The Sense We Left Behind Part 1
XXXXX
Pontiac, Illinois: 2014
Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat at the bar of a small business. And this bar was smashing. The business was slow and a lone man worked at the counter, but the decorations were killer. Palms trees, plastic hula girls, pictures of lonely waves on the ocean with multi-colored, paper flowers hanging from the walls and tiki lamps giving an artificial glow to the room.
Yes, this bar was a keeper. And the most out of place dive you'd find in Illinois, but maybe that was the beauty of it. Amongst farms, rolling hills, and the permeating smell of pigs, because corn and soybeans don't smell much at all, you could find a sliver of paradise for a few bucks a drink. And some authentic Hawaiian music, which was always a plus.
Similarly, the three men sitting at the bar looked out of place in the bright environment with the workers' floral shirts and happy smiles. They looked like farm, and hard work, and sadness. Castiel look liked the world had walked all over him, or a teenage girl, as he stared blankly past the counter. Sam's gaze flicked awkwardly between his Dean and the angel. They talked for a bit, discussing Claire and the plan.
Then Cas turned to Dean. "Did you love your father?"
Dean looked slightly taken aback as he pursed his lips in thought. He turned slightly to look to Sam, who gave him no help. Dean nodded tersely. "With everything I had."
"Yeah." Sam affirmed with a nod and a slight laugh. "Yeah. I mean it wasn't always easy, but yeah." He nodded again, taking a drink of whiskey as if to wash that statement down. Cas watched the two.
Dean nodded as well. "John Winchester's not going to win any number 1 Dad awards, you know, but damn if he wasn't there when we needed him." He shook his head, lifting his shot glass.
"Hey, uh," Sam leaned forward with a grin. "Tell him about that time in New York."
Dean furrowed his brow. New York… New York, oh, that one. "Oh yeah. Yeah okay, so, uh, we were working this haunting in Long Island and me and Sam begged the old man to let us go to the city, for once."
Sam nodded. "He had this thing about New York, right. Too big, too loud, too dirty…"
"Yeah and he hated the Yankees." Dean added.
"Big time, yeah." Sam laughed lightly.
Cas remained silent as they continued, humor playing across their features as they remembered the "old days."
Dean continued. "Somehow we convinced him to let us go. So, we go, you know, see all the sights and, uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza the whole night. By about midnight Sam and Dad are zonked out and I figure, screw it, I'm going to CBGB."
XXXXX
New York City, New York: 1993
Dean Winchester pushed his way past a couple locked in an intense make out session. He had to give it to the guy, the man had the face of a horseradish and the chick was majorly hot. So the dude had scored, but still, get a room, man. Even worse was they were in the middle of the room.
Of course, the entire joint was hopping. The place was practically bursting with people, cigarette smoke, and the sound of punk rock blasting from speakers on either end of the stage. Plus the live band up there too. So it wasn't like they were blocking anyone really, or that there was a discernable middle of the floor. But a man could have standards. And Dean wasn't really the 'public display of affection' type.
Yeah no, just no.
Dean hadn't known what to do at first. It was mind blowing. And ear shattering. The place was even better than he'd thought it would be. Wait 'til he told Sammy… Dean continued to slip through towards the back of the small bar, towards the stage.
He wasn't sure why, but it felt more genuine to be near the front. CBGB. The original home of country, bluegrass, and other crap Dean didn't listen to. That was more Sammy's thing.
Now, the little bar in New York gave starts to rockers and punks. Blondie and the Ramones had gotten their start here. Dean figured if he played music he'd try to play here. But whatever, right?
A girl screamed next to him as some huge, like five hundred pound guy with a blue mowhawk screamed into his mic. Damn lady, chill out. Dean watched her take another swig of her blunt. Oh, that'd be why. And it made sense too, 'cause the guy singing wasn't even hot.
Not that Dean though about that shit, of course, but he was huge and had really small eyes. Plus a nasty looking scar on the side of his neck.
Dean paused near the stage's edge, keeping away from the bouncing people surrounding him. The huge dude leaned down into his mic, shouting something about death or what not and then the guy to his right started a killer guitar solo.
This was pretty damn cool…
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As the music continued and a new band stepped up to set up, Dean glanced at the bar. People crowded the counters. Some sitting, others sprawled in their chairs or over the wood surface.
Some girl was drooling with her head in the lap of her date, Dean assumed, as he finished another shot. She would probably fall off the stool any minute now. And that would be freakin' hilarious. Dean grinned and sauntered towards the bar.
Not like he had an ID or anything, but he got in, hadn't he? It was sure worth a shot. Maybe literally. He almost reached the bar when he ran into a girl. Not hard considering they were everywhere, but still.
"Sorry, my bad." Dean said quickly, looking up.
And wow, her face was nice to look at. Or her tits were, Dean couldn't decide which was better. She had her long, blonde hair parted in the middle, and it fell in her face as she bent down slightly to look at him.
"Oh no. Of course. Me. It was me." Dean just nodded, letting his best grin slide into place. This couldn't hurt either.
"You come here often?" He asked.
She laughed. "Of course! Don't you?"
"No." But the music had vamped up as cords shook the room.
She looked at up the stage and Dean followed her gaze. Hair, lots more hair. And some instruments. They weren't bad at all. Dean figured he'd listen to stuff like that if they ever got a recording contract.
She looked back at him, shouting above the noise, "What'd you say?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Totally." He replied.
She nodded again. "Hey, why don't you come over and sit with me and my friends at our table?" She pointed towards more bodies. Or past them, more likely.
"Alright." Because you know, what the hell.
She giggled slightly, grabbing his hand and leading him through the crowd. Dean couldn't decide if this was good or if she thought he was her little pet. He didn't like the idea of that, since he was already a few months past his fifteenth birthday. So, you know, he was practically grown.
There were two other girls at the table, both perched on small bar stools in tight skirts and dresses. They were deep in an apparently invigorating conversation and were laughing. One had long hair very similar to the girl clutching his hand, and the second had darker hair with a kind of afro thing going on.
It was curly and it looked nice. That was all Dean felt he could say, not having much hair to deal with himself.
All three girls looked to be in their early twenties or so, probably old enough to drink at the very least. After all, they were in a bar drinking alcohol. Not that that was necessarily any kind of indicator, he was there too, but they would be more easily noticed.
"Girls!" She said, they turned to smile at Dean and his blonde escort. "This is…oh, did we give names?" She giggled. "I can't remember.
Oh good. At least she cared. But Dean grinned. "I don't believe we did. I'm Dean."
She nodded. "Great. Girls," She said, pulling him forward to rest his hands on the table and putting a hand on his shoulder. "This is Dean. Dean this is Serenity and Monique… Oh, and I'm Faith." She smiled.
He nodded. "Hi ladies. How ya doin'?"
"Oh just super! You want something to drink?" Replied the dark haired girl.
"Sure. Whatcha got?"
Faith laughed. She had a nice laugh, Dean thought. "Well, we have margaritas. Maybe you'll want something stronger?"
"Oh. Oh yeah, sure." Dean smiled. "Bring on the alcohol!"
The girls laughed again.
"Teddy!" The other blonde called, waving her hand. What was her name? Serenity. Dean could guess her parents' affiliations…
A waiter with a thick head of hair and about a dozen tattoos, mainly of flowers and naked women pushed through the mass of people in the center of the room. Under his arm he held his tray. Dean figured he was the only male bartender in the place. The rest were hot as hell, had long hair, and, well yeah, they were girls.
"What can I do for you fine ladies?" Teddy winked.
"Well," Monique piped up. "We need something strong. How about… uhm, three shots and two beers." She gave him another winning smile, leaning forward to push her cash into his hands.
Teddy nodded, grabbing the green backs. "Sure thing, sweetheart." He rushed off.
"Don't worry." Faith said, leaning towards Dean. "We've got you covered."
"Thanks," Dean asked. "But I'll pay for my own." He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, giving her what he thought would cover his beer.
"Well of course," Serenity smiled, taking the money. "We'll just order some for you. I mean, you gotta drink while you're here, it wouldn't be as good if you didn't! Your parents won't mind, right?"
So they did know. Damn. And it was going so well too…
"Right. Yeah, they'll be good with it."
XXXXX
"Drink, drink, drink, drink!" The girls shouted in unison. Dean flashed them a grin before tipping the two shot glasses into his mouth. The bite of the alcohol wasn't shocking anymore; actually it was enjoyable. And the girls loved it. They loved him.
He finished the two off and smacked his lips, shaking is head. "Dude." He slurred happily. "I can't do anymore, you-you are all so beau…be…be-o-t-ful. You know that?"
The girls laughed. "And you're a handsome young gentleman!" Monique exclaimed.
"Our favorite little guy!" One of the others added.
"Ha!" Dean said loudly, laughing overtaking him. "'M not a little guy. Not you-or little guy."
"That's okay, Deano." Faith soothed, clasping his hand.
The other girls nodded in agreement. Dean continued to laugh. "Better get some more a that, uh, gold juice. It's gold, 'm telling you guysss." He grinned.
"You want another beer?" Serenity asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay. I'll get one too and we'll have a contest. See who can finish it first!"
Dean nodded again, another chuckle escaping his lips. Soon after, Teddy arrived at the table with the drinks and the girls thanked him once more.
"Ready?" Faith asked. The two nodded, grasping their glasses and leaning forward, looking into each other's eyes "Set. Go!" She announced.
Serenity and Dean began to chug their glasses, heads titled back and throats going to work. The Dean began to slow. In all honesty, with what was left of his consciousness and brain capacity, he could tell he felt nauseous. Very nauseous.
"Come on, Dean!" Faith exclaimed, clutching at his arm.
Monique leaned forward. "She's beating you! Come on!"
Dean shook his head, setting the glass down heavily on the table. Or what he thought was the table. It was tilting slightly; blue swirls or worms spinning around the edges and erupting from the girl's hair. One, two, three, one, two, and swirl.
"Dude." Dean slurred, leaning forward into the table, his forehead barely missing the table top before he popped back up, a pained look on his face. "'M gonna… Imma gonna puke up my guts."
"Aww honey, do you not feel good? "
Dean shook his head, looking around. Everything was moving too fast. The blurring lines and shapes of people and the dizzying loudness of the music surrounded him and suppressed him. Dean gagged.
"He's gonna hurl!" One of his new found friends shrieked.
Dean shook his head violently, standing up to move from the table.
"Oh Dean! Dean don't stand. Dean!"
Dean gagged again, letting his head drop and resting his hands on his knees. Dean breathed deeply.
"DEAN WINCHESTER!"
To be continued…