Well, spring is still teasing us here in western New York, USA..... gets up to 60F and the you wake up to ice in the water troughs. Oh, well.... that's why I raise Scottish Highland cattle... they're tough little buggers..

So.... back on track.... I've finally decided to take the plunge and actually post a short drabble I came up with for SN. I'm really more of an essayist than a storyteller.... but a drabble is something I think I can do without sending the planet reeling off out of orbit.....lol

So with all due apologies to Kripke, et al .... I'm taking Dean out for a brief spin.... he'll be home before midnight. Promise! And none the worse for wear..... I'll leave that for the TETIK. And if anyone wants recompense.... stop by & I buy ya a cup of coffee....

So here goes.....

Fire.

Fire. It seemed as if his entire life was somehow defined by flames and smoke. Standing and staring in shock as fire stole away his mother. Standing and staring as the flames burned away not just the evil thing he had killed, but the last remnants of his childhood; for he was now not just a man, but a hunter.
Fire had sent many a restless spirit to some final end. Did burning their bones offer them some final rest? He had no idea. He just knew that they were gone and that is all he really cared about.

Until he saw his mother appear from the flames in their old house; and feelings and thoughts he had long buried came bubbling back up to the surface. Until he saw her disappear again in her final act of saving her sons.

Until standing there by his brother, watching as the flaming pyre took away the mortal remains of his father, but left behind those final words to him. Words that left him as breathless as did the choking smoke.

Now, as he watches yet another restless spirit being put to rest by salt and flame, Dean wonders if there will ever be rest for Sam or himself. Or will that damned yellow eyed demon thwart them once again and force him to do the unthinkable in order to save the only family he has left from a fate worse than death.

Watching the flames leap higher, he wonders if there will be someone left to do the honors for his own remains. The thought of becoming a spirit bound to the place he died, forever trapped in an endless repetition of whatever horror accompanied that death, left him with a sense of dread and foreboding. Dean knows that he has cheated death twice and is uneasy with the thought. If Reapers hold grudges, then he is probably screwed no matter what. Figures.

The fire has peaked and the flames are slowly dwindling. Soon there will be only glowing embers and ashes to be quenched with dirt or water. No point starting a runaway fire. After all, he thought, they were here to help people, not burn them out of house and home. Hadn't there been enough loss, enough death already? Time for some peace.

Dean stepped closer to the fire, the smoke making his eyes water as he prods the embers to be certain that nothing remained unburned. Beyond the fact that he did take pride in his work, he really had no desire to have to return and finish the job properly. Once is enough.

The heat from the fire is intense and Dean steps back a few paces to where the air is fresh and cool.
He continues to stare into the flames, but his mind is seeing other flames from other fires. Maybe there is really only one fire and these are just fragments of that fire just waiting to rejoin and become one again.

Fire is heat and flames; so why does he feel so cold inside?

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