Dean stood in the garage beside the blanketed Impala and stared down at the metal trunk on the floor. He hadn't meant to come in here; he hadn't meant to be standing over the trunk with sweaty palms and the keys resting heavily in his pocket, but something had pulled him in. Like an undeniable urge to do what he hadn't done since he'd locked that trunk up six months ago.
With a deep breath Dean lowered himself down in front of the footlocker and pulled the key out of his pocket, sliding it into the lock and turned. The metal popped with a rushed click and Dean nervously removed it so he could get at the contents.
He knew what he was looking for and he felt like an idiot even as his heart race. He lifted the lid. The sudden smell of salt and gunpowder hitting his senses. He pulled the top layer of the box away and found his journal. Not his fathers but his. He'd been keeping one for years and as like everything about Dean; it was identical to his fathers. Except for much of its contents.
Sammy had only seen it on a few occasions but had never read it. He'd only pulled it out when the occasion called for it or when he was sure he was alone.
It wasn't that it was a secret, he wasn't a girl and this wasn't his diary but there were a few things that were somewhat private. Girls phone numbers for example. He smiled to himself as he pulled at the leather tongue that held the thing closed.
There were photos, of Sammy, of their Mom and Dad.
He flicked through the pages until he found what he'd come here to see. He still could understand what had possessed him to one; take the thing in the first place and two; be sitting here staring at it.
But there it was in all its black and white glory. A photo that shouldn't even exist.
He hadn't meant to bring it back with him. In fact he'd forgotten it had even been in his pocket until two weeks later when he'd found it while doing laundry.
The worn photograph of a future that Sammy had changed. A world where Sammy had said yes but hadn't had the strength to take control. A world where Bobby was dead. A world that had end because of that damn Croatoan virus… a world where his best friend wasn't an angel any longer, but an stoner with a worse dress sense than he had now, who slept around almost as much as Dean did, without a care and took drugs to come down.
That Cas hadn't been his Cas. Though he liked him in a way, it was nice to see that he'd chilled out just a bit but it had been almost painful to see him turn into….. Himself.
Cas was better than him. Dean thought. And it wasn't right that he'd become that man. He was supposed to be the sensibly one in their relationship. The one that would look at Dean and shake his head when he did something he didn't approve of. He was the one who was meant to be completely terrified of the opposite sex while Dean took every opportunity to have some fun.
And that had been why the moment he'd set eyes on his Cas again he'd told him to never change and Cas had smiled at him and put Dean at easy.
Dean looked down at that photo now and still couldn't fathom why he'd taken it. He held it between his thumb and fingers and stared at the people in it. All but two he didn't even know, but his eyes rested for a moment of Bobby and he thought he really needed to call the old fart just to see if he's alright. He hadn't spoken to him in months. Dean felt his throat close as that bad-son-failer feeling took hold. Bobby may not be his actually father, but he was the only one he had.
Then his eyes settled on Cas and his throat grew even tighter. Another person he'd turned his back on. His heart seemed to jump and his gut tightened as he looked at the scruffy man in the photo, so unlike his Cas except for the smile and warm gaze that Dean had never seen him give another person, not Sammy or Bobby, not even Anna or Uriel.
Dean clenched his jaw and cursed in his head. What the fuck was wrong with him. Had he somehow turned into a girl in the past six months? He angrily dropped the photo back into the journal, dropped the journal into the box and after replacing the top tray he slammed the lid down with a crash, flinching at the sound. Snapping the lock back into place he threw the dustsheet over it and stood. Turning he meet the curious gaze of Lisa as she stood in the door frame staring at him.
"You ok?" she asked
"Sure." Dean smiled with that flirty charming smile he always gave. Completely unaware that it didn't reach his eyes. "You looking for me?"
"No." she replied coolly. "Just… heard a bang and came to see what it was."
Dean looked guiltily down at the box. "I was just… looking for a screwdriver." He walked over to the tool chest and pulled out the tool. "Here we go."
"What's that for?"
Dean smiled and met Lisa's eyes. "Sid needs it."
The lies just came so easily to Dean, but then he'd spent his whole life lying one way or another. She knew that much. He'd told her a little about his life but not everything. She was pretty sure he hadn't even scratched the surface. He told her only what he wanted her to know. Nothing that truly matter. Like that burn mark on his shoulder, the one in the shape of a hand print. He had never told her where that came from or how he'd gotten it and every time she brought it up his eyes would cloud over with a kind of sadness and he change the subject. He covered it all the time, even in bed and when she had touched it he'd flinch like it was painful though it clearly wasn't.
So she'd stopped asking….. About everything.
"Okay." She said, lowering her eyes.
Dean walked over to her. "Maybe we could go out tonight?" He was trying again. As he always did when he realised he was failing to keep his promise.
"Aren't you going out with Sid and the guys from work?" Lisa said looking up though her lashes.
"Oh…" Dean had forgotten that. One of the guys was getting married and it was his bucks' night. "I could cancel?"
"No. you go." She sighed. "Me and Ben where planning on watch a movie anyway." She smiled tightly and turned to leave.
Dean looked down at the screwdriver and cursed himself an idiot. Like Sid didn't have one of his own. He groaned. Why hadn't he just told her the truth, that he was taking a trip down memory lane.
Because Lisa didn't practically care for his memory lane, it was a rather dark, frightening and dangerous one. And plus part of Dean didn't want to have to explain just who lived there.
He looked over at the box and noticed something poking out from beneath the dustsheet. Strolling over he bent down to pick it up and swallowed at the small column of photo-booth pictures that had obviously fallen out of his journal.
He couldn't help the smile that sped across his lips as he looked down at them. The top two in particular always made him laugh. They'd been taken when Dean had had to fake an FBI ID for Cas while they were looking for Raphael. He'd forced the angel into a photo-booth and told him to "sit still and don't smile." Which in Cas's case was really much of a possibility.
Cas had asked why they were doing this but Dean had just told him to sit still again and wait. It hadn't occurred to him to warn Cas about the flash. So when the bulb when off Cas had blinked. It had taken two goes for Cas to keep his eyes open, staring blindly into the light. When he'd come out of the booth he could barely see and stumbled into Dean as he waited for the photos to develop.
He'd put out his hand to steady him and laughed. Teasing him relentlessly, especially when he'd seen the photos. Cas's face crushed up like a new born baby's. He'd slapped the angel on the shoulder and asked if he wanted to keep one.
"Why?"
"As a souvenir."
"Why?"
Dean had sighed, shook his head, ripped off the last photo and placed the others in his pocket. Which was where they'd stayed for months.
Looking at the photos again now he half expected himself to put it back in the box with his others, but instead surprised himself by slipping it into his pocket and leaving the garage, an unneeded screwdriver in his hand.
Lisa knew she's caught Dean out, she just didn't know what in. He was clearly hiding something, something in that trunk, something he didn't want her to see. Every instinct in her wanted to go back in there and find out. With or without Dean's permission, but then a little voice told her she was being paranoid. Dean was not having an affair and even if there was someone in his past he was trying to forget, he was with her, he'd chosen her and Ben.
But that distance between them was growing wider though they both tried to ignore it and Lisa wondered just how long they could?