Fragments of Sorrow for chiiyo86 (Part 1)
Jul. 15th, 2012 12:01 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_summergenTitle: Fragments of Sorrow
Author: heavenli24
Recipient: chiiyo86
Rating: TEEN
Word count: 13,500
Spoilers: Season 6
Warnings: None
Summary: Snippets of the missing year between Season 5 and 6. Various POVs
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me and no infringement is intended.
***
May 2010
Dean
It hurts. It hurts more than anything he could have ever imagined.
He doesn’t know how he’s still alive, how he’s still keeping going, because the biggest part of him is dead. It died along with Sam when he jumped into that hole.
It should have been him. It’s all he can think about… all the time. He was supposed to save Sam, not let him sacrifice himself. It was his job, his responsibility.
‘You have to save him, Dean. Nothing else matters. Save Sammy.’
His father’s words ring in his ears. He bows his head against the tears that are threatening to fall yet again. He should have done something, anything, to stop his brother from jumping into the pit.
He’s failed.
He’s failed himself, he’s failed his father, and worst of all, he’s failed Sammy.
His whole life, he’s had one job that really mattered.
One.
Keep Sammy safe.
That’s it. Simple, huh?
Apparently not.
Everything he’s done since that night has been about Sammy.
Carrying him from the fire, changing his diapers and feeding him when his father was, well, unable to do so; teaching him to read and write, to learn right from wrong; taking care of him when Dad was on a case; looking out for him on hunts; patching him up when he was hurt; giving him girl advice and the sex talk (yeah, that one went down well); keeping an eye on him at Stanford so he could make sure he was okay; tracking him down when Dad was missing because he didn’t want to work alone; making deals with the devil to save his life; enduring 30 years of torture in hell just for keeping him alive.
The list is endless.
But now Sammy is gone and what the hell is he supposed to do now?
He has no idea, so he starts the Impala’s engine and starts driving. Doesn’t think about where he’s going, just drives. It doesn’t even occur to him that he’s ended up in Cicero, Indiana until he’s pulling up outside Lisa Braeden’s door. He cuts the engine and just sits there, unsure what to do, unable to make his limbs move, unable to form a coherent thought other than ‘Sammy’s gone’.
Involuntary tears leak from his eyes when he squeezes them tight, trying to shut out the images of Sam disappearing into the pit just a couple of days ago that are playing across his vision. He’s almost ready to turn the key, pull away from the curb and keep on driving, but then Sam’s words ring in his ears…
‘You go find Lisa. You pray to god she's dumb enough to take you in, and you -- you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me.’
… and he just can’t do it. He made a promise. He can’t break it. Sammy sacrificed himself to stop the apocalypse, to save the world, to save him.
So, he takes a deep breath, ignores the crushing weight of the pain in his heart, opens the Impala door and climbs out.
The walk up the pathway to the door seems endless and he doesn’t know how his legs are still holding him up. He manages it though, forces his hand up to the door and knocks. It’s all he can do to keep from breaking down when he sees her face, those big, dark eyes which once looked at him with promises of excitement and seduction, now filled with concern and warmth, as she pulls him into her arms and holds him tight.
He feels himself relax into her warm embrace, not realising how much he needs it, needs the physical contact, until he’s burying his face in her shoulder, tears streaming down his face. She holds him for what seems like forever, whispering comforting, soothing words into his ear as he sobs against her.
It’s not perfect; it doesn’t make everything right, and it’s not what he really wants—what he wants is to have Sam back, to have his father back and even more, to have his mother back, but it’s all he’s going to get and for now it has to be enough.
He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to feel normal again, if he’s ever going to heal from this, ever going to stop missing Sam, stop thinking about him trapped in Lucifer’s cage, but he’s here and she’s holding him, and it’s what he needs, is all he can hope for right now.
***
May 2010
Sam
He can see Dean through the window from his position in the street, and he watches as Lisa approaches him holding a bowl of food, says something to him and sits down at the table with him. The man he knows to be his brother looks tired and drawn, and the smile on his face is so obviously forced that it should make his chest tighten with sadness… except it doesn’t.
Because Sam can’t feel anything.
Sure, he can remember his whole life, he knows who Dean is, knows exactly what his big brother has done for him, what he’s sacrificed, how much he loves him, yet as his brain filters through the memories, he can’t bring himself to care about any of it.
He knows he should be feeling something right now; he and Dean have stopped the apocalypse, he sacrificed himself to save the world, jumped into the pit and took Lucifer and Michael and Adam with him. Somehow he survived and is back on Earth again as if nothing happened, yet he feels nothing; he’s indifferent to the whole situation. He knows that the old Sam would run straight to the house across the street, bang down the door and pull his brother into a tight hug, but the new Sam can’t… won’t do that. He doesn’t know why not, he just knows that he has no inclination or desire whatsoever to announce his presence to his brother.
Dean has kept his promise to him, he’s gone to Lisa and is going to live that ‘Apple Pie life’ for him. He’s out now, and if he could feel anything, Sam would be glad of that, would be happy for him, would wish he could do the same. But this Sam, this new, improved, numb Sam, feels nothing.
He takes one last look at Dean, at the life he can build for himself now, and he turns to walk away.
His family doesn’t matter anymore; it’s irrelevant. Without the emotional ties that have been keeping him tethered his whole life, he’s now free. He can do what he wants now, hunt what he wants, and he doesn’t have to worry about a thing.
***
May 2010
Castiel
He stands in the street, unseen, invisible, eyes on Sam as he stares into the window, watching his brother with the Lisa woman and her son. He’s waiting for Sam to take that first step, to walk up to the house and knock on the door; for Dean to welcome his brother with open arms, to hug him tightly and eyes filled with human emotions that have always eluded Castiel.
He waits for it, but it never comes.
Instead, Sam turns away from the house, towards him, and walks away. It should be the first thing that indicates that something is wrong, that his resurrection of Sam from Lucifer’s Cage hasn’t been as successful as he thinks.
There’s a niggling thought in the back of his mind that maybe this is a warning, a sign that he’s made a mistake, but he chooses to ignore it.
He glances back toward the house again, sees Dean reaching across the table and helping himself to food. He wonders if he should reveal himself, if he should knock on that door and tell Dean that his brother is alive. But how will he explain that Sam is not here anymore, that he’s turned and walked away without a word.
Plus, he has a job to do now and having Dean back in the hunting fold would only jeopardise his plans. Dean is out of the way now, he’s under the radar, and that’s where he needs to stay, at least for now.
***
July 2010
Jack
It’s a slow day at the garage and it gives Jack the opportunity to watch his newest employee hard at work as he calmly and methodically works his way around the engine of Mr. Jones’ ’65 Mustang.
Kid knows what he’s doing, that much has been obvious from the moment he picked up a wrench and popped open a hood on his first day here, and Jack is glad for the competency. He’s getting on a bit now, only a couple of years from retirement and so he’s been on the lookout for possible candidates to take over the garage.
Unfortunately he’s discovered that finding a mechanic who knows classic cars like the back of their hand is a rarity these days, especially one young enough to keep the business running for several more years. He had hoped to hand the garage down to his son, but Mark’s living in California with his wife now, so that’s not an option anymore. Jack figures if he can find a potential future manager now, he’ll be all set by the time retirement comes around. Problem is, most younger guys who come looking for a job here don’t have a clue what to do with vehicles built before 1990, let alone before 1970.
But this guy, Dean Winchester, he’s a natural.
When he first showed up at the garage a few weeks ago, Jack asked him how he knew so much about classic cars, but Dean was evasive, uncomfortable, only revealing that his father had been a mechanic and had taught him everything he knew. Jack frowned in concern, it was obvious something was troubling the man, but he let it slide in favour of seeing what he could do, and after Dean impressed him with his assessment of the car that had just been brought in that morning, gave him the job.
Apart from his impressive skills as a mechanic, Jack has to admit that he doesn’t know a whole lot about Dean Winchester. He’s been working for him for going on six weeks now, yet all he knows about him is that he showed up in town back in early May and has been living with Lisa Braeden and her son, Ben, who live a few blocks away. Cicero is a small town and there has been plenty of gossip and speculation flying around about the rugged newcomer, but despite the curiosity and questions, it doesn’t seem like anyone knows much about him.
Old Mr. Jenkins swears that he saw him driving a sleek, well-cared-for, black ’67 Impala when he first arrived, which, if that really was the case, might explain why he knows so much about the classics, but the car was apparently only seen that one time and since then Jack has only seen him driving an old white pick-up truck.
Dean shifts under the hood of the car and then straightens up, wiping his hands on his overalls, as he looks down at the engine with a satisfied smile. He rounds the side of the car and leans in through the window to turn the key in the ignition. Jack nods with approval and heads over to the car as the engine comes to life, purring smoothly. Dean looks up as he approaches, a grin spreading across his face.
“Good work,” Jack praises with an impressed nod.
“Yeah.” Dean nods, reaching for a towel to wipe the remainder of the grease from his hands. “She just needed a little TLC.”
“You’re a great mechanic, Dean.” He tells him. “Really know your way around an engine, don’t you?”
Dean ducks his head for a moment, as if he’s not used to being praised, and then shrugs. “Had a lot of practice.”
“Yeah. I can tell.” Jack nods, trying to hide a smile at Dean’s reaction. The guy usually exudes such an air of confidence, that he wouldn’t have pegged him as the shy type. He hesitates for a moment, before deciding to bite the bullet, curiosity getting the better of him. “I heard you had a ’67 Impala. That’s a sweet car. Great year.”
“Yeah.” Dean stiffens a little, as he looks away and busies himself with collecting up the tools he’d been using. “I did.”
“Not anymore?” Jack frowns. He can’t understand why anyone, especially not someone who so obviously loves classic cars, would willingly give up a ride like that in favour of driving a truck.
Dean just shrugs, giving a slight shake of his head, and turns back to the car again. Jack can tell there’s a story there, but he’s not gonna push. Same as when he didn’t push the other day when one of their customers mentioned that his brother was coming up to visit from Kansas and Dean, who’d been having a perfectly pleasant conversation with them up to that point, suddenly shut down, his expression clouding over and a troubled frown appearing on his face.
It’s obvious the guy has some past issues he needs to work through, but as long as they don’t affect the quality of his work here, Jack’s willing to leave it alone and let them slide. Besides, Dean definitely seems like the strong, silent type, not one to talk about his feelings, which is pretty much fine with Jack; he’s not much for caring and sharing either, something his wife’s been unsuccessfully trying to break him out of for the last thirty-odd years.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from wondering what exactly his new employee’s story is. Something’s definitely happened to make him so guarded, but Jack can’t quite figure out what. He definitely seems to be a mystery around town though, judging by the gossip he keeps overhearing from the customers.
Maybe one day he’ll get the whole story, but he’s not holding his breath.
***
September 2010
Lisa
“So,” says Rita, nudging her elbow and nodding at the two figures across the room. “Dean. He seems great.”
Lisa nods, absently running her finger around the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes fixed on her son, who is clumsily attempting to line up his pool cue with the balls on the table. Dean is chuckling affectionately at Ben’s awkward stance and her lips curl up in a smile as he steps up beside him and shows him the correct position. Ben’s contentment is evident on his face and Lisa feels a pang of emotion as she watches the two interact. Dean may not be her son’s biological father, but he’s certainly stepped up to the plate since he’s been here, and the effect he’s having on Ben’s life can only be described as welcomed and positive.
“Yeah. He is,” she murmurs eventually. “He’s great with Ben.”
“Yeah, he seems to be, doesn’t he?” agrees Rita, following her gaze for a moment, before nudging her again and shooting her a conspiratorial wink. “And he’s got a killer body. I bet he’s great in bed too.”
“Rita!” Lisa’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in surprised amusement as she reaches over and gives her friend a small shove. If they were talking about anyone else, she might be embarrassed by the suggestion, but truth is, she is kind of interested in finding out if he’s as good as she remembers.
“What?” Her friend retorts, expression falsely innocent. “He is, isn’t he?”
Lisa’s gaze goes back to Dean again and she shakes her head slightly.
“I don’t know,” she admits softly. “We haven’t…”
Rita frowns, her face scrunching up in confusion. “Seriously? He’s been living with you for almost three months and you haven’t even done the dirty yet?”
She sighs softly, wishing it was as simple as just falling into bed with him again, but they aren’t the same carefree kids who spent an amazing weekend together all those years ago; and Dean isn’t the same fun-loving, quick-witted guy who’d swept her off her feet back then. He’s dealing with so much right now that romance, however much she’d like it, just isn’t on the cards. He needs his space, needs time to grieve, to get over Sam, and she’s not going to jeopardise that just because she fancies a roll in the hay.
“He’s been going through some stuff lately. Pretty big stuff.” Her eyes return to her friend while she searches for the right words, “It’s not… he’s not… it’s just not the right time.”
“But you want to, right?” presses Rita, with a grin and another nudge. “Because he’s, like, incredibly hot. Hell, if I weren’t married, I wouldn’t mind taking him for a test drive.”
Lisa glances over to the pool tables again, where Dean is now leaning on his pool cue, one foot crossed over the other as he explains something to Ben. His features are animated as he gestures with one hand, more animated than she thinks she’s seen him since he came back into her life a few months ago, and his green eyes are bright in the soft lighting. She bites her lip as she takes in the way the tight grey t-shirt hugs his chest beneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing, and the way his jeans fit just right. It might have been ten years since those incredible few days they spent together, but although he’s definitely matured and changed emotionally in that time, physically he still has the ability to make her knees go weak. She has to admit that she’s dying to find out if he’s still as amazing in bed as she remembers.
“Yeah…”
“Hey, you never know, he might even live up to that ‘best night of your life’ guy you told me about.”
Lisa holds back a grin as she recalls the conversation she’d had with her new friend a few months ago. Rita was new to town and they’d gone out for coffee a few weeks after Lisa hired her as the new yoga instructor at her gym. Somehow the subject of their first loves and best and worst hook-ups had come up in conversation and she found herself telling Rita about this amazing guy she’d slept with back when she was nineteen. She hadn’t told her his name though, or many of the details.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” she replies airily.
“Really?” Rita’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “How do you figure?”
Lisa can’t stop the grin this time and she leans in closer. “Because Dean is ‘best night of my life’ guy.”
She tries not to laugh as Rita’s eyes widen comically and her jaw drops with a gasp. “You… what? How…I mean…?”
Lisa smiles. “I met Dean back in the summer of ’98. In a biker bar.” She rolls her eyes as her friend gives her a surprised look. “Yeah, I was going through a bit of a wild stage back then.” She shrugs. “He was there, we hooked up… spent a long weekend together. Best weekend of my life.”
She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face as she remembers it, her heart speeding up in response. She’s sure her cheeks are flushed by now too.
“Wow… so, what happened?”
“He was just passing through town.” she gives a sheepish shrug, eyes dropping to her coffee mug. “He left, I carried on with my life. Then a few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.”
“You’re kidding! Dean is Ben’s real father?”
She shakes her head. Yeah, she wishes.
“I thought he might be. But there was another guy too.” Off Rita’s look, she adds, “Hey, I told you I was going through a wild phase. Anyway, I found the other guy and did a blood test. The baby wasn’t Dean’s. So I had Ben and moved on with my life; didn’t expect to ever see him again.”
“Well, obviously that isn’t the case.”
“No.”
Lisa glances over at Dean again. This time he’s looking her way and she catches his eye, sending him a warm smile. He nods, his lips twitching slightly, as if he’s trying to smile, but can’t quite manage it. Her heart sinks slightly at the barely-masked haunted look in his eyes. He might be trying to convince her… and maybe even himself… that he’s okay, that he’s healing, but it’s obvious he’s still hurting.
“He showed up on my doorstep one day a couple years ago.” She turns back to Rita. “Completely out of the blue. No explanation.” She leans towards her again, lowering her voice. “He won’t admit it, but I think he was hoping for a repeat of that weekend.”
“Yeah? How was it?” Rita grins conspiratorially, before frowning. “Wait, was? I take it that didn’t happen then?”
She shakes her head, recalling the confused surprise she’d felt when she opened the door to him that day.
“He didn’t have the best timing. It was Ben’s birthday and we were having a party.” She gives Rita a pointed look. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to see him again right then, you know.” She sighs. “Plus, he freaked out a bit when he realised how old Ben was and asked me straight out if he was his father.”
“He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being a dad?”
“No, well, that’s the thing.” she admits, recalling the despondent look on his face when she’d told him. “I didn’t think he would be, but he actually looked disappointed when I told him Ben wasn’t his. Said it would have been nice to have something to leave behind after he was gone.” She looks down, not needing to look at her friend to know she had questions. “I found out later that he thought he only had a few months left to live. God, his face when he realised he wasn’t a dad… you don’t know how much I wished Ben was really his right then.”
“Wow.” Rita turns to look at Dean and Ben again, an intrigued expression on her face. “He’s obviously still alive and kicking though.”
“Yeah. I don’t know exactly what happened”—it was true, Dean hasn’t told her much about his deal or his time in hell. He tends to skim over things he thinks she won’t be able to handle—“But I guess it was a false alarm or something. Anyway, I didn’t hear from him again until a few months ago when he showed up again; something had happened, and I don’t think he had anywhere else to go. So he’s living here with us now.”
“What happened to him? Was it bad?”
“Sorry, Rita, I can’t.” Lisa shakes her head. “It’s personal… and private.”
Rita nods in understanding and there is an awkward pause as the conversation dies away.
“Hey, Mom!” Ben’s excited voice brings a much-needed diversion as the eleven-year-old bounds toward their table. “I just beat Dean at pool. Twice.”
“Hey, that’s great, sweetie.” Lisa smiles and ruffles her son’s hair as he slides into the chair opposite her and reaches for a cookie.
“He’s a fast learner,” says Dean, coming up behind Ben and resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment, before moving around the table, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth as he takes a seat beside her.
Lisa resists the urge to lift a finger to her lips when he pulls away. Kisses from Dean are a rarity these days and she savours them when she can. The first month he was here, they barely touched, even though they were sharing a bed by the end of the month—he was plagued by nightmares over Sam and hadn't been in any state to think about even seeking comfort in her—but as time progressed and he started to come to terms with things, and became more comfortable around her, he began to open up a little more. He’s still guarded though, and he still drinks too much and still has nightmares, but he’s also started to emerge from his depressed funk and is more receptive to physical contact now.
She smiles in amusement when he too sneaks a cookie, giving Ben a wink as he takes a bite, and then reaches over and slides his other hand into hers, resting it on her knee and entwining their fingers together. She gently tightens her fingers around his in a reassuring gesture and his lips quirk in a tiny hint of a smile as he relaxes slightly in his seat.
She knows he isn’t entirely happy here, knows that he is suffering, knows that still has a long way to go before he can feel normal again; but even so, she’s grateful that he’s here, glad that she’s the one he came to after everything, happy that he’s so good with Ben, that her son finally has a father figure in his life.
Maybe she’s hoping for too much, but she can’t help but wonder if maybe this is the start of something big for them.
***
Late October 2011
Castiel
He’s here again, back in Cicero, Indiana, and he’s still lurking, unseen just watching.
Castiel needs help, that's why he's here. He can't fight Raphael alone.
Dean is raking leaves, movements methodical and purposeful, as if it’s the only thing he can control. He’s about to reveal himself, to approach his friend, but then he stops. Dean is not a hunter anymore. He’s sacrificed so much, sacrificed his own brother even, to save the world, to stop Castiel’s own brothers from destroying the world and now he’s free, he’s finally at peace, living the life he always wanted. He can’t ask him for more, not now.
Crowley appears at his side, says he’s here to help, he proposes a business transaction. He talks about deals and souls and happy endings. He doesn’t want to agree, doesn’t want to take the demon up on the offer, but as he looks back at Dean, sees him doing ordinary, human things, he realises he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s not a fool, he knows who Crowley is, what he does, but he also knows he can better him, he’s smarter and stronger and can keep in control.
And it means he can leave Dean out of it, let him carry on with his life, oblivious to the continuing unrest in both heaven and hell.
***
November 2010 – Thanksgiving
Diane Braeden
She watches him with curiosity, this man her daughter has taken into her home, as he plays a video game with her grandson. Ben laughs victoriously as he takes the lead once again, but her attention isn’t on the young boy, it’s centred on the man beside him. Dean’s brow is furrowed with intense concentration, gaze fixed on the screen, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he determinedly presses the keys on the control.
She doesn’t know much about him, really, other than that his name is Dean Winchester and he came to live with Lisa and Ben back in the summer after something awful happened to him. Lisa wouldn’t tell her what though, saying it wasn’t her story to tell, which frustrated Diane to no end at first, since it wasn’t like she’d even seen the man yet, let alone knew him well enough for him to tell her the story himself. But after she met him briefly at Ben’s birthday party a couple of weeks after he’d moved in, she could understand why. The Dean she’d met back in May had been a closed-off shell of a man, pain and grief evident in his eyes, in his every movement, and she could tell right off that whatever he was going through was serious.
What surprised her the most, though, was how he’d hidden his own problems behind a brave face for her grandson that day. As soon as Ben had appeared in the kitchen where Dean had been making coffee, the haunted look in his eyes had been quickly masked by a smile, albeit one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he’d wished the boy a Happy Birthday, ruffling his hair playfully, as he teased him about getting older.
As Ben left the kitchen though, his eyes met hers and she could see the pain in his gaze once more. She gave him a reassuring smile, although she didn’t really know what she was reassuring him of, and he smiled back, giving a small nod, before continuing with the coffee. That was all she really saw of him that day though, as he busied himself with setting up the barbecue and playing football with Ben and his friends for the rest of the day.
This is the first time she’s seen him since then though and she has to admit that he seems to have healed at least a little in the last few months. She still doesn’t know what exactly he’s been through, although if she had to guess she would say perhaps he’s served in Afghanistan or Iraq, which would also explain why he’s only seen her daughter a couple of times over the years.
She knows he and Lisa have some kind of a past, but she’s not sure what exactly that past involves. Lisa told her about meeting him here in town a few years ago, not long after she moved to Indiana, and then how he showed up unexpectedly at Ben’s eighth birthday party… Diane hadn’t been able to attend that year, as she and her husband had been on a cruise in the Caribbean, so she hadn’t met him then.
Despite talking with him during dinner last night after she and her husband arrived in Cicero for Thanksgiving, she’s still not really any closer to figuring him out. He seems like a nice enough man, but she wonders if his past is haunting him a little too much, wonders if what he’s experienced in life is going to affect his relationship with her daughter and Ben. She hates the thought of Lisa getting hurt again, especially after what happened with Ben’s father, who none of them have heard from in years, other than the monthly child support check appearing in the mail.
“Yes!”
Ben’s shout of triumph pulls her from her musings and she blinks.
“I won!” He punches the air, before poking Dean’s chest gloatingly. “Take that, sucker.”
“Aww, man,” says Dean, letting go of his remote and rubbing at his chest absently with one hand as he slings the other around Ben’s neck, tugging him closer and ruffling his hair. “You’re just too good, you know that?”
Diane Braeden smiles as she observes the playful banter between the two. While she’s still a little apprehensive about Dean, she can’t deny that he seems to have bonded well with her grandson.
“Hey, Dean?” Lisa enters the room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Did you pick up the cranberry sauce yesterday? I can’t seem to find it.”
Dean’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, before his eyes widen and he looks up at her daughter guiltily. Diane bites her lip to hide a smile, the expression making him look years younger than he is.
“Sh—crap,” he amends quickly, flicking a glance in Diane’s direction. She quirks an eyebrow. “Sorry, Lise, I forgot. I’ll go get some now.” He stands up and turns to Ben, who has reached for the TV remote and is flicking through the channels. “Hey, squirt, you wanna come to the store with me?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“I’ll go with you,” Diane finds herself offering. Dean turns to her, a look of surprise on his face, so she adds, “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“No, no. That’s fine.” He nods, patting down his pockets, looking for something. “Lise, you seen my wallet?”
Diane smothers a grin as her daughter rolls her eyes at Dean and points him to the lamp table near the door where his wallet is sitting proudly in the middle.
“Thanks.” Dean smiles gratefully, retrieving his wallet and shoving it into his pocket as he gives Lisa a quick peck on the lips. “Back soon, okay?”
Dean heads for the door and Diane stands up, smoothing her hands down her skirt as she make to follow him, but Lisa stops her with a hand on her arm.
“I know what you’re doing, Mom.” She gives her a pointed look. “No giving him the third degree, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey,” she says as innocently as she can. “I just need to pick up a couple things from the store too.”
With a barely-concealed smile, she turns and follows Dean out to the truck.
***
The drive to the convenience store begins in relative silence and Dean fidgets constantly; looking around at the other traffic on the road, adjusting the rearview mirror, flicking through various radio stations but unable to settle on just one.
Was he nervous around her? The thought amuses her, because he doesn’t seem like the nervous type, especially not around women her age.
“Everything okay?” she asks, trying not to smile.
“What?” He glances at her. “Oh... yeah. Peachy.”
But he continues to flick through the radio stations, and when he passes over the beginning strains of Ramble On for the third time, she finally has enough.
“Dean, hon?” She reaches out, resting her hand on his to stop him from pressing the button again. “You think we could stick with just one station? I’m kind of partial to that song.”
He looks down at her hand over his briefly, before turning his head, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You like Zeppelin?”
“Of course,” she retorts, as if it should be obvious. “Some of the best times of my life played out to a Zeppelin soundtrack.” She sends him a grin. “I’m surprised you know this one though. A bit before your time I would have thought.”
“Are you kidding?” His response is almost incredulous, features more expressive than she’s seen them before and she smiles, glimpsing a hint of the man hiding beneath the troubled exterior. “Zeppelin rules! And Ramble On?” He shakes his head in reverence. “Favourite song. Hands down.”
“But you just skipped over it three times.”
His open expression quickly folds inwards, face hardening and lips pressing together tightly as he focuses on the road again, and she immediately wishes she could take the words back.
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Haven’t really been in the mood to hear it lately.”
She wants to say more, a number of questions on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but he’s closed off now, his demeanour indicating that the subject is off-limits. They journey continues in silence, save for the strains of Led Zeppelin echoing through the car, until he pulls into the parking lot of the convenience store, cutting the engine and climbing out of the truck.
He opens the passenger door for her and, with a small smile, holds out a hand to her. She takes it, impressed, and lets him help her out of the vehicle. As they enter the store, she files it away as another piece of the puzzle that is Dean. He heads for the cranberry sauce, while she busies herself over in the toiletries aisle, grabbing the few things she’d forgotten to bring with her from home.
When she’s done, she scans the aisles for Dean and finds him at the bakery counter near the back of the store. He’s smiling at the young girl behind the counter as she cuts a large slice of apple pie and places it into a plastic carton.
“Here you go, Mr. Winchester,” she says as she hands it to him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Callie.”
He grins down at the pie in his hand as he turns away from the counter; it’s the first real smile Diane thinks she’s seen from him so far, and she can’t help but smile too. Maybe Dean does have a weak spot, something that still makes him happy, after all.
He hasn’t noticed her standing there yet, so she just observes him for a moment, notices how he licks his lips as he starts to open the carton, his expression more carefree than she’s seen it so far.
“Isn’t it a bit early for pie, Dean?” He jumps slightly, shutting the carton, and his head shoots up, looking a little guilty as he realises she’s watching him. “We do have a whole Thanksgiving dinner to get through first, you know, the one my daughter has been slaving over all morning?”
“Oh, um, I was just…” he looks lost for a moment, before giving up and admitting, “Okay, you got me. I love me some pie.”
“That’s okay, dear.” She smiles kindly, reaching out to pat his arm, not missing the way he flinches slightly at the contact. “We all have our vices.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He seems uncertain, as if he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Diane shakes her head in amusement.
“Come on, let’s get out of here, shall we?” She nods towards the checkout. “I’m sure my daughter is wondering where that all important cranberry sauce has got to.”
“Right, sure.”
He gestures for her to go first and she smiles as she passes him, touched by the gentlemanly manners he’s displaying. It seems like there’s definitely more to him beneath the grief and sadness she can see in his eyes. They pay for their goods and head out to the car, Dean opening the passenger door for her again before walking round to the driver’s side.
Back in the summer when she told her husband about the new man in their daughter’s life, he was less than pleased about it, automatically suspicious about his possible hidden intentions and influence over Lisa and their grandson, especially considering that he’d just appeared out of nowhere and was suddenly living with them without taking the time to get to know each other first. Diane had to admit that she had her reservations in the beginning too, and even after meeting Dean in the summer, she still hadn’t been entirely sure she could trust him. But from what she’s seen of him so far this week, how he interacts with Ben and Lisa, and even herself, she definitely thinks they underestimated him at first.
Obviously he’s been through a lot, but at the same time, there are definite glimpses of a kind-hearted man underneath his many layers. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask what brought him here, to Lisa and Ben, and as Dean starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot, Diane finds the words just spilling from her mouth.
“So, how do you like it here in Cicero?” she asks, before speculating, “Must be a big change from what you’re used to.”
His eyes snap to hers, expression unreadable.
“What did Lisa tell you?” His tone isn’t accusatory, just curious.
“Nothing much, really,” she shakes her head. “But you don’t seem like the suburban type to me. Let me guess: you were in the forces?”
He looks back to the road, pausing for a moment, before saying, “Something like that.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head, and she’s surprised to see his eyes tearing up. Her heart goes out to him; whatever he’s been through, it can’t have been good.
“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t really talk about it…” He fumbles for the words, before stopping.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she assures him. “Just forget I asked.”
He nods, composing himself and concentrating on the road again. There are a few seconds of silence before he starts talking again.
“My brother… Sam. He—he died. Back in May, just before… just before I came here.” He stops, swallowing audibly, before continuing, “He was all I had. I, uh, I had nowhere else to go and Lisa… she was kind enough to take me in, let me wallow on her couch.”
Diane’s heart breaks for him as he speaks and she reaches out, laying a hand on his arm. “Oh, Dean… honey. I’m so sorry.”
He nods tightly and runs his other hand down over his face. “If it weren’t for Lisa… and Ben, I don’t know where I’d be.” He turns to her again, his expression sincere. “I know you probably have your reservations about me, and I don’t blame you, but just know that I care about them a hell of a lot and I wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt them.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Dean.” She smiles warmly, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go and settling back in her seat. “I’ve seen how happy Lisa is with you, and how much Ben looks up to you as well.”
“Thanks.” He shifts uneasily in his seat, ducking his head.
“So, uh, what’s with the pie?” She decides to change the subject to something lighter, nodding to the carton on the seat between them. “I know you said you love it, but I’m pretty sure we have more than enough for dessert already without adding pie to the mix too.”
“Are you kidding?” he responds with a grin, looking a little relieved. “There’s always room for pie.”
***
“So, uh, Dean…” Diane starts later, after dinner, as she helps Lisa clean up the kitchen while her husband, Dean and Ben watch the game in the living room.
Lisa looks up from washing the dishes with a wary expression. “Yes, Mom? What about him?”
Diane raises her hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, honey. I’m not here to judge him.” Lisa raises an eyebrow expectantly. “I just wanted to say that he seems like a nice man.”
“He is, Mom,” says Lisa, although she still looks a little guarded. “He’s great.”
“He’s going through a difficult time though…”
“Yeah,” Lisa nods. “He is. But he’s working through it. He’s getting better.”
Her daughter turns back to the sink again, reaching for another plate.
“He told me about his brother.”
Lisa stops, the plate slipping from her fingers and sliding into the soapy water as she turns to face her again.
“He did?” Lisa wonders, looking surprised. “Wow, he usually won’t talk to anyone else about Sam.”
“Sam? That was his name?”
Lisa nods.
“What happened to him?” Diane knows she shouldn’t pry, but she’s dying to know the full story.
Lisa shakes her head, glancing around the room briefly before replying, “I don’t know all the details, Mom. Dean’s not really big on talking about this stuff. I just know there was some kind of accident and Dean couldn’t save him.”
Diane nods, watching her daughter carefully. She gets the feeling that Lisa knows more about what’s happened to Dean than she’s letting on, but it’s obvious she’s not going to talk about it. For both Lisa and Ben’s sakes, she just hopes Dean and his brother weren’t involved in anything shady. She would hate to think that the good impression she’s got of him today was just an illusion.
“I like him, sweetheart,” is what she says instead.
Lisa nods, glancing towards the living room, before smiling widely, “Me too, Mom.”
Author: heavenli24
Recipient: chiiyo86
Rating: TEEN
Word count: 13,500
Spoilers: Season 6
Warnings: None
Summary: Snippets of the missing year between Season 5 and 6. Various POVs
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me and no infringement is intended.
***
May 2010
Dean
It hurts. It hurts more than anything he could have ever imagined.
He doesn’t know how he’s still alive, how he’s still keeping going, because the biggest part of him is dead. It died along with Sam when he jumped into that hole.
It should have been him. It’s all he can think about… all the time. He was supposed to save Sam, not let him sacrifice himself. It was his job, his responsibility.
‘You have to save him, Dean. Nothing else matters. Save Sammy.’
His father’s words ring in his ears. He bows his head against the tears that are threatening to fall yet again. He should have done something, anything, to stop his brother from jumping into the pit.
He’s failed.
He’s failed himself, he’s failed his father, and worst of all, he’s failed Sammy.
His whole life, he’s had one job that really mattered.
One.
Keep Sammy safe.
That’s it. Simple, huh?
Apparently not.
Everything he’s done since that night has been about Sammy.
Carrying him from the fire, changing his diapers and feeding him when his father was, well, unable to do so; teaching him to read and write, to learn right from wrong; taking care of him when Dad was on a case; looking out for him on hunts; patching him up when he was hurt; giving him girl advice and the sex talk (yeah, that one went down well); keeping an eye on him at Stanford so he could make sure he was okay; tracking him down when Dad was missing because he didn’t want to work alone; making deals with the devil to save his life; enduring 30 years of torture in hell just for keeping him alive.
The list is endless.
But now Sammy is gone and what the hell is he supposed to do now?
He has no idea, so he starts the Impala’s engine and starts driving. Doesn’t think about where he’s going, just drives. It doesn’t even occur to him that he’s ended up in Cicero, Indiana until he’s pulling up outside Lisa Braeden’s door. He cuts the engine and just sits there, unsure what to do, unable to make his limbs move, unable to form a coherent thought other than ‘Sammy’s gone’.
Involuntary tears leak from his eyes when he squeezes them tight, trying to shut out the images of Sam disappearing into the pit just a couple of days ago that are playing across his vision. He’s almost ready to turn the key, pull away from the curb and keep on driving, but then Sam’s words ring in his ears…
‘You go find Lisa. You pray to god she's dumb enough to take you in, and you -- you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me.’
… and he just can’t do it. He made a promise. He can’t break it. Sammy sacrificed himself to stop the apocalypse, to save the world, to save him.
So, he takes a deep breath, ignores the crushing weight of the pain in his heart, opens the Impala door and climbs out.
The walk up the pathway to the door seems endless and he doesn’t know how his legs are still holding him up. He manages it though, forces his hand up to the door and knocks. It’s all he can do to keep from breaking down when he sees her face, those big, dark eyes which once looked at him with promises of excitement and seduction, now filled with concern and warmth, as she pulls him into her arms and holds him tight.
He feels himself relax into her warm embrace, not realising how much he needs it, needs the physical contact, until he’s burying his face in her shoulder, tears streaming down his face. She holds him for what seems like forever, whispering comforting, soothing words into his ear as he sobs against her.
It’s not perfect; it doesn’t make everything right, and it’s not what he really wants—what he wants is to have Sam back, to have his father back and even more, to have his mother back, but it’s all he’s going to get and for now it has to be enough.
He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to feel normal again, if he’s ever going to heal from this, ever going to stop missing Sam, stop thinking about him trapped in Lucifer’s cage, but he’s here and she’s holding him, and it’s what he needs, is all he can hope for right now.
***
May 2010
Sam
He can see Dean through the window from his position in the street, and he watches as Lisa approaches him holding a bowl of food, says something to him and sits down at the table with him. The man he knows to be his brother looks tired and drawn, and the smile on his face is so obviously forced that it should make his chest tighten with sadness… except it doesn’t.
Because Sam can’t feel anything.
Sure, he can remember his whole life, he knows who Dean is, knows exactly what his big brother has done for him, what he’s sacrificed, how much he loves him, yet as his brain filters through the memories, he can’t bring himself to care about any of it.
He knows he should be feeling something right now; he and Dean have stopped the apocalypse, he sacrificed himself to save the world, jumped into the pit and took Lucifer and Michael and Adam with him. Somehow he survived and is back on Earth again as if nothing happened, yet he feels nothing; he’s indifferent to the whole situation. He knows that the old Sam would run straight to the house across the street, bang down the door and pull his brother into a tight hug, but the new Sam can’t… won’t do that. He doesn’t know why not, he just knows that he has no inclination or desire whatsoever to announce his presence to his brother.
Dean has kept his promise to him, he’s gone to Lisa and is going to live that ‘Apple Pie life’ for him. He’s out now, and if he could feel anything, Sam would be glad of that, would be happy for him, would wish he could do the same. But this Sam, this new, improved, numb Sam, feels nothing.
He takes one last look at Dean, at the life he can build for himself now, and he turns to walk away.
His family doesn’t matter anymore; it’s irrelevant. Without the emotional ties that have been keeping him tethered his whole life, he’s now free. He can do what he wants now, hunt what he wants, and he doesn’t have to worry about a thing.
***
May 2010
Castiel
He stands in the street, unseen, invisible, eyes on Sam as he stares into the window, watching his brother with the Lisa woman and her son. He’s waiting for Sam to take that first step, to walk up to the house and knock on the door; for Dean to welcome his brother with open arms, to hug him tightly and eyes filled with human emotions that have always eluded Castiel.
He waits for it, but it never comes.
Instead, Sam turns away from the house, towards him, and walks away. It should be the first thing that indicates that something is wrong, that his resurrection of Sam from Lucifer’s Cage hasn’t been as successful as he thinks.
There’s a niggling thought in the back of his mind that maybe this is a warning, a sign that he’s made a mistake, but he chooses to ignore it.
He glances back toward the house again, sees Dean reaching across the table and helping himself to food. He wonders if he should reveal himself, if he should knock on that door and tell Dean that his brother is alive. But how will he explain that Sam is not here anymore, that he’s turned and walked away without a word.
Plus, he has a job to do now and having Dean back in the hunting fold would only jeopardise his plans. Dean is out of the way now, he’s under the radar, and that’s where he needs to stay, at least for now.
***
July 2010
Jack
It’s a slow day at the garage and it gives Jack the opportunity to watch his newest employee hard at work as he calmly and methodically works his way around the engine of Mr. Jones’ ’65 Mustang.
Kid knows what he’s doing, that much has been obvious from the moment he picked up a wrench and popped open a hood on his first day here, and Jack is glad for the competency. He’s getting on a bit now, only a couple of years from retirement and so he’s been on the lookout for possible candidates to take over the garage.
Unfortunately he’s discovered that finding a mechanic who knows classic cars like the back of their hand is a rarity these days, especially one young enough to keep the business running for several more years. He had hoped to hand the garage down to his son, but Mark’s living in California with his wife now, so that’s not an option anymore. Jack figures if he can find a potential future manager now, he’ll be all set by the time retirement comes around. Problem is, most younger guys who come looking for a job here don’t have a clue what to do with vehicles built before 1990, let alone before 1970.
But this guy, Dean Winchester, he’s a natural.
When he first showed up at the garage a few weeks ago, Jack asked him how he knew so much about classic cars, but Dean was evasive, uncomfortable, only revealing that his father had been a mechanic and had taught him everything he knew. Jack frowned in concern, it was obvious something was troubling the man, but he let it slide in favour of seeing what he could do, and after Dean impressed him with his assessment of the car that had just been brought in that morning, gave him the job.
Apart from his impressive skills as a mechanic, Jack has to admit that he doesn’t know a whole lot about Dean Winchester. He’s been working for him for going on six weeks now, yet all he knows about him is that he showed up in town back in early May and has been living with Lisa Braeden and her son, Ben, who live a few blocks away. Cicero is a small town and there has been plenty of gossip and speculation flying around about the rugged newcomer, but despite the curiosity and questions, it doesn’t seem like anyone knows much about him.
Old Mr. Jenkins swears that he saw him driving a sleek, well-cared-for, black ’67 Impala when he first arrived, which, if that really was the case, might explain why he knows so much about the classics, but the car was apparently only seen that one time and since then Jack has only seen him driving an old white pick-up truck.
Dean shifts under the hood of the car and then straightens up, wiping his hands on his overalls, as he looks down at the engine with a satisfied smile. He rounds the side of the car and leans in through the window to turn the key in the ignition. Jack nods with approval and heads over to the car as the engine comes to life, purring smoothly. Dean looks up as he approaches, a grin spreading across his face.
“Good work,” Jack praises with an impressed nod.
“Yeah.” Dean nods, reaching for a towel to wipe the remainder of the grease from his hands. “She just needed a little TLC.”
“You’re a great mechanic, Dean.” He tells him. “Really know your way around an engine, don’t you?”
Dean ducks his head for a moment, as if he’s not used to being praised, and then shrugs. “Had a lot of practice.”
“Yeah. I can tell.” Jack nods, trying to hide a smile at Dean’s reaction. The guy usually exudes such an air of confidence, that he wouldn’t have pegged him as the shy type. He hesitates for a moment, before deciding to bite the bullet, curiosity getting the better of him. “I heard you had a ’67 Impala. That’s a sweet car. Great year.”
“Yeah.” Dean stiffens a little, as he looks away and busies himself with collecting up the tools he’d been using. “I did.”
“Not anymore?” Jack frowns. He can’t understand why anyone, especially not someone who so obviously loves classic cars, would willingly give up a ride like that in favour of driving a truck.
Dean just shrugs, giving a slight shake of his head, and turns back to the car again. Jack can tell there’s a story there, but he’s not gonna push. Same as when he didn’t push the other day when one of their customers mentioned that his brother was coming up to visit from Kansas and Dean, who’d been having a perfectly pleasant conversation with them up to that point, suddenly shut down, his expression clouding over and a troubled frown appearing on his face.
It’s obvious the guy has some past issues he needs to work through, but as long as they don’t affect the quality of his work here, Jack’s willing to leave it alone and let them slide. Besides, Dean definitely seems like the strong, silent type, not one to talk about his feelings, which is pretty much fine with Jack; he’s not much for caring and sharing either, something his wife’s been unsuccessfully trying to break him out of for the last thirty-odd years.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from wondering what exactly his new employee’s story is. Something’s definitely happened to make him so guarded, but Jack can’t quite figure out what. He definitely seems to be a mystery around town though, judging by the gossip he keeps overhearing from the customers.
Maybe one day he’ll get the whole story, but he’s not holding his breath.
***
September 2010
Lisa
“So,” says Rita, nudging her elbow and nodding at the two figures across the room. “Dean. He seems great.”
Lisa nods, absently running her finger around the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes fixed on her son, who is clumsily attempting to line up his pool cue with the balls on the table. Dean is chuckling affectionately at Ben’s awkward stance and her lips curl up in a smile as he steps up beside him and shows him the correct position. Ben’s contentment is evident on his face and Lisa feels a pang of emotion as she watches the two interact. Dean may not be her son’s biological father, but he’s certainly stepped up to the plate since he’s been here, and the effect he’s having on Ben’s life can only be described as welcomed and positive.
“Yeah. He is,” she murmurs eventually. “He’s great with Ben.”
“Yeah, he seems to be, doesn’t he?” agrees Rita, following her gaze for a moment, before nudging her again and shooting her a conspiratorial wink. “And he’s got a killer body. I bet he’s great in bed too.”
“Rita!” Lisa’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in surprised amusement as she reaches over and gives her friend a small shove. If they were talking about anyone else, she might be embarrassed by the suggestion, but truth is, she is kind of interested in finding out if he’s as good as she remembers.
“What?” Her friend retorts, expression falsely innocent. “He is, isn’t he?”
Lisa’s gaze goes back to Dean again and she shakes her head slightly.
“I don’t know,” she admits softly. “We haven’t…”
Rita frowns, her face scrunching up in confusion. “Seriously? He’s been living with you for almost three months and you haven’t even done the dirty yet?”
She sighs softly, wishing it was as simple as just falling into bed with him again, but they aren’t the same carefree kids who spent an amazing weekend together all those years ago; and Dean isn’t the same fun-loving, quick-witted guy who’d swept her off her feet back then. He’s dealing with so much right now that romance, however much she’d like it, just isn’t on the cards. He needs his space, needs time to grieve, to get over Sam, and she’s not going to jeopardise that just because she fancies a roll in the hay.
“He’s been going through some stuff lately. Pretty big stuff.” Her eyes return to her friend while she searches for the right words, “It’s not… he’s not… it’s just not the right time.”
“But you want to, right?” presses Rita, with a grin and another nudge. “Because he’s, like, incredibly hot. Hell, if I weren’t married, I wouldn’t mind taking him for a test drive.”
Lisa glances over to the pool tables again, where Dean is now leaning on his pool cue, one foot crossed over the other as he explains something to Ben. His features are animated as he gestures with one hand, more animated than she thinks she’s seen him since he came back into her life a few months ago, and his green eyes are bright in the soft lighting. She bites her lip as she takes in the way the tight grey t-shirt hugs his chest beneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing, and the way his jeans fit just right. It might have been ten years since those incredible few days they spent together, but although he’s definitely matured and changed emotionally in that time, physically he still has the ability to make her knees go weak. She has to admit that she’s dying to find out if he’s still as amazing in bed as she remembers.
“Yeah…”
“Hey, you never know, he might even live up to that ‘best night of your life’ guy you told me about.”
Lisa holds back a grin as she recalls the conversation she’d had with her new friend a few months ago. Rita was new to town and they’d gone out for coffee a few weeks after Lisa hired her as the new yoga instructor at her gym. Somehow the subject of their first loves and best and worst hook-ups had come up in conversation and she found herself telling Rita about this amazing guy she’d slept with back when she was nineteen. She hadn’t told her his name though, or many of the details.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” she replies airily.
“Really?” Rita’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “How do you figure?”
Lisa can’t stop the grin this time and she leans in closer. “Because Dean is ‘best night of my life’ guy.”
She tries not to laugh as Rita’s eyes widen comically and her jaw drops with a gasp. “You… what? How…I mean…?”
Lisa smiles. “I met Dean back in the summer of ’98. In a biker bar.” She rolls her eyes as her friend gives her a surprised look. “Yeah, I was going through a bit of a wild stage back then.” She shrugs. “He was there, we hooked up… spent a long weekend together. Best weekend of my life.”
She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face as she remembers it, her heart speeding up in response. She’s sure her cheeks are flushed by now too.
“Wow… so, what happened?”
“He was just passing through town.” she gives a sheepish shrug, eyes dropping to her coffee mug. “He left, I carried on with my life. Then a few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.”
“You’re kidding! Dean is Ben’s real father?”
She shakes her head. Yeah, she wishes.
“I thought he might be. But there was another guy too.” Off Rita’s look, she adds, “Hey, I told you I was going through a wild phase. Anyway, I found the other guy and did a blood test. The baby wasn’t Dean’s. So I had Ben and moved on with my life; didn’t expect to ever see him again.”
“Well, obviously that isn’t the case.”
“No.”
Lisa glances over at Dean again. This time he’s looking her way and she catches his eye, sending him a warm smile. He nods, his lips twitching slightly, as if he’s trying to smile, but can’t quite manage it. Her heart sinks slightly at the barely-masked haunted look in his eyes. He might be trying to convince her… and maybe even himself… that he’s okay, that he’s healing, but it’s obvious he’s still hurting.
“He showed up on my doorstep one day a couple years ago.” She turns back to Rita. “Completely out of the blue. No explanation.” She leans towards her again, lowering her voice. “He won’t admit it, but I think he was hoping for a repeat of that weekend.”
“Yeah? How was it?” Rita grins conspiratorially, before frowning. “Wait, was? I take it that didn’t happen then?”
She shakes her head, recalling the confused surprise she’d felt when she opened the door to him that day.
“He didn’t have the best timing. It was Ben’s birthday and we were having a party.” She gives Rita a pointed look. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to see him again right then, you know.” She sighs. “Plus, he freaked out a bit when he realised how old Ben was and asked me straight out if he was his father.”
“He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being a dad?”
“No, well, that’s the thing.” she admits, recalling the despondent look on his face when she’d told him. “I didn’t think he would be, but he actually looked disappointed when I told him Ben wasn’t his. Said it would have been nice to have something to leave behind after he was gone.” She looks down, not needing to look at her friend to know she had questions. “I found out later that he thought he only had a few months left to live. God, his face when he realised he wasn’t a dad… you don’t know how much I wished Ben was really his right then.”
“Wow.” Rita turns to look at Dean and Ben again, an intrigued expression on her face. “He’s obviously still alive and kicking though.”
“Yeah. I don’t know exactly what happened”—it was true, Dean hasn’t told her much about his deal or his time in hell. He tends to skim over things he thinks she won’t be able to handle—“But I guess it was a false alarm or something. Anyway, I didn’t hear from him again until a few months ago when he showed up again; something had happened, and I don’t think he had anywhere else to go. So he’s living here with us now.”
“What happened to him? Was it bad?”
“Sorry, Rita, I can’t.” Lisa shakes her head. “It’s personal… and private.”
Rita nods in understanding and there is an awkward pause as the conversation dies away.
“Hey, Mom!” Ben’s excited voice brings a much-needed diversion as the eleven-year-old bounds toward their table. “I just beat Dean at pool. Twice.”
“Hey, that’s great, sweetie.” Lisa smiles and ruffles her son’s hair as he slides into the chair opposite her and reaches for a cookie.
“He’s a fast learner,” says Dean, coming up behind Ben and resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment, before moving around the table, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth as he takes a seat beside her.
Lisa resists the urge to lift a finger to her lips when he pulls away. Kisses from Dean are a rarity these days and she savours them when she can. The first month he was here, they barely touched, even though they were sharing a bed by the end of the month—he was plagued by nightmares over Sam and hadn't been in any state to think about even seeking comfort in her—but as time progressed and he started to come to terms with things, and became more comfortable around her, he began to open up a little more. He’s still guarded though, and he still drinks too much and still has nightmares, but he’s also started to emerge from his depressed funk and is more receptive to physical contact now.
She smiles in amusement when he too sneaks a cookie, giving Ben a wink as he takes a bite, and then reaches over and slides his other hand into hers, resting it on her knee and entwining their fingers together. She gently tightens her fingers around his in a reassuring gesture and his lips quirk in a tiny hint of a smile as he relaxes slightly in his seat.
She knows he isn’t entirely happy here, knows that he is suffering, knows that still has a long way to go before he can feel normal again; but even so, she’s grateful that he’s here, glad that she’s the one he came to after everything, happy that he’s so good with Ben, that her son finally has a father figure in his life.
Maybe she’s hoping for too much, but she can’t help but wonder if maybe this is the start of something big for them.
***
Late October 2011
Castiel
He’s here again, back in Cicero, Indiana, and he’s still lurking, unseen just watching.
Castiel needs help, that's why he's here. He can't fight Raphael alone.
Dean is raking leaves, movements methodical and purposeful, as if it’s the only thing he can control. He’s about to reveal himself, to approach his friend, but then he stops. Dean is not a hunter anymore. He’s sacrificed so much, sacrificed his own brother even, to save the world, to stop Castiel’s own brothers from destroying the world and now he’s free, he’s finally at peace, living the life he always wanted. He can’t ask him for more, not now.
Crowley appears at his side, says he’s here to help, he proposes a business transaction. He talks about deals and souls and happy endings. He doesn’t want to agree, doesn’t want to take the demon up on the offer, but as he looks back at Dean, sees him doing ordinary, human things, he realises he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s not a fool, he knows who Crowley is, what he does, but he also knows he can better him, he’s smarter and stronger and can keep in control.
And it means he can leave Dean out of it, let him carry on with his life, oblivious to the continuing unrest in both heaven and hell.
***
November 2010 – Thanksgiving
Diane Braeden
She watches him with curiosity, this man her daughter has taken into her home, as he plays a video game with her grandson. Ben laughs victoriously as he takes the lead once again, but her attention isn’t on the young boy, it’s centred on the man beside him. Dean’s brow is furrowed with intense concentration, gaze fixed on the screen, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he determinedly presses the keys on the control.
She doesn’t know much about him, really, other than that his name is Dean Winchester and he came to live with Lisa and Ben back in the summer after something awful happened to him. Lisa wouldn’t tell her what though, saying it wasn’t her story to tell, which frustrated Diane to no end at first, since it wasn’t like she’d even seen the man yet, let alone knew him well enough for him to tell her the story himself. But after she met him briefly at Ben’s birthday party a couple of weeks after he’d moved in, she could understand why. The Dean she’d met back in May had been a closed-off shell of a man, pain and grief evident in his eyes, in his every movement, and she could tell right off that whatever he was going through was serious.
What surprised her the most, though, was how he’d hidden his own problems behind a brave face for her grandson that day. As soon as Ben had appeared in the kitchen where Dean had been making coffee, the haunted look in his eyes had been quickly masked by a smile, albeit one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he’d wished the boy a Happy Birthday, ruffling his hair playfully, as he teased him about getting older.
As Ben left the kitchen though, his eyes met hers and she could see the pain in his gaze once more. She gave him a reassuring smile, although she didn’t really know what she was reassuring him of, and he smiled back, giving a small nod, before continuing with the coffee. That was all she really saw of him that day though, as he busied himself with setting up the barbecue and playing football with Ben and his friends for the rest of the day.
This is the first time she’s seen him since then though and she has to admit that he seems to have healed at least a little in the last few months. She still doesn’t know what exactly he’s been through, although if she had to guess she would say perhaps he’s served in Afghanistan or Iraq, which would also explain why he’s only seen her daughter a couple of times over the years.
She knows he and Lisa have some kind of a past, but she’s not sure what exactly that past involves. Lisa told her about meeting him here in town a few years ago, not long after she moved to Indiana, and then how he showed up unexpectedly at Ben’s eighth birthday party… Diane hadn’t been able to attend that year, as she and her husband had been on a cruise in the Caribbean, so she hadn’t met him then.
Despite talking with him during dinner last night after she and her husband arrived in Cicero for Thanksgiving, she’s still not really any closer to figuring him out. He seems like a nice enough man, but she wonders if his past is haunting him a little too much, wonders if what he’s experienced in life is going to affect his relationship with her daughter and Ben. She hates the thought of Lisa getting hurt again, especially after what happened with Ben’s father, who none of them have heard from in years, other than the monthly child support check appearing in the mail.
“Yes!”
Ben’s shout of triumph pulls her from her musings and she blinks.
“I won!” He punches the air, before poking Dean’s chest gloatingly. “Take that, sucker.”
“Aww, man,” says Dean, letting go of his remote and rubbing at his chest absently with one hand as he slings the other around Ben’s neck, tugging him closer and ruffling his hair. “You’re just too good, you know that?”
Diane Braeden smiles as she observes the playful banter between the two. While she’s still a little apprehensive about Dean, she can’t deny that he seems to have bonded well with her grandson.
“Hey, Dean?” Lisa enters the room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Did you pick up the cranberry sauce yesterday? I can’t seem to find it.”
Dean’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, before his eyes widen and he looks up at her daughter guiltily. Diane bites her lip to hide a smile, the expression making him look years younger than he is.
“Sh—crap,” he amends quickly, flicking a glance in Diane’s direction. She quirks an eyebrow. “Sorry, Lise, I forgot. I’ll go get some now.” He stands up and turns to Ben, who has reached for the TV remote and is flicking through the channels. “Hey, squirt, you wanna come to the store with me?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“I’ll go with you,” Diane finds herself offering. Dean turns to her, a look of surprise on his face, so she adds, “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“No, no. That’s fine.” He nods, patting down his pockets, looking for something. “Lise, you seen my wallet?”
Diane smothers a grin as her daughter rolls her eyes at Dean and points him to the lamp table near the door where his wallet is sitting proudly in the middle.
“Thanks.” Dean smiles gratefully, retrieving his wallet and shoving it into his pocket as he gives Lisa a quick peck on the lips. “Back soon, okay?”
Dean heads for the door and Diane stands up, smoothing her hands down her skirt as she make to follow him, but Lisa stops her with a hand on her arm.
“I know what you’re doing, Mom.” She gives her a pointed look. “No giving him the third degree, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey,” she says as innocently as she can. “I just need to pick up a couple things from the store too.”
With a barely-concealed smile, she turns and follows Dean out to the truck.
***
The drive to the convenience store begins in relative silence and Dean fidgets constantly; looking around at the other traffic on the road, adjusting the rearview mirror, flicking through various radio stations but unable to settle on just one.
Was he nervous around her? The thought amuses her, because he doesn’t seem like the nervous type, especially not around women her age.
“Everything okay?” she asks, trying not to smile.
“What?” He glances at her. “Oh... yeah. Peachy.”
But he continues to flick through the radio stations, and when he passes over the beginning strains of Ramble On for the third time, she finally has enough.
“Dean, hon?” She reaches out, resting her hand on his to stop him from pressing the button again. “You think we could stick with just one station? I’m kind of partial to that song.”
He looks down at her hand over his briefly, before turning his head, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You like Zeppelin?”
“Of course,” she retorts, as if it should be obvious. “Some of the best times of my life played out to a Zeppelin soundtrack.” She sends him a grin. “I’m surprised you know this one though. A bit before your time I would have thought.”
“Are you kidding?” His response is almost incredulous, features more expressive than she’s seen them before and she smiles, glimpsing a hint of the man hiding beneath the troubled exterior. “Zeppelin rules! And Ramble On?” He shakes his head in reverence. “Favourite song. Hands down.”
“But you just skipped over it three times.”
His open expression quickly folds inwards, face hardening and lips pressing together tightly as he focuses on the road again, and she immediately wishes she could take the words back.
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Haven’t really been in the mood to hear it lately.”
She wants to say more, a number of questions on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but he’s closed off now, his demeanour indicating that the subject is off-limits. They journey continues in silence, save for the strains of Led Zeppelin echoing through the car, until he pulls into the parking lot of the convenience store, cutting the engine and climbing out of the truck.
He opens the passenger door for her and, with a small smile, holds out a hand to her. She takes it, impressed, and lets him help her out of the vehicle. As they enter the store, she files it away as another piece of the puzzle that is Dean. He heads for the cranberry sauce, while she busies herself over in the toiletries aisle, grabbing the few things she’d forgotten to bring with her from home.
When she’s done, she scans the aisles for Dean and finds him at the bakery counter near the back of the store. He’s smiling at the young girl behind the counter as she cuts a large slice of apple pie and places it into a plastic carton.
“Here you go, Mr. Winchester,” she says as she hands it to him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Callie.”
He grins down at the pie in his hand as he turns away from the counter; it’s the first real smile Diane thinks she’s seen from him so far, and she can’t help but smile too. Maybe Dean does have a weak spot, something that still makes him happy, after all.
He hasn’t noticed her standing there yet, so she just observes him for a moment, notices how he licks his lips as he starts to open the carton, his expression more carefree than she’s seen it so far.
“Isn’t it a bit early for pie, Dean?” He jumps slightly, shutting the carton, and his head shoots up, looking a little guilty as he realises she’s watching him. “We do have a whole Thanksgiving dinner to get through first, you know, the one my daughter has been slaving over all morning?”
“Oh, um, I was just…” he looks lost for a moment, before giving up and admitting, “Okay, you got me. I love me some pie.”
“That’s okay, dear.” She smiles kindly, reaching out to pat his arm, not missing the way he flinches slightly at the contact. “We all have our vices.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He seems uncertain, as if he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Diane shakes her head in amusement.
“Come on, let’s get out of here, shall we?” She nods towards the checkout. “I’m sure my daughter is wondering where that all important cranberry sauce has got to.”
“Right, sure.”
He gestures for her to go first and she smiles as she passes him, touched by the gentlemanly manners he’s displaying. It seems like there’s definitely more to him beneath the grief and sadness she can see in his eyes. They pay for their goods and head out to the car, Dean opening the passenger door for her again before walking round to the driver’s side.
Back in the summer when she told her husband about the new man in their daughter’s life, he was less than pleased about it, automatically suspicious about his possible hidden intentions and influence over Lisa and their grandson, especially considering that he’d just appeared out of nowhere and was suddenly living with them without taking the time to get to know each other first. Diane had to admit that she had her reservations in the beginning too, and even after meeting Dean in the summer, she still hadn’t been entirely sure she could trust him. But from what she’s seen of him so far this week, how he interacts with Ben and Lisa, and even herself, she definitely thinks they underestimated him at first.
Obviously he’s been through a lot, but at the same time, there are definite glimpses of a kind-hearted man underneath his many layers. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask what brought him here, to Lisa and Ben, and as Dean starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot, Diane finds the words just spilling from her mouth.
“So, how do you like it here in Cicero?” she asks, before speculating, “Must be a big change from what you’re used to.”
His eyes snap to hers, expression unreadable.
“What did Lisa tell you?” His tone isn’t accusatory, just curious.
“Nothing much, really,” she shakes her head. “But you don’t seem like the suburban type to me. Let me guess: you were in the forces?”
He looks back to the road, pausing for a moment, before saying, “Something like that.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head, and she’s surprised to see his eyes tearing up. Her heart goes out to him; whatever he’s been through, it can’t have been good.
“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t really talk about it…” He fumbles for the words, before stopping.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she assures him. “Just forget I asked.”
He nods, composing himself and concentrating on the road again. There are a few seconds of silence before he starts talking again.
“My brother… Sam. He—he died. Back in May, just before… just before I came here.” He stops, swallowing audibly, before continuing, “He was all I had. I, uh, I had nowhere else to go and Lisa… she was kind enough to take me in, let me wallow on her couch.”
Diane’s heart breaks for him as he speaks and she reaches out, laying a hand on his arm. “Oh, Dean… honey. I’m so sorry.”
He nods tightly and runs his other hand down over his face. “If it weren’t for Lisa… and Ben, I don’t know where I’d be.” He turns to her again, his expression sincere. “I know you probably have your reservations about me, and I don’t blame you, but just know that I care about them a hell of a lot and I wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt them.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Dean.” She smiles warmly, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go and settling back in her seat. “I’ve seen how happy Lisa is with you, and how much Ben looks up to you as well.”
“Thanks.” He shifts uneasily in his seat, ducking his head.
“So, uh, what’s with the pie?” She decides to change the subject to something lighter, nodding to the carton on the seat between them. “I know you said you love it, but I’m pretty sure we have more than enough for dessert already without adding pie to the mix too.”
“Are you kidding?” he responds with a grin, looking a little relieved. “There’s always room for pie.”
***
“So, uh, Dean…” Diane starts later, after dinner, as she helps Lisa clean up the kitchen while her husband, Dean and Ben watch the game in the living room.
Lisa looks up from washing the dishes with a wary expression. “Yes, Mom? What about him?”
Diane raises her hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, honey. I’m not here to judge him.” Lisa raises an eyebrow expectantly. “I just wanted to say that he seems like a nice man.”
“He is, Mom,” says Lisa, although she still looks a little guarded. “He’s great.”
“He’s going through a difficult time though…”
“Yeah,” Lisa nods. “He is. But he’s working through it. He’s getting better.”
Her daughter turns back to the sink again, reaching for another plate.
“He told me about his brother.”
Lisa stops, the plate slipping from her fingers and sliding into the soapy water as she turns to face her again.
“He did?” Lisa wonders, looking surprised. “Wow, he usually won’t talk to anyone else about Sam.”
“Sam? That was his name?”
Lisa nods.
“What happened to him?” Diane knows she shouldn’t pry, but she’s dying to know the full story.
Lisa shakes her head, glancing around the room briefly before replying, “I don’t know all the details, Mom. Dean’s not really big on talking about this stuff. I just know there was some kind of accident and Dean couldn’t save him.”
Diane nods, watching her daughter carefully. She gets the feeling that Lisa knows more about what’s happened to Dean than she’s letting on, but it’s obvious she’s not going to talk about it. For both Lisa and Ben’s sakes, she just hopes Dean and his brother weren’t involved in anything shady. She would hate to think that the good impression she’s got of him today was just an illusion.
“I like him, sweetheart,” is what she says instead.
Lisa nods, glancing towards the living room, before smiling widely, “Me too, Mom.”
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