AN: Would appreciate just a quick couple words from one or two of you so I can know what y'all think of it so far! Just a quick review would really boost my inspiration ;)
Present day:
It may sound weird to some, but it felt unbelievably good to stand there with the cool night breeze blowing against my face, stinging the open cuts on my fists. There was always something about the pain of bloodied knuckles that I found invigorating. Ever since Sam-
Well, ever since that day, the fight was the only thing I had to distract me - the fight and a bottle, that is. I'd lost track of all the nights I'd drowned in beer and whiskey. What sobriety I'd had, it seemed, was always doomed to die with my brother.
"Dean."
A hand planted itself on my shoulder, its grasp firm. I didn't have to look to know who it belonged to. "You did good, Cas," I assured my friend, flicking my gaze momentarily to the now headless monster - a vampire, to be exact - still hanging from the chains we'd clamped onto its wrists and hung from a tree out in this murky, deserted forest. "He gave away a location. Looks like that demon didn't travel far from the deed."
Nebraska - the state that threatened to send shivers down my spine by the mere mention of its name. Just being in the state offered that same empty, nostalgic feeling one would get when visiting the grave of a loved one. Perhaps that was because Sammy had no real grave site. He was honored with a hunter's funeral; his body burned and ashes spread. The great state of Nebraska itself was my brother's grave.
The hand on my shoulder squeezed suddenly, and Cas spoke again, his voice pulling me out of my grim thoughts and back to the present. "Perhaps... we should wait a day or two before pursuing the lead."
"What?" How could he even suggest such an idea! Didn't he know how many hours of sleep I'd lost because I knew my brother's murderer was still out there? Didn't he know that silent, renewed vow of mine to not rest until revenge was dealt? "Cas, I've done nothing but wait for months. I'm not backing down now when I'm so close!"
The angel's gaze flicked to the ground as he sighed, then it rose once again to meet mine as he offered his reasoning. "I don't think it's a good idea. You're... unstable."
His eyes, followed by mine, fell on the limply hanging body of the vampire. Only vaguely could I recall the feeling of leather between my fingers as I clutched the hilt of my knife and dipped it in dead man's blood. The image of the vamp's pained expression as I drew the blade across its skin was a distant memory by now. And I struggled to remember the sound of the scream that ripped through the previously serene atmosphere of the forest when the creature beheld my blade as the last thing it would ever see.
"I'm fine, Cas. I did what I had to do." That was only partially true. Though I may not have remembered all that I did to the vampire, I did remember one promise I made to myself: I had to make that creature suffer for the part it played in Sam's demise.
It took us ages to track down one of the monsters involved. I had to admit it felt good - almost like a little closure - to feel my fist pounding into that vamp. But it couldn't end there. I had to find Sammy's killer, and Cas was trying to slow that down for some reason!
"Sam... wouldn't want this," my friend said, voice halting ever so slightly. It was almost like he was afraid to say it to me. Of course, how could I blame him? If I were him, I'd be afraid to say it to me too.
"Sam wouldn't want to have justice? He wouldn't want to be avenged?" I could only shake my head at the thought. "He was murdered in cold blood, Cas! This monster deserved to go out the way it did."
Most people wouldn't be able to tell that the angel was bothered by what I said, but I wasn't most people. The slight twitch in his left eyebrow was enough to tell me that my words disturbed him more than he let on.
"Sam wouldn't want this for you, Dean. It's... changing you."
"Yeah? Well Sam's not here anymore! I changed the moment that demon put three bullets in his chest!" The words as well as the emotion with which they were spoken slipped out, and there would be no taking them back. "Don't talk to me about what he would want, okay? I need to do this."
My demeanor remained unflinching, signaling the angel that I meant every word of what I said and I would not be backing down. In response, Cas simply stared, blue eyes searching my face, though what he thought he might find, I could not tell. He remained that way for so long that I thought this conversation was to end in silence, but after another few moments of clashing gazes, my friend offered a slow nod of his head, accompanied by just a few simple words.
"Fine," he said. "I will accompany you to Nebraska."
DSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDS
A sneeze forced its way rudely through my airways, echoing through the hallways and no doubt carrying into the yard outside. The thin, crudely assembled doors of this house did little to block off the sounds, scents, and even sometimes the sights of the outdoors.
After recovering from the sneeze, I promptly dug my hand back into the dishwasher, sending soap bubbles dancing up into the air around me. The soft material of the homemade doily cloth brushed against my fingertips, and I wasted no time in grasping it firmly and rubbing it against the plate clutched in my left hand. It certainly wasn't the most glorifying work, but at least it got me out of the sun for a while.
"Dean! Dean!" little Sophie's voice exploded suddenly from beside me. It may have startled most people, but I'd grown pretty used to it by now.
"How many times do I have to tell you? That's not my name." It was starting to get on my nerves like the way - well, like the way getting called by the wrong name would. The problem was, I didn't even know what my real name was. I didn't have the right to get upset about it.
"But I have to call you something!" the girl exclaimed, the distress in her voice clearly exaggerated.
"Then call me something else?" I asked as nicely as I could, all things considered. "Something that's... not Dean?"
Sophie just sighed in response, and I thought her eyes might roll right out of her head and out the door. "Why? What's wrong with Dean? I think it's a nice name. Don't you?"
Here we go with the neverending Sophie questions, I thought to myself. It was nice to have the company while doing chores, but our conversations usually consisted of me answering question after question.
"It's not that. I just... I'm not Dean, okay? Dean is... somebody else." It was a difficult thing to explain to a child.
"There's lots of other Deans in the world. But it's alright if it's your name too. There's a girl at my school; her name is Sophie too. It can be weird sometimes, but I still like to be called Sophie even though there's another Sophie. We can both be Sophie, and that's okay!" She said it all in one quick breath. The speed with which she could speak never ceased to amaze me. She should be an auctioneer someday.
"It's not exactly like that, Soph. I don't really remember how, but I know Dean. The name is so familiar; I just can't put it to a face. It would just be wrong to be called Dean. It would be like if you were named Genny."
The little girl's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Like Aunt Genny!" Sophie's silky soft hair whipped back and forth as she shook her head. "That would be crazy! I can't be named Genny!"
I couldn't help a small smile at her reaction. "And that's why I can't be named Dean."
"Because Dean is your uncle?"
"No. I mean... I don't think so. But it would feel as weird as that. Dean was close to me, whoever he was. I can't use his name." It would feel all kinds of wrong. I just couldn't do it.
"Then," Sophie began, tapping her chin with her finger. "What do we call you?"
That was a very good question. One I wasn't sure how to answer - at least not for a moment. As I wracked my brain for something, anything to be called, one name rose to the forefront of my mind. It felt familiar. It felt good. It felt right - righter than any right I'd felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe I'd found my name.
"Call me Sam."