Chapter 10 - Second Chances
As soon as Sam parks the car, he's out before Dean can even open the door, rounding the car towards the passenger side. He reaches out, grabbing Dean by his good arm and helping him up out of the car.
Dean can't help but shrug Sam's hand off. "I didn't allow you to drive me here for you to treat me like an invalid," the older brother quips with no real heat in his tone.
Sam takes a step back, persing his lips before he sighs in defeat. Whether Dean wants to admit it or not, Sam knows his brother is hurting, both physically and emotionally. This is exactly how he acts when he's hurt. Sam doesn't miss the way Dean hunches forward with a grim expression on his face, or the way he holds his injured side when he stands up or does any kind of movement. He especially doesn't miss the far away look that glazes over his brother's eyes or the pained expression that crosses Dean's features, even when he's not moving.
"Just give me five minutes, Sammy," Dean requests, looking over at his younger brother. "Just five," he insists when he sees Sam open his mouth to retort, regarding him with worried hazel eyes.
"Dean," Sam frowns, still feeling compelled to try and reason with the older Winchester. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother by himself. Dean needed help walking from the hospital to the car, why would he let Dean walk by himself now? Sam doubts his older brother is any better after a forty minute drive from the hospital.
But Dean is already shaking his head, "Sam, I won't fall into a coma if we're more than a few feet away from each other. All I'm asking from ya is five minutes."
The older Winchester can practically see the stubbornness painted on his brother's face, his thin lips pressed into a firm line and his brows furrowed. But the moment Dean notes the way the lines on Sam's forehead cease, the Winchester knows Sam has relented, albeit reluctantly.
"Fine, Dean."
"Thanks, Sam," Dean smiles as he turns, having to pause for a moment to pull his jacket back up over his shoulder, the cast on his arm making it hard for him to slip it on properly.
With Sam's precise directions, it takes Dean very little time to find the grave. No surprise when his younger brother went over them with him at least five times, only clamping his mouth shut when Dean threatened to shave his hair off while he slept if he dared repeat it again.
Dean get's an unexpected surprise when he arrives, however. There is someone standing right in front of the grave Sam drilled into his head, head hung low. At first Dean wonders if maybe he should have let Sam repeat the directions to John's grave a few more times, believing he somehow got them wrong, but when he steps closer and reads the markings, it is in fact John's grave.
Dean bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes for a second before he makes his way over. He slips his good hand into the pocket of his jacket as he stops to stand next to the stranger, shoulder to shoulder, the man not acknowledging Dean, not at first, arms crossed over his chest as he seems to be lost in his own head before he finally glances up to see who had come to stand beside him, long brown hair falling across his clear blue eyes.
"Did you know him?" Dean asks without looking up at the other man, his gaze trained on his father's grave.
"Nah," the stranger responds, shifting his weight from his right leg to his left.
It's only after the stranger speaks that Dean looks over at the man, the voice next to him all too familiar. Green eyes widen when they land on Daryl. Same bright blue eyes and dark hair. The man from his dream. Daryl.
Dean's lips part slowly, eyes focused on the man next to him. Now that Daryl is here, he has no idea what to tell him. The Winchester licks his lips, remembering that Rick and Castiel had known to some extent who he was. Why wouldn't Daryl? All the new faces in his dream had some part to play in the accident. What's Daryl's?
Shifting on his feet, Dean faces Daryl. "Have we met before?" the younger man asks while licking his lips again, his heart pounding so loud in his ears that he swears he might not be able to hear when the man answers.
Dean shifts on his feet impatiently, not sure what answer he's even looking for.
Daryl turns to face Dean in return, blue looking over the Winchester from head to toe before his gaze finds the younger man's and holds it, unwavering as if searching for something in Dean's green ones, but it only lasts no more than a few seconds, the Dixon breaking eye contact and ducking his head before he shakes it, "Nah."
"Oh," Dean breathes out, the tone of his voice not hiding his disappointment. "You looked familiar," he offers. "I guess not." The younger man glances over Daryl before he speaks up again. "What are you doing here?"
Daryl's gaze is fleeting, glancing up at Dean before at everywhere and anywhere but at the younger man, "Ain't never seen ya before." His attention finally settles on the grave, bottom lip tucked between his teeth before he answers the question. "My old man...he uh, knew 'em."
"Your father?" Dean questions with a furrow of his brow. "They must have been close if you're here?" Dean asks, his gaze set on Daryl.
Sharp green eyes take in every little move Daryl makes. He might have only known the older man for about two weeks, but it feels like he's known him for a lifetime. Dean can't help but wonder if this man is the same.
The older man shrugs, "Just thought I should pay my respects." He uncrosses his arms, one hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck, gaze still focused on the grave. "You...his kid?"
"If I tell you yes, I would be the only one telling the truth, wouldn't I?" Dean inquires while tilting his head to the side to regard Daryl with a pointed look. "Don't treat me like an idiot." Dean demands before he shrugs, letting it drop in favor of changing the subject before the Dixon can respond. "Do you know anywhere where they fix cars? Ma –" Dean lips press together into a firm line, catching the little habit he got from Daryl's way of speaking. "My car's busted. Need a good mechanic. Would do it myself, but-" Dean glances down at his arm in a cast before he looks up into blue eyes again.
Daryl swallows thickly, pulling himself together from the little shock Dean had just given him, though his stoic expression would never show it apart from the widening of his eyes for a split moment. "I know a place," he settles for. "Me and my –" he cuts himself off. "My place." His gaze finally moves up to Dean's, this time unwavering and sincere, "Ain't reckon you wanna give me a second chance?"
Dean shrugs. "I wouldn't if I could fix her myself. But I can't. At least not right now," he admits. "You a mechanic?"
"I am," Daryl nods, studying Dean's cast before he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a card, handing it to the younger man. "You can just call when ya decide. Ask for Daryl."
Dean nods, a part of him glad that Daryl really is his name. He can't think of any other name that would fit the man.
"Thanks," the Winchester nods, taking the card from Daryl's fingers.
Dean makes his way back to the car, rolling his eyes when Sam closes the distance between them to lend a helping hand. Again.
"Sam," the older Winchester chastises when Sam wraps an arm around him to give his body support. He would never admit to it, but he's glad Sam did. His body feels tired, the walk alone taking more effort than Dean would like to admit.
"You ok?" Sam asks, concern in his voice.
The question is so broad that Dean isn't sure if Sam is asking about his emotional or physical state. But knowing Sam, he's talking about his emotional state. "I'm built like a bull. Not getting knocked on my ass that easily," Dean responds with dry humor as he sits on the passenger side of the car.
Sam gives him a small frown, but apparently decides not to question further. He closes the car door and makes his way around towards the driver's side.
Dean glances down at the card between his fingers, reading the card. "Mechanic." He mumbles. He slips the card into his pocket the moment Sam sits inside the car.
"This is your place?" Dean asks as he strolls into the garage.
It's not a huge building, but it's enough to fit at least five cars inside with some space for the equipment. The gated yard provides some additional space for vehicles and spare parts.
The totaled Impala is already there, the car easily standing out among the rest by how badly damaged it is. The entire passenger side is gone. Sam and Bobby told him to just buy a new one, there's nothing that can be saved, but Dean won't leave her. He'll fix her if he can. Hell, he would do it himself, but that isn't an option.
"You can say that," Daryl answers, circling the Impala to assess the damage. There is a deep frown etched onto his features, brows furrowed as he keeps most of his attention solely on the Impala. "She's a beauty," he comments before adding. "But she's totaled. Sure ya wanna fix 'er up?"
Dean runs his hand along the edge of the car door. "Can you fix her?" he asks, gaze shifting towards Daryl.
Daryl bites his bottom lip, contemplating the question before he finally looks up to meet Dean's gaze, "Depends on how badly ya want her fixed. Ain't gonna be easy and it's gonna take some time."
"I want her fixed," Dean answers without delay, fully onboard with whatever it takes as long as his baby is up and running again. "Time isn't an issue," he adds while shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The older Winchester runs his hand across the Impala's glossed surface. "My father gave her to me," he comments, a distant look taking his eyes before he finally looks over at Daryl. "I have to fix her."
Daryl holds Dean's gaze, seemingly unable to look away before his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, head ducking right before he nods, "Then yeah, I can fix 'er." He carefully runs his hand on the damaged metal of the passenger side, features growing solemn. "Ain't gotta worry 'bout nothing. I'll get 'er good as new."
Dean smiles, glad that the other man is up for the job. He knows it will be a lot of hard work, but Daryl is going to fix her. "Thanks," he says, despite reading the solemn look over Daryl's features.
"Least I can do," Daryl shrugs, hastily gesturing to the Winchester's cast. "Can't do much with that, right? Just give me a few weeks. I'll give ya a call when she's good to go."
Green eyes widen. "I prefer being here while you fix her," Dean offers while stepping closer to the older man. "I hope you understand."
The Dixon purses his lips, looking about ready to take a step back, but he holds his ground, "I understand." He glances over Dean again, taking note of his injuries before he's pinning the Winchester with a serious look. "Don't push yerself and I ain't got a problem if ya stick around."
"I'm fine," Dean answers, a small frown forming on his lips, shifting when he notices Daryl is looking at him. "I already have Sam on my ass. Trust me, I don't need someone else. The kids is worse than a leech. He thinks I'm sleeping right now." Sam would kill him if he finds out his brother is here.
Daryl nods at Dean before he's ducking into the driver's side, looking over the interior, most likely assessing the damage done to the dashboard.
Dean wets his lips, shifting on his feet again. "I know this is going to sound out of the blue, but bear with me," the Winchester starts. "Are you with anyone? In a relationship?" He makes himself clear, brows furrowed as he studies the Dixon.
The older man peeks over the steering wheel, gaze finding Dean's. He looks at a loss, mouth opening and closing for a moment before he pushes himself out of the Impala, one arm lifting up to rest on the hood of the vehicle as he regards the younger man with a lifted brow.
"Outta the blue is an understatement," Daryl mutters. "Nah, I don't. Why? Ya think I'm gonna go rat on ya to…" he pauses for a moment, waving his hand in front of him as he searches for the name. "...Sam? He's gotcha on a leash or something?"
"Whoa, hold it tiger," Dean intercepts, lifting his hand and gesturing a stopping motion. "I'm single. Sam's my brother. A pain in the ass little brother, but my brother," he stresses, taking a moment to shake his head and mumble to himself, "That means you're free."
"Oh," Daryl grunts, shutting the driver's door closed before he walks up to Dean, slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "I ain't catch that last part."
Dean bites his bottom lip before he speaks up, an awkward smile playing on his lips, "That means you still can't tell him."
The Dixon lifts a brow in amusement, "Yes sir." He steps around Dean, blue eyes quickly traveling over the younger man's profile before he averts his gaze. "It's Dean, right? I'mma get started on her tomorrow. First thing in the morning," the older man explains.
"Sounds like a plan," the Winchester agrees.
