Ok, guys, here's chapter two- hope you like! Now it's over...Please review!
Geez- how many girls have I actually been with? Dean wondered incredulously to himself. He had been twiddling his thumbs for the last hour, making a mental list in his head of every single girl he had ever laid. He knew that he was attractive, and he also knew that he had a highly inflated ego. He wasn't trying to elevate his pedestal, he was honestly wondering. More than you wanted…his inner voice whispered, inducing guilt. Yeah right, Dean's comforting conscience lashed out. You treated them like toys, the other voice nagged. Just because you needed something to make you feel not so lonely; but it didn't help, did it? It just made it worse. Because you were never straight with them- not with a single one. Do you even remember them all? Lauren, Kelly, Frida, Bri… Dean shut the voice out, denying the truth. Yet there was a shred of fact in there. Dean was known as the one-night-stand guy, the tomcat in the sack, the guy who liked leather and rough sex; but that wasn't all there was to him. None of his girls except Cassie had known that, because he wasn't sissy enough to tell them. Dean snorted, thinking of how that conversation would have gone. I'm a really sensitive guy, I like flowers and long, moonlit strolls along the beach. Oh, and I'm also currently avoiding the feds, because there's a couple of warrants out there for connections with murders and insurance fraud. I also hunt ghosts as a job, and I know how to shoot every kind of gun there is. I can kill a guy twice my size by hitting the right pressure points, isn't that great…and on and on. He told the truth to Cassie, because he was tired of being alone with his burden. It wasn't a mistake and he didn't regret it, but he now knew that Cassie wasn't the one for him. It obviously wasn't meant to be.
Dean sat up, the rusty bedframe squeaking under him. He got to his feet slowly, and padded quietly over to the bathroom. He left the light off so Sam wouldn't wake up and ran the water. He splashed it onto his hands and his face, the warmth of it lulling his eyelids closed.
Sam didn't know how much Dean really fretted about everything. About their job, about Sam, about Dad, about people in general, about himself…because, fact is, Dean was incredibly scared of ending up alone. He had one meaningful relationship in his life of twenty-six years, and about a zillion one night stands as testament to his fear of commitment.
I am such a loser. Even Sammy, of all people, had had more than just Jess as a serious relationship. The year after Dean graduated, when Sam was a sophomore in high school, he started dating some chick—what was her name again? Jamie, that's right—and he was with her for the entire amount of time that they spent in Buffalo, New York.
Even after they moved, in the beginning of Sam's junior year, he kept a long-distance relationship with her, constantly on the phone with her, emailing her. Dean would never admit it, not even if Sam threatened to shoot it out of him; but he was extremely jealous. Sam, with his boy next door, innocent school kid looks always got the girl in the end. His girlfriends always cooed over his little brother, with his pool-brown baby boy eyes and amazing communication skills.
Isn't that the way it always is, though? The good guy gets the girl. And I'm the bad guy. He's the type to get married, anyhow. He needs the practice more than me, Dean reassured himself, his ego taking a hit. He didn't believe any of the crap his brain was throwing at him, and as he looked himself in the mirror, he knew that he had never been happy with the one-nighters. Sure, they were a good release of passion, and they could be pretty fun—especially if the chick digs cars, Dean thought, smiling—but they weren't what made life worthwhile. No, that would be a real commitment.
What Mom and Dad had, and what Sammy and Jess had. What me and Cassie had. Our family must be cursed, Dean thought to himself, shaking his head as he made his way out the bathroom door and settled himself in the pool of blankets once again. Sam had once asked Dean if he ever wanted a wife and kids, and Dean had blown off the question to avoid the ever-approaching chick-flick moment. But in his thoughts, Dean could think whatever he wanted with no intrusions. And that night, as he thought about the single mother with her burn scars, and he thought about his Jessica and Cassie, he thought about Mom and Dad's marriage. And he thought of how Sam would have probably married Jess. And he thought of his own faceless, nameless wife wearing an apron and kissing the Dean, Jrs goodbye as they headed out to the bright yellow school bus in the morning. And he pictured his coffee in a stark white mug, in a grey office filled with cubicles, and coworkers who annoyed the hell out of him and got insanely drunk at office parties.
And he wasn't sure if that's what he wanted. But he did know one thing he wanted. He wanted Sam, and Dad, and himself to be a real family again. It broke his heart to have to send Dad off, but Dean thought to himself, I think Sam understands now. I think he knows that to keep the family safe, we have to stay apart. Sam wants to have a family again, he just doesn't want it to be a family formed out of vengeance. Dean's own words echoed in his head. He knew it would take some time for Sam and himself to sort through this mess, but he wasn't in a hurry. Neither of them was going anywhere. For now. He wasn't going to question his fate. However he ended up, so be it. If he managed to land himself a corporate job, more power to ya. If he could get hitched and make miniDeans, then good for me. But if it was his destiny to save people from the things that lurk in the shadows, so be it. Because he wasn't prepared yet to trade in his Impala for a Honda Civic, and exchange his boots for dress shoes. He could play the part sometimes, if he had to for a gig, but he wasn't ready yet.
Dean felt himself falling asleep, as he drifted to that place between sleep and alertness. He felt the hard outline of the knife under his pillow, and he tucked a hand next to it, just to be on the safe side.
He knew that this was where he belonged, in a crappy motel in a crappy town, sleeping under dirty sheets. But if Sam could change for him, if Sam could bring himself back into the life he hated, maybe Dean could sacrifice a few things to be closer to Sam. After all this was over, they could compromise.
Is it ever going to be over? was his last thought before he gave in to the beckoning hands of sleep.
