Post by DEAN ROSS WINCHESTER on Sept 13, 2013 11:42:33 GMT -6
How long has it been since Sammi died? It was pushing eight months now. Dean had written down the date somewhere, even kept the newspaper in which he found out about her death in his father's journal, Anyway, it didn't matter to him. It felt like she'd disappeared only yesterday, the news of it hitting him as fresh as if he'd only just heard it, and the wound it gave him just never set.
Dean sat down on her bed, looking her room around and remembering when Sammi still occupied it. He'd done this thousands of times by now, and over time he and Lisa had managed to pull themselves together over it. It didn't make the pain any worse, only that he learned to function again after such a long time. The garage had been closed for a good month or so because neither he or Lisa could get off the bed without falling into a depression. He lost her once before and he let it happen again, and forty years in hell could not torture him enough.
He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. This was where Sammi used to pretend she was asleep, only to climb out the window to go partying or something in her teens. Well, it was also where she actually slept, but she probably didn't stay in her room too long once she got old enough to realize she could party. He couldn't blame her -- he would have been the same way if only he had a normal life. It was just that he needed to give her some semblance of a real father, and she was his first daughter. He'd been overprotective of his brother, but that word didn't even do it justice about how he wanted to smother her. The gut instinct was always there as a parent.
"Dean, dinner's ready," said Lisa softly from the doorway, and he opened his eyes. She did this too -- reminiscing their kids -- before she started her day. "Come down in five minutes."
Dean watched as she left. He had no doubt that he still had the best family, despite all the pain. For someone like him, even brief moments of happiness were blessings. She'd been the strong one after he lost Sammy. Now they both lost their only daughter, and there was no one to rely on to be stronger except each other.
He sighed as he got up and straightened the sheets on her bed. The room was pristine, exactly the way she left it. Maybe he was crazy and just thought that if it stayed that way, she would one day come back.
He puffed her pillow one last time and left the room, turning the lights off and closing the door.
Dean sat down on her bed, looking her room around and remembering when Sammi still occupied it. He'd done this thousands of times by now, and over time he and Lisa had managed to pull themselves together over it. It didn't make the pain any worse, only that he learned to function again after such a long time. The garage had been closed for a good month or so because neither he or Lisa could get off the bed without falling into a depression. He lost her once before and he let it happen again, and forty years in hell could not torture him enough.
He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. This was where Sammi used to pretend she was asleep, only to climb out the window to go partying or something in her teens. Well, it was also where she actually slept, but she probably didn't stay in her room too long once she got old enough to realize she could party. He couldn't blame her -- he would have been the same way if only he had a normal life. It was just that he needed to give her some semblance of a real father, and she was his first daughter. He'd been overprotective of his brother, but that word didn't even do it justice about how he wanted to smother her. The gut instinct was always there as a parent.
"Dean, dinner's ready," said Lisa softly from the doorway, and he opened his eyes. She did this too -- reminiscing their kids -- before she started her day. "Come down in five minutes."
Dean watched as she left. He had no doubt that he still had the best family, despite all the pain. For someone like him, even brief moments of happiness were blessings. She'd been the strong one after he lost Sammy. Now they both lost their only daughter, and there was no one to rely on to be stronger except each other.
He sighed as he got up and straightened the sheets on her bed. The room was pristine, exactly the way she left it. Maybe he was crazy and just thought that if it stayed that way, she would one day come back.
He puffed her pillow one last time and left the room, turning the lights off and closing the door.