A/N: So this is the updated version of the story "Want" I published not long ago. I found a few mistakes and wanted to fix them. I am also looking at writing another chapter for Sam. Let me know what you guys think please! I do welcome constructive criticism or any comments on the story.
Rating: PG-13 for Dean's language and sexual insinuations.
Summary: A look at what Dean wanted at certain points of his life. Pre-Series
Word Count: 1,700
Disclaimer: All characters belong to CW and Eric Kripke.
What the Heart Wants
Want. Dean is twenty two, he knows what it means, can't remember a time when he didn't. But how one word can encompass so much of a desperate feeling, he will never understand. It has meant different things to him at different points of his life. Dean can't help but reminisce on a few of them as he takes a shot of whiskey while watching the pool table.
Dean is four. Miss Janet, the neighbor lady with lots of cats and candy, has Dean behind the firetruck. The light from the fire is growing and the flames continue to engulf his home. She had tried to take Baby Sammy from him, but Dean wouldn't let her. Daddy had told Dean to take him, not her. So Dean held onto him and refused to give Baby Sammy to Miss Janet. Even if she smelled sweet like candy. Her orange-grey hair is close to her skull, a few strands hung limply near her face. Her white nightgown rumpled and held away from her wrinkled body by a trembling hand. Her shaking hands didn't inspire confidence in him that she could hold onto Baby Sammy. If her hands were already shaky, if Sammy squirmed like he usually does in sleep, she might drop him. Besides, Daddy had given Baby Sammy to him. Miss Janet whispered reassurances to him. After she decided that taking Baby Sammy from him wasn't going to work. She told him that his Daddy would be back soon. But Dean doesn't want Daddy right now, he can see Daddy talking to the Police Man from here. He just wants Mom. He wants his Mommy to come out from the house, her hair will be all over and in her face and maybe she'll have soot on her dress and face. But she'll come out, she'll be okay and they'll all be okay. She doesn't come out of the house though. Not even when the firefighters come out. Mom doesn't come out of the house. Not even after the neighbors have left and the flames have died down. Not even after the firetruck leaves. Dean wants his Mom. His little chest heaves and aches in a way he didn't know was possible. His breaths come in stilted bursts and he has one fist wound in Sammy's blankets as he supports him in his lap. His other hand strokes Baby Sammy's light, soft baby hair. Days go by after the fire. The Want that found its way into his chest that night only seems to burrow deeper. Staring at him with an evil smirk smugly etched across its ugly mug; as if it has marked him as its home. A home it won't leave soon, if ever.
Dean is twelve. He knows he is starting to fill out and grow more like the young man he's been forced to grow into. Dad's on a hunting trip a few hours away and left a sickly Sammy with reliable-older-brother Dean. Which is fine, Dean would rather him not be home. Then his only real worries are survival and basic needs for himself and Sammy. He can sneak off every now and again to play at the arcade three blocks away and not get bitched at for it. But Sammy is being extra whiny and a bigger pain in the ass than normal. Dean tried making him soup to help sooth his sore throat but promptly got nit-picked for it because it had green beans. Sammy adamantly refused to eat it. Dean accepted that and ate the soup instead. He was starting to get hungry anyways. Dean tried making him something else, he tried making a grilled cheese sandwich. A typical satisfying Sammy-meal. Only for it to be put on the sad excuse for a plastic plate on the nightstand because it made Sammy's throat hurt worse. So Dean tried making him some Mac'n'Cheese with some chopped up hot dog in it, but Sam had fallen asleep by the time it was done. When he woke up, he whined that it didn't taste good cold. Dean wanted Sammy to eat some damned food so he could be healthy again when Dad gets back. Sammy is losing weight. Something he didn't have a lot to lose to begin with. But now Dean can see his individual ribs poking at his skin, and can count the vertebrae up his back. Sammy isn't getting better, and he is still losing weight. Fighting to get Sammy to eat something is like trying to push a truck up a hill. In the mud. With the parking brake on. Dean puts a pot of water on the stove to boil for some butter noodles. Maybe Sammy will eat those, they would be soft on his throat and easy on his stomach. At this point, Dean just wants his Dad to come home and make sure Sammy gets better.
Dean is fifteen now. And he had definitely discovered the appealing parts of the opposite sex, or he is with Missy. Dean and Sammy moved into Pickwick Kansas. They started on the first day for once. And since the high school is one of only two for the whole county, there's a lot of new faces for even the local kids. Dean is good at slipping under the radar, has perfected it, so he settles in fine. He and Sammy are staying with their "Great Aunt Hilda" for the semester. While Dad is with a group of hunters taking down a trail of skin walkers a few hours east. If anyone asked, Dad was a military man currently on tour. It was easy enough to slip into small town life, know how to answer the questions and it was simple. Missy was simple, easy on the eyes, long legs, nice rack and willing. Dean hadn't been there but a week before Missy was meeting him behind the bleachers for some... extra curricular activity. She promised him more if he would take her to the barn dance tomorrow. Want curled in his belly, warm and aching.
Dean is sixteen. The Impala certainly is a beauty to behold. And a good chick magnet. Her engine is always eager for a spin, purring out her eagerness with the loud rumble of her carburetor. She handles beautifully if you actually know how to drive. Dean is a fast learner and knows almost all her tricks. How to brake without antilock brakes, because come on, she's a classic, who needs those stupid things anyway? He knows just when to let out the clutch to peel out or to transition between gears smoothly. Dean can't wait to be left with her, eventually, Dad will have to get another vehicle, Dean will either get the new one, or he will get the Impala. He really hopes for the latter. Her big 327 cubic inch engine calls to him and her carburetor purrs out enticing promises of speed and fun. Even the smell of her interior and her fumes is intoxicating. All Dean wants is her keys in his pocket.
Dean is eighteen now, Dad takes him on more hunts than not. Sam has been old enough to stay behind by himself for awhile now. Thank God, because Sammy and Dad have started arguing over the most stupid shit. Dad orders Sammy to do something, Sammy questions it. And Sammy spends more time on school than he does on hunts. He is always, always, working on schoolwork. Dad tells Sammy to study a ritual, they argue. Sam spends as little time as possible on it and returns to doing schoolwork. Dean has taken to using his fake ID to get out of the house and away from the increasing fights. Is it really that hard for Sammy to do the same thing Dean has been doing practically his whole life? To do as he's told? It's not like all that schoolwork is going to pay off. All they're ever going to do is hunt. Even after they find and kill the Demon that killed Mom, they'll probably still pick up hunts and research. They've never done anything else. So why does Sam have to dig his stupid, stubborn heels in over every fucking thing. It's like the kid looks for opportunities to make them all miserable. Dean just wants Sammy to get over himself and accept that this is all they will ever do in their life. Dead did, Sammy will eventually. You'd think with Sammy being as smart as he is and all, he would have picked up on it faster, would just do as he is told, but no. Sammy has to turn everything into a damned fight with Dad. He has even started squabbling with Dean. Dean just wants Sammy to do as he is told, to make life easier. None of them want it this way. If they would just stop fighting, Dean could stop pretending that he doesn't care if they fight, that they're actively tearing and ripping at the foundation of the family unit. But they don't. Dean just wants them to get along.
Dean is twenty-two. More often than not, he wakes in a stranger's bed with a girl he vaguely remember from the night before. He almost always wakes with the hangover-from-hell. But that doesn't matter, because this is what he wants. He doesn't want Sammy to call him up from stupid Stanford and tell Dean that he was wrong, college life wasn't for him. To call him up and asked to be picked up. The ache in his chest his for fine whiskey, a good game, and frisky women; it's not for the family unit that has been destroyed, nope, not at all.