Part 4- Hollywood Tryouts

It's been two grueling days for our contestants. They've spent hours stretching their vocal chords to their limits, trying to show the judges that they are worthy. Some did well, others did not. Some faltered at working with others, and some worked like oiled parts of a machine. One hundred and twenty two hopefuls sang their hearts out for chance to let America vote. Now it's up to our judges to choose the top twenty four. This is Ryan Seacrest, and you're watching American Idol.

~//~

Forty-eight hours goes by in a whirlwind of hurried song practices and douchy dance moves. Dean doesn't want to dance at all. He's not above a good dance now and then, especially when there's a hot chick sliding her body against his, but dancing with three dudes in choreographed motions is a bit much. He still shuddered when remembering the boy-band music videos Sammy forced him to watch while growing up. No, Dean liked to stick to his kiss-ass rock music and mic-gripping and guitar wailing motions.

When was assigned his group for auditioning, he'd been livid when his and Sam's names didn't appear on the same list. Despite needling his brother and chatting up the yellowed shirt producer (named Casey something or other) and giving her his sexiest smile, the group assignments didn't change. Stalking off, he'd had met his group near the vending machine on the fourth floor and proceeded to be amazed at his group of bozos. Two of the guys looked fresh from farmstead America, with cowhide boots and big ole cowboy hats. They had opened their mouths and began belting out about their God-given had eyed good-man Joe and cow herder Nick and thought, they're overcompensating for small dicks.

The third guy wasn't as bad as the other two, but looked like he'd jumped from an eighties sit-com. Dean had given him a curt nod and said, "Hey, I'm Dean."

The guy stuck out a hand, which was covered by a fingerless glove, and said, "Yo, I'm Ash." Dean couldn't help staring at Ash's gray sleeveless button-up, thread bare jeans, and mullet.

Ash noticed. He ran his hand through his hair and said, "You like? It's awesome, right? All professional in the front, and a party in the back."

"Uh, yeah." Ash smiled and thumped Dean on the arm.

They had to pick one of three songs to sing for the judges. Billy Joel's It's Still Rock and Roll to Me, Gavin DeGraw's I Don't Want to Be, and Matchbox Twenty's Real World didn't seem like great choices in Dean's opinion. Ten seconds after looking at the list, he knew there was no way in hell that he's sing something that was on Sam's iPod. So he bullied the others into going with It's Still Rock and Roll to Me. At least the title had the word 'rock' in it. Dean grasped heavily onto that word.

Joe and Nick already knew the lyrics to the song, no surprise, so while Dean and Ash looked over the lyrics sheet, they sang. Despite looking like a WWE reject, Joe had a high alto. His voice was so distracting that Dean had to stop reading and control his laughter. He sounded like a pre-teen girl. Nick was the complete opposite. He had a deep bass. He had more natural talent than Joe, but he'd had no practice. His pitch was all over the place. They're not getting far, Dean snorted to himself.

Ash, on the other hand, wasn't bad. He was also a low bass, almost a baritone. He had obviously had some voice lessons over the years, and could keep his pitch steady. He's still not as good as Sammy or me. Dean gave a quick hum, to find his note, and sang the first few bars of the song. Not bad, he thought, in spite of the song.

After each of them had gone through the song on their own, Nick suggested, "Let's do it together." There was no harmony. They sounded like a bad version of a high school choir. Dean didn't have much experience singing with others, just Sammy, but he knew what was good and what sucked. He was good; they sucked.

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Look guys, it's been a long day. Let's get some sleep and wake up early tomorrow and get a fresh start. Auditions aren't until nine." Sleep on it. That's what his dad always said when a problem persisted. Back before everything went to shit. The motto had always worked for Dean.

Joe scrunched up his nose like Dean had just let one loose. "We need to practice our dancing first."

Dean blinked. "What do you mean?"

"We need to have some dance moves, and decide what order we're going to sing in," Joe added.

"This is a singing competition, not dancing," Dean said in a low tone. Sam never said anything about dancing.

Nick piped up again. "It doesn't have to be much, but enough to impress the judges."

Dean crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I'll impress the judges with my singing. You guys can dance."

Both Nick and Joe scowled, and Ash looked amused. "Are you going to dance?" Dean snapped in the mullet-haired man's direction.

Ash just shrugged and replied, "I am a line-dancing champ." He held up his pointer finger. "Number one in all of Nebraska."

Unbelievable, Dean thought. Aloud he said, "Nebraska? I didn't know people actually lived in that state."

Ash snorted and bobbed his head. "There are not a lot of us. Though I met a girl here, her name is Jo, who lives the city over from me."

"Crazy," Dean replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah. She's really cute. Thought about getting that, if you know what I mean, but I met her mom at the Denver tryouts. That woman was fierce." Ash shuddered. Dean vowed find out who this Jo was and stay out of her pants. He didn't deal with angry moms.

"Not to interrupt this bonding experience, but are we going to practice our choreography?" Joe barked out. "I was thinking we could do something like this." He dipped his shoulders forward, and for a moment Dean thought he was about to get rammed, but Joe pulled back up and turned around. That's a dance move? Dean questioned then smiled to himself as he thought, Joe is definitely a virgin. No chick would hit that.

Joe caught his smiled and said, "It's great isn't it?"

Dean's chest rumbled with choked back laughter. "Tell you what," he unfolded his arms and waved his arm from one guy to the next, "Why don't you fellas come up with whatever dance moves and other princess things you want. I'll just sing, and if the judges don't like it, they'll ax me."

Nick pushed out his thin bottom lip in a pout that was reminiscent of a ten year-old Sammy. He opened his mouth, but Dean turned his back on the guys. With a backwards wave and "Adios," he walked back to his room. He heard Ash snicker and the two cowboys huff. He knew he wasn't making friends, but then again he wasn't here to make friends. Sammy was the only friend he needed.

The room was empty when he got back, so he flipped on the television, found the pay-per-view station, and rented The Fast and the Furious. He ordered a cheeseburger and fries from room service. He was licking the last bit of salty ketchup from his fingertips and turning off the television when Sam came staggering in. The alarm clock on the nightstand read one-o-six. "Tired?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam shook his head then collapsed on the bed beside him. "I spent the past six hours practicing with a group of guys who wanted to call themselves The Great Ones." Sam's voice was equal parts disbelieving and outraged.

Dean snorted. "I know what you mean. The people here seem to have egos the size of Texas." Sam groaned out an agreement and rolled over to stuff his face into the pillow. "Take off your shoes," Dean said. Sam kicked them off; his eyes drifted close. "Do you want something to eat? The kitchen is open twenty four hours and has awesome burgers." Sam mumbled something into the pillow. "What?"

"I'm too tired. I'll eat when I get up." He buried his head back into his pillow as soon as he finished his reply. Dean shrugged and got up to set his plate and tray outside the door. When he got back Sam was already snoring in soft, little wheezes. Dean went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and came back into to the bedroom. He flipped off the overhead light and the small light on the nightstand. Gordon and Andy would have to stumble through the dark to find their bed. It was their fault they hadn't come back yet. With that thought in mind, Dean tugged the covers out from under Sam- the kid didn't wake- and crawled on the other side of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight and the pillow conformed to his head. In minutes the day's activities caught up with him, and he joined his brother in dreamland.

~//~

After Dean and Sam had eaten a little of everything at the breakfast buffet, they spilt and met up with their groups. Joe and Nick were sporting their cowboy hats and Ash was wearing the same clothes he wore when Dean saw him last. "You just fall asleep and roll out of bed?" Dean asked the mullet-haired man.

Ash bobbed his head. "Hey, I'll take every ounce of sleep I can get."

Dean snorted. It doesn't look like he got any sleep. All of the guys had deep circles under their eyes and droopy shoulders. "Stay up late dancing?" he asked with a sideways grin.

Joe bristled. "Yeah, while you were off sleeping. And there's no time for you to learn them. I guess you'll just have to do your own thing." It was clear he thought Dean's lack of participation a sin and was happily preparing Dean's departure. Dean shrugged. He didn't care what these cowboys thought.

"It doesn't matter anyways. It's almost time to go into the theater. Let's head on down and practice the song one more time," Ash suggested. He gave Dean a tired smile. He obviously didn't care whether Dean danced or not. Nick took his hat in his hand and strode towards the elevator. Joe shot Dean a death glare and hurried after Nick.

"They sure don't like you," Ash said to Dean.

Dean placed a hand over his chest and replied, "I'm heartbroken." Ash chuckled, slapped him on the back, and made his way to the elevator. Dean smiled and followed.

There were dozens of group already waiting outside the theater when they arrived. The room was filled with singing voices. He could catch a few words here and there, but mostly Dean heard a jumble of sounds in a multitude of pitches. I'm going to get a headache if I'm out here too long. Dean scratched the back of his head and searched for Sammy. He brother's tall frame was easily spotted across the room, close to the theater doors. Dean could see Sam's lips moving, practicing his song. Sam had told him over breakfast that his group had chosen to sing Real World. Dean hadn't been surprised. Sammy liked all that angtsy, heart-bleeding music.

Ash tapped him on the shoulder and informed him that they were ready to practice. Dean rolled his eyes but complied with his group's wishes. Hell, sometimes it was easier to just go with the flow. The sang the song once over- they did sound better than last night- then the other guys wanted to practice with their dance moves.

"Fine," Dean retorted, "just tell me where to stand while you fellas do your thing. I'll stay out of the way."

Joe made a snide remark that sounded an awful lot like, "how about off the stage?" Dean just inwardly rolled his eyes. Hey, the guy has to be a douchebag. He's got nothing else going for him. Nick directed him to stand to the left of Ash, behind Joe and in front of himself. As they sang the song again, the man in front did his 'special dance moves' and sang the loudest. Then they rotated; Dean was the last to the front.

As they finished one round of practicing- thank God there wasn't time for more- the constants were directed inside. The seats inside the theater were split in half by a long, carpeted aisle.. Girls were directed to sit on the left side, the guys on the right. Sam and his group were four rows ahead of Dean's. A yellow-shirted producer clapped his wide hands and shouted, "Listen up everybody." The room became silent. "The girls are going to sing first." There were some groans from the guy side. Dean was happy. He'd rather spend hours looking at chicks in the morning than dudes. "The judges will be here in a minute or two. You have to stay quiet while the groups on stage are singing, so they can hear properly. You'll be called up by numbers." He started to turn away then paused, "Oh, and good luck."

There were a few minutes of nervous chatter by the contestants, but then the judges came in. Paula Abdul looked smoking. Dean stared at the cleavage her low-cut tan tank and not-buttoned button-up shirt provided. Maybe all this waiting won't be so bad, he thought. Then she took her seat at the judge's table and all he could see was her back. Damn.

The tryouts seemed to last forever. The girls didn't finish their songs until noon. Dean's legs were aching from sitting in the same position for so long, (despite the practice he'd had as a kid sitting in the car.) Eventually, he started throwing little pieces of paper- from the lyrics sheet- down at Sam. It was five points if he hit him on the head, two on the shoulders, one point for the chair. However, after he kept hitting the guys behind Sam, and they started giving him death looks, Dean decided that he'd better find something else to do.

Finally, the girls were done. Then they broke for lunch. It had to have been the fastest lunch- turkey sandwiches and cheese-its- Dean ever had. He did to say a quick word to Sammy though. From the way he was sweating, Dean gathered his brother was a nervous mess. This of course, made him laugh. Then lunch was over, and it was the guys turn.

Dean didn't know if there were less guys or what, but the groups seemed to be finished faster than the girls. Soon it was Sammy's turn, and Dean watched him rock out Real World. As the words 'I wonder what it's like to be a super hero. I wonder where I'd go if I could fly around downtown' floated from Sammy's mouth, Dean couldn't help but think, Damn, my little brother is fucking amazing. When Sam finished, Dean couldn't help but stand, cheer, and clap as loud as possible. Some of it might have been the embarrassment factor.

Then it was his turn. Joe and Nick stumbled up the stage steps, sweating bullets and wearing identical expression of fear. Ash was paler than normal, but otherwise he looked fine. Dean wasn't really nervous. He's didn't like the idea of singing in front of all these strangers, but he knew that Sammy was out there, depending on him to put on a performance as great as his own. We need to make it together.

So Dean sang. He sang backup for the bozos of his group, and he gave it his all when he was front and center. Paula and Kara (Sam had told him her name.) seemed entranced by him. Dean expected no less. When they were finished, Dean knew he had aced it. He was floating as he came off the stage. He gave the judges a wink and a pout, and his group members a smug grin.

Sammy caught his eye on the trek back to his seat. The youngest Winchester was all smiles and happiness. Dean leaned over the two guys in the first two seats, and gave his brother a one armed- completely manly- hug. "You rocked," Sam said with a grin.

"Of course I did," Dean replied. "You weren't too bad yourself." Sam rolled his eyes and smiled. Ash ushered Dean back to his seat. They weren't supposed to talk when other groups were performing. About forty more guys still had to go. Dean sighed and settled in for another long wait.

Three p.m. rolled around, and finally, finally, everyone had finished singing. The judges look exhausted, and Dean didn't feel much better. It's amazing how doing nothing and being bored can make you tired, Dean thought. Simon Cowell took the stage and everyone became quiet.

"Thank you for coming to Hollywood," Simon began, "My fellow judges and I are going to deliberate about your performance. Go eat dinner. By tonight, twenty four of you are going to the next contestants for American to vote on." A cheer went up. Dean stayed silent. "Everyone is to meet in the lobby of the hotel by seven p.m."

That said, Simon left the stage and followed the rest of the judges out of the theater. As soon as they were gone, the room exploded with talking. Dean hurried out of his seat and made his way over to Sammy. His brother was already in the isle when Dean got there. Dean took one look at his brother and said, "Food?"

"God, yes." Sam exclaimed. The two Winchester boys exited the theater in search of dinner. Sam bumped his shoulder into Dean's, and Dean just smiled. They had this thing in the bag.