genetics | Supernatural: Paper Diamonds

Title: Paper Diamonds
Author:

papered
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 1204 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Eric Kripke. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: "There's no higher power - there's no God." - Dean Winchester, Houses of the Holy. Dean's road to regaining his faith.
Notes: Inspired as I was listening to Queensryche's Silent Lucidity. Thanks to Joya for her editting.

It's morning, and yet he can still see the moon in his mind's eye. Silver and beautiful, it shines above everything else like a beacon guiding lost ships down their paths at night. He could remember sitting by the windows in his room as a boy, looking up at the unattainable and wondering with an innocence he no longer knew, exactly what was on the distant globe. And if he thought hard enough, he could recall his mother sitting next to him, pointing out the constellations in that soft voice of hers that had lulled him to sleep so many times with its peacefulness.

He’d been watching the moon again the night of the fire, the night his mother had told him about the angels. He’d asked her who lived in the sky, his four-year old mind unable to imagine that something so vast and beautiful could be uninhabited.

Even now, he could distantly remember her responding smile, the lingering fragrance of her perfume on her clothing as he’d pressed his face into her arms. “They’re the guardians, Dean – the angels are watching over us. Look up at the stars and pray every night, and they’ll keep us safe.”

She’d pressed a kiss to his forehead before bidding him good night and leaving the room.

It was the last time he’d seen her alive and healthy.

The next time, she’d been pressed up against the ceiling with her stomach cut open.

And Dean didn’t believe in angels anymore.

There were no higher powers. There was no God.

There couldn’t be.

God wouldn’t be so cruel.

***

He'd brought it up without meaning to, half in jest and half in worry, but his brother’s response had stunned him. He’d expected Sam to roll his eyes, or even make a smartass remark – anything but the response he’d gotten.

"I do. I do pray every day. I have for a long time."

He’d wondered and marvelled afterwards at the innocence in that statement – the simple belief that there was some sort of higher being out there, someone who knew right from wrong, good from evil.

He didn’t know how Sam had managed to retain that level of faith after what had been dished out to them, but as much as it awed him, he’d found himself trying his hardest to rip away that belief. Faith was a dangerous thing. It guided life in the way a parent would guide a child.

Except Faith was no parent. Faith let you trip and fall, break both your legs at the same time so you couldn’t get up, and all the while made you believe someone was watching out for you—keeping you safe and wishing you well.

No, he wouldn’t allow life to disappoint Sam the same way it had disappointed Dean.

And after all, you couldn’t be disappointed if you expected the worst.

"I wanted to believe... so badly. It's so damn hard to do this - what we do - all alone. There's so much evil in the world, Dean. I feel like I could drown in it."

So why did it hurt so much when Sam had started to believe him?

***

Now, when he looks out at night and sees the moon, he’s reminded of both his mother and of Madison. It’s an odd combination, but it makes sense in his mind somehow, as he links the tragedies of their existence like those connect-the-dot games Sammy had been fond of as a kid.

Every time he looks, he can’t help but wonder how a girl who was only starting to live could be turned into a werewolf while serial killers wandered free.

How someone as soft-hearted and empathetic as Sam could be made to suffer so much.

Despite what they did, there had always been something innocent about his brother that had amazed and frustrated him all at once. Perhaps it was Sam’s outlook on life, or maybe it was the way he could relate to people. Whatever it was, it made teenage girls and old ladies alike ruffle his hair and bake him cookies.

He wonders if Madison, too, had seen that quality, and if so, how she could have been so selfish as to destroy someone like Sam. After all, she had to have known that he couldn’t refuse her dying wish.

Or maybe he’s the selfish one. Always wanting to preserve and yet somehow rip away that innocence, bask in it while pushing it away at the same time because it hurt too much that he’s so close and so far from it all at once. He wants Sam to see that life is cruel, and believing in the good would only bring pain and disappointment, and yet wants Sam to have what he himself had lost so early in life.

He doesn’t understand himself sometimes.

All he knows is that Sam is his last hold on himself, his last anchor to humanity.

Without Sam, he is nothing.

***

Over the years, he’s learned to find his balance – the delicate equilibrium between belief and disbelief, pessimism and reality.

After all, life had turned out okay in the end for the Winchesters.

After another decade of searching, they’d found the demon they’d been searching for all their lives. The final confrontation had been bloody, but in the end, they’d been victorious. Barely. And they had the deep scars to prove it.

But they’d been alive.

To be honest, neither Winchester had wanted to hunt anymore. Or at least, with the big things. A little gig, Dean wouldn’t mind, but Sam wanted to attend law school and pursue his dreams.

With his mix of geekiness and stubbornness, Dean knew his little brother would be a kickass lawyer one day.

As for himself? He’d opened a small garage near Stanford, fixing cars and waxing his Impala to his heart’s delight. Occasionally, he still took a hunt, but only the small ones – simple salt-and-burns.

Life had calmed down, and Dean had settled into normal in a way he hadn’t previously believed possible.

And then, one day, Sam had dropped in with a girl by his side. He’d introduced his girlfriend with a smile that had seemed – to Dean – more brilliant than the sun.

Just the look on his face, and Dean could tell that it would be John and Mary all over again, but with a different ending this time. A happier one. A more distant one.

The end wouldn’t come for many decades yet.

Perhaps there was something to be said for faith after all.

You couldn’t believe in it entirely. Closing your eyes in the middle of a hunt and waiting for divine interference would probably just get you killed. But what was life without any faith? Disappointment wasn’t much to live for, after all.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned on AC/DC and slid under his car, the purpose of having faith wasn’t so that things would go your way. In fact, things rarely go your way. Faith means having hope and believing in both yourself and others—knowing that no matter how hard life is now, it gets better.

And Dean certainly had hope that life would be okay from here on.

Finis.

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Date: 2007-04-25 11:05 pm (UTC)

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