Away from the Sun
Chapter 4
oooOOOooo
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read so far and to those who reviewed. Everyone in the US, have a safe and happy July 4th!
oooOOOooo
There's another world inside of me
That you may never see
There're secrets in this life
That I can't hide
Somewhere in this darkness
There's a light that I can't find
Maybe it's too far away
Or maybe I'm just blind
When I'm Gone, 3 Doors Down
oooOOOooo
After checking in with Dean and telling him about the conversation with Mindy, Sam headed off down the town's main street. He wanted to talk to some other people to see if anyone had had contact with his brother. At first Dean stayed behind, but it wasn't long before he was following close behind Sam. He refused to go into any of the stores with Sam, instead waiting on the sidewalk just outside the door.
Back in the motel room, Sam watched his brother. Dean was on the edge of his bed with his head down and his hands clasped between his knees. One leg was shaking in an uncharacteristically nervous way and he seemed nothing like himself.
Sam had found out nothing particularly useful in his trip around town. A few people had seen Dean, but no one had really spoken with him or noticed anything out of the ordinary. They had assumed he was just passing through town like so many other people.
The lack of information didn't surprise Sam. Even if he hadn't remembered being a hunter, Dean would have instinctually stayed away from people and kept a low profile. Sam thought it unlikely at this point that they would be able to trace Dean's movements and wondered if maybe getting Dean back to Bobby's was the best course of action. Besides, his brother seemed to be slipping deeper into a bleakness that scared him.
"Dean?" Sam called from the chair where he sat.
After a moment of hesitation, Dean looked at him. His eyes were wide; he didn't even try to conceal his unease.
"I, uh, I don't know what else there is to find here. I mean, it doesn't seem like you talked to anyone but Mindy and you didn't say a whole lot to her. Maybe we should just take off; head to Bobby's."
Dean nodded, noncommittally.
"What do you think?" Sam asked. He wanted Dean to make a decision, even if he had to lead his brother to it.
"I guess."
That wasn't exactly what Sam had in mind, but he wasn't sure if he should press Dean or not. He was so far out of his area of expertise and afraid that whatever he did might cause more damage. Sam knew his brother, though, and after a brief hesitation, Sam moved to the bed opposite Dean.
"What do you want to do?" Sam asked gently.
Sam knew what Dean wanted, but Dean looked at him almost as if he was afraid to admit it. He decided to give his brother an out.
"You know, Bobby is still recuperating. He might appreciate a little help around the place. Besides, it's been a while since the Impala has gotten a good once-over."
There was a slight change to Dean's eyes; he suddenly looked more like himself. Sam wasn't sure if it was the idea of visiting Bobby or having the time to work on his beloved car, but Sam didn't care.
"Let's head out," Dean said. Even his voice sounded stronger. "No reason to stay here another day; we can still make some decent time if we leave now."
--
Sam called Bobby while Dean was doing a quick check of his car. The old man sounded tired, but assured Sam he was feeling better. He also told Sam he was glad they were headed his way and had been set to insist upon it if they had other plans. He listened as Sam told him what he thought had happened to Dean, but didn't offer an opinion. He promised to check with some people he trusted to find someone who might be able to help.
Dean was behind the wheel when the brothers left Lenore. Sam noticed the further away they got, the more like himself Dean became. He could have done with a little less volume on the music, but it was worth it to see the look of solace on his brother's face. Besides, Sam knew why the music was up so loud – it was so they couldn't have a conversation. Sam was familiar with all his brother's tricks and knew if he gave Dean the chance, he'd slip behind his mask and pretend that everything was all right. He'd let Dean do that for the time being, but he was going to have to make his brother face what had happened. Whatever exactly that was.
oooOOOooo
The demon looked thoughtfully after the Impala as it headed out of town. He considered his options and decided to follow them without the body he'd become accustomed to. He didn't even bother hiding before exiting the body in a stream of black smoke. He stuck around for a few minutes to watch the reaction of the people who saw it happen, but quickly got bored. It was always the same. First there was shock, followed quickly by disbelief and then rationalization that it had been anything but what they'd really seen.
He didn't understand why Dean had made the decision to stop at the fast food restaurant. Maybe it had been at Sam's urging, but it wasn't like Dean was going to eat much. He hadn't really eaten since leaving his brother behind. He acted like he was going to and even went through the motions of ordering the food, but in the end, he would consume only a few bites.
Even with his brother across the table from him, the demon knew Dean wouldn't be able to eat like he normally did. Just because he couldn't remember what had happened to him or what he'd been doing didn't mean it wasn't eating him alive. The thoughts of his father and images of the torture he was probably suffering because of him replayed in his head over and over again, becoming more vivid and more painful each time. Those images had kept him from remembering his brother and continued to keep him from eating.
But it wasn't just what was going on with his father now that tore at his soul. It was what had happened with his father in the past. It was never feeling like he was good enough, that his only purpose in life was to take care of his little brother. The demon could see the love Dean had for Sam and guessed that Dean would have taken care of him no matter what the old man had said, but Dean had always felt the heavy hand of obligation as it nearly crushed him.
Despite all of this, Dean had loved his dad. He'd wanted to be like him and that was why, among other things, that he had started listening to classic rock. It was John's favorite music and Dean felt closer to him when he heard it. Gradually, though, he began to love it himself and not just because his dad did. He felt warm and safe in John's leather coat, but he'd stopped pretending that he felt John's arms holding him when he wore it. It still reminded him of his dad, but it was just a coat.
Sam wasn't wrong in his assumption. Seeing Bobby in the hospital after the near-fatal car accident had jarred something in Dean. He was struck with the polar opposites of his feelings for his father and his mind couldn't handle it. Dean loved his dad, but hated him at the same time and he collapsed under the weight of that realization. Not to mention being confronted with how he felt about Bobby had seemed disloyal to his father somehow. The man who had forgotten that his sons were not soldiers had given his life so that Dean could live and now Dean loved another man like a father. What kind of son did that?
The demon hovered unnoticed in a corner of the restaurant while watching the brothers. It was possible to go about undetected, but generally too difficult to do for very long. Just as he knew would happen, Dean ate half the burger he'd ordered and barely touched the fries. The demon was amused by the worry he saw on Sam's face. He could feel the fear coming from both of them and he relished in it. Road trips were a lot of fun.
oooOOOooo
"It's getting late," Sam observed after a couple hours of silence.
After stopping for food, they'd played one of the road games they sometimes entertained themselves with, but Dean had seemed to have a hard time concentrating while driving, so Sam made up an excuse to stop playing. Now he could see Dean's eyes drooping and he knew his brother was getting too tired to drive.
"I'm fine," Dean said.
"Let's just stop at the next place."
"I'm fine," Dean insisted through clenched teeth.
"I never said you weren't, but I'm tired of being in the car."
He saw the irritated glance his brother gave him, but it didn't bother Sam. He'd rather Dean get angry with him than fall asleep and drive them into a tree. It was fifteen miles before they got to an exit and Dean pulled off without prompting. Sam went inside the motel office to get them a room and when he got back to the car, Dean was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
"We're in 115; around back," Sam said.
Dean parked in a spot near their room, but didn't move when Sam opened his door.
"Dean?" Sam paused to look at his brother.
Dean shook his head and reached for the handle. Sam saw him hesitate briefly, but a few minutes later they were both in the room. Sam wanted to crawl right into bed, but he sensed his brother's uneasiness and suspected that whatever else might be going on, Dean was still afraid he might wander off again. Without a word, Sam took the blanket and pillows from his bed and arranged them in front of the door.
"You don't have to do that," Dean said.
"I'm not doing it for you," Sam lied. "I don't want to wake up in the morning to find I have to chase you down again."
His tone was light and he forced a smile to his lips; Sam hoped Dean just accepted the gesture. For a moment it looked as if Dean would protest, but he only nodded and then proceeded to settle on the floor next to Sam.
An hour later Sam was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Another long day in a series of them, but Sam was too worried to sleep. He found some comfort in the sound of his brother's even breathing and he was glad at least one of them wouldn't be exhausted the next day.
Sam looked at Dean when he groaned and suddenly rolled onto his side. A moment later, Dean was on his back again and wrestling with the blanket. He made a sound like a whimper and his breathing started coming in gasps.
"Dean," Sam whispered turning toward him and putting a hand on his arm. He knew from experience that sometimes it was best to let a dream play out until the end, but he hated the thought of his brother being in any more pain than he already was. "Dean, hey, wake up."
Dean pulled away, almost angrily, and muttered something Sam didn't understand. Sam got onto his knees and tried again to calm his brother. Dean moaned, still thrashing under the blanket.
"Dean," Sam said with more force. He knew that Dean tended to respond better to an authoritative voice than one that was gentle. It made perfect sense, considering how their father often spoke to them when they were growing up. "Wake up, Dean."
The older man's eyes fluttered open and for just a moment, Sam saw the uncertainty in them. It didn't take long for Dean to recover and slip behind the walls he'd so carefully constructed over the years. Sam recognized it immediately and as it always did, seeing it happen made him sad. It wasn't that he expected Dean to share everything with him; he certainly had his own secrets, but he wished Dean didn't feel the need to hide from him. He realized the only reason he was allowed behind some of the walls was because he'd been there when they were constructed, but he'd also managed to find the secret entrances into some others.
"You were dreaming," Sam said simply. His heart was beating much faster than his calm voice relayed.
"Sorry I woke you," Dean said, his voice gruff. He glanced at Sam. "Did I say anything this time?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't understand it," Sam sat cross-legged on the floor. "Do you remember what you were dreaming?"
"I don't need a Dr. Phil moment," Dean said, though he matched his brother's position on the floor.
"Why do you do that?" Sam asked, exasperated. "I mean, I get why you do it with other people, but I'm your brother. I know when you're hurting and you just shut me out."
"I'm fine, Sam."
"Dean, I'm sorry, but you're not. You've lost a week of your life, you're afraid you might wander away again, and you're having nightmares that I can tell are freaking you out. Come on, man. If you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"
Sam saw the struggle of emotions on Dean's face and he waited.
"It's hard," Dean whispered, his eyes on the floor. "I've always had to be responsible and strong. I don't know how to ask for help."
"You don't have to ask, Dean. I'm offering."
"What good does it to do talk? It won't change anything. Dad is still dead; he still treated us more like soldiers than sons….Talking won't bring him back and it won't give us a different childhood."
"Dean…." Sam wasn't used to being in the position of defending their father, but despite their rocky relationship, Sam never doubted their dad's love. It wasn't until recently that he'd realized Dean did sometimes question it. "Dad did the best he could, man. He was in an impossible situation and –"
"It doesn't matter, Sammy."
"Yeah, it does. Tell me about your dream. Was it about Dad?"
Dean glanced at him, uncertainty coloring his face.
"It helps to talk. After Jess died and I was feeling so guilty….those dreams….you wanted me to talk about them. If it was good for me, it's good for you."
Dean smirked. "You think so, huh?"
"I went to college, remember?" Sam joked.
"Yeah, but you slacked off and didn't graduate."
Sam saw the small sparkle in Dean's eyes and the hint of a smile on his face. It suddenly hit him how much he missed his brother.
Dean took a deep breath. "I honestly don't remember much about the dream; I think I've been dreaming a lot lately, though. And I don't know, but I get the feeling some of them have been pretty messed up."
"Like how?" Sam asked, grateful Dean seemed to be opening up a little.
"I don't know….scary. But…" Dean shook his head.
"But what?" Sam prompted.
"I've never thought much about getting married or having a family, but this one dream….there's a girl and I get the feeling we're together, ya know? And it….it feels nice."
"There's nothing wrong with that, Dean."
"It can't happen," Dean said firmly. "Not with what we do."
"That's not necessarily true. And besides, we don't have to do this forever."
"I don't know how to do anything else."
"Now I know that's not true," Sam insisted.
"I don't know how to live in a house or be just a regular person. I know how to hunt and exorcise demons and –"
"Don't sell yourself short, man. If you want to live in a house and be a regular person, you can do it. I know you can."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't really matter. What girl is gonna want to settle down with someone like me?"
"I don't like it when you put yourself down that way, Dean."
Dean shrugged, but said nothing.
"You know," Sam ventured. "Maybe your dreams are trying to tell you something. Maybe you really do want to find a girl and settle down some day."
"What about the bad dreams? Are they trying to tell me something, too?"
Sam opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. He thought about it for a few moments before saying anything. "They probably are, Dean, but maybe not literally."
"Here comes the psycho-babble."
"Hey, you asked," Sam smiled.
"Hit me, college boy."
"You're fighting with yourself. You might want something that you aren't letting yourself consider. So, you have nightmares – they aren't literal, but represent the conflict you're feeling. And the dream about living with a girl in a house….that might not be literal, either. Maybe you don't necessarily want the house and the suburban lifestyle, but you do want one person who loves and accepts you for what you are."
"I'm getting a headache from all this sugar."
Sam heard what Dean said, but also saw the thoughtful expression on his face - he wasn't completely discounting what Sam had told him.
"So what does all this have to do with Dad and Bobby?" Dean asked after a few minutes
"I don't know, Dean. Maybe it's just time to face how you really feel about a lot of things."
"I don't think I want to do that."
"You may not have a choice. You took off and you don't remember why or what you did….Dean….look, I wasn't going to say anything yet, but, well, I talked to Bobby earlier and he knows someone who can help. He's a psychiatrist and he was a hunter until he lost his arm in a fight with a vampire. He's going to meet us at Bobby's in a couple of days."
Dean looked down at the floor.
"Dean?" Sam asked quietly.
"I….were you just going to spring this on me when the guy walked into the house?" Dean asked, still not looking at Sam.
"I was going to tell you once we got to Bobby's."
Dean nodded.
"Come on, man. You know I wouldn't do that to you. I just didn't want you to refuse to even go to Bobby's."
Dean seemed to close up as Sam watched; he almost seemed smaller and Sam didn't like it at all. When Dean laid back down and pulled the blanket tight around him, Sam thought he'd made a mistake in telling his brother about the doctor. He tried to think of something to say; the sudden tense silence of the room was disturbing.
"Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"If I find out something I don't like….will you…?"
"You're my brother, Dean. No matter what."
oooOOOooo
The demon moved away from the motel in an unnoticed stream of black smoke. Things were going to be considerably less fun if Dean started opening up to his brother. Then again, Dean had been hiding a lot – not only from Sam but from himself – and it would take a long time to work through it all.
The demon knew that Sam would probably never find out where his brother had spent the majority of the week they'd spent apart. It wasn't something that Dean was going to want to pursue any time soon and by the time he might be ready, the trail would be cold. His memory of the events would never return because that's just how these things worked. But the demon knew where Dean had been. The demon knew what Dean had done and how it had made him feel.
Humans weren't necessarily the demon's favorite thing, but he had to admit that hanging out with Dean was turning out to be a lot of fun….
--
Dean walked into the bar full of confidence. He ordered a beer and stood facing the room. The inside was nicer than he'd expected from the worn exterior, but it was still a standard working class place and he immediately felt comfortable there.
He saw a pool table near the back of the large, mostly open room with a group of intense-looking men around it. Clearly this was an important match. There was another table on the other side occupied by young women who didn't seem at all serious about the game. Dean thought that was the more interesting group to watch.
There were five of them; four tall blondes in short skirts and full make-up along with a petite brunette. She was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting sweater and Dean didn't think she even had on foundation. He could hear her laugh over the others, but it wasn't loud or obnoxious. It was almost musical and Dean found himself paying more attention to her than to her more stunning counterparts.
After a few minutes, she approached the bar and ordered five beers.
"Need some help carrying the drinks?" Dean asked, showing her his most impressive smile.
She looked uncertain at first, but returned the smile and nodded. "Sure, thanks."
They walked over to the pool table together and Dean helped her pass out the beer. Her friends flirted with him and he ended up coaching them with their game for a while. None of them improved, but they didn't seem to mind; especially after a few more drinks.
"Are you the designated driver?" Dean smiled at the brunette after relinquishing one of the pool cues to a tipsy blonde. He'd noticed she wasn't drinking as much as her friends.
"Not quite. I'm the designated cab caller."
"There's a lot of responsibility in calling a cab," Dean said earnestly, though his eyes sparkled.
She smiled. "I think I can handle it."
They sat quietly, watching the others play pool….or attempt to play while they consumed beer.
"Your friends don't seem all that serious about their game," Dean commented.
She looked toward them and shook her head. "They never are. They'll get bored soon and turn the table over to people who really know how to play. Then they'll start flirting with guys and giving out fake phone numbers."
"Good to know," Dean nodded. "It sounds like you don't really want to be here."
"We come here almost every Tuesday because it's half-price beer for the ladies," she rolled her eyes as she said it. "I'm usually here just to make sure they don't get into too much trouble."
Dean looked at her – she reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite place it.
"Hanging out in bars isn't really my thing," she continued unprompted. "I like movies, books…not that you asked."
"You didn't give me a chance."
"So, why aren't you trying to pick up one of them?" she asked nodding toward the pool table.
"I'd rather talk to you."
She turned her eyes toward him, surprised.
The demon watched, surprised himself. This surely wasn't the great Dean Winchester he'd heard about. This girl was pretty, but certainly not his type. She was bookish, for Pete's sake! Her friends were tall and blonde; they would probably have sex with him just because and he was focusing on the little brunette who likes to read! He could talk about books with his brother.
But there was something off about him. Dean had the swagger and the cocky attitude the demon would have expected, but something was missing.
"What kind of movies do you like?" Dean asked. "Let me guess; artsy foreign films?"
She pretended to be offended. "Seriously? That's what I look like?"
Dean shrugged, a smile on his lips.
"Okay, I watch some artsy foreign films, but mostly I like horror and action."
"Horror and action, huh? Well, then, maybe we'll have to see a movie together."
She said nothing.
"My name is Dean," he said after a moment.
"Lindsey."
The demon didn't have to be in the same room to hear what was going on with Dean and his new friend, but he couldn't resist hopping into a body and moving closer. He could move about relatively undetectable by most people, but hunters were more sensitive to supernatural creatures. He felt almost like he was throwing himself at Dean and was a little disappointed that the hunter seemed not to notice him.
Lindsey kept an eye on her friends, but settled in with Dean as they talked about movies for a while. Something still seemed strange about him and the demon wondered where Sam was, but he supposed the brothers weren't exactly tied at the hip.
The longer Lindsey and Dean talked, the more strange the demon thought it was. Of course Dean wasn't going to tell her what he did for a living, but the demon was surprised he didn't just avoid the topic completely. Instead, he talked about being a mechanic and hoping to one day own his own garage. Where was that coming from? Sure, Dean's love of cars was obvious and his father had owned a garage, but what an interesting lie.
The demon continued to listen to their conversation, trying to reconcile what he knew about Dean to what he was telling this girl. He also kept wondering why just her when there were so many others around. The Dean Winchester he'd heard about was a player, not someone who hung out in a corner with the wallflowers. Curiosity finally got the best of him and the demon reached out to find out what he could.
Not all demons could necessarily read minds, not that that was exactly what he was doing. He was able to sense what was really going on inside a human; to see past the persona he or she showed to the world. There were different layers, depending on how deep he wanted to go. Generally, it didn't take much probing to get to the truth. But what he picked up from Dean shocked him – there was nothing past this persona. The mechanic who wanted to own a garage someday was all that existed.
The demon kept going; he pushed past layer after layer of blackness to find the real Dean, but as he did, the man sitting in the bar became more and more uneasy. The demon decided to wait until later to go any deeper and once he'd stopped probing, Dean was comfortable again and he went back to impressing Lindsey.
She got her friends safely into cabs at the end of the evening, then left the bar with Dean. She lived only down the street and they walked while holding hands. The demon followed, having left behind the body he'd borrowed. He watched as they settled on the couch in her apartment with soda and was surprised they were still there – talking – when the sun came up.
Lindsey got a pot of coffee started, then left Dean to his own devices while she showered. Most of the furniture was old, but the entertainment center was well-stocked with top-notch electronics. He spent a few minutes looking around the living room, picking up random objects for closer examination. She had few knick-knacks, but several pictures of who were probably family members and friends.
Dean, and in turn the demon, had learned that Lindsey normally attended school while working as a legal secretary at a local law firm. The girls she'd been at the bar with were friends from work, but in addition to their weekly outing, Lindsey socialized with them frequently when classes weren't in session. She was a pre-law major, on a break between semesters.
She'd grown up on a farm in southern Wisconsin, but her mother sold it after her father's fatal heart attack two years before. Her mother now lived in Florida and they didn't see each very often. Her older sister was studying to be a doctor at a university in the northeast and Lindsey didn't see her much, either.
Lindsey found Dean sitting at the kitchen with a cup of coffee when she came in dressed for work.
"I hope you don't mind," Dean smiled as he held up the cup.
"Of course not. Do you want a bagel? That's about the extent of the food I have here at the moment." She didn't wait for an answer and took the package from a cupboard.
Dean stood up and took it from her. "Let me do that. Sit down and enjoy your coffee."
She looked at him, surprised, and smiled. "Thanks."
"What time do you have to be at work?" Dean asked as he sliced two bagels and slipped the halves into the toaster. Lindsey got cream cheese from the refrigerator, then filled a mug with coffee before settling at the table.
"Normally I don't have to be there until 9:00, but my attorney has clients coming in early," she laughed. "God, I can't believe we were up all night talking."
"Yeah," Dean leaned back against the counter and smiled at her. "I'm sorry about that."
"Sorry? Why?"
"You have to work; you're gonna crash before noon."
She waved a hand. "I'll be fine. So, what about you? You don't have to work?"
Yeah, Dean, the demon thought. Don't you have to work?
"I don't actually have a job yet. New in town, remember?"
Brilliant!
"So, what are you going to do today?" she asked.
Dean didn't hesitate. "I thought I'd go around to a few garages; see if I can pick up some work."
The demon watched as Dean spread the cream cheese onto the toasted bagels and put them onto a plate before sitting next to Lindsey. He really didn't understand what was going on and couldn't wait for Dean to settle down so he could do some prying. He didn't need Dean's permission, but it might be easier to get the information he wanted once Dean was alone.
"Why don't you come over tonight for dinner?" Lindsey suggested.
"Are you serious?"
"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't. It won't be fancy, but it will be edible."
"Who could ask for a better offer?" Dean grinned.
Lindsey returned the smile before starting on her bagel.
Dean asked her a few questions about her job and while the demon listened disinterestedly, Dean seemed fascinated. Either all those stories the demon had heard over the years were lies, or there was something really wrong. The demon hoped it was the latter.
"Well, I need to get going," Lindsey said as she stood up.
"I'll walk out with you."
"Why don't you come back around 6:00?" she suggested.
"Can I bring anything?"
If the demon had eyes, he would have rolled them. This really was getting to be too much.
"Bring some beer."
"I think I can handle that."
They paused outside of Lindsey's apartment door while she locked it. As if they'd been together for years, their hands entwined as they headed for the front entrance of the building. Her car was parked a block down the street and as they walked, they talked.
"Can I drop you somewhere?" Lindsey asked.
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though."
Lindsey leaned back against her five-year old hatchback. "Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"You ever gonna kiss me?"
Dean smiled, then held her face gently in both hands. She was a good five inches shorter than him, so it he had to lean in quite a bit. The kiss began timid, but quickly grew. When Lindsey pulled away a few minutes later, she was flush and out of breath.
"I….I have to go to work," she said.
"I'll see you tonight."
Lindsey nodded and got into her car. Dean leaned through the open window and kissed her again.
The demon followed Dean down the street. Surely the Impala was parked nearby. He was taken aback when Dean paused at a bus stop and read the schedule hanging on the pole. Fifteen minutes later he was on a bus headed across town.
He waited until Dean was more relaxed to start probing, but had barely gotten through the layers of darkness when he found something unexpected. Dean totally and completely believed the lies he'd told Lindsey. He thought he was a mechanic who had dreams of owning his own garage. He thought he'd gotten tired of the small town he grew up in and had left, wanting a change. He had no doubts that his parents lived in the mid-west, that they spoke on a weekly basis and that his younger brother was going to school in California.
The demon felt Dean's discomfort and backed away, content to watch for a while and think about what he'd learned so far. Dean got off the bus and walked into an old motel, after stopping at a paper box for the morning newspaper. He unlocked a door on the second floor and walked inside, feeling completely content. He looked through the classified ads and made a couple of calls before getting into the shower.
The demon followed Dean when he left the motel, dressed in clean clothes. He got onto another bus and ended up at a garage a few blocks away. All the car talked bored the demon, but he couldn't help but be impressed with Dean's extensive knowledge. The manager hired him on the spot and told him to report the next day at 7:30.
Back in the motel room, Dean felt at ease. Even though the demon had seen that Dean believed his lies to Lindsey, he was surprised that the hunter took no precautions in the room. There was no salt and no protective symbols. With nothing to keep him out, the demon floated unnoticed into the room and settled in to watch.
Dean kicked off his boots and slipped out of his coat, hanging it carefully over the back of a chair. There was a small kitchenette in the room and Dean studied the meager contents of the refrigerator before pulling out a soda and sitting down on a worn couch. After a few sips of the drink, he stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. He was asleep a few minutes later.
The demon knew this was the best chance he would get to slide into Dean's memories undetected. He zipped past the now familiar darkness and back through the things Dean had said to Lindsey. There were more similar untrue recollections – thoughts of a woman he'd dated for a couple of years, his high school graduation, prom, baseball and soccer games, and even childhood illnesses. The demon saw visions of Dean's parents; including the mother the demon knew to be dead. Dean had memories of her all throughout his life that were impossible.
As Dean slept, unaffected by the examination, the demon probed deeper. He worked his way past more memories he knew couldn't be real and then into another area of darkness. This one was somehow even bleaker than the others and the demon paused, a strange sensation coursing through him. He'd never experienced anything so odd before; it was almost as if he'd gone from the mind of one person into another, though he knew so such thing had occurred.
Carefully traversing the void he'd discovered, the demon finally found himself in another flood of memories. What he saw here was more in line with what he knew about the Winchesters. He saw that Dean's life had begun happy enough; he was loved and cared for by parents who adored him. He'd been confused when they told him that he was going to become a big brother, but he listened to what his mom and dad told him about what it meant and soon came to love the baby that hadn't even been born yet. Once Sammy had been brought home from the hospital, Dean doted on his little brother. He'd stand at the crib and talk to Sam for hours, whether the baby was asleep or awake. Dean was happy to sit close to his mom when she rocked Sammy and felt safe and secure on his dad's lap when he would cuddle with both of his sons.
Even though it had been locked very far away, Dean still remembered the details of the night his mother died. Probably not consciously, but the memories were still there. He had been awake when Sammy started to fuss and was about to join their mother in the nursery when he saw her walk past his room going in the opposite direction. He saw her race back toward his brother after only a few moments and then heard the scream….he didn't know what to do and before he could make a decision, his father ran past his bedroom. Whatever had happened, Dean was sure his dad would take care of it.
But then Dean had begun to hear a strange crackling noise and heard his dad call his mom's name. Little Dean had made his way down the hallway, feeling it get hotter the closer he got. The image of the fire was still vivid in Dean's mind even though he hadn't gotten a good look at the flames. Before he could really see what was going on, his dad had thrust the baby into his arms and told him to run. Dean had been stunned at first, but he always did what his dad told him to do and he sensed that it was more important this time than any other.
The days after the fire had been horrible for the little boy. He didn't understand where his mom was or why his dad was so sad. Sammy cried a lot and they weren't living in their house. Dean had felt alone, but was able to get solace from his little brother. He loved being able to make the baby laugh and soon it would make him feel better, too.
For a while, after he realized that nothing was going back to the way it had been, after his dad had finally been able to explain things to him, Dean didn't play with Sammy much. He didn't feel like talking and he spent a lot of time by himself. But he'd still rush to the baby's crib when he cried and sometimes he would crawl into the crib at night when their dad was asleep.
Gradually he got used to the new arrangement, but then his dad started acting even more strange. Later, the adult would realize that had to be when his dad was first learning about the supernatural and the thing that had killed his mom, but the little boy remembered it was as if the rug had been pulled out from under him again. Dean felt no security, except with his little brother. And then one night, their dad rushed them out of the house where they'd been staying….Dean became even more sullen and somehow knew this was what his life would be from then on. There'd be no real home, he'd get only sparse attention from his dad and he'd be responsible for taking care of Sammy.
But along side this sadness, the demon saw other things. Dean may not consciously remember the more tender moments with his father, but there had been many. Granted, as the boys got older and John became more aware of the dangers they'd face, he got harder. He pushed them beyond their limits, but he also made them feel loved. Dean knew that. It was deep within the recesses of his memories; well past places Dean wouldn't revisit, but his father's love was still part of him.
The demon almost felt bad for Dean; there were so many good memories hidden not only under all of the bad ones, but those that were inaccurate as well. There were many things Dean had misunderstood as a child, things his father had left without explanation. So many misunderstandings….
But through it all, there was Sam. Well, except for his time at Stanford. Those memories were floating around inside Dean's head, too. He'd been proud of Sam for standing up for what he wanted, but felt betrayed by him as well. And Sam's leaving meant Dean was alone with their father….except that their father had stopped paying real attention to him years before. He may as well have been alone because that's how Dean had felt after Sam left.
The demon sensed that Dean was waking up and he retreated to a corner of the room to watch. Dean sat up, obviously uncomfortable. He looked around as if he knew he wasn't alone, but after a moment he shook off the feeling and stood up.
tbc