Title: The World Is What You
Make It
Author: Moonshayde
Season: Three
Category: Angst, Character Study, Dean
Spoilers: Takes place after Time Is On My Side
Summary: As Dean's time is running out, he takes a moment to stop somewhere
unexpected and consider his next move.
Word Count: 1,451
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Supernatural
and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke and co. All other
characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the
author. This is for entertainment purposes only; no financial profit has been
gained from this story. This story is not mean to infringe upon the rights of
the above-mentioned establishments.
He didn't know why he'd
come. Nothing was going to change. Hell, he didn't expect anything to change.
Yet, here he was.
Dean stood in front of the
church, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, as he stared at the large
iron-lined doors. It was a big church – Saint something-something. He didn't
really care about the name. He just remembered seeing the place when he and Sam
had driven into town.
He'd never have imagined two
days ago that he'd have ended up on the church's doorsteps that night.
Dean took a deep breath, and
after a brief hesitation, he opened one of the doors. He was mildly surprised
the priest, or whoever was in charge, would keep the church open this late at
night, but it wasn't his problem. He wasn't planning on staying anyway.
Inside, the church
looked…churchly. There were a bunch of pews, an altar, and those annoying
stained glass windows that would offer absolutely no protection against
anything dangerous if something decided to bust in. Dean didn't see any sign of
life in the aisles or beyond, aside from some dying lilies on the windowsills.
"I must be crazy,"
he mumbled as he plucked a dry petal from one of the lilies.
The church was quiet,
suffocated by a deafening silence that only broke with the sounds of his heavy
footfalls. He could hear the echo ripple through the church and disappear past
the altar. In that moment, he had never felt more alone.
Sammy didn't know he was
here. No one did.
He'd like to think he came
for some kind of redemption or that he came because it was the right thing to
do. He knew it wasn't. Dean was done with trying to find a quick fix to his situation.
He knew his dad wouldn't be popping out of nowhere like a regular Roma Downey,
and that bitch Lilith was nowhere to be found. After Sam's Doctor Frankenstein
break down just a few days back, Dean knew their chances were slim.
Nah, he was here because he
knew that in two weeks, he'd never be able to come into a place like this ever
again.
He owed his mom that much.
With a heavy sigh, he eased
himself into one of the pews in the back, not far from the door, and propped
his feet up on the kneeler. He winced and shifted his weight, then did it
again, and again. He couldn't understand why anyone in their right mind would
come to a place like this on a weekly basis. The wood felt like it was biting
into his ass.
"Oh, young man?"
Dean glanced up to find an elderly priest hovering by the side of the altar.
"I'm sorry, but we're not open right now."
"Then maybe you should
lock your doors."
The priest chuckled and
shook his head. "Sister Katherine must have forgotten." He paused
before taking a step forward. "Perhaps the shelter down the street?"
Dean frowned. "You
think I'm a bum?"
Dean saw the priest's face
redden. "I didn't mean to—"
"Nah. No big
deal." Dean rose to his feet. "I was just leaving anyway."
Dean exited the pew and
started down the aisle. He'd come to do what he had to do. He knew he had
better get going before Sam had a hissy fit.
"Wait!" Dean
turned to find the thin man behind him. "You look like you are carrying an
incredible weight on your shoulders." He gave a gentle smile and motioned
to the left corner of the church. "I could spare a few minutes, if you
need it."
Dean followed the priest's
gaze to a small booth off to the side of the church. He groaned. "I sure
as hell didn't come here to confess."
"What did you come here
for?"
Dean swallowed hard, his
gaze shifting to the altar in front of the church. He cleared away the
scratchiness in his voice. "To say goodbye."
"Son." The priest
reached out and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. "The church will
always welcome you."
"Not where I'm
going."
The priest frowned and
shrunk back, almost as if he had been burned. Dean tensed at the tremor he saw
in the priest's eyes, unsure if he was seeing fear, pity, or something else.
The experience rattled him, but he quickly brushed his nerves aside. The look
in his eyes was all Dean needed to know. He figured he'd be getting that look
for all of time, so he'd better get used to it.
Dean turned away from the
frightened priest. He had nearly reached the door when he heard the priest call
out to him again.
"Just one thing before
you go."
Dean raised his eyebrow.
"You're not gonna go all Opus Dei on me?"
The older man ignored the
comment and waved, beckoning him closer. Dean followed the priest down one of
the side aisles toward a small enclave filled with old, half used candles.
"Aw, crap." The
priest was going to go all religious on him.
"Wherever you are, even
in the darkest of dark, if you carry with you something pure and something
dear, its light will keep you safe."
"Thanks, Padre, while I
appreciate your concern, I doubt that's going to make a difference."
"It will." The
priest snuck him a small sly smile. "The world is what you make it."
Dean jerked at those words
and stared at the small priest. Some time ago, Pastor Jim had used that same
phrase.
Dean hadn't really cared. He
knew what the world was – it was a nasty place filled with demons and monsters
and bastards who wouldn't hesitate to snuff you the first chance they got. The
world wasn't what he made it. The world was something to fight. It was
something he had to battle with his every last breath. He'd go down swinging
the way his dad had taught him.
But for whatever reason,
since he'd come to town those words by Pastor Jim had started haunting him. He
found himself thinking them in the car as he waited for Sammy to buy some grub
or when he had a quiet moment alone in some shoddy motel room. They just kept
creeping up on him and went all Rambo in his mind.
He hadn't been able to
figure out why Pastor Jim's words had come back to nag him. Only now, he
finally understood why.
"You know what I
do," Dean said.
"I do."
"So, you know none of
this crap means anything."
The priest arched his
eyebrows. "Is that what you really believe?"
"God, I'm in an
infomercial."
"What I am talking
about isn't about God." He grabbed one of the lit candles and passed it to
Dean. "This is about what you take with you." He motioned to the
candles. "Go on. Light one."
Dean rolled his eyes. A
bunch of cheap candles couldn't save his soul.
The priest pressed him
again. "Go on."
This time Dean obliged and
lit one of the candles. How ridiculous it looked to have him lighting a ball of
wax to pray for his damned soul.
"Yeah, okay. What was
that supposed to do?"
The priest shrugged.
"Nothing."
"What?"
"It's just a show of
faith. You didn't have to light it but you did."
"So what's your point?
I don't exactly have a lot of time on my hands these days."
"Take with you a token,
a symbol, anything that serves as a reminder of something dear to you."
The priest smiled. "And just believe."
"Yeah, I'll remember
that."
You crazy bastard.
Dean
said goodbye to the priest and headed for the door. This time he left without
interruption, quickly heading down the steps toward the Impala. He decided he was
going to put this night behind him and forget it ever happened. He didn't need
Sam knowing he was having weirdo quasi-religious experiences right before the
hellhounds came to play tag.
Only, there was one thing he
knew he couldn't let go. He stopped at the side of the car and reached into his
pocket, taking out a small pad and a pen. He quickly scribbled those same words
that had been haunting him for days, and slipped the note into the glove
compartment of his – soon to be Sam's – car.
Sammy wasn't going to make the same mistakes he had. Even if it was his last dying wish – and Dean figured it pretty much was – he would make sure Sam understand what Pastor Jim had told him so many years ago. And unlike Dean, Sam would live by those words the way they were meant to be lived.
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