Title: The House That Built Me
Rating: T for language and violent scenes
Summary: Set in 1.4: Home. Dean takes a walk around his old home and remembers his past that he tried to bury. "The House that Built Me" by Miranda Lambert
Disclaimer; I do not own the show or the song. I make no money from this story
I know they say you can't go home again. I just had to come back one last time. Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam. But these handprints on the front steps are mine.
Dean was trying so hard not to run the other way as Sam walked up to the door and knocked. He was especially nervous when the young mother opened the door and Sam introduced them with their real names, throwing the plan out the window. Even after all this time Dean can't believe how easily people fall for Sam's puppy dog eyes. Maybe it was another ability of his, like his nightmares, or maybe he really was compassionate to the victims. Dean may never know.
And now, hours later, he stands in the living room look around. Seeing the ghost of his mother brought back memories he kept buried. Memories of happier times before the Nightmare on Elm Street experience started. He didn't want to come back because he didn't want to remember but now that he is remember he couldn't stop.
"Dean, come on, let's go," said Sam behind him.
"Just give me a minute," said Dean without turning around. Sam seemed to understand because he said in a soft undertone, "Take your time, man."
And Sam left. He was always like that, understanding what Dean wanted without asking. This seemed to be on of them.
Dean took a look around the living room. The furniture and décor was different but Dean could almost see John sitting on the couch watching the evening news. He was younger with no grey in his hair or haggard lines on his face. He wasn't the man Dean grew up around. He was more relaxed, and happier, not a hint of sadness around him. Dean used to watch the news with him. He didn't know anything about what was happening but it was something his father did, and like any four year old he wanted to be just like his father.
"What do you want to be when you get bigger, Dean?""
"I want to be a mechanic like you, Daddy! I want to fix cars and drive them so fast it'll be like I'm flying!"
John laughed. "Really? That's quite a dream, son. Are you sure you're up for the challenge?"
"Piece of cake!"
Dean could still hear his father's laughter in his mind. Slowly he turned form the living room and went to the kitchen. He could see his mother preparing to make her incredible apple-cinnamon pie. She never used store bought apple peeler. Instead she used a knife to slice it in a neat round and Dean would greedily eat it. After she sliced apples she put the dough on a pile of flour and smiled at Dean.
"Dean, want to help me roll the dough?"
"Yeah!" said Dean in excitement and stood in front of her. Mary picked up the roller and rolled the dough flat with her son. Both were laughing as they did.
"We could make some apple sauce with the left over apples. How does that sound?"
Dean smiled at her. "Great, Mommy!"
And up those stairs, in that little back bedroom is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar. And I bet you didn't know under that live oak my favorite dog is buried in the yard.
Dean walked to the stairs and ran his hand on the polished surface of the railing. John told him that Mary wished for a house to raise a bunch of kids in, and when they bought the house it was a fixer-upper. He was still fixing it when Sam was born.
The last thing John finished had been the banister. He carved the whole thing himself and Dean hammered the last nail in. It was still cracked down the bottom. He ran his finger on the initials carved in. DW. John had done that with a pocket knife to prove Dean had finished it.
Walking past the stairs he looked out the back door and could almost see him and John playing baseball n the backyard.
"Keep your eyes on the ball, Dean. The ball is the target."
"Just throw the ball, Daddy!"
"Okay, here we go!" John lightly tossed the ball and Dean swung his bat as hard as he could. "Whoa!" The ball flew over the fence and into the neighbor's yard. John cheered and hugged his son. "That was great Dean! Major leagues, here we come!"
"Yay!" cheered Dean. John smiled at his son and looked back at the fence.
"Now how are we going to explain this one to Mommy?"
Dean laughed.
Dean smiled softly at the memory and walked over to the oak tree. The grass above gave no evidence to what laid underneath the roots. For a while they had a dog. It had been John's before he married Mary. The dog was old by the time Sam was born and died not long after. They buried him under the oak tree and as far as Dean knew he still rested there today.
"Hey, Blaze, still being a good dog and guarding the place? Sorry it took so long to visit but I had some growing up to do."
Of course Blaze didn't answer back. Dean picked a few clover flowers and put the on the base of the tree. With a sigh he walked back inside.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here its like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself if I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.
Mama cut out pictures of houses for years. From 'Better Homes and Garden' magazines. Plans were drawn, concrete poured, and nail by nail and board by board Daddy gave life to mama's dream.
Dean walked back to the stairs and headed up, fighting the urge to run from the nightmares that plagued him for twenty-two years. Course he would never admit to Sam that he was scared of a memory but he was, even when he was a boy he didn't want to come back. He didn't want to remember.
Slowly he walked up the stairs, remembering him sliding down the banister and scaring his mother to death. She scolded him for over an hour and grounded him for a week. Course it didn't stop Dean from getting into more trouble, which he did frequently.
He stopped in front of what was his room and saw John reading him a bedtime story and Mary tucking him in.
"Mommy, where do babies come from?"
"Baby's come from miracles," said Mary closing the book.
"So me and Sammy are miracles?'
"Oh yes, you and Sammy are my little miracles." And she kissed his forehead.
"I want to say good-night to Sam!" he said. Mary laughed.
"But I just tucked you in."
"Please." Dean gave her a pleading face and Mary smiled.
"Okay, let's say good night to your brother."
And Mary carried him to Sammy's room. Dean was still high in excitement of having a little brother. When his Mommy and Daddy told him they were having a baby they warned Dean about everything, how Sammy needed someone to constantly take care of him because he couldn't do it himself yet and how he'd be demanding and fussy and that it was their job to find out what he wanted. But surprisingly Sam was a quiet baby and Mary and John feared something was wrong with him so they took him to a doctor. The doctor said that Sam was fine and was just a quiet baby. Both were relieved and took Sam home.
When Sam first came to the Winchester home Dean volunteered for everything. He stayed with Sam every single second till his parents told him to stop. When John asked why Dean just replied, "You said Sammy needs someone to take care of him. I want to take care of him."
"Sammy's lucky to have a big brother like you," said John smiling at his oldest son.
Dean walked up to his parents bedroom and remembered when he and John woke Mary up with a Mother's Day breakfast and spent the whole day doing things Mary wanted. When the day was over Dean, Mary and John were laying on the parent's bed and Dean turned to Mary.
"Isn't this everything you every wanted?"
Mary smiled at him. "I have everything I wanted. God gave me the best Mother's day present ever."
"What was that?" asked Dean curiously.
"He gave me you." And Mary kissed her son and they slept all night.
Dean smiled softly and looked down the hall. There was only one bedroom left. The instinct to turn back and run came to him stronger. But he refused to give in.
As he walked down the hall he remembered John running to him and handing him Sammy, ordering him to take Sam outside as their mother burned. He didn't know that would be the night his mother died and the happy family dream busted into reality.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here its like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.
You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am.
Dean jumped back to reality when a hand was placed on his shoulders and he looked to see Sam behind him.
"Sorry," said Sam when he say Dean's startled face. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay," he said. "You need something?"
"Missouri wanted to check for anything lingering. She was wondering if you wanted to be outside when she does in case…"
Same didn't say anymore and Dean didn't want him to.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be outside."
Sam nodded in understanding and there was an awkward moment.
"Do you what to talk about it?" asked Sam. Dean gave him an irritated look.
"Talk about what? You know what happened here as much as I do."
"I just mean in case you wanted to talk…."
"I don't want to talk," said Dean angrily. "Talk is the last think I want to do. What are you now? The family shrink?"
And he walked out of the house. Sam had to smile after his brother. Dean only used his irritated yell when he was emotional about something. Not scared or panicked but something obviously opposite of his tough guy act and only Sam saw through it. Sam didn't have anything tying him to the house and he only dragged Dean to get rid of some of the demons that had been haunting him.
"Wait up," he yelled and hurried after his brother.
"Well, move your ass, slowpoke!"
"Shut up, jerk!"
"Make me, bitch."
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could walk around I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.
END