I wish I could explain how good of a person Dee is. And how strikingly pretty she is, without even trying, and how that's all you'd ever know if you just met her once. She's complex so it's hard to explain. And she thinks so lowly of herself (, but I have a hard time convincing people she's borderline clinically depressed), because she only lets me see her sadness.
When we were little mom used to treat her like a princess. And Dee, for a while at least, ate it up. She was like a mini mom, they even looked exactly alike, and there was very little tension between them. When mom left us alone I referred to Deanna as my "second mom". I envied her, I thought she was so far above me. On the flip side, she treated me like her pity case. She was constantly taking care of me and it weighed on her. We were in no way equals, and it hurt.
I never really noticed how much different Dee was from our childhood days until after I came back from college. I'd noticed the little differences before I left, sure, but the whole picture hadn't hit me until I'd been away for a little while. Up until I'd left, we'd had some small dynamic changes because I was obviously big enough to be on my own, and she was growing sick of mom making her drag me around. But I thought that was all it was, a small shift in dynamic.
I remember our conversation in the car after she picked me up at Stamford. Uncomfortable, like talking to a stranger you'd like to get to know, but who doesn't want to know you. It was clear she had one thing on her mind: find mom, and from there, figure out who killed dad. Taking me back under her wing was not on her agenda, but she knew she needed my help to track down mom.
"So… How are things?"
No response, she just looked at the road ahead.
"You're hair looks cute, I like it styled like that…"
She snorted, shaking her head… "Get used to it Sammy, big sis isn't muss and fuss…"
She'd never been much for fashion, I knew that, I was just making small talk. But, she'd almost taken my compliment as a jab, and it caught me off guard. As I would learn, she really didn't care about herself anymore, and didn't think anyone else should bother, so tossing blank compliments at her only fueled the fire.
Before I'd left home, her curly and not-quite-naturally-blond hair was always either raked back in a messy ponytail, or long, loose and carefree. But somewhere along the way, like I said, she stopped wanting to be just like mom. Staring at her in the driver's seat that day was the first time I'd really noticed though. She had cut her hair shoulder length, and it was a much more dirty/natural blond than it used to be. It made her look more like my sister, less like my second mother, and I wanted that to mean she was more relatable, but that wasn't the case. It took a good year before she let me back into her life all the way. Even still, there are things we're working on. She still sometimes thinks of me as her baby sister, someone to take care of, and not an equal (or a grown adult).
"Do you want to know about school? You haven't met Jesse, you'd love him…"
"I don't think so Sam, now's not the time."
School was a touchy subject, I guess, she was still mad at me for leaving. "When did mom give you the car?"
This gained a half smirk/smile. "After she whooped my ass for you leaving, as a consolation prize." There was an ounce of pain in her remark, which I didn't think much of at the time, but I should have.
"Some gift…" I muttered, and that ended the conversation.
I say that Dee is complex because guys look at her and see this striking, tall, naturally pretty woman. She acts so confident it knocks them on their asses. She gets guys if she wants guys. She plays pool like one of the guys, drinks like one of the guys… But my mind always goes back to that day in the car. That slight tremble in her voice after she "jokingly" told me mom hit her after I went to college. What I didn't know during that car ride was that Mom had hit her, and not just like a smack on the cheek, she beat her. Mom was a mean drunk, we both knew that, but she had never ever treated Deanna like that until I'd left. I only got the full story from a black-out-drunk Deanna Winchester who was throwing up into a toilet in a gas station, crying miserably, who didn't remember a thing the next day…
So, that was why Dee didn't want to be like mom anymore, because Mom had turned into one of the monsters she'd spent her whole life hunting. Rather than turn that into a hatred for mom though, Dee flipped it into a deep self loathing. It happened after mom disappeared, I think it twisted in Dee's mind that it was somehow her fault, for not being mommy's perfect little solider. The self-loathing is another thing we're still working on. It only comes out if she drinks too much, which is unfortunately still too often, but it's better than it was.
You'd never assume that she'd dealt with all she has from meeting her. You'd never guess she hated herself, or that the real reason she struts around without a speck of makeup isn't because she knows she's got flawless skin, its because she doesn't care enough about her well-being to do anything other than run a brush through her hair once in a while.
I wish I could show her how everyone else sees her and teach her that she's worth more than she thinks. She's done everything and more to protect me and raise me and keep me on the right track… I wish my way of returning the favor could be giving her an ounce of confidence. I just wish I knew how to do that…
