Chapter Text
It was hard to nail down how it felt to see his father’s dead body. A part of Dean – the part that had spent his entire life dealing with dead bodies - barely seemed to react. Which floored him, because surely his dad’s corpse should look different than other corpses. It was his dad. But at least it was easier to understand than the other part of him, the one trapped in an endless funneling squall of shock, anger, gratitude, fear, and despair. He could sense Sam beside him, could hear his brother’s ragged breathing as he too looked down at John. Dean realized he’s sunk to the ground, and distantly he wondered when his legs decided to quit holding him.
“Dean…”
Sam’s voice sounded raw, as if he’d swallowed bark.
“Dean, we’ve gotta…”
“I know.” Dean knows. They have to move, they’ve got to get the hell away from here. Despite the yellow-eyed cat’s promise to John, Dean's sure the demon won’t leave them alone for long if they lingered. And even though sinking his claws into that scumbag's fur was the only thing he wanted to do right now, he knew it wasn't a fight they would be able to win. Not in their current state. Sticking around the spot where the guy had just been summoned was three flavors of stupid.
Sam moved first, stepping forward and bending down until his teeth carefully met the ruff around his father’s neck. The action released Dean from his stupor, and he joined his brother in dragging John’s body off the asphalt and into the grassy edge of trees that marked the start of the forest ahead. His gut wrenched at the idea of burying his father in this unknown, unmarked place. But then again, where else would they leave him? The three of them had no permanent home to speak of; there was no ‘proper’ place to do this. Dean began digging, determination numbing any sense of tiredness he’d previously felt. Sam’s thick brown paws joined his, and after a while they’d created a decent-sized grave. Tugging his father’s body towards it and watching it slide in with a soft thud threatened to sweep Dean off his paws again. Without John’s commanding and imposing spirit inside, the body looked so much more feeble, so much less familiar.
Filling the hole up took much less time, and afterwards all the brothers could do was stare at the spot that would forever hide their dad.
After what seemed like hours, Sam turned to him, and Dean acknowledged the unspoken question by taking a deep breath and turning away from the grave to move deeper into the forest. Sam’s pawsteps sounded behind, quickening until the long-furred tom fell in step with him. The silence continued while they wandered, lasting until they’d finally stopped and made camp beneath a large bush, where the two of them curled up next to each other like they always did, except this time without the third protective presence that was usually nearby.
“I can’t believe you’re okay.”
Sam sounded as if he were still in shock.
Dean shut his eyes. He wasn’t okay. Physically okay, sure. But in all other regards, no, definitely not okay.
“I thought you were dead.” Sam’s whisper was almost swallowed by the night.
The sky was too dark, and the fatigue he’d been avoiding too strong, for him to consider talking anything out with Sam now. Dean just pressed himself slightly closer to his brother and let the emptiness of sleep steal him away.