Chapter 9
For A Change
He sat on the couch in the destroyed living room, his arms wrapped around the sobbing figure of his future wife. He muttered over and over that it would be all right, that she'd find someone else, someone better.
She looked up at him, her face shining, make-up washed away. "Thanks, Dean," she said, sniffling a bit, "I don't know what I would do if I had to be alone in this."
"No one likes to be alone," he reasoned, "I think that's why people find each other. I think that's why we found each other."
She smiled. "Tell me about your dad."
"He was a mechanic. After my mom died, though, I guess he decided that wasn't the best career path. He started hunting. Big stuff, you know? Stuff that could tear off a limb or something. He took me out on the road with him. He left me alone a lot with my brother. I was older, so I had to take care of him. Dad never told me to take care of myself, it was always my brother. I think dad liked him better, you know? He was perfect at everything and I just kind of got overlooked."
"That's terrible."
Dean shrugged. "I grew up with it. Didn't think it was so bad. And then they both left, my brother first, and then my dad. I didn't know what to do. Went and found my brother at college. He didn't want to stay with me, though. He had a girlfriend. Kind of like he was rubbing it in. He had everything I wanted, and he wasn't gonna share." He glanced down at her and saw the fresh tears forming in her eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring you down."
"It's ok," Carmen said, "it sounds hard. I'm afraid I can't relate. I was an only child. My folks adored me. Dave kind of had a rough time, though. Foster care. His parents weren't really that great. He was kind of messed up when I met him. I guess I thought I could fix him."
"Did you?"
She nodded slowly, a small smile working its way across her face. "Yeah. I think I did."
He gulped. "Think you could maybe try to help me? I can repay the favor. Your house is a mess and I did kind of promise to clean it up."
"Um, where's Sam?"
"Oh, uh, he's gonna be kind of tied up for the next few days."
"Well, then, I guess it's just the two of us."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. So, um, I hate to ask, but you wouldn't happen to have a spare room, would you? Sammy's gonna hate it if I keep going back to the room. Like it's my fault he's got stuff to deal with. He always blames me."
"Actually, I do have a guest room. It's right up the stairs, first door on the left. It's a little trashed, but if you clear off the bed it's livable."
"That's great," he smiled, "just let me go get my stuff out of the car and we can start the clean-up."
o0o0o0o0o0o
She really was beautiful. No wonder she was the one. He'd obviously hit on her, she'd fallen for his charm and that adorable smirk, and the rest had been history. And now she was his again.
Dean grinned as he leaned up against the doorway to Carmen's bedroom, watching her sleep. It was only a matter of time before she fell for him, a matter of time before she was so in love that the truth wouldn't really matter. She wouldn't care what he did, she would just care about him. She would love him for everything, even his flaws.
He chose to ignore a small noise that sounded from the kitchen. He just focused on everything that was to come. She would make good on her promise and they would start a family of their own. He would move in with her and have someplace to go home to after a long day's work. He would get what he wanted for a change, instead of catering to Sammy's every whim.
Another thunk from the kitchen went ignored as Dean's mind wandered to his brother. He would have to go back to feed the man. How long could a person go without food before dying? When had they eaten last? Dean had had dinner with Carmen after locking Sam away, but he couldn't remember breakfast or lunch. They'd spent most of the day speculating about Dave's killer. Sam had been too disgusted by the crime to even talk about food.
The day before had been spent cleaning. Maybe they'd had breakfast. Maybe not. Lunch and dinner had been overlooked, though, he was sure of that.
In other words, Sam hadn't eaten in nearly two days.
"Sucks for him," Dean whispered as something in the kitchen fell, creating a loud shattering sound. Grumbling under his breath, Dean turned away from Carmen's room and headed to his own sleeping quarters.
Still mumbling to himself, Dean picked his way through the debris in his room, heading for the duffle bag he'd set on the dresser. He pulled the bag open and began digging around inside, searching for his patented poltergeist removal kit.
After a few seconds of digging, Dean came across the four bags of herbs and the hatchet he would need. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, he waded through the pillows, pictures, and blankets that were scattered across the floor to the farthest side of the room. He began hacking away at the wall with his hatchet, hoping that the ghost was as stupid as it was cowardly, and stuck the bag inside.
"East down," he muttered, standing up and heading out of the room, "three more to go."
He walked down to the end of the hallway and punched a nice little hole in the wall as something else crashed in the kitchen. He shoved the bag in and headed down the stairs to the living room.
The third bag went in without a hitch and Dean turned toward the doorway to the kitchen. "All right," he said quietly, "let's see what you've got."
He walked into the kitchen, proudly brandishing his hatchet and the final bag. The cabinets began to shake, their doors rattling, as he crossed the room to the final corner of the house. "West," he muttered, making a hole in the wall. He held up the bag and smiled, placing it in the hole just as Carmen, who'd been roused by all the noise, entered the kitchen and the poltergeist decided to fight back.
The door slammed shut behind the model as Dean was thrown across the room into the refrigerator door and a bright white light spread from the hole he'd cut in the plaster. Carmen screamed as the body of the hunter slid slowly down from her appliance and landed in a heap on the floor.