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You know how if you repeat a word often enough in your head, it loses all meaning and starts sounding like nonsense? You know the word has a definition and it should mean something to you but at that moment, there's nothing to it. It's blank and empty and just there.

Sokka is standing in front of a small pyre a mile or two down the road from the farm. He wanted to be away from the main house, for attention and to spare anyone else the smoke and smell. It's been burning most of the night and is in the process of dying down, but even that should take a few more hours. At least until after the sun's come up.

The body resting on the wood base is small and slender and wrapped up in a bed sheet.

He has a feeling he should be feeling something.

But if you get your heart broken enough, it stops making the effort to heal and you stop feeling the effects of it.

He's watching the flames more than the body.

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Sam's in Metropolis. Dean's bored ... and has a good idea of how he'd like to spend the next night or two while Sam's researching his giganto ass off. Images of pink-and-green hair and superstrength-aided crazy positions have been dancing in his head the whole way.

But he wasn't expecting to see a pyre - unmistakeably a pyre - burning by the side of the road as he draws closer to the farm. He pulls off and jumps out, checks he's got his knives, and heads over to the figure standing by it, completely and instantly in Hunter Mode.

"Hey."

Sokka blinks and frowns at the pyre. It's stupid, but he realizes just a moment too late that the sound didn't come from the flames.

Then he's turning and blinking at the figure approaching him, and again when he recognizes him.

"Hey."

"Problem?"

Dean's too busy looking around warily to register Sokka's expression, or lack of same, at first.

"Need a hand?"

Another blink and Sokka glances at the flames in front of him. He still hates the smell but he doesn't turn green anymore.

It's a new development.

"...there's not much else to do," he points out with a shrug, looking over at Dean again.

Dean turns to look at him properly.

"Who is it?" he asks, voice quieter.

"My sister."

His voice doesn't register any pain - more like confusion. He should be feeling something but it's just... there.

"She came back. Healed herself. It didn't take, though."

"Oh."

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, leans back with his weight on one foot, looking at the flames.

"How'd she do it?" Professional curiousity. "What went wrong?"

"She was a Waterbender, moved water with her mind and special moves. Mostly for combat but she'd used it for healing, too. We got her body and she used, um... kind of like holy water. And she came back.

"I guess it didn't take, she kept falling apart. So she'd killed people here to keep herself alive.

"I was in Metropolis. I didn't find out until yesterday."

He frowns at the flames, thinking.

"A lot of people died."

"Hell," Dean says, glancing over at the younger man and frowning. "That's ... hell. You took care of it?"

For the first time in a while, Sokka turns and stares with an expression, even if it's just a raised eyebrow.

The pyre blazes on in front of them.

Dean grimaces, flinching slightly.

He can picture it all too well. (Sam, blowing things up with his mind --) It's not pretty.

"You did right," he says, eventually. It's such a stupid thing to say, but - maybe the kid needs to hear it.

Mel did, eventually, leave him. Then she returned, with his girlfriend and two very sleepy little girls, who pick up on the gravity of the situation even if they don't understand properly.

When they're close, Hana runs towards him, and pulls on his hand, hoping for an unca-hug.

Loo is clinging to Mel again.

Steph's forehead has deep creases in it, and she practically sprints to his side to slide one small hand into his Hana-free one and grip it tight.

She's here now. She'd have been here before if she could have. She's not going anywhere.

A hand-hold might not convey all of that, but it's probably less clumsy than any attempt she'd make to put it into words.

If he registers Mel's leaving, it's not much. Hana's hot little hands on his and insistant tugging are a lot harder to ignore. Sokka blinks down at his tiny niece and smiles a little for her, ducking to get an arm under her butt and hoist her up onto his hip.

Steph and her handhold get blinked at. He hadn't realized how many people were there.

"Hey," Steph says quietly, leaning against his side.

Behind her, Suki comes running up from the farm too, but stops to wait at a distance from Mel, Sokka, Steph and the girls.

"Mama," Loo says plaintively, and Mel forces a smile for her, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair, rocking the sleepy toddler until she's asleep in Mom's arms like the baby she's just not anymore.

Mel says nothing to Sokka. She's said nothing to him yet and she doesn't know what she will when she says it. She's just waiting for him to come back to them.

"Hey."

Sokka glances at his girlfriend, lips twitching briefly into a smile but-- that's not right either. Hana cuddles up at his side and he squeezes the arm around her in a brief hug.

Everyone's upset and tired around him.

"You don't have to stay. It's gonna be a while."

"I've got nothing else to do."

She isn't letting go.

Mel does smile, a quick flash of something easy because there's no deep happiness behind it.

"We can wait."

The world is quiet, waiting to breathe in. The flames are dead and Sokka is turned away while behind him an older man tosses salt on the ashes and lights them again.

With that renewed puff of smoke, of flame, there's a presence at Sokka's shoulder.

Sokka frowns and, for no reason at all, glances over his shoulder. Not toward Dean but-- somewhere.

Katara is visible, only just. A trace against the skyline, the distant farm clearly visible through her, and her smile is peaceful and relieved and quiet, serene like it hasn't been since she was last a ghost.

Katara shakes her head, smiling a little wider, and she drifts down and forwards just enough to put her hands on his shoulders and kiss his forehead, a brush of cool air against his skin.

The words aren't spoken but they're not unheard, either. At the fire, Dean turns around and looks sharply back at the two of them, but doesn't move.

Neither does Sokka. He bows his head for the kiss, eyes closed.

And he stays there until she fades away.

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