There was seldom a time that Dean couldn't take comfort in listening to his Dad's old records. Right now was one of them, because right now, all Dean wanted to do was take his half empty bottle of whisky and throw it up against the nearest wall. These old songs, these records just made him angry now. All they did was remind him of his old man, and right now, that wasn't a good thing.
That jackass was paranoid right till the very end. Not once in the last three years did he pay bills, taxes, or child support. He owed so much money right now, Dean couldn't even think about restoring the old house even if he wanted to. Since he was oldest, the family house had been passed on to him. Along with all of its debts. He didn't know how his dad kept avoiding bills like he did, but damn.
And the real kicker is that the money was here, in the house, somewhere hidden. The cache had enough money to pay for six years of unpaid bills, and all Dean had to do was find it. His old man wasn't the type to ever hand things over easy, and Dean, unfortunately, hasn't gotten close yet. The paranoid lunatic that he was made him think he had to save up his money and keep it hidden, so they would have currency for the apocalypse. Even thinking about it now, Dean's eyes closed in phantom embarrassment as he leaned against the kitchen counter. It was hard to try and help his dad when all he talked about was radio waves being compromised by the government, or some such. It was all a jumbled mess to him now, and really, he didn't like to think of his dad as that scared, paranoid man he'd been there at the end.
No one seemed surprised when they found John's body in an irrigation ditch, a survival bag strapped to his back. The doctors say he was hit by what seemed to be a semi-truck. He'd been walking along the highway, to God knows where. He'd left his own truck parked in the back of the post office, and he walked from there. Dean wasn't sure what set him off to take this vision quest, but it was no use thinking about it now.
It had been two weeks, and the pressure was starting to get to him. Working at Bobby's wasn't going to cut it, and he needed to start looking for another part-time job.
He sighed, pulling the phone back up off the counter where he'd put it as soon as Sam started going off on his rant. The other end had just gone silent for a few moments and Dean arched a brow, speaking into the receiver, "Are you done?"
There was a sigh on the other end, "Dean, did you even listen to anything I was saying?" Sam's voice was irritated.
"I would have if you hadn't been talking nonsense." Dean replied, his arm not holding his phone up to his face folding under his elbow.
"I just said I was coming back home to help and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Dean threw his head back, groaning, "Sammie, listen, I've got this. It'll take a while to pay it all off, but I don't want you leaving school." Dean tried to reason, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You remember what Dad said?"
There was a long pause, "Dad said a lot of things, Dean."
"He said school comes first… No matter what." Sam sighed at his brother, but Dean continued, "This is one of those 'No matter what's."
"DEAN…" Sam barked at him, "Dad is dead and you're in debt up to your eyelids, and we're about to lose the house. I'm helping." Sam told his older brother resolutely. Unfortunately, there was really nothing Dean could do to stop his brother from coming back to New Haven, and as much as he hated it, he really did need the help. Because there was no fucking way he could find that stupid cache in this house of mirrors.
"Dean…?" Sam spoke in an almost whisper, afraid he'd lost his brother again.
"Aren't you coming home for Thanksgiving?" Dean suddenly asked as his shoulders drooped, defeated.
"Uh, yea. But that's in a couple weeks." Sam answered, and Dean could hear rustling on the other end, like Sam was moving into action, "But I can switch all my classes to online classes if that'll make you feel better. I can work on classes while I'm there with you, so you can see I'm still working."
Dean nodded, though to no one, "Alright, alright… Listen, you set up your classes the way they need to be done, and… you just get here when you can." He said then, feeling somewhat ashamed that he has to pull his brother out of classes to fix his problem.
But then again, it really wasn't his problem, was it. It was his father's problem, one that he dumped onto Dean unwittingly. With Sam coming into the picture, he realized it was a family crisis. Dean ran a hand through his short strands of hair. It had just been him and Sam for the longest time, after their mother died, their father hadn't been the same. What constituted as family had been construed. So every problem was his problem, and it took a lot out of Dean to realize Sam was now grown. He couldn't be bossed around by his older brother anymore.
"Dean…" Sam spoke up again.
Dean inhaled through his nose, trying to clear up what emotion had been leaking in through his voice, "Yea, Sam?"
"Everything's gonna be fine." Sam told him, and Dean wanted so bad to believe him. But all he could do was think about the facts and the probabilities of everything being alright and he wanted to throw it all back at Sam's face, tell him there was no use and to stay in Boise and keep going to college while Dean drowns in the debt.
"I know." He answered instead.
His green eyes stared sightless to the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Before he spoke again, he reached behind him and grabbed for the whisky bottle, taking another large sip. "I'll talk to you again soon, Sammie."
Sam was quiet for a moment, "Alright, Dean." And that was all Dean let him get out before he hung up, setting his phone back on the counter. He sighed, feeling so pathetic. His dad was the worst, though, running off like a psycho and getting himself killed on the highway… While Dean and Sam both sat here, in this very kitchen worried sick about where he was, what he was up to.
He told no one what he was doing, or where he was going, and of course he'd left his phone at home. And all during the five day search, Sam and Dean assumed he was on another one of his hiking trips. But it was a long shot, because as soon as their Dad became a psychotic mess, he stopped his hiking trips. No one wanted to say it, but everyone knew. Their father wasn't coming back.
At 11 am, on the fifth day, Officer Mills came to the house. Sam was home, but Dean had been out when he got the text to come home. And that's all it said, 'Come home'. If it had been anyone else, he would have asked why, what had happened, and about a thousand other questions, but it had been Sam.
And he knew what the Officer had to say even before he got to the house.
The first thing he did when he finally did get home was found Sam. He was slumped in the very same kitchen Dean stood in now, sobbing at the table. The Officer had been waiting by the door and followed after Dean into the kitchen. She set a calm hand on his shoulder, which made him turn to her, his eyes already swelling.
"Dean… We found your father… We think it was a Semi that hit him… It was instantaneous… he didn't feel any pain…" There were bits and pieces Dean couldn't remember, and the parts that he did remember were what mattered. But what he noticed while the Officer spoke to him was that not once did she come right out and say it. Not once did she use the word 'dead'.
Dean's hand reached back for the whiskey bottle and without any hesitation, he threw it.
His whole body seethed, his chest falling with rapid breaths while his fists balled at his sides. Whiskey and glass shards riddled the kitchen floor, where the bottle had landed, but he didn't pay it any mind.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed it, storming from the kitchen to the living room where he found a stack of books about several different conspiracy theories and he knocked them to the floor, grabbing one before it fell too, and he began to rip at it, tearing pages out as he growled, and groaned. He threw the book at the wall after it'd been torn in half and he leant down and lifted the coffee table by one end, and flipped it over.
He gasped and heaved, staring at the damage he'd done in his short rampage… then he slowly sank to his knees. His gasping turned to sobs and his growls became moans. He held his face in his hands as his body shook. This wasn't fair. None of it was fair.
Dean didn't go to college because he knew their family was hard up on cash and he knew how hard it would be to pay off a student loan, so he took up a job at Bobby's shop, fixing cars and whatever else needed to be done. He's worked there for almost his entire life, because he knew Bobby didn't want to hire any green horn. He never had a serious relationship because he knew there wouldn't be time for that for as much as he worked. He helped pay for Sam to get a place in Boise so he could attend college and not have to drive back and forth every single day for two hours, even though that meant Dean had to move into a dump of an apartment. He gave and gave and gave, all for the benefit of everyone around him, and this is what he gets.
What had he done, what sin had he committed to deserve this…
Soon, Dean pulled himself together, his hands falling away to lay on his thighs as he stared down at them. "Goddamn it…" he mumbled. He needed to get this mess cleaned up now, he didn't know how soon Sam was planning on getting here, but he was willing to bet he'd be here some time tomorrow evening. He didn't want Sammie seeing this.
He sighed, wiping his face with the back of his hand and sniffling away the snot. This wasn't Dean, and he needed to pull it together before Sam got here. God help him if Sam tries to talk to him about his feelings. That's the last thing he wants right now.
Dean stood slowly, wandering back to the kitchen, sighing as he saw what he'd come for all over the floor, "Oh yea. I threw that." He mocked himself, rolling his eyes in frustration. Now he needed to make another run to the liquor store.
He sighed, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as he ran his hand down his face. Maybe he didn't need it. Sam was coming soon, and he hoped he could pick him up out of this stupor of misery.
Sorry this chapter is so short, but I needed to go ahead and introduce Dean now, because this chapter and the last chapter are linear. So, they're happening at about the same time.
I'd also like to thank the few people who have left me some reviews, especially Maknatuna who gave my story their blessing ( ; u;) I highly suggest that you go and read their Destiel fics – while you wait for mine to update, of course :y.
(BLD)