Sorry for the late posting! I was sick. And it was my birthday. Doc Manager was down. I could come up with a few more if that's what it takes!!
Chapter 29: Irritable
Dean sank into Hank's big leather armchair, ready for one of his stupid sessions for a change. "What's the topic today, Hank?"
Hank settled opposite him, balancing a notepad on his knee. "Let's start with the irritability."
Dean shrugged and scratched at his jaw, next to his ear. "I dunno. I guess when I haven't eaten in a while, Dad becomes more annoying. A lot more annoying."
"All right. That does sound like you've become more irritable. I have noticed that our sessions run much smoother if you've just eaten," Hank told him. "It's probably due to low blood sugar. You are carrying those energy bars?"
Dean pulled one out of his pocket to prove he had them.
Hank frowned. "Maybe they make a chocolate covered version. I'll check into it. It might be a good idea to carry chocolate on you as well. Try eating some chocolate if you notice the people around you are annoying. Now tell me about meeting Adam."
Relating the adventure, Dean could not help the smile which spread on his face. "He even called me yesterday to ask about girls, but that won't last."
"What won't?" Hank asked. "The questions about girls?"
"No. The phone calls," Dean replied. "See, right now I'm still new to him. After a while, Adam will realize that having an older brother is just a pain in the ass, so he'll stop calling."
Hank's furry brow furrowed. "Do you mean in general that having an older brother is not rewarding, or are you referring to yourself specifically?"
Dean frowned. He had not thought about it in detail before. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I was kind of assuming it was in general, like he was going through another phase, but maybe it is me specifically." One hand rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to relax the muscles before too much tension could build up in his shoulders.
Hank hunched forward, his eyes wide open and locked on Dean. "Who is going through a phase, Dean?"
"Sam." The name sprang unbidden from his mouth.
Hank's big furry head nodded slowly. "And who is Sam?"
Damn therapy!
He sighed in defeat. "My brother."
"Younger?" Hank asked. Dean nodded. "How much younger?"
"Four years," Dean grumbled. His little brother was not exactly his favorite topic of conversation lately. A growl of his stomach had Dean ripping into one of the energy bars.
"And when was the last time you spoke with Sam?" Hank asked.
Dean rolled his eyes and stuffed the remainder of the snack in his mouth to delay answering, hoping Hank would forget the question. Okay, so it was wishful thinking. So what? He really did not want to hear how he shouldn't think of Adam like Sam, and Hank was feeling all excited like he discovered a big clue.
"I talked to Adam yesterday," Dean repeated, hoping to divert the conversation.
"I believe I asked when the last time you spoke with Sam was," Hank pointed out as he scribbled on his pad.
He pulled another energy bar from his pocket.
"Dean." Hank removed his glasses to glare at Dean. "It is a simple question. Surely it does not require this level of avoidance. I could ask your father."
With a sigh Dean shoved the second bar back in his jacket pocket. "About a year."
Now Hank's brow furrowed again. Dean expected the usual questions to follow, like why hadn't he tried calling and crap like that.
"Can you tell me the circumstances surrounding your last conversation?" Hank asked, replacing his glasses on his face.
Yeah. Great. His least freaking favorite memory.
"I asked him if he needed a lift to school, and he said that he had bus fare and a scholarship, and to stay out of his life." Dean shrugged. "So I have."
"Those were his last words to you?" Hank asked, staring intently. Dean expected more writing on the pad, but his pen was held loosely in his hand, his focus on Dean instead of the paper. Dean swallowed hard before nodding, not trusting his voice at the moment. A flurry of emotions blasted from Hank, foremost being anger. Yeah, okay, so he could have tried calling Sam. Granted.
"Did Sam even say good-bye?" Hank asked in a deep voice while his emotions bounced between angry and amazed.
"Nah," Dean said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the whole idea.
"And what were his last words to your father?" Hank's voice was tight this time, his emotions no longer all over the place, the bouncing mass coalescing into one big emotional ball. He wondered which emotion would win out in the ball.
"Now those were loud," Dean tried to joke. Suddenly he did not feel like joking about it. "He and Dad really went at it that time." This was the first time he had even mentioned The Fight since it happened. And yeah, Hank was seriously pissed off.
"Look, I didn't mean for it to happen," Dean protested. "I tried to stop them, but it was like I wasn't even in the room. I even-"
"Dean, Dean," Hank interrupted with a smile. "Please. I don't believe you are the person I need to discuss this with. I'll take it up with your father this evening. Now, I believe we were discussing Adam."
"Who are you mad at?" Dean asked slowly. "Because I figured you were mad at me. I should've stopped it."
Hank set his pad and pen on his lap. He removed his glasses again to shove into his pocket before clasping his hands over the notepad.
"Stopping such an argument was not, and never should have been, your responsibility," Hank told him forcefully. "Normally the focus of therapy is to help the patient to gain a better understanding of himself, his family, and the people around him. In other words, the therapist should never chose sides." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, one of the calming techniques he had been cramming down Dean's throat. "I'm afraid, since I have been considering you to be more of a friend than a patient, that I am emotionally taking sides. My apologies."
"You're not mad at me," Dean said slowly as the realization sunk in. "You're mad at Dad?"
"And your brother Sam," Hank agreed. "Again, I apologize. I will attempt to better control my emotions in the future. I am afraid this whole situation caught me unawares and I was horribly unprepared for it. I will do my best to at least appear impartial in the future."
Dean could only stare at the big furry blue guy. His brain was having a real hard time wrapping itself around the idea someone liked him for no other reason than who he was and not what he could do.
"Most people tell me I should try calling Sam," Dean told him. "That Sam was mad when he said that and would talk to me if I made the first effort." He really wanted to know what Hank thought, if it would be worth the potential rejection.
Hank shook his head. "Actually, Dean, I don't think you need to hear from Sam, but I do think you need to talk to him."
Was it him, or did that not make a damn bit of sense? "What?"
"You have unresolved issues with your younger brother," Hank told him. "These issues make you feel like less of a person, unvalued. You have similar issues with your father, but he is here and willing to work with you on those, which should tell you how important you are to him."
"Only because I made him think-" Dean started to protest when Hank raised a hand to stop him.
"You are important to him," Hank repeated. "I would be willing to bet if I called this brother Sam right now and told him you were seriously injured, he would come here on the next flight. Would you agree?"
Well, maybe. Okay, probably. Dean shrugged with a reluctant nod.
"I believe I have a reasonable solution for you," Hank declared. "I want you to write a letter to Sam. You may tell him however much or little you want, because you do not have to mail it. This will give you an outlet to tell your brother exactly what you think and feel without having to worry about a response."
"Wait. By writing to him, I can tell Sam whatever I want, and he can't talk back." This had serious possibilities. "I think I like that."
Hank smiled before reaching down for his notepad. "Good. That will be your homework. Now let's finish our discussion about Adam. He sounds like he was very excited to meet his older brother. Are you planning to see him again?"
"Uh, well, I kind of figured that was up to Adam," Dean explained.
Hank frowned again and tugged at the long blue tuft near his ear. "No, I don't think so. Considering Adam's excitement over your initial meeting and the fact he is calling for your advice, I would have to say whether or not this relationship grows is entirely up to you."
"Up to me," Dean muttered to himself. He was not sure he believed it.
They spent more time talking about meeting Adam and how Dean managed not to force anything on the kid or his mother. As much as he hated to admit it, the techniques Hank had been pushing on him had worked. Of course, Dad being there had helped a lot too.
"Perhaps next time you should go without your father," Hank suggested at the end of their session. "Not alone, I would rather someone who understands what can happen if you don't eat regularly accompanies you, but that is as your doctor and not your therapist."
"Maybe," Dean hedged. "There's a lot going on right now. Here. I don't know when I'll be able to go."
"Yes, an excellent point. And I, for one, appreciate the fact you are here," Hank replied. "Professor Xavier mentioned to me this morning that he wants your class to be required for all students, as well as a second course in mythologies. He expressed concerns you might feel a bit overwhelmed."
He felt a lot like the first time he had been called into a principal's office for ending a fight. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, I don't know about overwhelmed. I just think Xavier is expecting too much of me. He ought to hire a real professor for the myths and legends class. I'm sure I'll screw it up."
Hank frowned again. "Dean, I agree with the Professor's assessment. I can think of no better instructor. Even without using your mutant abilities, you have the students hanging on your every word. Considering the dire seriousness of our situation, I personally prefer having an instructor with your capabilities teaching such a course. At least the children will take it seriously."
Despite the fact Hank appeared, and felt, dead serious about it, Dean rolled his eyes. "But if I screw it up, it'll affect all of them. It could put all the kids in danger, not just me."
Hank nodded seriously at him. "Then don't screw it up."
"Thanks," Dean replied sarcastically. "That really helps a lot."
Hank checked his watch. "We are almost out of time, but I have heard a curious rumor. May I ask?"
"Sure." Like he had any freaking secrets left. "What is it?"
"Do you play poker?" Hank asked.
"Some," Dean replied, keeping his game face on. "Why? Interested in a game?"
"Tonight after dinner?" Hank suggested. "There may be one or two others who would like to join us."
"Sure. Sounds like fun," Dean told him. Lots of fun. He hoped Summers would be one of those other people, he would love to take the guy down a peg or two.
Dean checked his watch after his class. It was four. Would Adam be home from school yet? Well, hell, it was worth a shot. He called the Milligan house while he looked for a shady place to sit.
"Hello?" a boy's voice answered the phone.
"Adam?" he asked. "It's Dean."
"Dean!" Adam gushed. "Hey, what's going on?"
"Uh, well, I was kind of wondering about your date," Dean replied, hoping his excuse was good enough.
"Friday night," Adam stated confidently. "We're going to the movies. All of your suggestions worked perfectly. Hey, want me to call you afterwards so I can tell you how it went?"
"Yeah, sure." Dean smiled at the thought. He dropped down to sit under a huge oak tree. "How's school going?"
Adam went on and on about school, his teachers and classes, and his friends. "So how is your new job? Do you still like it there? Because if you don't, I think there's an opening in my school."
Now that was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. "Actually, it's going pretty well. It started as part-time, but now they want me full-time and teaching a second course."
"Really? What?" Adam asked.
"Myths and Legends," Dean told him truthfully.
"Now that sounds cool," Adam replied. "Did you go to school for that?"
"Not exactly," Dean said. "Dad taught me most of it, but I've learned a lot on my own."
"Were you home-schooled?" Adam asked.
Dean had to laugh at the question, but in some ways it was accurate. "Not exactly, just certain subjects."
"You told Mom there was a school crisis. What happened?" Adam wanted to know.
Ah, crap. He didn't want to lie. Dean even hated lying to people about the things that go bump in the night. After all, people can't protect themselves if they don't know what's out there.
"I don't think it's something I should talk about," Dean said slowly, "but we're handling it. You know, speaking of myths and legends, I know some protection symbols that would look awesome on the walls of your room. Interested?"
"Oh, that sounds wicked," Adam breathed. "Do you think my mom would flip out?"
"Ask her," Dean suggested. His mind churned through possibilities of putting some kind of protection on their front door. Maybe if he could come up with a good disguise, like a year-round wreath, Kate would keep it up.
"Does this mean you're coming back soon?" Adam demanded.
"There's still a lot to do here, but if we finish up in the next couple of weeks, maybe I could..."
"Yes!" he shouted through the phone. "Oh, and you can stay with us next time, don't worry about a hotel room. Mom says teachers don't make that much, so if we expect to see more of you you'll need to stay here."
"Your mom said that?" Dean asked slowly, unsure if he heard it correctly.
"Yeah. And if your back is bothering you again, you can have my bed. I'll sleep on the floor or the couch," Adam explained. "Mom said the lousy hotel mattresses probably aren't good for your back anyway."
"You, uh, you've been talking about me? With your mom?" Why would they have been talking about him?
"Yeah," Adam sighed. "Mom's afraid I'm expecting too much, because you're so much older than I am. She says that you're grown and have your own life and I should be happy with whatever time you have for me."
"You're expecting too much," Dean repeated, his mind in a whirl. A pair of rough denim clad legs appeared in front of him. Dean followed them up with his eyes to find Bobby watching him. "And what do you expect?"
"Well, uh, just, you know, stuff. Brother-kind of stuff," Adam said.
"Like?" Dean prompted, wondering what he had managed to get himself into.
"Okay, in a couple of years I'll be old enough for my learner's permit, right? So I was kind of hoping you'd, you know, teach me to drive. Stuff like that," Adam said.
"That sounds all right to me," Dean replied as he started to feel some excitement about teaching someone else to drive, the way he had taught Sam. "And if I hear of any good concerts, do you think you'd be up for it?"
"You bet!" Adam said enthusiastically. "So? Are you going to come see me in a couple of weeks? Can I tell my mom?"
"Yeah," Dean said, his resolve setting. "Sure. As soon as we have this thing at the school under control, I'll head your way for the weekend. Is it all right if I bring a friend along, to help drive?"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Adam said slowly, without his usual enthusiasm.
"Why? What's wrong?" Dean asked while Bobby gave him the strangest look. He held up a hand for Bobby to pull him to his feet. Bobby's grip was tight and firm but he felt distinctly unhappy.
"Oh, well, I was kind of hoping to have you all to myself," Adam mumbled.
Dean chuckled. This kid was really doing wonders for his ego. "It's just for the drive," he assured Adam. "Don't worry about it. You're still planning on calling me Friday night?"
"Sure, Dean," Adam said. "You bet. Talk to ya soon!"
"Bye." Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket. "What's with you?" he asked Bobby.
"Who were you just talkin' to?" Bobby demanded.
"Adam," Dean replied. Bobby continued to stare. "You do know about Adam, right? Dad's other son?"
Bobby's cheeks flushed bright red underneath the graying whiskers and his eyes darted across the yard. The quick anger Bobby was prone to when it came to Dad lately surrounded them.
"Forget it," Dean admonished. "Dad's out overseeing a shipment arriving for the school. So he didn't tell you?"
"Nope," Bobby spat. "His other son?"
"Yeah, he's about ten years younger than I am," Dean replied. "Dad says he didn't know until after Sam went to college."
"Did he?" Bobby demanded, hand on his hips and appearing like he could rip Dad limb from limb.
"No," Dean said confidently. "I knew he'd been hiding something from me for close to a year, turns out Adam was it."
"You're not mad?" Bobby asked, still angry but the red was gradually fading to his natural color.
"I gave him a one-time deal," Dean told his staunchest and longest-standing friend. "I was tired of being mad at Dad all the time, so I told him that he needed to come clean and get it over with so we could start with a fresh slate. He told me about Adam, and about letting Sam pick that fight with him."
A fresh surge of anger swept over Bobby, but on the outside he appeared calm. "Is that right? Came clean, did he?"
Dean rolled his eyes and gave Bobby a gentle shove in the shoulder. "We're good, Bobby. Honest. Relax. And people wonder why I'm more irritable now? Sheesh!"
"What?" Bobby demanded, falling in step beside him as he headed for the mansion. "What'd I do?"
"Dude, you're leaking totally pissed off all over the place," Dean told him. "Keep this up and I won't invite you to Hank's poker game tonight."
Some pleased emotions slipped in past the anger. "Yeah? Hank plays poker? Oh, that ought to be good."
"Right?" Dean grinned. "What have you been up to this afternoon? Any good?"
Bobby harrumphed loudly. "Well, I had ta pester that Professor guy about my case files, and he finally agreed to look 'em over before I leave. Then we talked about how to install the symbol on the grounds. You know, if he really has people who can do everything he claims they can, I think we can have this thing done in a week or less."
"No kidding?" Dean was impressed. "A week? I figured it would take at least two."
"With regular construction equipment, at least two weeks," Bobby agreed. "He's planning on you playing foreman, by the way, since it's your idea."
"Why not you or Dad?" Dean demanded. "You'd be better at it."
Bobby shot him a strong glare. "It's your idea."
Dean groaned. "One of these days I'll learn when to keep my mouth shut."
"Better not," Bobby snapped at him with a sharp slap to the shoulder. "I don't want ta miss out on any of these good ideas."
"Dean!" Logan jogged across the grass toward them before they could reach the back steps of the mansion. They stopped to wait. "Been lookin' for ya," he breathed as he ran up. "The school assembly will be in the cafeteria. The Professor wanted ta be sure there'd be enough time for questions before we eat, so ya got an hour ta prepare."
"You mean it starts in an hour?" Dean asked. "Holy crap, I don't know if Dad'll be back by then." He turned to his old friend. "Bobby? You'll help me out, right?"
"Of course I will, boy," Bobby replied in a strong voice. "Oh, did anybody tell you that the silver charms are here? That's why I was looking for you."
"Good. We can give them out after the assembly," Dean decided. "Hopefully it'll be enough to convince them to wear 'em."
"Do ya really think all the kids'll wear 'em?" Logan asked.
Dean rolled his eyes at Logan. The guy worked with kids all the time, he should know better than that.
