Why Did You Have To Go? [OPEN]

[Emma Lawrence]

Why...?

He didn't have to do what he did. That wasn't supposed to happen. She couldn't stand having her Empathy go wild every day. Emma would feel her Empathy lock onto something that she couldn't identify with anything human, or even Earthbound. Someone...tortured. Mercilessly. And the only thing he would beg for was more. Not life, not relief. But more. More pain, no persuasion, no happiness. And it was Dean.

Treading lightly into the chapel, Emma didn't exactly know what had brought her here. There was no mass. Only a few people were here, cleaning up, going home, some sitting in the pews praying for forgiveness and relief from their sins. She felt out of place. All of her beliefs about there not being a God these past four years...were turned upside-down on her. There was a God, and a Heaven, and...and a Hell...

Her heart shattered as she once again felt the pain of Dean strike through her.

Emma sat down in a pew, doing nothing for a long time, staring up at the crusifix. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she took a long breath.

"He didn't have to do it," she breathed out, eyes set on the statue of the hanging Jesus. "It was Mo who saved me. She brought me back. Dean signed his own death sentence..."

She dropped her head, putting her hands over her face to hide her tears.

"It's my fault for telling him. He'd still be here if I hadn't told him. He wouldn't have made a contract, and Mo would have saved me. Dean would still be here if it wasn't for me..."

Why did he sacrifice himself for her...? It wasn't fair! Wasn't fair...

[Cian Lawrence]

Follow You to the End

It wasn't hard to find her. She had been upset since she had woken up. When she mumbled something vague about going out, Cian had been worried. So he left the kids with Essence (who was ecstatic to see the new baby and who Oliver jumped all over the minute she walked in, wanting to play dinosaur again.) and followed her. Maybe she wanted to be alone and when he caught up to her, she could be mad at him if she wanted. But she was upset and he was worried and he didn't want his wife to be alone.

His steps echoed as he moved down the aisle to where she sat. He hadn't been in a church since...his wedding, and before that, Colleen's funeral. He wasn't really comfortable in them. Licking his lips, he slid into the pew behind Emma. He listedn as she spoke, feeling grief and guilt seize his chest. "Emma, love," he breathed out sadly, not knowing what else to say at that moment.

[Emma Lawrence]

A long whoosh of breath escaped her as she leaned forward in her seat to rest her clasped hands on the back of the pew in front of her. Her eyes drifted shut, and she tried to reconcile herself. "God, please," she whispered, "let him be okay." Dropping her head to her hands, she gave a ragged sigh--a hidden sign of more tears developing. "And forgive me for doing this to him."

Her heart skipped a beat as she sat up, hearing her name and a familiar warm voice. Turning her head behind her, she saw her melancholy-looking husband sitting in the pew, and she hastily went about wiping the tears staining her face. "Oh, hi," she mumbled, sniffing. "What're you doing here?"

[Cian Lawrence]

At her acknowledgment of him, he rose quickly, shifting to sit next to her in her pew. "S'looking for you," he admitted easily, eyes trained on her. He lifted a hand and let it rest gently on her cheek before pushing an errant curl away. He remained silent a moment, working himself up to be steady. Dean's death had hit him hard as well but he wasn't allowing himself to access those feelings yet. There would probably be a breakdown in a few days, int he middle of the night. But for now, he was fine, or so he convinced the people around him daily.

"S'not your fault Emma," he told her with a solid voice. "I won't beleaguer you with a speech that goes on and on about how you aren't to blame and all. But it is the truth. I know you may not be able to feel that way now but..." He let out a breath. "It's not your fault." It wasn't She couldn't have known what Dean would do. Cian felt horrible as it was that she felt bad about telling someone about her premonition. Why hadn't she been able to tell him? What had he done to make her feel as if she couldn't share that with him?

[Emma Lawrence]

"Please," she muttered skeptically, face falling. "I couldn't even tell you that I knew what was going to happen." She allowed a soft, self-loathing laugh. "Not only do I kill people, I'm a coward." Shaking her head, Emma turned her focus back to the cross, hands on her lap and capering, as if nervously. He couldn't say he wasn't her fault and expect her to believe him. It was bad enough that she'd told Dean instead of her own husband. A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly.

Eyes cast down, she added, "Not to be blunt, but I don't really think you're in a position to comfort me." Shouldn't be irate with her, too, about keeping the secret from him? Even still, she found herself longing to put her head on his shoulder, remind herself that he was her husband and she loved him, they had two beautiful children, and the sun would always rise again. But right now, it seemed like her days would remain dark for a long, long time.

[Cian Lawrence]

"That's okay," Cian immediately reassured her. "I don't... You're not a coward, Emma. If I had seen what you saw..." He swallowed and shook his head. Looking away, he continued, "I don't know what I would have done. But I probably wouldn't have been able to tell you, either. Because I'd want you to be happy and excited about the baby, not worrying after me..." He met her eyes then, holding the gaze. That was probably what she had been doing. He assumed.

Taking her chin in his hand, he smoothed over her cheek with a thumb. "You did not kill Dean, Emma. You did not do that."

He raised his brows at her next statement. What did that mean? Why not? "Why aren't I in any position to comfort y'?" he asked, confusion coloring his tone.

[Emma Lawrence]

Pulling her face away from him, she sighed, shaking her head, though she wasn't entirely sure what to. "I did something worse than keep my vision from you," she muttered, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Actually, she wasn't at all sure what she was looking at. Her vision was concentrated on her memories, remembering her vision, what happened that night.

Cian's words rang in her head. Just...grab onto me every so often?

"I did the same thing I've always done," she sighed, closing her eyes because she didn't even want to have to see herself, or even pretend she was in her own skin. Her breath merged with the disgust she had for herself right now. "I went to Dean." Told him, instead of Cian. Made him suffer, put him in a position that she shouldn't have...
Again.

"Because," she trailed off for a moment, picking back up with no added strength, "I broke my promise. And hell, I'd be angry if I were you."

[Cian Lawrence]

He bowed his head as she spoke. Once she finished, he shoved a hand through his hair. He ignored the pressure behind his eyes, at his throat, clearly indicating that he was on the brink of crying. "Emma," his voice broke. Clearing his throat, he started over again. "Emma. You died. D'you understand what that was like for me. You died. I was sitting in that hospital room, with you gone and Dean gone and this little baby in my arms and..." He inhaled shakily, wiping at his face.

"How could I be angry with you after that?" He fiddled with his hands, locking fingers together and then breaking them apart. "How could I care that you told Dean and not me? I... I told you, I understand. You and Dean are close and you just didn't want to worry me. Besides, it's not as if you weren't distressed in your own right. You had a baby to bear as well as the knowledge of your own impending death. Emma..." He trailed off a moment, giving himself a moment to regroup. "Emma, how could I be mad at you after that?"

He sighed and once more thrust his hand through his hair, letting it trail down to rub at his neck. "I know you miss him," he said softly. "I miss him too. A lot." Again his voice broke. "And I can't help thinking...that I could have done something. Because I watched it happen. I watched..." He swallowed. He still wasn't able to talk about what he had seen in the room that day. It was hard... Seeing his best friend getting torn to shreds and then...gone. He swallowed hoarsely. "But," he said, closing his eyes. "But he is gone now. He's gone and I'm not and you're not and that's...something we have to...deal with."

Together.

[Emma Lawrence]

Seeing the immediate breaks in his voice told her that she'd maybe pushed a little too far. Waves of sympathy washed over her and she toyed with the idea of touching his capering hands, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to really come in contact with him yet. Died. For a minute or two. But Maura brought her back. She'd killed Dean and made the mistake of damning him at the same time. If she'd only never told him, he would be here, and so would she... "But I'm not dead now," she replied under her breath. "I'm not, and he is."

Despite her trembling chin, she tried to speak with force. "Cian, do you not see what's wrong with this picture?" She sighed a ragged breath. "Close to him or not, I told you I wouldn't go to him. For God's sake, you're my husband."

He watched--what else was he supposed to do? He was meant to watch. That's why she hadn't told him. He had to be happy about that baby in his arms. Not deal with two people dying. He could've been stronger if Dean was there, but now... Her mind was jumbled, and Cian's words pushed her over the edge.

Leaning to put her elbows on her knees, she hid her face in her hands, crying softly. Dean was dead. Goddamn it! He couldn't be dead! She'd known him for too long; he was too important to be dead..

[Cian Lawrence]

Cian shook his head harshly. How could he make her understand? How could he show her that he was just happy that she was there? That he would have easily done the same exact thing if he was in Dean's place? That he fucking loved her so damn much that if she died he really didn't think anything would come to matter anymore, aside from Oliver and Maura.

That he couldn't even begin to see how to care that she had gone to Dean instead of him because he was too distracted by the fact that she was alive and not dead. Christ, she was alive. "And I told y'," he countered, voice weak, "that I don' care if y' go t' him. You were used t' it and I understand that. Jay-sus, Emma..."

And then she was crying and he was too. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, pulling her face to his chest with one hand and dropping the other to her back. Holding her, he let his tears fall, the tears that had been held in since Maura's birth. "I'm sorry," he said softly, words waterlogged. "I'm sorry I don' know how t' fix this or make y' feel better."

[Emma Lawrence]

It wasn't that he had to have or not have a problem with it--it was that she needed; wanted to change. She wanted to go to Cian, and perhaps that wasn't the opportune situation to show him that, but other than that... Well, now she had no choice. Dean was gone and there was no one else for her to go to besides Cian. Good. She could change now. A little too late.

Right now, though, it seemed like they'd never defeat this. Emma gripped onto his shirt and shook her head, refusing to hold her tears back this time. The recurring pain of someone she loved dying was getting old now, though each time it came it was fresh, raw. She was tired of losing people, of feeling this pain. It was new every time, but somehow the same. Deiderich, Daddy, now Dean. She was so fucking done.

She couldn't take another. God, if Cian ever...

No, he was here. Emma tightened her grasp on him. He was holding her, yes. These were his arm, his smell, his tears falling. "Don't be sorry. Ever."

[Cian Lawrence]

Cian cleared his tears, breathing in fractured inhale-exhales. "I love you," he admitted. He didn't know what else to say and that was all that was coursing through his mind. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. He tipped her face up a little, wiping the tears from her cheeks softly. "I love you, Emma," he said, voice steadier this time. His eyes were set on hers.

He tipped his head a bit, meeting her lips in a tender, chaste kiss. His breathing hitched in the middle of it and he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Letting out a breath, he closed his eyes and just held her face, listened to her breath, listening to his heart beat in his ears.

[Emma Lawrence]

If someone had told her years ago that she would one day take pleasure and comfort in simply hearing someone breathe, she would have called them crazy. Now there was no sweeter sound. Hearing her children, her husband take in the soft, even inhales and let out the slow, peaceful exhales was the most harmonious sound in the world and nothing was more real.

"I love you, too," she replied, her hand holding onto the hair on the back of his head, as if that would keep her hitched to him forever, her other resting on his shoulder.

Emma swallowed hard. "I feel him somtimes," she continued, eyes cast down, breathing hard, still getting over her sobs. "Dean, I mean. I can feel my Empathy lock onto something I can't control." Her eyes slipped closed.

[Cian Lawrence]

Cian felt a shudder ran over his spine at her words. She could still feel Dean? That was so... It just...couldn't be. Of course not, Dean was dead. But he wasn't, not really. From what Bobby had explained, at least. The whole thing was baffling and painful and it hurt Cian just to think about it.

He licked his lips, hesitant. "What..." He stopped suddenly but then continued. "What do you feel?" His voice was breathy almost as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

[Emma Lawrence]

Shifting her jaw, she shook her head lightly, listening to the low clangs of the organ behind her thoughts. "I don't know," she admitted under her breath, eyes still elsewhere. "I'm not sure how to explain it. It's nothing that could be fathomed on Earth, I don't think. But it lets me know that Dean is still existing. Not living, but he's...somewhere." It was like singing her tongue every time she went to say "Hell," so she avoided it as much as she could.

"Pain. Torture. Suffering," she mumbled, replacing her head back on Cian's chest. "But at a cosmic extreme. I can't imagine..." It was like Dean was dying. Over and over again.

She shuddered when her Empathy shifted again.

[Cian Lawrence]

Her arms constricted over her. Pain. Torture. Suffering. His best friend was in Hell, literally, and there was nothing he could do but listen to his wife describe the how horrible an experience it was. He swallowed thickly and pressed his face into her hair.

He liked the pain.

It came to him as a sudden realization, but unadulterated truth. He liked knowing that Dean was in pain. Because of two reasons. One, it told him that Dean was still there, somewhere. He still existed and that meant that he could still return. Which might be naive of him to believe but he didn't fucking care. He wasn't just going to give up on Dean like that.

The second was a reminder. It could get to the point of them only thinking of Dean on anniversaries of his death, his birth, his wedding. But not this way. This way the wound would never heal and it would always be raw, open and reminding them of his absence. That may not be the healthiest thing but Cian needed it. He needed to remember his friend's sacrifice, for the sake of his family. He would not forget that. He would find a way to help Dean. Somehow.

"I'm sorry you have to suffer that, Emma," he said softly, after a long moment. He pulled her closer a minute and wondered if he should pray.

[Emma Lawrence]

Having already begun to tackle the art of prayer (how was this supposed to happen, anyway? Who was she talking to?), Emma closed her eyes against him, refusing to put up a wall that would block her Empathy from receiving anything. She wanted to know that Dean was still there, and wasn't giving up. But if he was in Hell, could God save him? or was he totally under Lucifer's power, and God couldn't intervene because he was in the Underworld? To think of Dean suffering like that, and for what? For who? Surely not for her. She prayed he wasn't going through this for her. Yes, prayed. Was this really prayer? We'll find a way to save you, Dean. I swear.

She wasn't entirely sure how to pray, though she tried to let free whatever came to mind, even as they became difficult to conjure. But somehow, saying them now made her feel better. More connected with the things she couldn't see or even understand.

Cian's voice brought her back, and she shook her head with certainty. "I'm not suffering. You can't say I'm suffering."

((I feel like that's a line from something...))

[Cian Lawrence]

He winced. That was probably true. In comparison to what Dean was experiencing... He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head minutely.

The standard format wouldn't work here. Dear Heavenly Father, thou art good; thou art great. I pray to thee in hopes that I... He had dropped his faith more times than a fingerless football team fumbled. 'Please. There's a Hell so there must be something up there. And if you're listening... Please help him. He's a good man and he must be destined for more than...this. It's not fair for him to suffer as he is. Please.'

He expelled a hopeless sigh. Who knew if there was a balance. If there was someone looking out for them. He'd like to think there was but it wasn't worth the effort any longer. "We'll help him," he promised in an undertone, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We'll find a way. I promise, we will."

[Emma Lawrence]

((ANNE FRANK! The Diary of Anne Frank!! That's what that's from! In the beginning Miep goes "We didn't suffer; you can't say we suffered." Damn I'm good.))

Fucking shit. Prayer was too hard. It wasn't supposed to be structured, but it couldn't be disrespectful or come straight from the head or heart directly, or something like that. What...what was going on? Either something was interfering with her prayer, or she just couldn't fucking pray.

Slumping in her seat, she hid her face in her hands, sighing heavily, hoping it passed off as concentrated rather than troubled. Knowing Cian, it wouldn't get past him. Not much did when it came to her body language, it seemed.

Frustrated with her inability, she put her hands decisively on the back of the pew in front of them. "Y'know what? Screw this. If there is a God, why the fuck doesn't He show His face? Why doesn't He help good people that suffer for the innocent?" It seemed with age, Emma's tongue had gotten sharper, but right now, she was thankful for that transition. Sometimes it seemed only swears could put a direct and precise pinpoint on a feeling or reason.

Shaking her head, she brought herself to her feet. "I'm sorry, Cian. I just can't." If he wanted to stay and pray to his heart's content, that was fine with her. She couldn't.

[Cian Lawrence]

Her outburst reminded him of himself at six. Crying and screaming at the sky, asking for his sister back, promising he would be a good boy if God would just let him have his sister back. Well, sometimes it just needed to get out, whatever way it could. Rubbing at the back of his head, he rose quietly and followed after her. Another crisis of faith ontop of everything else... poor Emma.

Once he caught up to her, his hand immediately found her waist, pulling her to him. "S'all right, love," he assured her, leaning in to brush his lips over her temple. He nuzzled the skin there for just a second before leading her out of the church. The church wasn't where Emma needed to be at that moment.