A/N:Title taken from Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here". Hope you enjoy, and thanks to my best friends and editors, Lucy and Rosa.
All mistakes are my own, and apologies for any colloquial mistakes; I'm English not American.
"I fell to my knees like Jesus in the cave, I knew I would die. But my lips could only say; I'm not your son so why have you forsaken me?" - Protest The Hero, Heretics & Killers.
The Same Old Fears;
Chapter One.
The record clicks over onto the turntable, audible in the practically silent shop. The vinyl spins and the song starts; the bass line reverberates throughout the room, echoing slightly. The opening chords pick up, the acoustics of the room complementing the melancholy tune.
"I've been travelling, but I don't know where.
I've been missing you, but you just don't care.
And I've been wondering, I've seen Greece and Rome,
Lost in the wilderness, so far from home..."
Dean sorts and reorders the shelves of records in the empty shop, humming along to the Stones as he does so. Although he's not a massive fan of their later work, this song serves as the exception; for him, it's always reminded him of Sam- God knows that Sam's been lost. But now he's back in Dean's life and it's okay. Well, sure Sam went 5 years without even calling Dean and, yeah, the kid didn't show to his own father's goddamn funeral, not even to say goodbye one last-
Dean cuts himself off mid thought- that was the past and he had forgiven Sam, he'd even tried his best to see it all from Sam's point of view.
Dean had always been John's little soldier, especially after Mary died. Dean felt that, what with his wife dying and having to raise two kids on his own, Dean owed John his obedience at the very least.
Sam, however, was of the opinion that, seeing as Dean had been the one to raise him acting not only as a brother but also a pseudo-father, he thereby didn't owe John anything; he saw John's alcoholism as giving up, whereas Dean saw it as John trying to escape.
Either way, Sam had finally broke; he left for Stanford on a full scholarship, only returning home to Kansas once a year on Dean's birthday. Then, one year, Sam hadn't shown and when Dean had called his cell, that number was invalid.
For the next five years Dean dealt on his own, working at the Roadhouse seven days a week, only to come home and clean up John's vomit until, after John's death, he'd pooled his resources and bought out a record shop, deciding that he was sick of bartending and that it was about time he did something for himself.
"In Through The Out Door", usually just "The Out Door" became Dean's own personal haven. Music had always been his love, and being able to spend all day listening, comparing and selling it? Dean freaking loved it.
Of course, as the saying goes, nothing good can last. Only two months after setting up shop, Sam shows up looking for work. In the past five years the kid has grown to epic proportions, practically towering over Dean. He's tanned and his hair is long and yet, if Dean ignores the fading track marks and scars, he looks happier than Dean has ever seen him. As much as he wants to hate Sam, he can't because he's his brother, he's Sammy, and no matter how much he's fucked up, evidence clear on his arms and the look in his eyes that shows he's seen some shit, Dean will always forgive him.
Eventually, over a couple of crates of bear and a bottle of tequila, Dean gets the whole story out of Sam. He learns of how, after Stanford, he wanted to travel before he started working and how, whilst hiking through Illinois, he met Ruby; feisty, adventurous and ready to see the world. They ended up travelling across the globe together, hitchhiking where they could and paying their way by gambling. Then, of course, Ruby had started smoking pot, which yeah, Sam had thought that was fine, everyone does pot once, right?
But then it was coke and meth and next thing little Sammy knew he was living in run down motels, screwing random women and injecting smack. At this point, Dean had clenched his beer bottle so tight he thought it might break. But Sam had picked his shit up, got out and admitted himself to rehab. A year later and he was clean, poor as fuck, but clean.
Dean had listened to Sam talk, watched as his fists had clenched when he spoke of his addiction, and how his jaw tightened whenever he said Ruby's name. Dean had asked him if he'd been in love with Ruby and Sam had merely looked away, brow furrowed.
After that, they'd not spoken about it again- why bring up a sore subject? Sam ended up working in The Out Door with Dean and sleeping on his couch. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and anyway, Dean was just happy to have his little brother back.
"Been travelling far and wide, wonder who's gonna' be my guide..."
As the song faded out, the ending words echoing around the shop, Dean, who had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, hadn't noticed someone enter the shop. The song clicked over to The Clash "Should I Stay Or Should I Go" as Dean walks over to the other side of the shop to see if the man needs any help.
His first impression is to wonder if the guy's lost; he's dressed in a suit and a massive trench coat, looking more suited to an office than a record shop. "Can I help you?" Deans asks.
The man looks up and Dean is blindsided by how startlingly blue the man's eyes are, they're almost pretty. If it wasn't for the guy's strong jaw line, Dean would've said he was feminine looking, but the stubble and bed hair was enough to make the man darkly handsome- sexy even.
"I was looking for a gift for my brother," the man replies and Jesus Christ, that voice compared with that hair and all Dean can think is sex.
Dean, however, takes professionalism seriously and forces down his libido. "Uh, sure. Okay, what does your brother like?"
The man shifted awkwardly on his feet, "I don't know. I, uh, I'm not particularly good with popular culture."
"Right." Dean said, "Can you tell me anything he likes? A song, even?"
The man frowned, "There is one song, but I'm not sure of its name."
Dean rubbed his jaw, "Can you remember the lyrics? Or even vaguely how it goes?"
The dark haired man blushed, "Uh, 'don't you want me, baby?'" It took a moment for Dean to realise the guy was quoting the song, and not hitting on him.
He laughed, "That's easy, The Human League. I have a few of their albums over there, he pointed to a rack the other side of the store, "Or you could try The Scissor Sisters, which I guess are pretty similar."
The man made his thanks and headed over to where Dean had pointed out, whilst Dean made his way back to the counter, decidedly not thinking about the guy's ass.
AC/DC were playing, but Dean decided he needed something mellower, instead putting on Pink Floyd's Echoes compilation album. He wasn't a huge fan of Pink Floyd, but Echoes had all the tracks on Dean liked, plus a few others that he didn't mind too much.
It wasn't until "Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)" started playing that the man returned to the counter, two records in hand, both the Human League.
"Playing safe then?" Dean asked, as he rang up the man's purchases.
"It seems best," he replied, "I have little to no knowledge of music and I wouldn't want to buy Gabriel something he wouldn't like."
"Gabriel?" Dean asked. Wasn't Gabriel the angel in the Bible that gave messages and stuff?
The man smiled in a 'I've told this story too many times' kind of way, "Yes. My siblings and I are all named after angels; Michael is my oldest brother, then Gabriel and my youngest brother is called Samandriel."
"Seriously? Wow, dude, that's uh, different, I guess. " Dean put the records in a bag and slid them across the counter, but found himself not wanting to stop talking to the man. "So, which angel are you?"
The man accepted the bag, "I'm Castiel," he said, reaching across the counter to shake Dean's hand.
Dean, unaccustomed to such polite behaviour, took a second to react, before grasping Castiel's palm and shaking his hand, "I'm Dean."
"Nice to meet you, Dean," Castiel said. Their eyes locked and it took too long for Dean to realise he'd been holding Castiel's hand too long to be considered acceptable. Castiel seemed to realise at the same time and took a step back, "I should probably go." He said, but continued to stand where he was, not looking like he wanted to leave.
"Uh, sure man. If you ever want to, uh, expand your musical horizons, come back and I'll give you a one-oh-one on classic rock."
Castiel smiled and nodded, "I think I'd like that Dean, thank you," he said, before exiting the shop.
Dean spent the next few hours serving customers and reorganising the shelves; a tedious job that he normally offloaded onto Sam but Sam spent Tuesday mornings at his support group. By the time lunch rolled around, Dean had forgotten all about the man with the funny name and too big coat.
Sam entered the shop, balancing cups of coffee and, what smelt like, a bag of burgers in one hand, and a pile of packages in the other.
Dean watched as he struggled from behind the counter, smirking when Sam dropped all the packages down. "Hey honey, how was your weekly circlejerk?" Dean said, shit eating grin in place.
Sam adopted his classic bitch face, "It's not a circlejerk, Dean. It's a support group and it's actually really important to me."
Dean rolled his eyes and dove into the bag of burgers. No matter what he said out loud, Dean was happy that Sam was staying on the straight and narrow.
"What's the packages?" Sam asked, as he opened up a disgustingly healthy salad and started covering it in dressing.
Dean scrunched his nose up at Sam's meal, "I don't know" he said, drawing his attention from the greenery the Sam was now digging into and turning instead to the packages.
One package was the copy of David Bowie's latest album that he's bought, hoping it'd be good but not holding out much hope. The other package, however, was a surprise to Dean. It was from Bobby, an old friend of John's who lived up in South Dakota. Dean ripped off the brown wrapping paper and opened the small cardboard box. Inside was a set of keys and a note;
It's been nearly 4 months, when are you gonna come and pick up this blasted car, you idjit.
Dean looked up at Sam and grinned, "Fancy a trip up to see Bobby?"