Wanted Dead or Alive | 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

18 - LEARN TO FLY

SEASON 2, EPISODE 1

It was a difficult thing to do, looking at the face of Death.

It required a special sort of strength. To look Death in his cold, lifeless eyes, to stare at the sunken-in pits that held his piercing retinas, you would have to be braver than the greatest heroes humanity had to offer. No mundane soul would be able to look at his rippled skin, painted the color of the wailing souls of hell, and be able to resist withering in cowardice as it hung in scaffolds over his frail body.

It was a kind of strength that Mara didn't possess. Though, that might have been because she'd never expected to see Death in the face of Dean Winchester.

But there he was, lying on a mat in a hospital helicopter, wearing his forthcoming fate like a child's Halloween costume. Mara, like any other being to walk the earth, had wondered what it would feel like to fly. She'd just never imagined it would be like this. Her heart, somewhere between pounding in a breathless staccato and floating lifelessly in her chest, unable to even feel the exhilaration of flight as the helicopter whipped through the sky.

The men who'd shown up after her 9-1-1 call - doctors, paramedics, first responders - had rushed Dean into the airborne contraption. According to one man with deep-set eyebrows and a constant scowl, he'd needed more help than the others. More immediate help. He was in critical condition, they said.

They hadn't wanted to let Mara onto the helicopter with them. There'd hardly been enough room for him, the pilot, and the necessary medical personnel, but she'd persisted. She'd flung her fists in every direction, only wincing once when it came into contact with the noses of countless people. She would not leave Dean's side.

But now, as she stared at the ash-colored skin that used to be vibrantly hued with ivory and beige, she realized she might have no choice. He was much better friends with Death than she'd feared.

'You aren't half bad.'

A violent sob racked through Mara's chest, bulging up her throat as the voice from her past rang through her head. It had only been a couple weeks since Dean had said those few simple words to her. Only a couple weeks, and they still danced around in her mind as clearly as if he was saying them now. She reminisced on other things he'd said to her - his three-step instructions on how to have a 'good Friday night', his laugh when she'd called Rob Lowe 'hot', and 'You should stay around for a little longer, Mara. You make real good company.' She thought of the way a simple touch from him had made her feel, like she was soaring in the night sky, glowing brighter than the most brilliant star, simply because his skin was touching hers.

But he couldn't offer her any of those things now. Not when the impact of the car wreck had sealed the flowering banter of his lips shut. Not when his fingers were like melting ice cubes, leaving residue against Mara's lips as the life, just like water, seeped from them.