Time for some Dean POV stuff!
This chapter is set at the same time as chapter 3
Currently un-betad
This chapter has been on and off last weekend and I had like 50 million technical difficulties- but it is up now, and hopefully to stay.
(rating will change to M in later chapters)
Commonplace
Hey Satan, payed my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land
I'm on the highway to hell
And I'm going down, all the way down
I'm on the highway to hell
The last chords of Highway to Hell rang through the car. Dean lowered his first from the air and placed it back on the wheel, maneuvering the car until it was once again fully in his own lane
The second the song ended he felt the twinges of discomfort pulling at his chest. It wasn't unexpected- it happened every time he had to go to one of those stupid therapist sessions, but it still made him feel all anxious and jumpy and one hundred percent off his game. He hated having to go there, even if it was Bobby who was his therapist. If it had been anyone else, he would have stopped going the day after the court mandate required it. Even still, the appointments always left his feeling raw and exposed, like he was strung out on a rack or some shit.
Dean pulled into his apartment complex and smoothly rolled his baby into the nearest spot. With a wide grin, he mentally fist bumped himself for getting a spot right in front of his building. After cheering himself on for a second, his thoughts flicked back to the session and nerves sprung through his system. His muscles tensed and he ducked his head, in every way adopting a defensive stance. 'A good shower is all I need to relax', he thought.
Normally, the thought of the hot water hitting his skin and working its way into his bones was enough to clear his head and get him back to normal, but today just wasn't doing it for him. He needed to move. Frustrated at how annoying he felt, Dean slammed his hand onto the wheel; hard. Immediately following the outburst, Dean stroked the wheel and inwardly apologized profusely. I'm sorry baby. You didn't do anything wrong. It won't happen again. I promise.
As another burst of fight-or-flight adrenaline rushed through him, Dean cursed and turned his car back on, forfeiting the beloved parking spot in favor of going to work some extra hours at the garage. 'Sides, overtime pays pretty well' Dean thought, sounding resigned even in his head.
He pulled out of the lot and turned back on to the road, alternating between impatiently tapping his hand on the side of the wheel and running his hand through his hair and down his face. He needed to get his hands on something, and he needed that like, 5 years ago. Being under the hood of a car covered in grease and sweat was his element. Being stripped down and viewed under a microscope- wasn't.
10 minutes later of only slightly-over-the-speed-limit driving and he was home. Dean jumped out of his car and headed out back, pausing briefly to stretch his cramped muscles until he heard the satisfying pop. He worked his way through the piles of gears and old tires to get to the wreck he had been charged with fixing. On his way over, he checked in with Garth, his strange new boss. He had taken over for his old boss about a month ago, and he was full of quirky mannerisms that never failed to stump him.
"Any luck fixing that pile of crap?" Garth asked, gesturing over to the barely distinguishable lump of a car.
Groaning, Dean just turned around and headed over to the wreck. Looking at the utter disaster, he couldn't help but wonder why its owner didn't just let it go. The cost of repairing the thing would be far more than just buying a new one. It wasn't even a particularly good car.
2 hours later, Dean pushed out from under the hood. He wiped his hands on a soiled rag and stuck it in the back pocket of his equally soiled old coveralls. Slowly, the car was turning back into what would one day be drive-able. The long and tedious job of repairing the car had done wonders to his head, and by the time he was done he felt relaxed and calm, albeit drained of any and all energy.
Dean headed home then, dead set on that hot shower he had fantasized about earlier. It would be an awesome end to a truly physically and mentally draining day. The hot water could unroll his muscles, and then maybe afterwards he could pull out that issue of Busty Asian Beauties- Dean stopped thinking and stepped on the gas.
The week passed by as uneventfully as they normally do. The car was almost as good as it was gonna get, and then he'd be able to never have to look at the thing again. He loved fixing cars, but some were honestly to much trouble to deal with.
When Dean woke up on Saturday, he couldn't brush off the overwhelming of cabin-fever that he would get every now and then. He'd always lived in such a small town- went to the same places, saw the same people- that every now and then he just had to go out and run or drive somewhere he'd never been before. Dean through on his work-out clothes, not bothering to shower this morning- he'd just do so after he got back.
As he ran down the steps and out the door, he jammed his headphones in his ear and fumbled with the Ipod his brother had thrown his way two Christmas's ago. He'd made a fuss about how this was the thing that destroyed the new generation and caused everyone to listen to fake and crappy music, and how he'd never use it- but what Sam didn't know couldn't hurt exactly hurt him...
Finally, after a lot of cursing and fighting with the device from hell, Dean had it on his playlist and was set to go. The minutes rolled by to the strumming of the epic guitar solos, and every beat brought him one step down the street that would eventually turn off to a new part of town. He turned down streets and random, just 'following the wind', if you will. Eventually, after several more twists and turns down seemingly random roads, he found himself in a fairly high-end part of town- the homes of the more conservative well-off people. They had well-kept lawns and clean glass windows.
Halfway down the sidewalk, AC/DC's Back in Black came on. Dean smiled to himself as he ran and started belting out the lyrics. He was reaching the end of the street, and he felt the build-up of the song before the start of the next chorus. He picked up his pace then and swiveled onto the street, running full out when the sound of the guitar crashed through his ears. The next thing he knew he heard squealing tires and a blaring horn. Opening his eyes in shock, he only had two seconds to see the car heading straight for him. His muscles locked, and he hand barely enough time to back up a step before the car jerked to the left and flew past him. It was as if in slow motion that the car plowed into a light post- colliding with a crash. Dean just stood there, staring in horror at the accident that he knew he had caused. After a moment, Dean came to his senses and jerked towards the car, yanking the headphones out of his ears and throwing them on the ground in the process.
When he reached the car, Dean glanced in the windows. His heart almost stopped when he saw two kids staring back at his through tear-stricken faces. Fuck. Dean moved to the driver's window, and saw what caused the kids to look so terrified. In the driver's seat was a woman, most likely their mother, unconscious and face-planted with the steering wheel. A small stream of blood was trailing down her face and dripping onto her pants. Panicking, Dean yanked at the door, trying to get in. When it didn't move, he turned back to the window of the kids and started gesturing wildly at them to unlock the doors. Slowly, with shaky movements, the older of the two fumbled at the lock, and within seconds Dean had the door open and the kids on the sidewalk.
He went back to the parent and carefully got her out of the car. She didn't look too bad, but then again, what the hell did he know about head wounds? He laid her down on the grass, and hastily grasped her wrist to try and catch a pulse. Dean's whole body was shaking, and he had to keep starting over and breathing deeply to try and calm his nerves enough to read on her. After he was sure she wasn't going to drop dead in five seconds, Dean looked up and dashed to the house right across the street. He flew up the steps and rang the alarm. After what felt like waiting a suitable five seconds, Dean started pushing the button repeatedly, desperate for the person to open the door. 'Stupid stupid stupid. Why didn't I bring my phone?'
After what felt like a year and 500 button pushed later, the door flew open. Standing in the door was a small man with dark hair and wild blue eyes. Wait- the dude from the Bobby's who was the dude from the launderette? Not giving it another seconds thought, Dean stepped into the house and tried to calm him erratic breathing.
"Hello?" The man whispered, quietly. He was standing in a defensive position, but Dean didn't think about it for long. He was a mess after all, and probably had a bit of the woman's blood on him.
"Hi. Um, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. There was an accident right outside, and I don't have my phone. Can I borrow yours to call the cops? It's urgent. I think, shit, I think someone got hurt."
So ya! Once again, a bit short- but I wanted the times to be consistent. In other notes, anyone else going to Dallas Comic-con?
The song was- for the young ones who do not know- Highway to Hell by AC/DC.
May god be with you if you have never heard one of their songs before
Please Review!
~Magnolia
