Take a Sad Song, And Make It Better
Sometimes, Dean just needs music. Sometimes he just needs to take a long drive to a quiet field and have a beer while the music clears his head. He needs it. Because while the bottle helps ease the thoughts that won't stop running through his head, it's always been the music that soothes him the most.
When things get really bad, he'll slip out while Sam finally sleeps and really let it all out. Because he can never muster up the courage to tell anyone what's really going on. There's so much that he tucks away and covers up. Whether he wants to or has to, he's never been sure. What he does know is that he's tired. He's tired of fighting, of running and especially of watching Sam become colder and harder…become him. When the guilt gets too overwhelming, he'll crack a cold beer and pop in the same over played tape he always does. He'll smile and lean the seat back, remembering when the biggest problem he had was a vengeful spirit.
He's heard the tape a million times before, but the songs never get old. He thinks it's because they all represent his life, all neatly packaged in a cassette. It reminds him of when things were good. When his dad was alive and Sam was still just his nerdy little brother.
The first three songs always remind him of Bobby's. A place that, in his younger years, almost always meant staying up late and sneaking out. When the music starts, Dean can almost smell the whiskey and old books that litter the old grumps house. He'll smile to himself and plan a surprise visit one of these days.
The next five always take him back to when him and Sam had first hit the road. It was the happiest time in Dean's life. Because he needed Sam. He's always needed Sam and the night he'd left for college was one that Dean had played and re-played in his head a million times.
The next four songs always make him think. About what? Well, that depends on his mood. Sometimes it's anger. Because he was forced to be a man when he was only a child, because his father never once said thank you. Because as much as he tries not to think about it, he's broken and he'd give anything not to be. Sometimes, it's regret he feels. For being alive when he knows he shouldn't be, for letting Sam go down a dark road all alone because he didn't have the balls to just tell Sam that he cares, because he's only really had one job in his life and he always manages to fuck it up.
The two songs after that are for his mother. If he tries hard enough, Dean can still remember her smile or the way she always smelled like flowers. He feels bad when Sam says he doesn't remember, but he's grateful he can. He always turns the music up when "Hey Jude" comes on and wonders if she would be proud of him. If she would patch him up after a bad hunt and give him a sandwich. The idea always makes him happy and sad at the same time.
And the final three songs always make him crack another beer. They make him lonely, which is always the worst of all. He wishes there was someone he could talk to about the guilt and the anger that weighs him down and makes him tired. Sure he talks to Sammy, but he'll never understand, not really anyways. He's always been sheltered, kept safe from the hits that Dean was forced to take instead. That's what gets him the most, he thinks. The loneliness is the worst of it because no one ever really understands the way the music does. No one will ever explain it in exactly the same way.
Dean sighs and tosses the empty beer into the trash and ejects the tape. He's been gone for two hours now and he hopes Sam isn't awake when he gets back. He puts the tape into the glove compartment and slips back into the hotel room, grateful his brother is still slumbering quietly. He'll lay there and just before he falls asleep, the last thing he'll hear is "Hey Jude" quietly floating through his mind. His mother's final lullaby captured forever in a cassette.