A week after they checked on Sam, Dean was alone again. This time, he was stuck in a college town and actually crashed a party on campus for lack of anything better to do. He met a nice girl with a lovely smile. She had spirit and they kind of hit it off. Dean had never met anyone like her, or rather, another female like her. In some ways, not many, she reminded him a little of Derek, and Sam.

Within a week, he swore that he was in love. He had even waited that long to actually coax her into his bed. Of course, she noticed all the scars and the still healing scratches. When she asked where they all came from, he evaded like always but for once he didn't outright lie.

A week later, he was alone again and yet another person thought he was certifiably insane. Why? Because he'd actually told the truth and whoever said the truth will set you free was a dumbass.

Dad had called needing help with a job and he told Cassie that he needed to leave for a while to help with the family business. What family business? That had been the question that killed his relationship. But really, he should have known better. Tell the truth. When had that or his life ever worked out for him?

He was so tired of this crap. He badly needed to blow off steam so he headed to the nearest bar in the town his dad had told him to head to. He got a call on the way from his dad. He answered, "What's up, Dad? Where are you?"

"Where are you?"

"In the car. Just hit town. Was headed for some food. Why? Need me now?" Dean asked, hoping that his eagerness wasn't too obvious. He almost felt like that poor kicked puppy begging for affection that he always accused Sam of being. Great, now he was missing Sam too.

"Think I have something worked out. Don't know yet. I'll call back in a few. Be ready, just in case," John ordered vaguely before hanging up abruptly.

"Will do, Dad," Dean promised the dead phone as he parked in front of Scooter's Sports Bar. Dean got out and walked inside quickly. He walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Jack. He knew he shouldn't get blitzed because his dad might call back but he needed this.

Generally speaking, one bottle of the hard stuff wouldn't do it. It would just get him pleasantly numb, and it really said a lot that he knew that. He just needed to stop feeling the pain so that he could do his job.

He grabbed the bottle after slamming the money down. He walked over to a corner by the pool tables and chugged most of the bottle before approaching them. He had focused on the nearest table because of the two bruisers that occupied it. Their attitudes clearly told everyone not to mess with them. After spotting them, he didn't need to look any further. They were perfect for what he had in mind.

Dean smirked as the game ended and walked up to the winner. He announced cockily, "I got a hundred that says I can beat your ass." He held up the money then set it down on the side of the table and took another drink from his bottle. "So what do you say?"

The winner eyed him and the money then the bottle in his hands. "You drinking that straight."

"Is there a better way?" Dean snarked drunkenly.

The winner smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I'll take your money. Rack'em up, Jeff."

His partner moved to set up the balls while Dean grabbed up a pool stick. Jeff asked him to the side, "So, you any good?"

"Depends on how drunk I am," Dean answered honestly.

"So how drunk are you?"

Dean scoffed, "Got no clue. Don't really care either."

Jeff walked over to his friend and they talked quietly a moment before Dean's opponent came over and offered a hand. "Name's David."

"Derek," Dean answered with a slight slur as he shook Derek's hand, not really caring to know the name of the person who was about to kick his ass.

David smiled condescendingly and offered, "you break."

Dean shrugged, took another gulp then set his bottle down on the side of the table. He leaned over, took aim and let loose. He smirked slightly as the balls slowly landed in the pockets he predicted. Yeah, he had this planned out perfectly.

About an hour later and four hundred dollars later, they had a crowd surrounding their table watching. The current wager was double or nothing and Dean had exactly that. Nothing. The four hundred dollars currently on the table was Dean's but Dean wasn't going to walk away with it because that wasn't what Dean was playing for.

"Your shot, Dean," David mocked.

Dean smirked, trying to decide whether or not he was going to win this game. It was possible that he could win and get a beat down too. He glanced at his overly confident opponent then quickly checked how large an audience he had. Yeah, there were too many watching to not bruise the male ego.

"Left back corner," Dean called while he lined up his shot quickly, wanting to get to what he really needed.

"Impossible," David scoffed laughingly. "And even if it was possible, you're way too drunk to make it."

Dean smirked drunkenly and conceded laughingly, "You're probably right."

Dean double checked his shot then let go, watching the balls fall as he'd planned. Awesome , Dean congratulated himself. Finishing his role, he smiled wide at David then cocked his eyebrow mockingly while he pocketed the money off the table.

"On the other hand, psyche. Word of advice. There's no impossible in pool," Dean smirked then turned his back, intentionally.

He thought he saw someone he knew but the impact from behind distracted him. He twisted as he fell and managed to flip the person that was on top of him to the bottom position. He landed on David's chest and got one solid hit to the face in before a pool stick slammed into his head. His vision dimmed but he shook it off. He would not black out.

Things were pretty fuzzy after that but he came to realize that the fight had moved outside and it was pretty much a "free for all." Something bumped into Dean who spun to attack but paused as he recognized Derek. Dean smirked and drawled out, "Long time, no see." Then he spun to kick another attacker in the ribs. He turned back to Derek to see him take down two at one time.

At that point, Dean did something he'd never done in his life. He stopped in the middle of a bar fight to watch it. He had to admit that Derek had some really good moves and knew what he was doing.

Three minutes later, Dean was jumped from behind and was beaten down. He lost consciousness soon after but it didn't matter. He'd gotten what he needed tonight. He now had more than enough physical pain to counter the mental anguish he'd been dealt hours earlier.

Dean groaned at the pain that crashed through his head. He tried to breathe through it then winced at the confirmation of at least three cracked ribs. He had actually started a major bar fight on purpose to avoid what was really going on in his life. He'd looked forward to getting the beat down of his life and now he sort of wished, aw, hell, he didn't know what he wished anymore.

"Easy, Dean," a deep male voice warned.

It brought back a memory but he had to open his eyes to confirm it. He was really glad that it was dark outside so that the pain from the light didn't overwhelm him. He blinked to clear his blurred vision and finally could make out the familiar face. He smirked weakly, "Derry."

Derek rolled his eyes and corrected, "It's Derek, Deanie, Can you stand?"

Dean held out a hand and Derek grabbed it firmly. Dean tightened his grip as he felt that same warm comfort as last time. He soaked up as much as he could at the moment without making it too obvious. With a sigh, he pulled while Derek slowly pulled in the opposite direction.

When Dean was upright, he checked the area and wondered aloud, "Where'd everyone go? It wasn't that lame of a party."

Derek sighed heavily, "You really don't know when to quit, do you? We made them stop and go back in."

"We?" Dean wondered as he blinked at Derek, fighting the nausea from the concussion.

"My brother, Scott. We were playing pool at the other end of the room when you started collecting a crowd. I couldn't believe you. How could you be so stupid?" Derek hissed while he pulled Dean toward the Impala.

Dean scoffed dismissively at the obvious answer. "So where's your bro?"

"Keeping an eye on the masses," Derek retorted as he shoved Dean onto the hood of the Impala. Derek narrowed his eyes as he watched Dean lightly brush some blood off his lip. Derek sighed then searched Dean's jean pocket.

"Dude, haven't I asked you not to feel me up?" Dean snarked drunkenly, swatting at Derek's hands ineffectively.

Derek ignored him then he collected Dean's cell phone from his pocket before Dean could stop him. He explained as he punched the digits into Dean's phone, "I'm giving you my phone number."

"What the hell, man? I'm so not gay!" Dean snarled in frustration, not needing this on top of the day he already had. He already thought of Derek too much over the past few weeks. He was still stunned occasionally when Derek blasted him with his huge smile because no one was ever that happy to see him, except Sammy so long ago.

Derek eyed him calmly as he punched send and pulled out his own phone to answer, thereby getting Dean's phone number. "I never said or implied that you were and, for the last time, I'm totally not gay, either. But I'm also not an idiot, Dean. I know why you started that fight and I know why you want to fight with me now. Been there, done that, and I have to tell you, she's not worth it, whoever she is."

"How do you know? Maybe I'm the one . . .," Dean snapped aggressively then stopped, unable to continue. He couldn't voice aloud what he knew deep down. That he really was the one at fault. Always.

Derek smirked slightly, "Don't know. But I do know that I like you in a totally non-gay way. You're cool to be around and you don't seem to have many friends. So, here's my number. If you want to talk, or set up another game, whatever. I still need a rematch, you know. So when you have time, we'll set something up. Just call, or not. Up to you." Derek finished then tossed the phone to Dean as he turned and headed back into the bar where his brother was inside.

Dean watched Derek walk away, torn between conflicting urges. He kinda wanted to follow Derek but then he got a call on his phone. With a sigh, he answered, "Dad?"

"Dean, I need you to meet me at the address that I just sent you. I think I have it but we have to hurry." Click.

Dean glanced at the bar one last time then straightened up and climbed into his baby. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. In the back of his mind, he wondered how long his dad would want him around this time. Or rather, how long it would be before his dad ditched him again.

Derek walked back into the bar and found his brother at a table near the door. He slid into a chair and surveyed the room. Everyone seemed to be going back to their original business before the fight. That allowed Derek to relax a little so he turned to his brother and saw the beer that was offered to him. Derek took it and drank down a large gulp.

"Want to talk?" Steve asked casually but Derek heard the undertone and knew that his brother was worried about him.

Derek shrugged, "Nothing really to say. Met him on the way back from Alex's funeral. He's a good guy going through a rough time."

"Picked up another lost pup, huh?" Steve joked then pried, "Are you sure about him? You do have enemies, you know, plus, he doesn't seem real stable."

Derek smirked, "He knew what he was doing. He was looking for a beat down. I've seen him play. He is that good." He paused a moment in remembrance. "No, I'm sure. He's one of the good guys. He just doesn't believe it."

Steve studied Derek for a long moment before he let it go with a comment. "Fair enough. How about one more game before we head out?"

"You're on," Derek agreed readily and they both made their way to the tables in the back. All the while, Derek really hoped that Dean would actually call him instead of self-destruct like he was doing. Mentally, Derek set a time to call Dean and check on him if he didn't hear from Dean first.