One of my first stories...tell me what you think!
I've yet to see any fics showing Dean's pov before getting Sam at school. I thought it would be pretty, um, insightful to see, though.
Please read and review!
Before The Beginning
Chapter 1: Driving
The low grind of the Impala shook Dean's feet as he turned the engine of his '67 Impala. ACDC immediately started blaring on the stereo. Dean tapped his foot in tune with the guitar riffs, as if to distract him from the task at hand.
"Here you go, Mr. Timbers." The gas attendant gave Dean back his fake credit card. Hunting hardly paid off financially.
"Thanks." Dean took the card and stashed it in the glove compartment, shutting it quickly to hide the dozens of fake ID's from the attendant, "Can you tell me how to get to Stanford University?" He couldn't believe the words rolling off his tongue.
"Take a left at the third light from here." The attendant told him with such confidence that Dean got the impression he went to Stanford himself.
Do you know him, then?
Dean shook the thought out and thanked him, and then drove off into the dark.
What the hell am I doing? He thought to himself, as he sped past the first light. I could do this thing on my own. It's not like I need his help. He walked out on us, obviously. Is he gonna wanna help?
He lowered the volume of the stereo as he passed by a local bar. Some people, maybe students, were coming out all dressed up. It was Halloween, a day Dean often purposely looked over. Halloween, filled with demons and ghosts, was his everyday. He couldn't put it aside especially in his mind, not since he was 4 and his mom had taken him trick or treating. He had been a firefighter.
The clock said 2 am, but it didn't feel like it, probably because Dean hadn't been getting much sleep lately on account of a haunting message from his father.
At the next stoplight, the thought of re-listening to the tape waved over Dean. Almost subconsciously, Dean pulled the tape player from under the passenger seat. He dazedly pressed "play."
Static ensued for a second, and then his father's voice, barely audible.
"Dean, something is starting to happen, I think it's serious. I need to try to figure out what's going on." Static silence for about 2 seconds and then, "Be very careful Dean, we're all in danger."
By "we", Dean often assumed it had just been the oldest Winchester and his father. About a day ago, when he had played back the message in his usual sleep deprived manner, a new theory dawned on him. He needed Sam, his younger brother, the one who went to college and was interpreted as the one who "left the family." How strange was it that he would soon be joining Dean or, at least, Dean hoped.
The ACDC tape finished abruptly and silence cloaked the lone driver. He didn't bother popping in another tape. He needed to face his thoughts.
You can turn back right now. Forget about him…you can do this on your own. A part of Dean pointed out. Would Dad want this?
But you don't want to do this on your own, idiot. Something else beckoned. You need help, can't you see?
Dean silenced his mind, and the easy creaking of the wheels braking made his mind start again.
Well, you're here. You made it. Now go ask him. Dean mulled over this notion. He needs it more than you do.
Did he? Did Sam need to come back to this family? As far as Dean was concerned, Sam had left through his own will. John Winchester, hardly the one to disregard loyalty, told him to never come back. That was the only command from his father Sam had taken and followed whole-heartedly.
Dean (the one who often reflected his mother), however, was the one who wanted to keep the family together, although it was often masked by bravado and a morbid sense of humour. You had to develop humour to be on this job, anyway.
His knuckles white on the steering wheel, silence louder than ever, and his eyes closed (unable to stand the sign that said it was Sam's campus), Dean started to cry. Emotions were useless in his line of work so he got rid of them long before, but they were all coming back to bite him in the ass right at this moment.
He let two tears drip from either eyelid, forming drops on his lashes, and then wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his leather jacket.
Dean was both depressed and excited to be here. He didn't want to stand facing his little brother, having to make small talk, something he was never fine with. He wanted it to be back to normal, back to making crude jokes and calling each other "jerk" and "bitch." He wanted them to be brothers again, and not just in the sense of DNA.
Something inside Dean twitched and he suddenly remembered how angry he had been when Sam left to go become "Joe College", even pangs of jealousy had lingered for a while.
Jealousy, but for what? For having the courage to take a try at the SATs and apply to a school, at having the guts to piss of their father (something Dean had always been too afraid to do), or the fact that John Winchester had actually paid attention to Sam? That John Winchester's face glowed with pride after Sam left to get an education because, in all honesty, he wanted his son to be formally educated? That Dean never once saw that look cross John Winchester's face when he talked about his first-born?
Still, something kept hanging onto the hope that he and Sam could be brothers again. They'd be able to joke and kid and fight and argue and even bash each other for which girls they decided to hit on. They would forget the years they lost together (4, in fact) of brotherly love. They would be in sync again and be one hell of a pair of hunters.
He would strive for that more than he ever strived for anything.
Before Dean let another string of thoughts break free from his mind, his mouth dried. God, He thought inwardly, I could really use a beer.
Killing the engine, Dean left the Impala. He stashed his keys in his jacket pocket, found good footing on one of the lower windowsills and proceeded to break into his little brother's apartment.