The Reason

Love is a kind of innocence, Dean thinks. A kind of pure, childlike view of things. When you love something you see all of it's perfections, all of the things which bring you joy. And when you love someone you see the same - the good, the perfect and wonderful, the lovable. Nothing interrupted the sense of well being that came with being in love, and nothing could convince you that the wonderful was wonderless, the good had its evil, that the perfect had flaws.

Maybe that was why Seamus was so good at being in love - through his clear blue eyes everything was garbed in perfection and coloured in beauty. But then, maybe that was why it was so easy to be in love with him, too.

Not that Dean thinks Seamus is an innocent. No one who can swear like Seamus can or dance like he does could be innocent. And no one could have lived through what they had lived through, could survive all of that, and remain innocent.

And still Seamus views the world with wonder.

For Dean, much of the wonder in his world has left. What was once magical has become very mundane, and the things he can do with a stick of wood or some strange potions ingredients no longer astound him. Instead, the things that people will do, and have done, to each other horrify him. It is almost impossible for him to believe in innocence anymore. Certainly he is not. Has not been since they took his family away from him.

Sometimes Dean feels like there is nothing good left in the world. He wakes screaming from nightmares and is haunted by visions of atrocities he has seen and could not prevent. At those times he marvels at Seamus' ability to smile and laugh, to find anything worthwhile in life, let alone to see beauty in the world.

He knows Seamus dreams too, that nightmares plague him at times. He has woken many times to hear the other man crying out, and to hold him while he choked back his tears. But the first light of morning always seems to wash his terrors away and he can again smile with the joy of simply being alive.

Life, Dean thinks, is not good enough anymore. Just breathing in and breathing out minute after minute is a miracle, but it's not enough to bring a smile to his face. There have been times he wished he could stop, when the sound of his own heartbeat would drive him mad. Those times have proved to Dean that life itself is not enough of a reason to live, let alone to smile.

But he has a reason now, a reason to smile and to laugh, to wake up in the morning, and to simply keep on with living. And, somehow, that reason must have a reason of his own, because it's never seemed that Seamus would give up on life for even a minute.

It's never seemed like something Dean could ask, seemed too personal a question, even for them. It was probably just as well, because he would be very surprised that he could be anyone's reason, let alone Seamus'.