Cassettes and Candy

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Title: Cassettes and Candy

Author: faithintheboys

Recipient: wellew

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: For the prompt: A day in the life of our boys when they're not hunting. A day in between hunts. Much thanks to ficwriter1966, pizzapixie, and celtprincess13 for beta-ing and title help.

Summary: On a rare day off, Sam takes Dean to Woodstock eighteen years after Dad promised they’d go back.

"Sam, where’re we going?" Dean’s voice held a touch of apprehension, in part because Sam’s wasn’t an idiot and he knew how to drive – but the direction he was driving was not going to get them to the hunt in Tennessee. "Because you made a left. You should have made a right."

Being on the road as long as he had - driving the Impala non-stop for the last ten years - had given Dean a natural sense of direction, a sense that told him they were definitely not going to end up in Tennessee.

But Sam’s face was pure innocence. Dean could see the wheels turning and knew Sam had something working in that mind of his. He knew it was a bad idea to give Sam the keys to the Impala the night before. It was as if Sam thought it gave him some sort of special permission to control everything, like he was oldest.

Dean leaned back in the seat and looked out the window at the scenery of upstate New York. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe it was the last week they’d spent at their dad’s storage unit with Dean itching to move. Maybe Sam was heading in the right direction, not Dean’s direction, but the right one. He figured he’d find out soon enough but he should probably close his eyes for a bit. Sam might want to take a break from driving soon and it wouldn’t help if Dean was exhausted. "Going to sleep," he muttered to Sam and didn’t wait for a response as he closed his eyes.

The same scenery he went to sleep with greeted him upon waking. This time he thought he could see the tops of mountains over the trees. He was pretty sure that would have changed. Was traffic so bad that they were still stuck in New York? That could be a possibility since he’d only been asleep for about two and a half hours.

"Traffic bad?" he asked.

"No," Sam said and then moved to change the station, which had turned to static. "It’s been fine."

"Why aren’t we in Tennessee yet?" Dean sat up and turned to stare at the side of his brother’s face. "Something you want to tell me?"

Sam took his eyes off the road quickly to glance at Dean. "We aren’t going to Tennessee," he said, matter-of-factly.

"You said Bobby got wind of a hunt there?" Dean rolled his shoulders, stretching.

"Yeah, but Bobby said he’d take care of it. I actually have a better idea."

"What could that be?" Dean asked. He’d known it was a bad idea to give Sam the freaking keys.

Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded at an old sign that looked vaguely familiar. Dean stared at it.

****

"Hey Dad? Where are we going?" ten-year-old Dean asked.

"Woodstock." Dad said from up in the front seat of the car and nodded his head in the direction of a sign that said the name.

"Woodstock," Sammy said, kicking his feet in the backseat. He giggled around the name before taking a bite of an Oreo.

"Sammy, you have Oreo on your face," Dean pointed out when his brother was done chewing. Sam scowled and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand.

"Why are we going to Woodstock, Dad?" Sammy asked.

"I’m off today," John answered simply.

"From work?" Sammy questioned.

"That’s right kiddo," John answered with a sigh. Dean met his gaze with a knowing look. Dad didn’t work, he hunted. But they couldn’t tell Sammy.

"But why are we going?" Sammy asked again.

"For something to do."

"Oh." Sammy paused. "How long are we staying?"

"A day or so," John answered lightly. Dad was happy, Dean noticed with satisfaction.

It was nice out. Big white fluffy clouds were positioned in the light blue sky, the sun was shining and a light breeze traveled through the Impala, her windows down to let it in.

On the radio, the Rolling Stones sang about something (what that something was, Dean had no clue) being a shot away.

"Almost there," John said, and Dean relaxed against the seat.

****

"Woodstock? Really?" Dean wasn’t sure about this. There were things they should be doing, better things than walking around a town all day.

Sam shrugged him off.


Dean knew they went to Woodstock when they were younger. He didn’t remember much about it except it was one of those almost perfect days. Dad had taken the week off and spent it with just him and Sammy, they traveled for a couple days but then they spent a couple days in Upstate New York. On one of those days they went to Woodstock. He vaguely remembered Dad promising they’d go back but he was pretty sure they never did.

Sam parked the Impala in a gravel parking area at the end of a street with rows of shops. Dean raised his eyebrow at Sam and followed him out. The gravel crunched under his feet and he breathed in the fresh air. He remembered Woodstock being a nice town with good food. At the thought of food his stomach lurched. He hadn’t eaten since before they started out.

"Hungry?" Sam asked from right behind him.

"I could eat."

Sam grinned at him and walked across the street to the row of shops. After pausing for a minute to take a look around, Dean relaxed and followed his brother.

Sam was staring in the window of a bookshop when Dean caught up with him. "You want to go in?"

"Nah, we can come back later."

They took another few steps, following the sidewalk as it turned around the side of a building to more rows of shops, and both paused when they heard loud banging.

"Is that-?"

"Drums?" Sam peeked around the corner where people were starting to gather in a circle with all kinds of drums. There was a lady who had to be at least sixty tapping on a bongo and a kid who looked about four shaking a tambourine and jumping up and down.

Sam laughed in front of him. "I remember this. Don’t you?"

Dean stared as more people gathered around the circle, some sitting down next to others, some snapping pictures. He remembered something like this, just not a lot. Sam was staring at him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

****

Sammy hopped out of the car as soon as Dad parked, Dean jumping out to follow him and Dad had the door open just as fast.

"Sammy, don’t go to far. Dean-" Dad’s voice lingered for a minute and he let whatever he was going to say drop. Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and walked over to where the gravel parking area met the paved road.

Sammy blinked up at him and Dean turned around, using his other hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight to find his dad shutting the passenger side door. "You ready?" Dad asked when he got to them. They walked towards the building straight ahead of them.

"Oooh, a bookstore." Sam paused in front of the window. He had both his hands pressed against the glass, staring at the cover of an old beat up encyclopedia, the tag in front of it saying it was an antique. "Let’s go, Sammy." Dean tugged on his little brother’s hand to follow Dad as he disappeared around the corner.

There were more shops, a large open circle and another street with even more shops. Dad stopped before the big circle, staring at a group of people who were making different noises with drums.

Sam bobbed his head, moving around and swinging his hand joyfully to the noise. Dean snorted, shaking him off when they got to their father.

All the different drums made different sounds, some louder than others, different people joining in at different times.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Dad grinned down at them. Sam nodded enthusiastically and Dean turned to stare at them some more. It was pretty cool, he could pick out the individual sounds, one from what looked like a tambourine, and one from a bigger looking drum. The woman playing that one winked at him.

"You guys hungry?" Dad’s voice interrupted Dean’s staring.

"Starving." Sam dragged out the word.

"Dean?" Dad asked.

He pulled his gaze away. "Yeah, sure."

Dad took Sammy’s hand and walked across the space at the edge of the circle. Dean followed, stopping with them before the street to make sure no cars went through. He followed them to the sidewalk there in front of another row of shops. One was some kind of café. Dad gently pushed Sammy through the door, looking back at Dean before going through him. "You coming?"

Dean nodded and walked behind his family inside.

The restaurant was kind of empty except for an older couple in back and two waitresses. One was leaning against a wall next to a radio on a stool and the other stood near a table as they walked in. She was pretty with dark brunette hair and light blue eyes. She smiled and grabbed three menus from behind her. "Just three?" she asked and her eyes landed on Dad.

"Yes," Dad answered. She stepped to the side of the table she was just staring at. "Here okay?"

Dad nodded and let Sammy go in first, sliding in the booth after. Dean slid in on the other side.

"Do you know what you want to drink or should I come back?" the woman, Alice her nametag proclaimed, asked.

"I’ll have a chocolate milk!" Sammy piped up.

"One chocolate milk," she said and smiled at Sam before turning to Dean. "And you, sweetheart?"

"Coke, please."

She nodded and turned to Dad. "I’ll have a Coke too, please." He emphasized the word "please" and made eye contact with Sammy, who giggled. "Please!"

Dad turned to Dean. "Please," Dean muttered into his menu.

"Double digits?" Alice asked.

"Can’t you tell?" John answered with a sigh.

Alice laughed as she walked away to fill their orders.

Dean looked up to see his father grinning as he looked over his menu. "I’m in the mood for a burger."

"I want spaghetti!" Sam said loudly.

Dean turned to look out at the circle again and saw a woman and man dancing with a little girl, probably their daughter.

"Dean?"

He turned to see Dad staring at him. "What are you going to have?"

Dean shrugged but opened the menu. The first thing on it was some kind of salad thing he didn’t think he’d like but upon further inspection he decided on a BLT.

Before he could say anything Alice was back with their drinks. They ordered and when she was gone again Dean went back to staring out the window.

*****

He recognized the window in the café. He remembered staring out at the circle and how the BLT he ate inside was really good. And something about a waitress, he wasn’t sure, but he thought that Sam liked her. Who didn’t Sammy like?

"This place good?" Sam asked but before he could get an answer he had the door open.

They’d changed it around inside a bit but there was still the window by the door. There was a waiter helping some people in the back, who said they could take any seat they wanted. Sam chose that table.

"Sorry guys," the waiter, Gary, said when he came over and handed them their menus.

"Do you know what you want to drink?"

Sam ordered water and Dean a Coke. Gary walked away with the promise he’d be back in a couple minutes for their orders.

"I think I’m going to have spaghetti." Sam put down the menu.

"You would," Dean muttered into his menu.

"What?"

"I said I think I’m going to have a BLT," Dean said and gave him a smile.

Sam grinned and Gary came back for their order.

The BLT was really good, not that Dean expected anything different. It was the same as in his memory; the bacon crispy and the tomato juicy. It was perfect.

"Where to next?" Sam asked when they emerged from the restaurant.

Dean looked around. The drummers had disbanded by now and all the onlookers were either walking down the streets or into or out of shops. Dean saw a sign saying something about memorabilia and Woodstock souvenirs. "Let’s go there." He pointed walking across the street.

Big blankets with Celtic designs were hanging from the wooden porch railings and wind chimes danced in the breeze. Dean could smell the incense from outside but walked inside anyway. He heard Sam walk up the steps behind him but didn’t pause.

It was packed inside. Clothes, hats and bags were hanging from posts left and right. On available space of the wall there were different laminated posters. One of Jimi Hendrix and another for the Woodstock festival itself, this one proclaiming three days of peace and music on August 15, 16, 17.

He wove his way around the stack of clothes, past a counter where a small line was gathering and to another big room. All different types of band tees were hanging in front of shelves and a television in the corner was playing a clip from one of the dates.

"Hey." Sam found him looking through sets of posters.

"Do you know that it wasn’t even held in Woodstock? It was supposed to but they had to change it to a farm in Bethel. Kept the name, though." He grinned at a poster.

"Having fun?"

"Hell, yeah. I don’t think this poster would fit in the Impala…" Dean said, staring at the Jimi Hendrix poster.

Sam snorted, walking out of the room. Dean followed after a minute of glancing around one last time at everything.

They walked up the street some more. Dean laughed at a yellow Volkswagen Bus. Shaking his head, Dean followed Sam toward a sidewalk on the left.

Sam stopped after walking a couple feet on the sidewalk.

"Dude, you remember this place?" he asked, nodding toward a little shop.

Dean tilted his head, looking at the sign that advertised candy, chocolate, fudge and more. Raising his eyebrows, Dean walked toward it and up the steps inside.

****

After lunch they stopped at a few stores. There was this one gift shop with all kinds of posters and Woodstock things that was cool. Dad explained more about Woodstock to Dean and Sam, although Dean had heard of it before. Dean liked the idea of a huge concert taking place for three days. Dad said that in August there was going to be a concert again and Dean was upset it was only July.

Sammy bounced around as soon as he saw the word "candy" on the sign in front of the first store they saw after the gift shop. "Daaad!" Sammy turned on their father, his eyes lighting up and a huge smile spreading over his face.

Dad laughed at Sammy and nodded. Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and dragged him into the shop.

When they got in, both boys stopped short at the sweet smell and the display cases filled with candy and chocolate.

Sam’s mouth hung open for a second. He ran to one side of the store first, taking in everything there. "Gummy Bears, lollipops, gum, S’mores…Dean! They’ve got S’MORES!" Sam shouted.

"Okay, Sammy…" Dean said, pretty sure that the last thing they needed was his brother to be hyped up on more sugar. He went toward the display cases that held all different kinds of chocolates. Chocolate covered raisins, chocolate covered Oreos, chocolate covered cookie dough, and all different kinds of fudge.

"See anything good?" Dad asked from over his shoulder.

Dean looks around quickly and nodded.

"Sammy loves this place."

Dad laughed as they looked over to Sam jumping up and down in front of some jellybeans. "Yeah, I think so."

"You want anything?" Dad asked.

Dean tore his gaze again away from the chocolate. "Yeah. I’ll have some Oreo fudge."

Dad nodded, walking toward the register where a man was finishing helping a woman put boxes of fudge into a bag. He turned when they got there. "Sammy, you want something?"

Sammy nodded enthusiastically and bounced toward his father. He nodded toward the other display case. "Gummy bears, please!"

"Gummy bears, some Oreo fudge." Dad paused and looked into the chocolate display case. "And some chocolate covered raisins."

"Ew." Sammy scrunched up his face. Dad smiled and took out his wallet. "Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, kiddo."

The man handed them their bag and they walked out of the shop together. Right outside there was a bench. They sat on it and ate their candy.

"Want some gummy bears, Dean?" Sam asked.

"No thanks, Sammy. Gummy bears don’t really go good with chocolate."

Sam’s face scrunched up again, this time not in disgust but confusion. "They don’t?"

Dean thought about that for a minute. "Don’t think so."

"Try it." Sammy held out his bag. Dean took a red gummy bear and popped it into his mouth.

"Yum," Dean said after a moment and Sammy giggled.

"Try it," Dean said and handed him some fudge. Sam took it and then popped a couple gummies in his mouth.

His face grew into an excited smile when he was done. "Try it, Dad!"

He’d just finished his raisins, which the boys politely declined. He smiled. "I’m good, thanks, Sam."

"Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!" Sam said and then laughed for a couple minutes.

Dad shook his head as he got up. "You’re the one who gave him candy," Dean reminded him as he got up too.

Dad sighed and Dean turned around, hand outstretched to Sam. "Time to go."

Sam took his hand and Dean pulled him from the bench.

"One more stop," Dad said quietly and walked across the street to a store that proclaimed to buy and sell old records and tapes. "Cool." Dean smiled and gently pulled Sammy along.

When they walked inside Dad went straight to the register. Dean looked around at the piles and shelves of different records and tapes. He imagined the box he kept in the compartment getting larger and larger with all kinds of music. "Awesome," he breathed.

"Awesome," Sammy mocked. Dean scowled at him.

Dean walked over to different shelves, knowing Sammy would follow him. They weren’t in any kind of order but Dean worked his way through the ones he thought were okay, and the ones he didn’t care for at all. The ones he loved he pulled to the side. He recognized a lot of the bands on the tapes were the same as the ones in that gift shop.

When he had a fairly good collection of tapes Dean carried them over to where his Dad was pulling tapes, Dean’s tapes, out of his pocket. Three of those tapes were ones Dad had bought him from a couple different towns they’d been too and one of the tapes had been in the Impala for as long as he could remember, from Mom, and they were his, Dean tilted his head to the side in confusion. What was he doing with Dean’s tapes?

"Dad?" he asked as he came up beside him at the counter. A woman had her head bent over the tapes, reading what they said on them.

"Not today, Dean," Dad said when he saw the tapes in his hand. Dean was upset but he understood. They did a lot today.

The woman looked up when Dad spoke. "You’re the lady from the restaurant!" Sam exclaimed.

Alice nodded. "Yes, I am. Hello, Sam."

"What are you doing with my tapes?" Dean asked. They weren’t really his, they were Dad’s but Dad said he could have them and he listened to them a lot anyway. He looked between his dad and Alice when he didn’t get an answer.

Alice looked down at the tape she had in her hand and then set it down carefully. She looked expectantly up at Dad. "Dean, I’m going to let Alice borrow the tapes for a little while."

Dean shook his head. Not borrow. "You’re selling her the tapes?" He knew he shouldn’t be angry. They didn’t have a lot of money and this was probably a good way to get more. But Dean loved those tapes. What would he listen to now?

"Just for a little bit, bud. We’ll come back for them, I promise. Soon." He looked at Alice. "Do you have a pen, Alice?"

She nodded and grabbed one from under the counter. "Can I have one?" Dad asked and gestured toward the tapes. Alice nodded again. "See? I’ll write your name on the tape." Dad set the tape on the counter and wrote in black ink Dean Winchester. He handed another tape to Dean and the pen. "You can write your name on all of them, okay, Dean?"

Dean nodded quickly, snatched up the tape and quickly wrote his name on it.

"Can I write my name on them?" Sam stood on his tippy toes to peek over the counter.

Alice gave Dad another pen and Dad gave Sam another tape. Sam wrote in his six year old scrawl Dean and Sam Winchester. "It’s our tape, see, Dean?" Sam said and showed it to his brother.

Dean nodded and finished writing his name on another one. When they were done Dean walked away to put those other tapes away.

He returned to the counter as Alice handed Dad the money. "I’ll keep them in a safe place for you, okay, Dean?"

Dean looked down at his shoes. "Okay."

On the way out of the store Dad put a hand on his shoulder as Dean wiped an annoying tear from his eye. When they were outside Dad knelt in front of him. "I promise we’ll come back here. We’ll have fudge and BLTs and get your tapes back, okay?"

Dean nodded and let Dad lead him back toward the car and away from Woodstock.


"This fudge is freaking awesome," Dean said as he finished the last bite. Sam had fudge and a small bag of gummy bears. Dean had stolen some of those. He got up from the bench and stretched before throwing away the trash.

"Pretty damn good," Dean said and looked around.

"I think so," Sam agreed and threw his own garbage in the trash.

"Where to now?" Dean wondered. It was starting to get late and Dean knew they should probably head a couple towns down for a motel.

Sam was staring at a shop in front of them. He turned to look at Dean and then back at the shop again. "You want to go in?"

I promise we’ll come back here. We’ll have fudge and BLTs and get your tapes back, okay?

Dean stared at the music place. They never came back. They never got BLTs or fudge or his tapes. And now his father was dead.

Dean took a deep breath and looked away. He knew Sam was staring at him.

"Yeah, all right," he said finally.

"I bet you they’re still there," Sam said when they walked in.

Dean looked around. Unlike the café, this didn’t change. A couple hundred more tapes along with his four were added, yes, but it was all in the same unorganized, non-alphabetized fashion. He could almost see his Dad heading over to the counter - he could almost see… His thoughts trailed off as he looked at the counter and saw a familiar brunette haired woman. "Sam…" he said, reaching out to nudge his brother but Sam had noticed her too.

Sam walked up to the counter. She was leaned over it, looking through a magazine. "Um, hi."

Alice looked up and smiled at Sam. Dean remembered that too. "My name is Sam," his brother continued. "This is a long shot, but about eighteen years ago our dad sold you some of my brother’s tapes." Sam gestured to Dean who had stepped up next to him.

Her smile grew for a second and then she covered her mouth with both hands before letting out a small laugh. "You came back," she said with a shake of her head. "Sam and Dean Winchester."

Still shaking her head, she looked around the shop. "Where’s your father?"

"He died a year ago," Dean said.

Her light blue eyes widened and she reached her hand out to take his. "I’m so sorry. "

"Thank you," Dean said and cleared his throat. Sam nodded too.

She smiled at them for a minute, and then she shook her head and turned around. Behind the counter were some more shelves with boxes on them. Some of them were marked, some unmarked. Alice took an unmarked one with a lid and opened it. She brought it over to them and set it down on the counter. Inside were the four tapes, on the bridge of those tapes were Dean Winchester and one that said Sam and Dean Winchester. Sam laughed as he took that one out.

Dean reached down in his pocket for his wallet. He didn’t know how much money he had on him since lunch and the candy shop, and he hoped they weren’t that expensive.

"How much..?" he started to ask, knowing she’d pick up on the rest.

She shook her head. "Already paid for."

Dean blinked. "Excuse me?"

"About two years ago, your Dad came back here. He paid for them but didn’t pick them up. He said that if he knew his sons, you would pick them up eventually." She gave a mischievous smile. "They’ve been waiting."

Dean stared at her in disbelief and then down at the tapes. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "They’re all yours."

Dean ran his hand over his mouth. "Thanks."

She grinned at him. "You’re welcome."

Dean took the box. "Bye, Dean, bye, Sam," she said as they left.

The two of them walked towards the parking lot until Dean could speak.

"How’d you know?"

Sam pulled something out of his pocket. "Found this when we were cleaning out the storage unit." He handed a piece of paper to Dean.

Dean put the box under his arm and held up the paper with his free hand. It was a receipt. From that shop. From two years ago showing four cassette tapes had been purchased; stapled to it was one from eighteen years ago that said four tapes had been sold. On it, in their Dad’s handwriting was scrawled "Dean’s tapes" and "Alice".

Dean licked his lips and handed the receipt back to Sam. "Sam?" he said after another minute.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Sam didn’t say anything for another couple of minutes and finally they got to the parking lot. The sun had just begun to set and Dean put the box between him and Sam in the Impala.

He put a cassette tape in as soon as he got the car started. When the first song started Dean was struck with different memories of just driving and being with Dad and Sam. He closed his eyes for a second and let them roll over him. After a couple of minutes he grinned at Sam and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."