Author's Note: The great reviews just keep coming and I have every one of you to thank for that. They really mean more to me than you will ever know, so I deeply thank you for them!
Well, here is the next chapter...we now get to see a little of what would have happened to Dean if he didn't have Sam. Remember this is AU, so these visions are ideas that I have come up with for Dean.
Enjoy and show me some love by reviewing!
Sam felt cold all over.
Not even the warmth of his mother's hand in his could chase away the chill racing through his tall frame. Sam didn't like this feeling, desperately wanting, needing it to go away. But he knew it wouldn't go away, not until he saw why his mother led him here, to this cold place. It wouldn't go away until he opened his eyes and saw what this world had to show him.
Sam opened his eyes and felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. It was the same house from earlier, but it felt different, colder. If the house from his first flashback was in a state of semi-disrepair, this house was in total neglect. No effort had been made to do anything about the small home. The chain length fence was broken in several places and the small gate there before was gone. Shutters hung limply from the windows and junk littered the small front yard.
There is no way someone can live here, he thought wildly. How could someone live here? Why?
"Please tell me Dean's not in there," Sam whispered. He turned his hazel eyes to his mother, pleading with her to tell him otherwise. He couldn't believe his older brother, his hero, his Dean was living like this. Dean deserved better than this. He deserved so much more than anyone could possibly give him.
"I can't tell you what you want to hear, Sam. I would only be lying to you and I can't do that," Mary said. "I would love to make up some story for you and have you believe it, but I won't. You wanted to know what your brother's life would be and this is it. There is no sugarcoating it."
Sam nodded weakly. He knew Mary was right—he asked to see this different life, no matter how bad or good it may become. He needed to know if Dean truly was better off without him. But what he was seeing right now, without even going in the house, was discouraging to the young hunter.
Realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere standing on the front lawn with his thoughts, Sam slowly walked up the rickety steps and entered the home. A smell almost like rotting garbage permeated the air and Sam gagged. Taking a deep breath through his mouth, he pressed on and walked into the living room he was in earlier. It was still messy like before, only now there was the absence of toys. Sam did see there was one clear spot in the room, the area near the small 19 inch television. In order to walk, a person had to climb over the trash. Sam couldn't stop the pang of hurt tearing through his body.
"My God," he whispered. His brows frowned in deep concern as he surveyed the scene around him. This didn't feel right to him. Where was the love, the care he felt before? And why, for the life of him, could he not get warm?
"I'm sorry, Sam," Mary said softly.
Sam turned to look at his mother and saw that she seemed to mirroring his exact feeling and expression. Apparently, she didn't think it would be this bad, either.
"Mom, this isn't right. Dean can't live like this, it doesn't make sense."
"Sometimes the truth isn't supposed to. You have to remember, Sam—Dean doesn't have anyone to take care of now, only himself. He has no one to protect, look out for, so it doesn't bother him to live like this."
Sam swallowed hard. He began to look around, searching for any sign of his brother. He slowly made his way to the kitchen and he felt the sick feeling all over again. There were dirty dishes in the sink that Sam was sure had been there for a few days now. He felt his skin crawl as a couple of cockroaches scurried along the dishes.
Hearing a noise to his left, Sam looked up to see his brother sitting at the small round kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal. Sam wanted to call out to him more that anything, but he knew it wasn't possible. Instead, he continued to watch sadly. Only the sudden knock at the door pulled him away from his reverie.
Seven year old Dean Winchester jerked his head up at the sound of the knock. Who in the world could be knocking on the door? He knew no one around their small neighborhood so that meant it had to be a salesman of some kind. He threw his dirty cereal bowl into the sink full of dirty dishes—he would clean those later—and cautiously made his way to the door. Seeing the small rifle tucked away safely next to the door, he put his small hand around the barrel, and barely pulled back the curtain. His heart plummeted—not who he wanted to see today.
A tall woman with short blonde hair dressed in a gray business suit was accompanied by a short, plump cop. That meant only one thing to the young Winchester—social services. This wasn't the first time he had to deal with them; they always seemed to pop by at least twice a month. But this was the first time a cop had shown up and the first time Dean would have to deal with them alone.
Another knock sounded and the seven year old let out a sigh. Stowing away the gun and plastering on his most brilliant smile, he opened the door to one disapproving glare and a smile Dean knew was fake.
"Hello, Dean. Can we come in?" the woman asked. Dean remembered her name was Ms. Willoughby.
"My dad told me not to let anyone in."
Ms. Willoughby nodded approvingly. "That's very good, Dean. Your dad taught you well. But you know me, I'm not a stranger. So, do you think Officer Lewis and I could come in and talk to you?"
"My dad will get mad."
"Where is you father, son?" The officer was not hiding his disdain. Dean was sure the cop was forced to come here.
"He went out."
"When will he be back?"
"In a little while."
"Dean, we really would like to talk to you." Ms. Willoughby still wore the annoying smile. Dean wondered if her face would stay that way if she continued to keep smiling.
Dean studied the two adults in front of him. His dad really would get upset if he let them in the house. His number one rule was not to open the door for anyone, cops included. And, well, Dean already screwed that one up by peeking out the curtain—he had had no choice but to open the door then. So, it was much too late to slam the door in their faces and pretend like he wasn't there.
"Son, you can either let us in or we'll come in ourselves," Officer Lewis said. Dean saw Ms. Willoughby's smile falter, but she recovered quickly.
Dean finally opened the door and stepped back to allow them to come in. The two adults followed him to the living room. Dean knocked a few things off the ratty sofa so they could sit, then took a seat in the small beige chair across from them.
"Dean, how are you doing?" Ms. Willoughby pulled out a small notepad and pen from her purse.
"I'm okay."
"How long has you dad been gone?"
"A couple hours," Dean lied.
Ms. Willoughby frowned as she glanced at something written in her notepad. "That's not what the neighbors told us."
"They don't know what they're talking about." Dean stiffened, feeling energy course through his small frame. He didn't like people, especially people he didn't really know, talking about him, his family when he couldn't be there to defend himself.
"Several of them said your dad has been gone for three days."
"They don't know what they're talking about," Dean insisted.
"Are you telling me that they're lying to me?"
"Yeah."
Ms. Willoughby nodded. "Why would they do that, Dean?"
"Because they don't like us."
"Why don't they like you?"
"I don't know—why don't you go ask them?"
"Because I'm asking you."
"I don't know."
"Dean, this isn't the first time your dad has left you, is it?"
"He's busy. I can take care of myself."
"Dean, you're a seven year old child. You need an adult with you at all times."
"I'm not a child." Dean got up from his chair and stormed over to the window, anger coming off him in waves. How dare these people come in here and tell him what he needs. He knew how to take care of himself—he wasn't lying about that. So what if John spent a lot of time away from home? Dean knew why he did it—he had to find what took Sammy and his mom away from them. And if that meant Dean had to stay at home by himself for days on end, then so be it.
"I don't need anyone."
"Where is your father, kid?" Officer Lewis asked, losing all patience.
"I told you he's out."
"Working?"
"Yeah."
Officer Lewis shook his head in frustration. "This kid isn't going to tell us anything."
Ms. Willoughby got up and walked over to Dean. She put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. "We're going to have to ask you to come with us, Dean."
Dean tore away from her grasp and stared at the woman, eyes blazing. "No! I won't!"
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
"I'm not going! You can't make me! I told you I could take care of myself! My dad will be back soon."
"And he can come down and see me when he does."
"I won't go!"
Ms. Willoughby nodded at the officer. He walked over to Dean and grabbed him by the arms. Dean immediately began to struggle in the older man's grasp, but his grip only tightened. Finally, seeing no other option, Dean stomped on the officer's foot and tore for the door. He yanked it open and ran smack into another pair of arms. Looking up, he saw another officer. Somehow, he failed to notice Officer Lewis had a partner waiting outside.
Ms. Willoughby and Officer Lewis came out of the house. Dean continued to struggle, screaming at them the entire time. Before they could get him to the car, a loud rumbling could be heard and Dean looked up to see his father driving up in his beloved Impala, coming to a hasty stop.
"Dad!"
John was out of the car in mere seconds, storming up to them. "Let go of my son."
Ms. Willoughby stepped in front of the irate father. "Mr. Winchester, I have orders to take Dean into custody."
"What orders?"
"The judge doesn't think Dean is safe here. Until a hearing can be set up, Dean is in the custody of child services."
"You can't take my boy away." John made a grab for Dean, but Officer Lewis quickly stepped between father and son.
"I don't have any choice, Mr. Winchester," Ms. Willoughby said.
"Yes, you do. You can leave him the hell alone and leave."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester." She nodded at the officers and Lewis's partner continued to escort the struggling boy to the car, as Lewis stood interference.
"Dad! Don't let them take me! Tell them, Dad! Tell them I belong with you!" His cries muffled as the car door slammed. He tried to open the door, and finding it was locked, started to pound on the windows.
He watched as his father stood there, seething, as the car slowly drove away from his home.
Sam watched the scene outside unfold standing on the small front porch. He heard the fear in his brother's voice as he was taken away from his home. He saw the hurt and anger etched on his father's face as John watched, helplessly, as his last remaining family was taken from him. He saw the defeat in his father and wished there was something he could do.
"Are you okay, Sam?"
Sam glanced over at his mother who stood beside him, watching her husband. Sam could see a lone tear trailing down her cheek. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did they have to take Dean away? He and Dad—they're all they have left. Why take them away from each other? Why did Dad let Dean live like that? Why couldn't Dad take care of Dean? Why did they never take me and Dean away before?"
Mary sighed. "I can't answer everything for you, Sam. What is missing from your brother's life now that wasn't in the other flashbacks?"
"Me."
"Yes. Dean had someone to take care of then. He had someone he was responsible for and more than anything, he was going to protect you from everything he could. He was going to make sure you had a good home and a safe environment to grow up in. Your brother had more to live for then. Now, Dean only has to take care of himself, and for some reason, it isn't as important to him. He doesn't have someone who will look up to him for guidance, for strength, not like he did before."
"So, is this my fault?"
"Not at all. Dean just has a different mindset now. He had someone older to take care of, but he only did that out of necessity, to make John happy. Taking care of an adult is a lot different than caring for a small child, Sam."
Sam sighed. He knew his mother was right. Dean always took care of his family, but it was always more directed towards him, his younger brother. Dean always gave everything he had to ensure Sam was safe from everything and had a healthy environment around him—at least as healthy as moving from motel to motel could give. But with John, Dean only did what had to be done, and not because he didn't love his father, but only because it wasn't Sammy.
"Does Dean ever get to come back?"
"No."
Sam swallowed hard. "What happens to him?"
"He stays in the system, going from home to home. He never does find the home he had when he was here."
"I want to see more. I have to know what happens to him."
Mary nodded. "I can show you one more."
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dean pushed away from the window as he heard the door to Sam's room open. He quickly rushed over when he saw Alicia balancing two cups of coffee and a small paper sack, all the while opening the heavy door. Grabbing both coffees from her, he held the door open with his foot to let her in.
"Thanks."
"No problem." Dean set the coffees down on the small table.
Alicia held up the paper sack. "Thought you might be hungry—glazed donuts. Not exactly Krispy Kreme, but they are somewhat edible."
Dean chuckled and took the proffered bag. "I've had worse."
Alicia nodded and smiled. "So…do you mind if I join you?"
"Don't you have other patients to check on?" Dean asked, taking one of the sugary pastries.
"My shift ended thirty minutes ago."
"Not to sound rude, but what are you still doing here, then?"
"I don't feel like going home right now."
"Why not?" Dean asked his mouth full.
Alicia sighed. "Do you want me to join you or what?"
Dean quickly swallowed the bite, giving her a half shrug. "You can if you want to."
"Was that so hard?" Alicia picked up one of the coffees and took a sip as she sat down.
Dean looked at this woman in front of him in wonder. He'd always been attracted to strong women and Alicia was certainly that. She was steadily holding her own and not letting him get to her. Truth be told, Dean wasn't even trying at this point. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the constant worry for his brother, but Dean wasn't putting on his best show. But he was increasingly sure he liked this nurse.
They sat in awkward silence for a long moment, the only sound in the room the incessant beeping from Sam's heart monitor. Dean grabbed another donut and offered the bag to Alicia, but she declined with a wave of her hand. He alternated between bites and sips of the piss poor excuse for coffee—Alicia hadn't been lying about that. But at that point, the hunter didn't care—any coffee right then was good enough for him.
Not able to take the silence anymore, Dean spoke up. "So…"
"So…"
Neither one said anything and the room again grew silent, except for the heart monitor. Dean glared at it thinking of at least a hundred different ways he could destroy the annoying contraption. One involved beating it to a pile of scrap with the crowbar in the trunk of the Impala and yet, another involved sending it right out the window. With the ICU ward on the seventh floor, Dean was pretty sure he could do some serious damage to it. If nothing else, it would serve as a great stress reliever for his frazzled mind.
"Does that damn thing ever stop beating?" he muttered.
"Sure. When the patient dies."
"Oh…well, that wouldn't be good."
"No, it wouldn't."
Dean let out a deep sigh. He didn't do good with silence, never had. And while he hated it, with their amazing track record of keeping a conversation going, he was sure they could sit like this all day.
"So, you and your brother—you're not from around here, are you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, you don't have the accent, for one."
"Right," Dean nodded. "We were actually just driving through."
"Where are you from?"
"Kansas."
"How did you end up all the way over here? Do you have family this way?"
"No, Sam and I, we're on a road trip."
"That sounds exciting. How long have you been traveling?"
"Uh, a little over a year now."
"Wow, I would certainly call that a road trip."
"Yeah, we just decided to hit the road, you know? Get out, see the sights, see what life has to offer."
"How's that been?"
Dean chuckled. What could he possibly say to this woman? The "sights" he and Sam had seen were not things dreams were made of, they were nightmares, plain and simple. The worst thing Alicia probably seen was…well, Dean wasn't so sure of that. He did know anything she'd seen could never compare to what he and Sam saw on a daily basis. So, how could Dean answer her question? "It's been…interesting."
"That's a strange answer."
"Yeah, so, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"What's your story?"
Alicia shrugged. "Nothing special, really. Just a country girl from Alabama."
"Alabama? What made you come up to Tennessee?"
"Just needed a change. I needed to get away from my family, but not far enough where I couldn't drive down if I wanted to see them."
"Are you and your family close?" Dean looked into his coffee cup and frowned when he saw there was nothing left.
"Yeah, we are." Alicia smiled. "Especially me and my kid sister, Mollie. She just turned fifteen last month. She has autism."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Alicia shook her head. "Don't be. She's not. She just accepts what happened to her and she lives life everyday. She wakes up with a smile on her face, ready to face the world. I truly admire that about her. She really is my hero."
Dean glanced over at his slumbering brother, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Mollie sounded exactly like his kid brother. Sam was the strongest and most loyal person he knew. He never told Sam, but his baby brother was his strength, the only reason he had to live and survive in this world. Sam had this uncanny ability to see good in everything and everyone and still maintained an innocence Dean could only hope he possessed.
"You really care for him don't you?" Alicia asked.
Dean looked up to see she was studying him. "Yeah, I do. He's my family, all I've got left."
"So you parents?"
"Both gone. It's just me and Sammy now."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly.
Dean nodded. Okay, Sammy. Anytime you want to wake up would be great. I'm spilling my heart out to a woman I barely know and you know how I hate these chick-flick moments.
Come on, Sam…I really need you here.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sixteen year old Dean Winchester let out a frustrated sigh as he glanced down at his digital watch—again. It was quickly approaching eleven o'clock, the November night growing colder by the moment and he was not happy. T.J. said he and his cousin, Danny, would be there by ten thirty and Dean could see it wasn't turning out to be the case.
Standing outside Al's Used Car Sales, Dean paced, taking in the scenery around him. It was quiet, just the way he liked it. It seemed as if the small town of Dearing, Kansas went to bed at the exact same time and it suited him just fine. It only made what he, T.J. and Danny were going to do much easier, meaning no witnesses. Dean could do easier—he didn't like for things to be complicated.
That wasn't saying he didn't like a challenge, he thrived at it actually. Breaking a car out of Al's wasn't going to be an easy task, considering the lot was surrounded by an eight foot chain length fence, but Dean had, at least, found a way in. The absence of video cameras made it better—it meant if they were really discreet, no one would know a thing about tonight. One thing you could say about small town life—they really underestimated their safety. It was one thing Dean never quite understood.
He stopped pacing when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up he saw a tall, lanky boy with dirty blonde hair accompanied by a shorter guy with curly black hair, approaching—T.J. and Danny. They were darting their eyes all around, keeping alert for any unwanted attention.
"What the hell took you so long?" Dean growled.
T.J. shrugged. "Dude, do you know who my dad is?"
Dean nodded, still angry but understanding. T.J.'s dad was Buddy Dorian, the town sheriff. It couldn't be easy to be a cop's son, Dean knew that much. It only made what they were going to do that much more interesting. He could only imagine the sheriff's reaction when he found out his own son was a criminal.
Dean was glad he didn't have to worry about crap like that. Being a child of the system, he got bumped from family to family on a regular basis—he never could hold onto one for long. He just couldn't get into the whole family idea—he was better off by himself and he knew how to take care of himself. That wasn't saying he didn't respect his newest family—the Richards—they did their best to make sure he was happy but he just couldn't be the son they deserved and wanted him to be.
"He's not going to surprise us, is he?" Dean asked.
"No, he was asleep when I left."
"Good, let's get this done." Dean walked towards the back of the lot, T.J. and Danny at his heels.
"Dean, how do you expect to get the car out of the lot?" Worry tinged T.J.'s voice.
Dean sighed. He was beginning to question why he asked T.J. and Danny to come along. T.J. was always one to ask questions until he was blue in the face and it always grated on Dean's nerves. Dean could tolerate Danny—the guy rarely said a word, which meant no questions which led to a happy Dean.
"Out the front gate. What the hell do you think?"
"The front gate is locked."
"Which is why I have this." He stopped in front of the back of the fence where a good sized hole was cut and picked up a pair of bolt cutters lying on the ground. "This can cut through anything, including piece of shit locks."
"Okay." T.J. still seemed hesitant, which only flared Dean's anger.
"Look, do you want to do this or not? Because I will do it alone if I have to hear any more of your bitching."
"I wanna help. I told you I did."
"Good, then shut the hell up."
T.J. nodded and did as he was told. Dean nodded, satisfied and wormed his way in through the hole. He already knew which car he was going to hit; he'd had his eyes on it for a few weeks now. It was a black 1989 Pontiac Firebird with red leather interior. She was every bit a beauty and she knew it. She'd been beckoning for Dean for days now, just begging him to take her on the open road. Dean was never one to disappoint, especially to something as gorgeous as she was.
Dean cautiously made his way over to his newest obsession and rubbed a hand caressingly over the chassis. She was even more magnificent up close. He looked back over at Danny and T.J. who were standing to the side, watching him. Dean tossed the bolt cutters to T.J. "Open the gate."
"Do you have the keys to the car?"
"Don't need the keys. Now, go." Dean found the door to the car unlocked, which didn't surprise him in the least bit. Again he questioned this town's lack of security as he slid into the car and said a silent apology to her for what he was about to do. Dean hadn't been lying to T.J.—you didn't need keys if you knew how to hotwire a car, which was something Dean became very good at over the years.
Pulling down a couple of wires, he slipped the casing off and hit them together causing a few sparks to erupt. It took a few tries, but finally the car burst to life with a satisfying purr. This had been too easy. He shut the door and saw T.J had the gate open. He rushed over as Danny climbed into the backseat and fell into the front seat.
"Let's see what this baby can do." Dean smiled and gunned the engine. Its loud roar pierced the quiet night, but Dean didn't care if they heard it in the next town. This was so worth it.
The car peeled out of the lot, leaving behind skid marks on the asphalt. Soon, they were on the open road or what constituted as an open road in this hick town, the boys cheering and laughing. But their victory was short-lived as a siren pierced the through the night. Dean glanced up in the rearview mirror to see a police cruiser, lights flashing, was quickly approaching them.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, pressing the accelerator down a little harder.
"Crap! It's the cops!" T.J. said, glancing over his shoulders.
"Thanks for the update, Sherlock."
"What are we gonna do?"
"I don't know—just let me think." Dean really couldn't think of anything. They could have driven all night, but glancing down at the gas gauge, Dean saw there was only half a tank left, meaning the chase wouldn't last too long. Dean could try to lose the cop, but again, this was a small town and didn't provide many places for hiding. The way he figured, they were pretty much screwed both ways.
"Dean!"
"Damn it, T.J.! I told you I was thinking!" And he came up with a decision. This whole thing had been his idea and there was no sense for T.J. and Danny to take the fall. He pulled the wheel sharply to the right and brought the car to a sudden stop. "Get out and take off. They can't come after all of us."
"Wait! What are you going to do?" T.J. asked.
"Don't worry about me. Get out of here now, or I'll turn you over to the cops."
T.J. looked back at Danny and both boys nodded. The quickly scrambled out of the car and tore into the woods as the cop pulled up behind Dean.
Dean sighed as he looked into the rearview mirror to see who was going to grace him with their presence tonight—Sheriff Buddy Dorian—he didn't like Dean almost as much as Dean didn't like him. This wasn't the first time they ran into each other and Dean was sure it wouldn't be the last.
"Come out of the car with your hands up!"
Dean chuckled—the sheriff really needed to work on his act, but he did as he was told and exited the car, hands above his head.
"Evening, Sheriff."
Dorian clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Well, well, well…if it isn't Dean Winchester."
"The one and only."
"You mind telling me what you were doing tonight?" Dorian pointed at the Firebird.
"Oh, you know…just taking a drive."
"In a stolen car?"
"More like borrowed without asking."
Dorian chuckled. "You know the drill, Winchester."
Dean turned around and put his hands on the roof of the car. Yes, he knew the drill, quite well as a matter of fact. He'd done this several times since he moved to Dearing. All petty stuff, really—vandalism, burglary, trespassing—but those little things added up quickly.
As Dorian cuffed him and read him his rights, Dean couldn't help but wonder if his luck with the law had finally run out. Dorian told him if he was arrested again, he would serve time and one thing could be said about the good sheriff—he always kept a promise.
"Dean gets arrested?" Sam asked in complete disbelief.
"He never could find a place where he fit in," Mary explained. "He had a lot of anger and frustration built up inside, he didn't know where to channel it, so he picked a life of crime. It was quick and easy and gave him satisfaction, if only for a short while."
"But he gets out, right? He does better?"
Mary shook her head. "He serves two years since he was a minor and is released when he was eighteen. After that, he spends two years looking for John and finally finds him in Nebraska, in the middle of a hunt. They have a good year together until John is killed when Dean is twenty-one."
"The Demon?"
Mary nodded sadly.
"What happens then?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Sam. It's not my place."
"What do you mean? Why can't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry, Sam, but that's for the second part of your journey."
"Wait, you're leaving?"
Mary cupped her young son's face in her hands. "It will be okay, Sammy. You're going to be in good hands."
"No, Mom, I'm…I'm not ready to say good-bye to you yet."
Mary smiled. "It will be okay, Sammy. I'll always be with you, you have to remember that. I'm never that far away from you."
"No, Mom…"
Mary grabbed her son into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Sam, and take care of Dean, too. He needs you more than you realize."
Sam blinked back tears as he watched his mother disappear. It wasn't fair—he wasn't ready to say good-bye to her. He had so many questions to ask her and yet, he didn't get to ask a single one. It was as if she was ripped away from him once again and it was a pain like no other. He stubbornly wiped away a few stray tears as a voice behind him caused his breath to catch in his throat.
"Hello, Sam."
Sam turned around, stunned. "Jess?"