peace. And really, that was what she wanted for him, was just to be happy and at ease.

"What was your mom like? If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

"Are you so sure? I mean... it'll work for awhile, but you girls... you're not gonna... age right? I mean you're always gonna look a lot like you do now. How long is Sam's life gonna be 'normal' because of that? And I know Claire's pretty touchy on that whole kids subject." He forced himself to stop, stop talking about Sam's future as if it were this impossible dream. He wanted the kid to be happy. He really did.

But he didn't know how to believe in it - or anything - anymore.

Claire's simple reassurances made him actually realize how much that was exactly what he wanted. To be back with her again. Soon. It was a startling thought, a sobering one.

Wanting to be in heaven. Wanting to be home. To have the fight be over. Wanting it more than anything.

"No, I don't mind," he said, surprised that this, at least, was easy. "She was... Don't take this wrong way, but... you and the other Claire, you always reminded of her. Like, when I met a younger her, when the angels chucked me into the past. She was... beautiful, and tough, and kind, and loyal, and... everything she could have been." He rubbed at his eyes, as he spoke the next part: "But in, uh, in that scene, in heaven, Dad called and... he was fightin' with Mom. They used to do that sometimes. Y'know, sometimes it could get pretty bad, but... "

"But I just held her and I told her it was gonna be okay. And that I loved her, and so did Dad. And I wasn't gonna leave her." The words were almost mumbled, and there was a burning near the surface of his cheeks he wasn't really accustomed to. He coughed quickly. "She said..." But no, he couldn't go any further. Some things were just his, and it was bad enough Sam had witnessed them.

"Anyways, I wish Sam could have known her. I wish... hell, a lot of things, but that most of all. That we could have saved her. Her and Dad. Hell, we'd give anything if we could do that." His stomach swam with nausea as he remembered only months ago when him and Sam had been ready to make that sacrifice. When he'd met Michael.

[cheerleader]

"There's a man with our ability, and he's over a hundred years old. He doesn't look like he's older than being in his mid-twenties. But I was also told that he developed his ability around that age. So no, I don't think we're going to age all that well." She wanted to laugh at the fact, just to try and show that it didn't bother her. But truthfully, it did, because it made her realize that she probably wasn't ever going to have the normal life that she was so sure that Dean would be able to get. It made her a little jealous.

She was quiet as she listened to him speak of his mother, and smiled as she heard how much he cared for the woman. It had been hard to watch her own mother burn down in the Primatech building, and she had only been around for a year or so. She couldn't imagine losing your mother at a young age, after having been with her your entire life. But the comparison of his mother to her made her grin, and it just reaffirmed that Dean really did need her to take care of him.

"You're a good son, and I wish Sam could have known her too. And I'm glad that I can be like her, that you think so highly of me." And that made the fact that he had just kissed her a little fucked up, but this was Dean and his life was just made of fucked up things. So she ignored the fact that she was a mother figure and just held him tightly to her.

"My parents came back, maybe your mom will too. Then you won't have to be without her anymore, and I won't have to try and take care of you all on my own."

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean tried to imagine for a second the possibility of himself reaching an older age down the line without getting killed first, and both Claires still looking exactly the way they did now. Sam would sure as hell come out looking creepy in that equation. He wished it could be a funnier hypothetical situation.

Once again, his need for validation caused his heart to squeeze with pride a bit when she assured him he was a "good son", and he tried to pretend it didn't affect him, but his fingers tightened a bit more through hers.

"Dad came back," he said quietly. "I don't know though. The way things were up there, I don't think it's likely." The truth was he didn't want to get his hopes up. There was no point.

"Plus, I wouldn't want her to have to take care of me, Claire. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of annoyance there, though he obviously didn't mean it.

[cheerleader]

"I know you can take care of yourself, but you need someone to..." What did he really need her around to do? Well sit and talk, obviously, but did he really need her around for anything other than that? Probably not, but she liked to think that he did, just because it made her feel better, and made her feel as if she actually had some kind of purpose in existing.

"Sometimes I think that it's my job to watch after you, you know? Like...it's my reason for being around, other than balancing out Zebra. I know you don't need it, but I definitely do. So just put up with it, okay?"

She looked down at their hands, and then back up at his face, and realized just how intimate this moment really was. This part was almost worse than the fact that there had been kissing, because he was almost more personal, and much more revealing. She felt terrible, because it couldn't ever be anything more than just this, but he was telling her so much that it made it all bittersweet.

"And I'm not going to give up hope that your mom will come back. I know that you want her, and you need her back. Even if you're too stubborn to admit it would be nice to have her still cut the crusts off your sandwiches."