Disclaimer: Characters/setting not mine, written for fun and practice only.
A/N: Please review! This is my first published piece for Supernatural; I've got a few more on the way and one for Sherlock as well, so look out for those.
Dean slammed the door of the Impala closed behind him, the excess force shaking the car as he sat down inside it. He let out a shaky breath, resting his head in his hands; elbows on the dashboard.
He and Sam were fighting again.
Dean didn't even know what it was about, this time. Too much time locked down in the bunker, he guessed. The fallen angels situation was wearing down hard on both of them, and days of fruitless research led them quickly to the level of stress where all it seemed they could do was take it out on each other.
He'd seen this one coming a ways off, actually. Dean had even invited Kevin and Charlie up to help with research, hoping the company (read: audience) would get the brothers to play nice. But it had been too little, too late, and the tempers that had been running high for days finally resulted in a huge blow-up this morning, which Dean had just stormed away from. He felt a bit guilty, realizing he'd essentially just left Charlie to damage control (Kevin had been in the basement engrossed in tablet research; it would probably take several nuclear detonations to break his focus).
Dean took out his pocketknife, and slit it in a premade slot in the car's upholstery, directly above the gas pedal. Invisible from the outside, once the blade slid it open it revealed a small compartment, revealing wires and gut of the car. Here Dean hid his deepest secret. He reached in and pulled out a cassette tape. Black, a thin strip of off-white tape wrapped around it, but otherwise unmarked, and dusty from its place in the car's mechanics. He slid it into the cassette player and pressed play.
The first track on the tape came on.
You know the bed feels warmer
Sleeping here alone…
It was a mixtape, one that he'd recorded personally. It had Kelly Clarkson, Pink, Carrie Underwood… music he'd never just listen to, and that he felt faintly sacrilegious making his baby play. But there was something about these songs that got to him whenever he felt like this, that got him back in a fighting mood.
He turned the volume, and as the sound washed over him the back of his eyes began to burn.
He thought about all the shit they'd been through recently. The trials, closing the gates of hell. Finding out what the ultimate cost would be. It seemed lately like the order of everything was breaking down. He was losing his grip, and he couldn't make anything happen the way it was supposed to. Dean hated feeling like this, like his throat was tight and he couldn't breathe and the world was spinning out of his control. He was used to a heavy weight on his shoulders and couldn't stand feeling like he wasn't strong enough to carry it.
There was a knock on the door.
Dean hurriedly wiped his eyes and shut off the music as the car door opened and Charlie sat next to him in the passenger seat.
"Uh, hey," he said, with the falsest smile, knowing it was no good. His eyes were red and his pain felt too visible on his face. "I was just, uh…"
"Rocking out?" Charlie joked, her voice gentle, as she took a pack of tissues from her jacket pocket and handed him one. "You know, maybe you guys better check her out for witchcraft or something, cause home girl Clarkson got some serious mojo for healing the soul."
Dean snorted a laugh in spite of himself. He was still rubbing his eyes, trying to rid himself of any sign of pain or weakness.
Charlie gave him a nudge. "So, come on, are you gonna let me listen to this super secret mixtape you got?" She shot him a smile, "Cause, please, you should never stop rockin' on my account."
Dean gave Charlie a once-over. Normally his response to a situation like this would be to run and hide behind his many, many walls of emotional repression, but here she was, from her Gryffindor socks to her Star Trek hair clip, in the passenger seat of his Impala. Just trying to help. Not running away.
"Alright," he conceded gruffly, "I guess one song, since you've already heard it…"
Charlie leaned forward and hit play on the cassette player.
"Thanks to you I got a new thing started
Thanks to you I'm not broken hearted…"
As the first notes of the chorus came on, Charlie sang along, tentatively at first, until a high note came along and her voice cracked spectacularly, sending her into a fit of giggles. Dean smiled.
"You know I once snuck in to a Kelly Clarkson concert?" Charlie said, once her laughter died down.
"No kidding?" Dean turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows. "How'd that go?"
Charlie pulled a face. "Not so good. Got caught, mom had to come bail me out. First thing on my official record, actually."
"You're serious? You, Charlie Bradbury, Queen of Moons, computer genius, nerd extraordinaire got your criminal beginnings for a Kelly Clarkson gig?"
She shrugged. "What can I say? It gave me the bug," she said, eyes widening dramatically.
Dean tried valiantly not to laugh.
By the time their conversation had run its course, Dean was surprised to find that the tape was already over.