Chapter 10- The Top 8

Welcome back to American Idol. Our numbers are dwindling, and the challenge gets more difficult every week as our contestants perform harder than ever. Who will stay, and who will go? Join me, Ryan Seacrest, and let's find out.

~//~

The minute hand ticked from eleven fifty-nine to twelve, and Thursday became Friday as March became April,. Los Angeles saw rain for the first time since the Winchesters had moved there. The soft pitter-patter of the droplets hitting the house was a soothing backdrop that covered the sound of the girls having a slumber party downstairs. Despite the late hour, or possibly because of it- both boys had always been night owls- Dean and Sam were up, lying on their respective beds. Sam had his back to the headboard and his laptop on his boxer covered thighs; Dean was reading the latest issue of Old Car Weekly.

Dean wasn't really paying attention to his brother, but he heard a gentle sigh, and the click of the laptop being shut. He pulled his eyes off the article about the Pontiac Bonneville to look at his brother. "What's up? No good porn?"

Sam swung his feet over the side of the bed and rested his hands on his legs, ignoring Dean's innuendo. He didn't look up as he said, "It's strange. Other people have never been a big part of our lives. I mean sure, there's Bobby and Pastor Jim, and even Caleb. But, with the way we were raised, and everything Dad put us through, you and I never really had time to make close friends. All we had was each other."

Dean nodded, though he was unsure where his brother was going with this. He let Sam talk.

"Then, when I got accepted to Stanford, I thought everything would be different. Even though you moved with me, I figured both of us would make friends, become close to others." Sam shook his head, like he was forcing himself to say something uncomfortable. Then he raised his head and looked Dean in the eyes. "It didn't happen that way. I met Jess, and, yes, we connected right away, but she became my whole world. You and Jess. There was nobody else. Sure, I hung out with her friends, and I like them just fine, but I never got close to any of them. Never close enough to tell them the truth." Sam gave a disgusted snort. "Hell, I didn't even tell Jess the truth until after a year and half of dating." The 'and look how that turned out' hung unsaid in the air.

"And then we do this competition. I've never felt as close and connected as I do to some of the people here." He paused then added, "Or were here."

Dean swung his own legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His sockless toes touched Sam's. "It's the bubble."

"What?"

Dean outlined a circle with his hands. "We are in a bubble with these other people, having shared experiences and living in close quarters. We're bound to become attached, Sammy."

Sam blinked and looked at Dean like he'd grown a second head.

"What? I can't be insightful?" Dean asked with a frown and a shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't stupid.

Sam raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "You're right. This experience, with the fans and the tabloids, and everything else is very intense, more so than I ever thought it'd be."

Dean nodded, agreeing. This whole experience, while exhilarating, was unendingly surprising. Some days it was overwhelming. Sam ran a hand through his hair- it was getting too long now; Dean thought he needed a haircut- and said, "I can't believe Andy got voted off."

"I can," Dean replied. Sam eyes narrowed sharply. "He's a good singer, but Sammy, you have to admit his heart wasn't in his last performance."

His brother's eyes drooped. "He was missing Ash."

So was I, but I didn't suck ."And his girlfriend. Hell, Andy said himself that he couldn't wait to get home and sleep in his own bed with his girl." He didn't even look upset when he left, Dean thought.

"Still, Andy was a good guy. He kept things light hearted around here. I'll miss that."

True, Dean reflected. Andy's pot-smoking ways were a running joke between the contestants, and besides Gordon who hated drugs, everyone seemed to like the guy. It helped that Andy didn't have a mean bone in his body. Andy didn't have a competitive bone in his body either. Dean had known from the beginning that Andy's talent wasn't going to take him to the finish line. Andy needed drive, which he didn't have. But the guy was friendly and charming. He reminded Dean a bit of Sam. It's amazing what boyish looks, a sweet grin and puppy dog eyes will get you. Dean had good looks in spades, even if they were more modelish than boy-next door, but Sam had the puppy dog eyes nailed.

Dean nudged his brother's ankle. "You going to cry?" he asked mockingly.

It got the desired results. Sam's lips pressed together in a flash of annoyed anger and his shoulders straightened. "You are such a jerk." He reached behind him and grabbed a pillow off his bed. It flew at Dean's head.

Dean caught it and hurled it back. "Only because you're such a bitch." Sam's eyes became slits, and, with exaggerated motions, he picked up a pillow in each hand. Dean pointed a finger at the cushions. "You better not hit me with those or I'll…" A pillow smacked him on the side of the head. Another slapped against his side.

He rolled to the other side of the bed and stood. He snatched up his own pillows and grinned. "Oh, bitch, it is on."

~//~

The atmosphere of the house was different after Andy left. Maybe the pressure of the competition was finally hitting everyone, or maybe without Andy's laid back manner and Ash's goofball personality, the remaining contestants didn't get along as well as they had previously thought. Bela snarled at Gordon after he'd made a comment on the shortness of her skirt. "Gordon you are a sadist pig," she shouted across the living room. He slid off his barstool at the kitchen island, and Dean grabbed his wrist.

"Dude, she's just a girl." It wasn't what Dean believed. Bela could rip off his balls and play tennis with them before he could even open his mouth to insult her, but the words seemed to calm Gordon down. Bela, on the other hand, shot Dean a murderous look and stormed out of the house.

Ruby came downstairs looking like she had lost a fight with a bear. Her blonde hair stuck up everywhere and she glared at everyone one while she drank her coffee. Dean swore her snake tattoo hissed at him. Though, it might have been Jo. "I'm not a little girl Dean!" she spat at him ten minutes after she woke.

"I just said you looked sleepy," Dean said in horrified awe.

She gritted her teeth and mumbled, "I'm going running." Her tennis shoes slapped hard against the wooden floor of the foyer as she stomped out the front door.

Even Jake and Ava were arguing. "All I'm asking for is some consideration!" Ava growled as she walked down the steps. Jake was two steps behind her.

"I have a right to work out in my room!" he bellowed back.

"Yes, but you could not be counting out reps at two o'clock in the morning. Or at least could you count more quietly?" She swiped her hair behind her ears. Jake went straight for the refrigerator to grab one of his disgusting green, algae health shakes. Dean grimaced as he popped off the tab and took a long gulp.

"No, I can't," he responded when he lowered his drink. "My trainer said I need to count aloud to keep my mental strength strong while I work out."

She threw up her hands. "I give up. You are officially a dumbass. I hope you get voted off next!" The room went silent. Ava's face morphed from angry to surprised. Then she flushed red.

Damn, Dean thought. That was harsh.

Sam took that moment to come downstairs. "Hey, I heard yelling. What's going on down here?"

"Ava's grown some balls," Ruby said.

Ava shot the other girl a heated look. Then she turned to Jake. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Jake crunched in his empty can and threw it into the trash. "Whatever." He brushed past everyone and headed out to the pool. Dean figured he was going to the basketball court.

Gordon got up. "I'm going to go talk to him. Are you coming?" He asked Dean.

Dean looked at Sammy, who was staring at Ava with concern. "I'll be out in a little bit." Gordon's eyebrows came together in a glower, but he walked away without saying anything else.

Sam moved from his spot near the steps and walked over to Ava. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She raised her hand to her mouth and covered a sob. Dean watched as she choked back tears. "I didn't mean," she started then stopped and scrubbed her face with her palm. "He was just getting on my nerves. Everything's been getting on my nerves lately."

"You're not the only one," Sam comforted. "It's hard living in such close quarters with such different people."

Ruby's chair screeched as she pushed it out from the table. "God, you guys are ridiculous. This is a competition. It's okay if you don't get along with everyone."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we need to be at each other's throats," Dean snapped back.

"Hey, it's no skin off my back if you guys are fighting. Maybe it will give me an edge."

Dean shook his head in disgusted. Ruby wasn't a bitch in the same way Meg had been, but she held her own special place in the hall of bitchiness. "Yeah, well some people care about others."

"Hey, I care," she retorted back. "But I care about the people who matter."

And who are those? Dean thought. People who can get you to the top? "Yeah, you're Mother Teresa."

She opened her mouth to snarl back, but Sam said, "Enough, guys." Surprisingly, she listened. He turned his attention back to Ava. "I think you should call your fiancé and see if he'll spend the day with you. Get out of the house for a bit." Ava nodded and rubbed at her wet eyes.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, run away. That will solve everything."

Sam flashed her a look that screamed, 'Shut Up!' She huffed but said, "Fine. I'm going to my room and surfing the web." They all watched as she disappeared upstairs.

"Why don't you go call him now," Sam suggested quietly.

Ava bit her lip and nodded. "All right." She pulled out from Sam's grip and wandered over to the phone in the living room. The brothers watched as she pressed the receiver to her ear and dialed.

"Let's give her some privacy," Sam told Dean.

"Yeah," Dean replied. They slid down to the other end of the long table, each taking a chair on opposite sides. Dean looked at Sam's pensive face and got up again to pour his brother a cup of coffee. He couldn't help thinking, It's sure going to be a fun day.

~//~

Since Friday had seen the American Idol contestants acting like jealous teenagers in a dramatic television show, Dean hoped that Saturday would start off better. It didn't. Everyone was still as tense and snappish as the day before. By ten a.m. the house was empty of everyone but him. He let Sam take the Impala, after very, very strict instructions on how to treat her during his visit to the mall with Ruby and Jo. Dean didn't feel like dealing with the crowds, so he'd opted to stay home.

Though he'd never admit it, the huge mansion was creepy when he was alone. He sat in the bedroom, Sam's laptop open on the desk before him, deciding whether he wanted visit or PornTube to see what was new. He was moving his finger over the touchpad, bringing the cursor to the address bar, when his cell phone went off in his pocket. He didn't jump at the noise. He really didn't.

He glanced at the caller ID and answered, "Hey Bobby."

"How ya doing, Dean?" Bobby's voice sent a wave of longing through the Winchester. It had been a long time since he'd last seen the man.

"I'm okay. How 'bout yourself?"

"Not bad, been better though. Would like to see ya."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "I know Bobby. I'm sorry we've been away for so long."

"Been busy singing to America," Bobby said mockingly.

"You ah, heard about that?"

"Yeah. Imagine my surprise as I stood in line at the gas station and spotted your mug on the cover of some trash magazine." Bobby paused. "Hell Dean, why didn't you and Sam tell me you were trying out for that show?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know. I guess I figured you wouldn't be interested." Or you'd laugh your ass off.

"Dean you know I support you and Sam in anything you do." Something lodged in Dean's throat. Sometimes, Dean forgot how much Bobby loved him. "You boys want me to come out there and sit in the audience?" Dean swallowed down the lump.

"How about you come when Sammy and I are in the finals?" Dean said. Despite the fact Bobby had asked, Dean knew he'd hate every second of sitting in the large crowd of screaming girls. Dean would never ask the man to go through that more than once.

"I'll be there."

"Thanks Bobby, that means a lot." More than you'll ever know.

"Take care, boy, and let your brother know I called."

"Will do. Take care, Bobby." And, just like that, the call ended, and Dean felt lighter than he had in days.

I'll take Bobby Singer over Angus Young any day.

~//~

Maybe it was the weekend apart, or the fact that everyone was focused on their songs again, but when Monday rolled around everyone was civil to each other again.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all! Oh...tainted love, Tainted love." Dean sang. Something's missing, he thought. He looked around the bathroom and grinned when he saw the perfect item. His hand snapped out and grabbed the toothbrush. It twirled twice between his fingers before settling upside down near his mouth. "Now I know I've got to run a-way. I've got to get a-way…"

"I can't believe you're singing in a towel in front of the mirror. Can you be any vainer?" Sam asked as he barged in. He rolled his eyes at Dean's 'screw you' expression then exclaimed, "Hey! That's my toothbrush." He snatched it out of Dean's hand and ran the bristles under the cold water tap. Dean frowned at him as he squirted on some Crest and brushed his teeth.

"I was using that as my mic."

"Yeah well, I'm using it as my toothbrush," Sam mocked back, mouth full of blue paste.

Dean pouted, but when it became clear Sam was ignoring him, he turned his attention back to his reflection. He squeezed a dollop of hair gel from the half-full tube and spread it across his hands before running them through his hair. "Dude, my song is awesome."

Sam leaned across the sink and spat. "Your song is cliché." He rinsed off his brush and filled one of the tiny plastic cups with water to rinse out his mouth.

Dean nudged him away from the sink to run his hands under the water. "Sam, our theme this week is One Hit Wonders, all the songs are cliché."

"My song isn't cliché," Sam defended. He reached across Dean for the hairbrush.

Dean thought about Sam's song while checking patting his stomach. He frowned at the little pudge that hadn't been there six weeks ago. He needed to go running with Jake, starting tomorrow. All this good food and the buffets were adding up. "Okay, I admit your song isn't bad." Sam nodded like Dean had just agreed to going to Wendy's instead of Arby's. "Now you admit my song isn't bad."

"I never said Tainted Love was bad. I said it was cliché."

Dean snorted in disbelief. "I know what you meant."

Sam huffed. "Fine, your song is amazing, and wonderful and lyrical perfection."

Dean smiled. "I know."

~//~

Dean watched as Sam rocked out his performance. His brother was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a light gray t-shirt that had a bird of some sort flying in the upper right hand shoulder. In Dean's opinion it was a douchey shirt, but Sam had worn it despite Dean's misgivings. The spotlights were tinted in shades of blue, and they flickered in swirling patterns across the stage.

"Wake up kids we've got the dreamers disease. Age 14, we got you down on your knees. So polite, you're busy still saying pleaseee." Sam belted it out. The crowd seemed intent on singing along, and Sam just ate it up. He walked the edge of the stage waving his arms in exaggerated clapping motions. Soon the audience was clapping to the beat of You Get What You Give. "Fri - enemies, who when you're down ain't your friend. Every night we smash their Mercedes – Benz. First we run and then we laugh till we cry. But when the night is falling
and you cannot find the light. If you feel your dream is dying-- Hold tight!!!" Sam brought the microphone close to his mouth and closed his eyes as his pitch rose. "You've got the music in you. Don't let go, you've got the music in you. One dance left, this world is gonna pull through. Don't give up. You've got a reason to live. Can't forget you only get what you give."

Dean found himself bobbing his head to the beat of the song. Awesome, Sammy. Soon the song was over, and his brother was standing in front of the judges, awaiting their approval.

"You're a steady performer, Sam," Kara said. "While you aren't as exciting as some of the others on this show, you always are on pitch, and always deliver a good performance. I say good job, and, for next time, try to shake things up a bit."

The camera panned to Randy. "You know, I agree with Kara on this, dawg. You're a good performer, but is good really what we're after?" The crowded booed. Dean joined them. "I was entertained tonight, but not blown away."

Sam nodded, and Dean noticed the way his Adam's apple stuck out. Dean wanted to march on stage and punch Randy Jackson in his stupid face.

"Sam, tonight's performance was wonderful. I think you chose a perfect song for your vocal range. You are a charming man, and a talented singer. Keep up the good work." Sam smiled and mouthed thank-you to Paula. Dean had always liked her best anyways.

Simon went last. His arms were crossed as he leaned closer to his microphone. "You know Sam, I agree with what Kara and Randy said. You're a good performer, not a great one." The level of booing became deafening. Simon turned to the crowd and said, "I'm only telling the truth." Then he turned back to Sam. "I hope you prove me different."

Seacrest did his spiel about voting, and guided Sam off stage. Dean was there the instant his brother entered the contestant waiting room. "You were awesome, man, just awesome."

Sam brushed by him. "I don't want to talk about it, Dean." He settled himself on the couch next to Jake. Dean took the other side.

"Ignore what they say. They don't matter anyway. It's the fans that matter. America. And America loves you, Sam." Dean didn't blame them. What's not to love about Sam?

"Dean?" Jeanette, a P.A., called out. "You're up. Let's go."

He ignored her for a second and gripped Sam's shoulders. "Ignore them, Sammy. Listen to me."

"What makes you so wise?" Sam asked cynically.

Dean grinned. "I'm older." Sam snorted.

"Dean, let's go! Now!" Jeanette shouted again.

"I'll be back." He ruffled Sam's hair and jogged out of the lounge.

He walked on stage left just as the 'returning from commercials' cue played overhead. He stood next to Seacrest. The man leaned in and said, "Cutting it kinda close."

"Yeah, well I'm here, aren't I?" Dean retorted.

Seacrest scowled, they went live, and a happy-go-lucky grin snapped into place on the host's face. "We're back with our last performance of the evening. Here's Dean Winchester singing Tainted Love."

Dean sauntered to the mic and gripped the stand between his hands. He placed the pole between his spread legs, and grinned at the audience. Girls screamed. "Sometimes I feel I've got to, run away; I've got to, get away. From the pain that you drive into the heart of me. The love we share, seems to go nowhere, and I've lost my light; For I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night!"

He popped the microphone from the stand and strode to the edge of the stage. As he sang he slowly walked the curved border of the theater. "Once I ran to you. Now I'll run from you
This tainted love you've given. I give you all a boy could give you; take my tears and that's not nearly all! Oh...tainted love. Tainted love. Now I know I've got to, run away. I've got to
get away. You don't really want IT any more from me. To make things right; You need someone to hold you tight. And you'll think love is to pray, but I'm sorry I don't pray that way." He head-banged.

The audience joined in for the chorus, and then Dean sang the rest of the song. "Don't touch me please. I cannot stand the way you tease. I love you though you hurt me so.
Now I'm going to pack my things and go! Tainted love, tainted love. Touch me baby, tainted love. Tainted love!!"

His breaths came in harsh pants as he lowered the mic. His shirt was damp with sweat, and the crowd was cheering. Seacrest came over and said something Dean couldn't hear because his pulse was beating too loud. Still out of breath, he was steered to the end of the stage for the judges' comments.

Simon went first. "Dean, I'm sorry to say I didn't love it. That song is bit to clichéd. We've seen better performances from you."

"Dean, you look smoking up there. How you make a black t-shirt and jeans sexy I don't know, but your style is distinctive. I do agree you could have picked a better song, but your performance was rocking," Paula said with a shake of her fist.

Kara said, "I agree with Simon and Paula, you could have chosen a better song. Overall though, good performance."

"Yo, my man, this wasn't it for me, man. I think you could have done better. I hope to see something stellar from you next week."

The crowd booed fanatically, and Dean nodded. Seacrest came up to him with the microphone and asked, "Do you have anything to say to that tonight, Dean?"

Dean licked his lips then nodded. He brought his mic to his lips and said, "I respect your opinions, but what you said about my brother is crap. Sammy had the best performance tonight. He rocked out the house."

The crowd to a second to take in his words, and then everyone seemed to jump and start screaming. The judges seemed to blink at him, and Seacrest gave him a sideways look. Dean though Simon wanted to talk, but he couldn't have made himself heard over the crowd if his life depended on it. Seacrest tried to talk over the screaming fans to inform everyone about how to vote for him.

Dean just smiled through it all and thought, Damn, those fans sure love Sammy. It didn't occur to him they might be cheering for him. After all, Sammy's performance had rocked.