Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Or the nickname, "Deuce." That belongs to Ridley C. James and the Brotherhood AU.
Two hours later, Dean and Bobby were on their way back to the house.
Dean was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt that Bobby had brought to the hospital-it made him uncomfortable, because they fit too tightly. He'd gained two pounds while he was in the hospital because of the goddamn IV-however, no one had really been there to watch him eat. Whenever the orderly would bring his tray, he'd cut the food up into small pieces, throw about two-thirds of the plate in the trash, and then leave the rest for the nurse to pick up.
"You excited to get home?" Bobby asked, turning onto his street. "I was thinkin' we could order a pizza or somethin' to celebrate."
"I kinda really just want to sleep," Dean answered as he leaned forward to fiddle with the radio controls. "It's been a long couple days, you know?"
"I think you should eat with the family, kiddo," Bobby insisted, pulling into the driveway. "Sammy's excited. Come on, it'll just take a half hour or so."
"Fine," Dean grunted. He didn't want to go-hell, all he wanted to do was sleep-but he couldn't disappoint Sammy. "But I swear to God, if there are any more chick-flick moments I'm going to kill myself."
"Not funny, Dean," Bobby reprimanded him. "We're going to be keeping a close eye on you."
"Fine, Bobby," Dean sighed, stepping out of the car. "Wait-what do you mean, we're?"
"Oh, shit," Bobby hissed. He'd never mentioned to Dean that Caleb was staying at the house.
"Bobby, what's going on?" Dean asked, his face blank. "Tell me!"
"Dean, don't you take that tone of voice-" Bobby began.
"THEN TELL ME WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON!" Dean shouted, furious.
"Whoa, what's going on out here?" Caleb queried, walking out of the house. As soon as Dean saw Caleb, his face turned a deep shade of crimson.
"YOU TOLD HIM?" Dean screamed, turning back to Bobby.
"Dean, some one had to watch Sammy," Bobby responded guilty. "Caleb's family. He just wants to help."
"How could you," Dean moaned, backing away. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."
"Deuce, calm down," Caleb stepped in and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get something to eat."
"I'm not hungry," Dean replied.
"You haven't eaten all day," Bobby reminded. Dean looked at him with a look of such hurt, such betrayal, such fury that he was tempted to step back. "Dean, the doctor was worried about your weight loss. I know it's because you were sick a few days ago, but you gotta start putting on some-"
"I'm not fucking hungry," Dean snarled, backing away from Caleb. "But let's keep making a huge fucking deal over what I eat and how much I eat, it's far more important than the fact that Dad's been gone for two weeks and hasn't called."
With that, Dean ran into the woods.
"Shit," Caleb cursed as the boy turned away. Caleb followed, screaming, "Dean! Dean!"
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Dean was practically flying through the woods, weaving between trees to avoid Caleb. He was beyond pissed off-he felt humiliated, betrayed, and insulted. Caleb and Bobby were talking behind his back. They probably were thinking about what a failure he was, how he failed to do even this right. They didn't give two shits about him-hell, no one did. They hadn't even figured out he wasn't eating.
Dean was forced to slow down as he attempted to sprint up a hill, and Caleb was gaining. He tried to speed up, but he couldn't. Caleb tackled him to the ground.
"You...through with...the marathon...for today...Deuce?" Caleb gasped, pinning him to the ground. "I don't...think...I could...handle that...again."
Dean nodded, and Caleb pulled him up. He dusted himself off and took a couple minutes to catch his breath. "How...far...did we run?"
"I'm not sure. At least a mile or two," Caleb guessed, running a hand over his sweaty face. "Bobby's probably back there somewhere stroking out."
"He's pissing me off," Dean growled. "Ever since he found out about...it, he's hovered over me like I'm five."
"What did you expect, Deuce?" Caleb asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You took a knife and carved into your skin. He's worried. He cares about you, and he feels responsible."
"No one cares about me," Dean rebutted, turning away from Caleb and beginning the walk back.
"Really, Deuce?" Caleb challenged, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. "Then why did Bobby bake you a cake? Why'd Sammy decorate the entire house for you? Why'd I drive down here? We all care about you, Dean. I don't know what we can do to prove it."
Notice me, Dean thought. "I should apologize to Bobby."
"You should," Caleb agrees. "But he understands. Deuce, we need you to get it through your thick head that we love you."
"Thanks, Caleb," Dean plastered on a grin for the hunter. "I've got to go find Bobby and apologize to him."
With that, Caleb and Dean began walking back towards the house.
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When Dean entered the living room, all he saw was an enormous banner with the words WELCOME HOME, DEAN written in crayon. It was obviously Sammy's handwriting, and that made Dean smile. He had missed his brother while he was lying in that bed.
"Dean!" Sam came running out of the kitchen and threw himself at Dean. Dean caught the boy but stumbled backwards. "I missed you."
"I missed you too, kiddo," Dean smiled, running his hand through his little brother's hair.
"I made you a cake," Sam said proudly, taking Dean by the hand and leading him into the kitchen. "Well, Bobby made the cake, but I frosted it."
"Really?" Dean grinned-his little brother was freakin' adorable when he was excited. "What kind?"
"Chocolate," Sam answered. "I know it's your favorite type of cake, even though vanilla's better."
Sam was right-it was Dean's favorite. Dean loved chocolate cake, and he only got it when he was at Bobby's. Sam preferred vanilla, so on the off-chance they had enough money to purchase cake mix Dean made sure that it was always vanilla.
"You're totally wrong, bitch," Dean grinned. "Chocolate's better."
Dean walked into the kitchen to see Bobby cooking a few burgers. Dean started to sweat. They were all going to eat together. How was he supposed to get rid of his food if Bobby was watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn't cut?
"Burgers will be ready in a few," Bobby announced.
"They smell good," Sam commented enthusiastically. "Oh, I gotta go get the soda from the car!"
The exuberant nine-year-old ran outside, leaving Bobby and Dean alone.
"Listen, Bobby...I'm sorry," Dean apologized awkwardly, sinking into a seat. "I'm just really stressed out."
"I know," Bobby replied. "Don't worry about it."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean grinned, sitting down at the table. Sammy came running in with a twelve pack of Pepsi, and Caleb followed him.
"I smelled food," he explained, taking the seat across from Dean.
Dean laughed, and Bobby placed the food on the table.
"Dig in," he announced.
Sammy and Caleb loaded up their plates and started shoveling food into their mouths, but Dean just sat there for a moment. Sure, he realized how ridiculous he was being-it wasn't like he'd fallen so far into this thing he couldn't stop. But it was hard to see that he needed the food when he was so insecure.
"Dean," Bobby said firmly. "Eat."
Caleb and Sammy looked at him.
"You need to eat, Deuce," Caleb stated. "You're skin and bones."
"Please, big brother?" Sammy asked, looking up at him with those puppy-dog eyes. "We worked hard."
Dean couldn't say no to the kid. So even though he didn't want to, even though it nearly fucking killed him, he took a burger and sunk his teeth into it.
Bobby smiled. He knew that the family could help Dean overcome this.
Thoughts?
