I'm Sorry

Who: Joshua and Dean
Where: On the phone
When: Middle of the night

Dean sat mostly in darkness - the full moon providing the only light filtering in through a window overlooking the stairs, lighting the barricade that the teen had set up to stop any of the shadows getting up to them. He himself sat at the top of the stairs, his back to the wall, toying with his phone between his hands. He'd written several texts he hadn't sent, dialled several numbers but not connected. He knew he was all over the place, straight on very few things right now. He dialled one more number and stared at it for a long long time before hitting the green button this time instead of the red, his heart hammering in his ears as he placed the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing tone. Maybe he wouldn't answer.

Joshua had more or less just fallen asleep when his phone started to ring. He was still keeping weird hours, though he was making an effort not to be so nocturnal, in prep for the chance he might actually get into school. As always, he kept his phone close, and jerked awake as it buzzed under his palm. He picked it up, squinted at the number, and felt his stomach drop out. Dean calling him could really only mean trouble. Joshua sat up and hit the button to connect. "'Lo? Dean?" he answered, trying not to sound worried already.

Dean closed his eyes as the familiar voice sounded on the other end of the phone and the only sound was his breathing for a few minutes. What exactly did he say here? 'I'm sorry but I got her killed?' Great, yeah, no there was no way of saying that. He had to say something though, he knew, though the urge was definitely there just to hang up the phone.

Silence made it even worse. Way worse. He knew somebody was there, he could hear the breathing, and after the text from Charlotte earlier, there had to be something really wrong. Joshua shifted around, getting up off the bed and starting to glance around in the dark for jeans, though he wasn't really sure what he intended to do that required clothes. "Dean? Is that you? C'mon talk to me, you all right? What's going on?" Is she okay? Jesus, just say she's okay, please. Fuck.

"...I'm sorry," Dean said at last, his voice sounding thick, strained, down the line as he dropped his head forward, dropping his forehead to rest on his upturned palm, curling his fingers round to fist in his hair, the other hand holding the phone to the side of his head. He didn't know what he was doing here, except she'd never answered him and he knew that if he'd been Joshua, he'd want to know.

Joshua froze, halfway into pants. His heart gave a sick twist, and he immediately wanted to punch himself for not trying to get in touch with her the past couple of days. Because the kind of pain he heard in just those two words was stupidly familiar, and really could only mean one thing. "She's gone again, isn't she," he said, and it wasn't really a question. He sat down on the floor, free hand coming up to rub his forehead. Fuck. That wasn't ever going to not suck. "What happened?" he asked in a murmur.

There was another period of silence as Dean tried to find his voice. "It's my fault," he told Joshua. "We - we had a system. It was working and everything. Only they changed their strategy and I fucked up. And everyone got hurt. And she..." He broke off again, thunking his head back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling before he continued. "She decided that if she took all our injuries then even if it killed her, we'd stand a better chance. And maybe her shadows would be gone whilst she was. And she did. And she... she died. I'm so, so sorry, Joshua."

He was quiet himself while he digested that. Christ it was worse than he thought if they had to set up a system, and everybody got hurt when it failed. That sounded like her, though. Just like her. He rubbed his hand over his short hair and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "It's not your fault," he said first, because that stuck out the most. "I mean ... I know you probly don't believe that right now, but it's not. I thought -- still think, some days -- that the whole fuckin' first time was my fault. And I know the second one was, but ... you were doin' your best, you know? And once she gets somethin' in her head, she's stubborn as hell, so you couldn't stop her, I'm sure," he said with a humorless, watery little laugh. "Did it ... did she suffer a lot?"

It was my fault, Dean thought, assuring himself of that, needing someone to blame and latching onto the easiest target. Sure, he blamed the others as well, but if it hadn't been for his own failings, this wouldn't have happened in the first place. He didn't repeat it though, knowing that if that was Joshua's opinion he'd just try and change his mind and Dean didn't want someone to try and make him feel better about this. "I was meant to be looking after her," he said, quietly, not really meaning to, but that slipped out. Shit. He shook himself and looked down. "She - it was quick. She... told me that she was okay," he added, closing his eyes against that.

Joshua was fully aware that if Dean was anything like him, he'd dismissed what he'd just said as total bullshit. He also knew that it would be pretty impossible to change his mind on that, so that was all he was going to say about it. It hadn't worked on him all the way yet, after all. The last bit made his throat close up a little and he turned the phone up so the mic was away as he took a couple of shaky breaths. He would never forget her concern for him the first time she died, asking if he was okay. God, it ripped his heart out every time he really thought about it. "Least it was fast," he said after a moment, clearing his throat against the little waver in his voice. "And you were with her. You're looking after her a damn sight better than anyone else." His heart went out to the guy; he knew firsthand how horrific that must've been.

That produced a short, sharp, humourless laugh from the younger guy. "Right, yeah." Yeah, he was doing a great job of looking after her. She was dead. Brilliant job, really. He didn't know what else to say to that and he was feeling worse by the minute. He hadn't been after sympathy from Joshua and it felt so wrong that he was getting it. He didn't deserve it.

It was amazing, in a way, that he didn't see it. But then, that was what made it genuine. Joshua wasn't sure how to be convincing on that, what he saw there, wasn't sure that his opinion really mattered at all. It probably didn't. "Look, Dean. I know we don't know each other well, and shit hasn't been very ... comfortable between us, but ... you didn't fail her." Not like I did. She still wants you around, after all. Around for real. "I know you can't hear it now, so that's all I'll say. Except I appreciate you callin' to let me know. And if you want a beer or ten sometime when you can, we're stocked and Sean won't care."

A beer or twenty sounded really good right now. Just to lose himself in an alcohol-fuelled oblivion for a while. But he couldn't, not now. Not until this was all over. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it, never mind what his personal wants were. But still... "Sure, maybe, sometime," he agreed. "I should go, they'll be back - I need to be ready," he added.

It didn't much matter whether or not that was a genuine 'sure, maybe, sometime', at least the offer was out there. Though he was generally jealous of Dean's position in regards to Lullaby, he didn't envy the guy now, and he could probably just use some getting out and support. Especially support with alcohol. "Right," he said. "Take care of yourself. And ... ask her to text me when she feels like it? Please?"

"I will," Dean assured him. "I promise." And I'm sorry, he thought, but he couldn't say again. But the urge to do that was almost overwhelming as Dean lapsed into silence because of it. He took a breath to speak. "I - bye Joshua," he said, cutting himself off and hanging up the phone.