Part 5 - march 1995, part 1
1995, March
The year of 1995 was supposed to be just another year. Another state, another town, another motel, another school. The places changed but to Dean, everything else stayed the same. He still had to watch Sammy and dad still had to leave them for another hunt.
"It's important work, Dean," dad would tell him again, looking at Dean pointedly as he stared down at the floor, angry and upset and ashamed for questioning his dad over the importance of what he did. "You know what's out there and that innocent people need saving. If I don't hunt the damn things, no one else will, and people will die." The tone in which he used to lecture Dean was one of disappointment, causing Dean to feel even worse. No matter how many times his dad would punish him for being too slow in his training, or that one time he left Sam for just a few hours and a Striga almost got his brother, he'd never feel as bad as when he felt dad was disappointed in him. It felt god awful and he'd think he let his dad down in the worst way possible, which was true.
Dean needed to get better, needed to be strong and protect his brother and he needed to obey dad. That was what John Winchester taught him, ingrained in him since he witnessed the fire that engulfed their whole house, mom included.
Dad was always harder on Dean than Sam, but it wasn't without good reason. Dean was older and he had to be able to keep up because there were things out there that wanted to eat people and didn't care about anything except satisfying their hunger for human flesh.
"Here we are. Home smelly home," Dean said loudly as he opened the door dramatically, hoping for a smile from his brother. It got him an eye roll instead as an eleven year old Sam trudged inside. He watched as his brother beelined straight for the closest bed and flopped onto it on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it was the most offensive thing he has ever seen.
Dean shut the door behind him carefully as he continued to watch as Sam finally moved to sit up. Being almost twelve years old now, just two short months away, Sam was questioning every little thing dad did and why Dean kept following his orders, never daring to talk back. Of course Sam knew what was really going on, what existed in the dark, in the closets and under beds, that monsters, true evil existed and dad was saving lives, but no matter how Dean explained it to Sam, it was just never enough. He kept asking why it had to be dad, had to be them. He didn't understand the importance of what dad was doing, what he was sacrificing. He also didn't understand why it was so important to Dean to believe that what dad was doing was good and not at all abandoning his children. These days it felt like Dean was walking on eggshells around his brother, trying to steer clear of the invisible mines Sam had unknowingly planted.
Sam huffed, rolling to the edge of the bed to look at him. Dean wasn't sure what Sam was waiting to hear though. "You know it's not fair. Dad leaving us here all the time, that is," Sam clarified at the look Dean was giving him back. He didn't want to have this conversation again but Sam was ready for a battle. He was antsy, his anger swirling in a bottled rage. Dean could see it in his little brother's eyes.
He sighed and pulled up a nearby chair to sit in. He loved how smart and curious his brother was. Kid was practically a genius but these arguments over dad was always exhausting and he just wished for once Sam could see just how tired he was. "Dude, not this again," he groaned, just wanting to crawl into bed. He could sleep for days. Dad had been training him harder than usual, trying to toughen Dean up, because according to him, Dean needed the extra running in the morning in order to not fuck up and get caught by a ghost, like in the last hunt that was supposed to be a simple salt and burn. Dean somehow managed to fuck up being bait and was thrown against the wall, falling semi-conscious in the process. Dad had to rescue him even though Dean was supposed to be distracting it while he went to burn the bones. Dad had been extra furious and well...yeah. He was pretty cut up and bruised from the ghost. Dad's punch caught him in the jaw in a moment of anger and he'd gone down before he could even think to defend himself.
Sam hadn't been happy to see the aftermath of the hunt a few weeks ago but Dean was used to it. He'd come back with all kinds of injuries before so Sam didn't even comment on the small bruise on Dean's face. Kid probably assumed it was just from hunting and honestly Dean was more than happy for Sam to think that. He didn't need Sam to pry in business he didn't need to be in. It'd just enrage Sam more. He'd never hear the end of it.
"Seriously, Dean. I don't know why you always defend him," Sam huffed. "Dad's always moving us around and he'd just take off, leaving us in these gross, sketchy motel rooms with barely any money, weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Don't you get how messed up our lives are? I can't make friends. I'm never in one place long enough to. And you're probably going to flunk out of tenth grade because you're always skipping classes! These are our lives, Dean. Don't you care?"
Dean flinched slightly. He knew Sam cared a lot about his future, being normal, trying to fit in with people. He'd always been much more outgoing than Dean. Sure Dean flirted with cute girls at school when he bothered to show up, but that was just the spur of the moment kind of thing. People, like dad, like Sam, they expected guys like Dean, who wore leather jackets and boots, drove a car like the Impala and skipped classes because he could, he was expected to flirt and charm and smile, even when he didn't feel like it, when all he wanted to do was go home and sleep the day away and pretend he was somewhere else, anywhere else, somewhere he was free and safe and didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe that made him selfish but after twelve years of taking care of his brother and hunting down monsters with his dad, he thought maybe he could spare one moment of selfishness, just one.
"You know I care," he said in a low voice, exhausted, and wishing, for once, Sam would just drop it. He bent forward and started to tug off his boots, ready to climb into the bed right next to Sam's and sleep in. Sam seemed to finally get that Dean didn't want to talk about it anymore and thankfully, didn't press the matter. Dean climbed into the bed against the wall and had no trouble falling asleep.
The first week went by without incident. Dean checked up with the motel clerk the first week and was told that their dad paid for only one week and if they wanted to stay longer, their dad would need to come back and make another payment for the next week. Dean fidgeted nervously, and asked if it was okay if he made the payment. The clerk had looked at him. She was young and cute with long brown hair braided back in one long ponytail.
One glance at her name tag told him her name was Darcy and she looked hesitant when he tried to slide one of the fake cards he had been given by his dad over the front desk. She looked at it for a moment before picking it up and handing it back to him with a shake of her head. His heart sank, realizing they were short on cash and dad wasn't going to come back from a hunt just to take care of the rent. He'd been down this road before.
He was fourteen and Sam just turned eight and dad had to rush out for a poltergeist that was wreaking havoc on a friend's family and he had taken Dean off to the side once they were in front of that small motel. His dad looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Now this is real important, Dean, so I want you to listen real closely. You with me so far, sport?" Dean nodded once and dad continued, "Good. I paid for one week's worth of rent. I won't be gone any longer than that. At least I'll try not to be. In any case I need you to watch out for Sammy. You need to put down the salt line, check the doors and windows, got it? I left some extra money in the duffle just in case. You make sure you and your brother get enough to eat, you hear me, Dean?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I hear you, dad," Dean said as his dad squeezed his shoulder. It was a little harder than it needed to be and Dean tried to hide the wince. Dad didn't seem to notice as he stood up and nodded, satisfied with his son's answer.
Dad was gone longer than a week and money had been running out quickly. He had to pay for an extra night with the money dad left for them and had to be extra careful with the rest of the money spent on food. Sam was a picky eater and Dean found himself comparing prices on cans. They ended up eating mac and cheese with beans and rice for the extra three nights before dad finally showed up the following morning.
"Dad's supposed to be back by now," Sam told him one morning as he got ready for school. Dean studiously ignored his brother as he dried off his hair from the quick shower he just had. He was already dressed in a black metallica shirt and ripped jeans while Sam was in a blue button up and white khakis, looking like he was dressed for picture day instead of a regular day of school. He looked up from brushing his teeth, the worry in his hazel eyes apparent as he watched Dean stare at his reflection. "We're not out of money yet, are we?" Sam probably didn't know how much dad left them but he wasn't stupid. He knew dad left them with some money, even if Dean didn't tell him the exact amount. Just enough for two weeks at most maybe.
He wasn't going to concern his little brother with talk of their dwindling finances though. He rolled his eyes and took a moment to reach over to mess with Sam's mop of hair. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Sammy. We're fine."
Sam scowled and swatted his hand away. "It's Sam." He went back to brushing his teeth, pointedly ignoring Dean's grin.
For a moment, Dean could pretend everything was fine.
Going to Monroe High School wasn't the best experience Dean has had before. The only good things about it had been how close it was from the motel they were staying at and that Sam's middle school was just across from the campus. He dropped Sam off that morning and parked to the side of the school. He stepped out and walked slowly to the school, noticing there were already students and teachers milling around the front of the building. He watched as the other teens around him were already hanging about in groups.
If he was being completely honest with himself, he had always been envious of Sam's ability to seamlessly fit into the crowd, that he could just go up to someone and instantly find that connection that sparked friendship wherever he went. Sam thought Dean just didn't like going to school, that he thought the subjects that were taught were useless and uninteresting, when really Dean was just afraid. He was afraid of being alone, getting left behind and forgotten. He hated being the new kid, the mysterious transfer student who showed up in the middle of year, who couldn't open up honestly on what it was their dad did and why they moved around so much and how they could just live in a motel room for weeks on end.
Dean always ended up lying and he found he was good at it, getting better at it each day.
Honestly he was terrified that he'd look in the mirror one day and wouldn't recognize the person staring back.
