The Wake of Devastation

Disclaimer: Yay! Time to play the 'if I owned Supernatural...' game again! Okay. If I owned Supernatural - SEASON 8 WOULD BE HERE ALREADY. *dies* But it's okay. I can wait. Cuz they're bringin' Carver back~! xD Aaaaaand those awesometastic melt-worthy lyrics belong to the equally awesometastic Linkin Park who are all around awesome and their songs are love. That is all. Read on~

You were standing in the wake of devastation
And you were waiting on the edge of the unknown
And with the cataclysm raining down
Insides crying save me now
You were there, impossibly alone

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?
You build up hope but failure's all you've known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And let it go
Let it go

~ Iridescent ~ Linkin Park

Silence.

The car is full of it. It is a barely-heard whisper rushing amongst the bare vinyl seats, the lone purr of the motor, lying heavily on your ears. It is a foreign sound in this place. The one place, a constant, in your life that had along the way become home. Where you had become accustomed to hearing the sounds of another life accompanying you - the soft tap-taping on a laptop, the affectionate bickering followed by laughter, the soft snores at night - noise filled the small space.

Now, it is devoid of it.

And that pains you more than you would have thought. Of all the things to get to you about his absence, the lack of noise was one you had overlooked. It is not a throbbing pain that can be fixed with medicine or numbed by alcohol. It is the type of pain that freezes your brain, and plays with your heart, until you can no longer tell what you are feeling – what is real and what is in your mind.

It is the pain of sorrow.

Sorrow. It seems like the only feeling you are capable of. Sorrow and that endless numbness that encompasses you - body, mind and soul. They are all you are aware of.

Your mind buzzes constantly with meaningless nothings, until you are hardly capable of thinking a single thing for a moment. Which is fine with you, really. Everything you lay your eyes on brings back stabs of painful memories which threaten to eat you up inside. Every place you look, another tidal wave crashes onto your battered soul and tears it up some more.

You can't. You can't do this, but you promised.

And there have been enough broken promises over the years. Not that anyone was around anymore to keep track – anyone other than you because of course, after all this, after everything, you are the only one left. It is a bitter truth that bombards your every living, breathing moment and mocks your every action because without them, you would not even be here now. Heck, you wouldn't have made it past a few years ago – but here you are.

Alive. Alone. Unsure of where to go from here.

You go through the motions. You did promise, after all. And you're trying, damn it all, but you're trying so hard to do this. The apple-pie life with a white-picket fence and kids and families in a nice, normal neighborhood. Trying to…

But it doesn't matter. It's all an act and a lie and the motions are so forced but maybe if you act like you believe it it might be… might be…

It doesn't work like that, though, does it? You can't just let go of who you are because in the end – at the end of every day, every hour, every minute – it all crashes back. And you spiral away again until it's as if you're the one falling away into an endless abyss of pain and torment and there's no-one to catch you.

You couldn't find a way to save him, couldn't figure out another solution and you had to watch as he went through with his plan, just sit there and watch... because what could you do?

After that, it was as if your heart wasn't pumping blood through your veins. It wasn't life carrying you on. It was that... encompassing numb everything everywhere and as long as you kept going, kept doing something, you stayed numb. And it was bliss.

Until you stopped.

Because if you stopped, you noticed things.

Like how heart-wrenching and deafening silence can be.

Like how those numb moments had turned to hours and days and weeks, and there were other things too now. Like sorrow and anger and guilt and remorse and it's too much to think about and where the hell did that sweet unfeeling oblivion go?

It's been too long. You think so, at least. Days could be months and your four months was four decades but he's in the Cage which is a whole lot worse – and a minute you stay up here could be a year for him and then you just stop counting. You don't want to know, it's better not knowing and you need to find a way to save him and get rid of this silence and counting days is pointless.

It's a waste of time you don't have, time you're not even keeping track of because it doesn't matter.

That's what you tell yourself.

Time has become nothing but a mere game of life.

The clock ticks on, the seasons give way to others, the sun rises and sets... but to you it is all meaningless. It means nothing. It is nothing.

What is time, to one who can barely comprehend the purpose of life?

All you know right now is...

You promised.

You promised to save him. All those years – innocence – ago, you promised you would save him. It overrides the more recent vow, vetos it because there's one you can do and one you can't.

It's almost smothering.

Not as much as the too much quiet is and you prefer this sort of pressure.

Something to focus on.

Before you lose yourself completely in that mass of nothing that was slowly creeping through you. You can't afford that, you think.

He wouldn't want you to.

And that's really all it takes to keep going.

If not for yourself – then you'll do it for him.

A/N : MOAR ANGSTY DEANO.

I'm, uh, actually really hyper right now, which doesn't make sense after writing this but nothing does so that's okay! (Lol - okay, no, it's just that I found out my sis is coming for a visit which is awesome cuz she lives aaaaaaaall the other in the other half of the world so we haven't seen her for aaages and my nephews too and stuffs so I'M HYPER HIGH NOW and yeah :D).

MY 35TH STORY OHMYGOD. And 16th Supernatural fic, well wow.

~CONFETTI, IT'S A PARADE!~ In the wise words of one Misha Collins.

Um, right. HYPERNESS ASIDE. (DUDES. It's, like, ONE MONTH EXACTLY. UNTIL SEASON 8. NOWAI. *spazzes and fizzes out and freaking dies*) Right, right, the STORY. *clears throat* *shoves away hyperness and forces on solemn mood fit for an angsty-Deano-fic* Well. This. Uh, came from something I wrote for English last year so I took the first half of that story and changed it and then completed it into this little beauty which – personally – I think just turned into a rambly emo piece, but maybe that's cuz I'm too hyper to appreciate what my mind just sprouted out. xD I dunno, dudes, you tell me – was it worth the not-really-an-hour-but-close-enough of typing? *strokes imaginary beard thoughtfully*

Uhh... I don't really know what to say. I don't wanna actually discuss this or talk about it or anything cuz, c'mon... this came from my head. O.o So you tell me what you thought, hows about that? It's obviously after Swan Song when Sam jumped (*takes a moment to acknowledge the sadness of that episode*) and...well, okay, I'll be honest. This was just an excuse for me to jump into Deanie's head and mess around wiff his thoughts and write them out for the world to see. *sheepish grin* I LIKE DEANO'S HEAD, OKAY. IT'S A NICE PLACE. LEAVEMEALONE. *cuddles him*

I should shut up and go now before I... say anything... incriminating... Stop judging me, dammit! D: IT'S ALMOST SEASON 8 TIME OKAY. :D

Tell me what ya thought, yeah? ;) I do care. PLUS. First time I share a second person POV piece so, uh, it didn't suck too bad, right? xP

Peace out.

~izzyyyy :P