25 – "I'm ready to go all in."

The sign for child is the same as baby or alternatively as short person. Impersonal. It's demeaning. The sign for son is not much better. Dean Winchester hated the sign for child. He hated when his mother used it instead of using the sign for his name. He was a grown man. He was hunting on his own. He hated the signing, in fact. There was no need for her to use it. He could hear. He wasn't slow. He just hadn't spoken since the man in the black coat had killed his baby brother.

"Dean! Come help me with this." John called out as Dean was trying to make his escape.

Cursing that he couldn't just call back that he was busy and that he was raised better than to just keep walking, Dean made his way to the garage where his father was attempting to lower the engine back into the Chevy. Dean dutifully steadied the chains while his father lowered it carefully into place. He passed tools in silence for a while. He kept his back to the door that lead to the kitchen. Eventually, his father noticed. "She's just worried about you, son."

Dean nodded to the engine. Mouthed the words but breath never reached his vocal chords to let out a sound.

"Maybe you come by and visit a bit more. I know you got your own life but… you're all she's got left." John's eyes grew wet for a moment but he finished up his job and released the hooks. "You don't have to drink tea with her or… knit doilies with her but…"

Dean corrected the word to 'crochet.' Overemphasized his mouth movements so his father could know the correct word.

"See, you're already a better son than you need to be. After all this time, she still worries."

Dean got his hands going and his father watched patiently to decipher the motions and the shape of his son's mouth. It was the same every time. Dean was grown. He was fine. He was safe. He had a life of his own. He was not infirmed and he was definitely never going to be the perfect whatever that Sammy was going to be.

"No one thinks you should be more or less than what you are." John reached for the easy laugh. "And we don't know that Sammy would have been perfect. He could have grown up to be a serial killer or worse, a Republican." That got a crooked smile. "Go easy on her, please."

Dean nodded. His brother's six-month birthday was coming up. It had been 20 years gone but it still threw his mother… even more so than the kid's actual birthday ever did. Dean grabbed his jacket and left for a beer. He hated Sunday nights. He was four bottles in when he decided he needed dinner. Halfway through his ribs, a brawl broke out. Dean motioned to the waitress that he was not done with his plate, and got up to assist. He clapped his hands loudly before he reached in and grabbed a collar, ducking before the man could plow his fist into his face. After a struggle, he got both men on their feet, a new beer in each of their hands and sent off in opposite directions. The waitress set a shot next to his plate. Dean washed up in the men's room before getting back to his dinner.

After dinner, he washed up and took the waitress home. Her name was Anna, he thought maybe she was a few years behind him in school. Basking in the glow of full belly and sated libido, Dean's phone went off to kill his doze. He wished he could curse aloud. He hit the button and his mother's voice filled the room. "Honey, I know I was upset but I wish you'd come for dinner tomorrow."

Dean tapped his fingers a minute before he started typing with one hand. Busy just now. Can we talk tomorrow? At dinner?

"Sounds wonderful, sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow. Is she pretty?"

Mom. Hanging up, now.

Dean disconnected, went to piss, got a drink and returned to his bed where the very pretty Anna was waiting. "You know… I always had a crush on you."

Dean raised an eyebrow and smiled broadly.

"Okay, I still do." She pulled the sheet over her head and Dean yanked it off. "What's the sign for sex?"

He made it. It was crude and vulgar but… sometimes so was sex. She was pretty. Thin. Nice boobs. The kind of ass made for TV commercials. She kept talking, probably because he couldn't. It made some girls, most girls, nervous. She chatted and chatted and he fell asleep dreaming of the nurse he'd fallen for who had not been afraid of silences, who had not been awkward with reading his signs and body language, who had not been afraid of his mother but who had gotten sick of his depression when he'd refused to get help.

After work, he got over to his folks' to wash up. Monday night was stew night. He'd buttoned up a shirt he'd left behind and gotten a couple of beers for himself and his father, who was hunched over the books for the shop. Dean set up the magnifying screen for him. John took the beer and squeezed Dean's shoulder in thanks for the screen that had become necessary for running his business. He could rebuild an engine by feel but the numbers kept getting blurrier and blurrier. He should just break down and get glasses but he felt he was too young for them. John Winchester had not been too put out by a son who couldn't talk. Winchester men weren't much for talking. He'd learned to read the signs but never bothered to use them himself, he much preferred to lip-read and Dean had been more accommodating with that in recent years. Dean didn't care. They had a short-hand that couldn't be improved by speech or signing.

Mary moved around the kitchen and tilted her head at her son. "Who was she?"

Dean shrugged. Motioned that it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry, honey."

He shrugged again. Waitress. Nice. Probably won't see her again.

"Okay."

Not looking to get serious right now.

"I didn't want to say anything but I saw her the other night. She was at Manny's, getting her nails done." Dean waited. There had to be more. "She looks good." Mary ladled out stew into bowls and began cutting cornbread for the table. "She didn't ask about you."

His shoulders sagged, he looked away.

"I told her that… I was getting help… and that I was trying to take some pressure off of you."

Dean lowered his eyes to his shoes.

"I am, Dean. I'm getting help." Mary set the knife down and used her fingers to pry the squares out and onto plates. "You never told her." She kept her back to him. "You should have told her it was me and not you."

John clapped Dean on the shoulders and moved passed to sit down. "Babe, you gonna keep all that stew to yourself?"

"No." Mary wiped at her face and delivered the plates and bowls to the table. She smacked John's hand when he went for the second helping of sour cream. "I invited her to dinner tonight, but she said she was busy."

"Mary, get out of his business." John warned her.

"They still love each other." Mary sighed and watched Dean tuck into his dinner. "They looked so beautiful together. They would have had such beautiful children."

Dean choked on his cornbread. He chugged his beer and got up to get another. He stopped to lay his hands on his mother's shoulders first. She patted his hands and looked to her husband. John looked to Dean. Dean chugged half his beer before he sat down again. He could feel his father's eyes burning into his face. He slapped his hands on the table. John didn't speak but kept his eyes on his son. Dean shut his eyes and his hands moved and his mouth formed the words but his voice never came. That's why she left. She was pregnant. It was early. We didn't want to tell anyone at first. We lost it.

"That's not the whole story, Dean." John prompted his son.

I couldn't let it go. She wanted to move on. Get married. Try again. I wasn't ready. I couldn't move on.

"Oh, honey." Mary wiped at her eyes. "You should have told me."

"He tried." John kept eating. "It happened around this time last year. You weren't much for talking. We let you have your time."

"You knew." She shot her husband a look.

"I know when there's something wrong with my kid. I'm not blind."

Dean finished his dinner, hugged his mother and left on foot. He managed a small smile for Anna when he passed her on the street but he kept walking. He ended up at the hospital and he could see her on break, feet up on a park bench, vending machine sandwich beside her. When she met his eyes, he could see all the things he loved about her. They took their business to a private bathroom. Fast, furious and familiar. Afterward, she had to get cleaned up and back on the floor. She gave him a sad smile. "I needed that."

Me, too. I miss you.

"Me, too. I just… need more."

Me, too.

"We'll talk later. Maybe… this time…"

Maybe.

Dean didn't hear from her for a week. He knew better than to push. He'd made his move, he needed to give her time to let her make hers. When his buddy Caleb showed up with a hunt, he was torn. He needed the release. He needed to be home when she called. So, he ended up pacing his father's garage with a beer in his hand, making his father and Caleb dizzy.

John polished off his beer. "Go on the hunt. Get it out of your system."

"What's he worked up about?" Caleb pressed.

"Hell, if I know." John shrugged.

Dean burst out of the garage and into the house. Mary stopped working on the silver bullets for a moment and waited. Dean set his bottle down and his hands shook when he started signing, lips trembling as he made every deliberate movement. It's Carmen. It's her move. I love her. I want her back. I need her back. It's been a week and no word.

"Honey." She started to sign as she spoke. Dean grabbed her hands and held them still. He needed his mom to say it was going to be alright and he needed her not to be annoying and placating when she said it. "Honey." She took a deep breath. "Talk to her."

He threw his hands up and paced the kitchen. She doesn't have the TTY anymore. I have to go to her. I don't want to be a stalker.

"Then wait. When she's ready she'll come find you. You gonna help with the ammo or are you going to put the whole hunt on Caleb?"

I hadn't gotten around to telling her about this… yet.

"She's a strong woman. She'll be okay with this. I could talk to her about it." She nodded when he shook his head. He sat down and cleared his throat. "Honey?"

His hands worked furiously. Mary's mouth set. "I thought we were done with that. Did you tell your father about this?"

Dean sighed and looked out the window.

"It only makes things worse. Always has. That's why we fought all those battles all those years with all those teachers, the school board, everyone. You don't need it."

Dean walked out to the garage for another beer. He almost went back inside to the kitchen. He changed his mind and started pacing again. John leaned back in his chair and waited. When Dean was done with the beer, he tossed the bottle in the bin and started his rant. Caleb leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Is that what you want?" John nodded to his son's nod. "Your mother isn't on board, right?" Another nod. "You're a grown man. You do what you want."

Dean relaxed a bit.

"You know… they said the longer we waited, the harder it would be."

Dean nodded, his finger flicking up near his temple.

"Don't do it because of Carmen. Don't do it because you think I need you on the desk. Don't do it because Caleb refuses to learn all your signs. Don't do it for that piece you keep for the lonely nights." John breathed out. "You only do this if you want to do it for you. I will help. You push yourself too hard, you let me pull you back."

Dean's face turned red.

"What? You do. Do you remember when you were 10? We tried this. You gave yourself an ulcer. You were puking every day because you pushed yourself too hard."

"Dude, your breath smelled like egg… rotten egg, all the time." Caleb let out a breath.

"Are you going to do the meds?" John asked.

Dean hung his head and then pulled the pill bottle out.

"But you haven't started taking them yet." The older man nodded. "You stare at the bottle. Your hands shake but you don't open it." John shook his head. "I know you. I know you better than anyone on the planet. I don't care if you never talk. I love you, anyway. Maybe the xanax will help. Maybe it won't. If you start the plan… you have to take of yourself. You don't live here anymore. I can't watch your food intake. I can't listen for the puking in the bathroom. I can't drive your stubborn ass to the doctor when I see you clutching your gut first thing in the morning."

"C'mon. We're going for a run." Caleb stood up.

"Are you crazy? The two of you reek of beer." John picked up a new bottle.

Dean nodded. He and Caleb ran for six miles before Dean just stopped. Caleb jogged in place while Dean had his panic attack. Then Caleb started talking. "You know… over the years, hanging out with your folks and watching you grow up, I've learned a lot about selective mutism. Usually kids grow out of it, learn to cope with something else. Not you. The entire world terrifies you… except when you're hunting. You make bird calls as signals. You whistle. Hunting is the only time I heard some version of your voice."

Dean calmed as Caleb talked, sat on the ground to let his body stop the panic process. He breathed through the last of it. Caleb walked down the street and got a couple of bottles of water. He came back and Dean drank both of them slowly and deliberately. Dean's hands lifted a few times. He wanted to say something but he couldn't find the words. They got up and walked back toward the house. Dean focused, the way he did on a hunt. His mouth formed the words and he made his breath push through his vocal chords. "I've been seeing a doctor once a week."

"Dude. Awesome. Without the drugs?"

"Today's the first day it worked."

"Well, don't stop now."

Dean managed a smile. "I didn't think of it before. That the signals on a hunt used my voice. Thanks."

"So, why so keen on talking all of a sudden?" Caleb ran the years through his head. "What's your dad got up his butt about Carmen? I thought she was history."

"Last week… We… and I haven't heard from her. I don't want to just show up again, so she doesn't get the wrong idea. I always knew she was the one."

"So, the talking is for her?"

"When she… when we lost the baby, we were both devastated. When she was… recovered, she was sure what she wanted. She wanted to marry me, proposed even, wanted to have a whole passel of kids. I'm always sort of… on the edge. It pushed me over. I couldn't even think that maybe it could happen again or that I could lose her and… she left me." Dean kept on walking, right passed the house, he was so focused. Tracking the words like they were the object of his hunt. "I know what I want. I want Carmen. I want to hunt. I want to get married. I want to have… as many kids as I can. I want… to teach my kids to talk… just like my parents did for me."

"Those are all good things to want." Caleb stopped and waited for Dean to turn around. "Times change. People change. Desires change. Circumstances change." Dean's shoulders bunched Caleb held out a hand. "Look. It's been how long since she left? Eight months? Maybe she was okay with what happened last week but maybe she's not ready to try it again, especially while you're trying to speak again. I am flattered that I am the first person you've spoken to in 20 years but… can you push past the block and do it for yourself?"

"I can try."

Caleb nodded. "Okay. Good. You realize that you've been signing this whole time. That will take some time to get used to."

"Maybe." Dean managed a laugh before his throat tightened up again. He shrugged and pulled the pill bottle out. He popped one and sent a text message to his doctor. Then he signed to Caleb. I wasted all that steam on you.

"Yeah, you did. C'mon. Let's go eat, kill a thing and get you back to your girl."

Dean managed to get through dinner. He calmly signed to his parents that he had started the meds and the therapy and he needed their support. His mother was quiet. His father nodded. Caleb had to ruin it. "I heard him speak. He's got a deep voice."

"What?" Mary sat up.

Dean punched Caleb in the shoulder.

"Sorry. I got excited. He's got to really focus and relax at the same time. It's hard. I watched him do it. Maybe once he's got enough of the meds, it'll be easier."

"Just promise me that if you feel the ulcers, you'll go to the doctor, immediately." John squeezed his son's arm. "I need you at dinner twice a week."

Mary shot her husband a grateful look. "Maybe you should stop hunting."

Dean slammed his hand on the table. He focused his vision on the rim of his water glass and breathed while he demanded the words appear. "That's how we figured this out. Hunting is the safest I ever feel. It's the only time in the last 20 years that I have used my voice. I'm going. Pick me up early for the hunt."

Dean finished the last bite of his dinner and grabbed his jacket. He sped home and sat in the car to examine his pill bottle. He glanced at his watch and made a rough schedule on the back of a napkin. He was still coordinating his work schedule, therapy, hunting and twice a week dinners when someone knocked on his window. Carmen. He got his things together and got out.

"Hi." She had her hands in her pockets. She was nervous. "About last week."

He nodded, his eyes on his napkins.

"Dean. I've missed you." She looked around. "Can we go up and talk?"

He took a breath and nodded. He got them upstairs and set his napkins down on the table. She tried to pick them up and toss them. He saved them with a gruff. "Don't."

"Dean." She gasped.

He motioned to the table and sat with his napkins in his hands. He told the brief story with his hands.

"Caleb is your hunting buddy." Carmen nodded. "And he's the first person you talked to."

Dean popped a pill and set the bottle aside. He texted his doctor. Then he took a deep breath. "Wanted it to be you… but Caleb and I found a good trigger… today. My third conversation today."

"You should rest your voice. Until you get used to talking. I'm happy for you." Carmen stared at her hands. "Look… I didn't mean to pull you into the bathroom the other day. I know you're seeing someone."

"Not." Dean shook his head, holding his focus, trying to stay relaxed.

"Suzanne said-." Carmen cut herself off. "I know she gossips. Anna… at the bar."

Dean started signing. One time. Not dating. I'm not seeing anyone. Went to the hospital just to see if you were there. Are you seeing anyone?

"No. I saw your mom the other day. She invited me to dinner but… I do miss you."

"Let's do this. Everything. Please." He begged, pushing the breath into his words while his hands moved just in case his voice failed him. "Caleb and I are going hunting in the morning but… when we get back… I want this. I want it back. I want it better than it was before. I'll stay on the meds. I'll do the therapy."

"Let's go slow. Make sure it's right."

"Okay."

"Can I go with you to your next appointment?" He nodded. "I'm not cleaning anything you bring back from your hunting trip." He laughed. "What?"

"Mom wants to talk to you about what I hunt."

"What?"

"It's just a little weird." He took a deep breath and said what he should have said 10 months earlier. "I'm ready to go all in."