Chapter Five – Back to the Future

Present day – 1997

Four days of missed opportunities and no success in vanquishing this spirit and Dean was on his own. John had left to take care of a disturbance down south, leaving his son to face his terrors all alone. Bolstered by Dad's revealing history with chick flicks and his rare words of support, Dean felt new confidence he could handle this job… at least he hoped he could. Even though he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, he had to acknowledge it was a scary proposition to be facing down this evil all on his own. He never thought his first solo gig would be something as benign as a mischievous spirit and he further never envisioned being so damn nervous about it. Everything about this gig had him anxious, unsettled and… scared. And he was most scared because he felt scared.

He'd lived his life behind a confident air, a bold swagger he had come to believe most days, especially when he was hunting. Show no fear and hide any weakness. He'd trained his entire life for the hunt. It was all he knew. The one thing he truly excelled at: his one true gift in life, his purpose, his calling… to hunt down evil and vanquish it, and now he was questioning his very mission…, questioning himself. He'd had the best training possible under his dad's steady tutelage and he had natural ability, an inherent aptitude for this kind of work. So why the hell am I hesitating now? Why does this damn theater and stupid movie scare the crap out of me?

The theater looked so innocent, bright and cheery with a well lit lobby filled to capacity with the echo of laughter and good times, hardly dark and ominous and threatening. Better watch it, Winchester. That's just the kind of place to lull you into a false sense of security, to catch you off guard with deadly precision and rip you to shreds.

Dean's haunted eyes reflected the abject terror on the edge of his consciousness, his mouth nervously muttering under his breath, his eyebrows deeply furrowed in concentration, his ears on alert, intently listening, tuned in to the subtle whispers wafting through the cavernous chambers; all of his senses called into play to guard against this evil. Only his sense of smell and taste left out of the equation, unless you counted his yearning for the popcorn, but then again maybe that was more for the popcorn girl. Focus on the hunt, goddammit!

He settled down and pulled up his vast well of knowledge along with the slight experience he had handling a job on his own. No sulfur, so he wasn't dealing with a demon which considering his tender mental state and frazzled nerves had to be considered good news. At least he didn't have to worry about facing the big bad as he waited for evil to assault him. Nope, no demons. Lucky me! All I've got to handle here is a shit-ass, freaking Casper, the unfriendly ghost. Piece of cake… yeah, right!

Well, this freaky, mild-mannered, little ghosty might not be ready to slash me into little bits and eat me for lunch… may not be into the whole 'physical assault and do bodily harm jollies', but it sure as hell is gonna inflict some major damage. I can feel it. Winchester, my boy, you are in for the ride of your life, that's for damn sure! Just buckle up and settle down. You can do this… you can!

Unfortunately, the kind of damage Dean knew he was facing here was the most painful to admit to, much less examine. He could see the writing on the wall, detailing the coming pain. He was in for the total emotional twisting of his feelings with a glee designed simply with the sole purpose of watching him suffer the humiliation and devastation in failing at his job. He physically shook from the utter horror of sitting through that damn movie yet again, and the paralyzing fear of disappointing his dad. If he survived this ordeal, he deserved a medal or better yet, a tender thank you from a frisky woman. Problem being, no imperiled damsels were waiting for him to rescue them. The harsh reality this time around was he was the only girl hoping to be saved. And I kid Sammy about being the girl in the family? Damn! I've been such a freakin' girl about this whole deal… man! God, I hate this job!

---

Another night with no sightings left Dean at a loss, his terror the only constant, right there staring him down and waiting for him to flinch. He wondered how much longer he could endure this agony with no resolution, the waiting and uncertainty feeding his insecurities, pushing him further down that road to self-doubt. Sam intently watched him with growing concern shadowing his eyes when he returned to the motel room after the last showing, and that only made him feel like more of a loser. I hate it when he looks at me with pity, concern, or what-the-hell else he feels when he thinks I've failed. I'm the big brother. I look after him, not the other way around.

"Still no spirit?" Sam's low voice questioning as he shifted on the bed and turned down the sound on the TV in case his brother felt like venting, like caring and sharing for a change.

Like Hell I'll cry on your shoulder, Sammy!

"Huh? No, nothing yet." Just stay calm and act like it doesn't bother you. He's fourteen, damn it! He doesn't know what you're feeling. He can't. He's just trying to read you. No problem, you're a master at hiding your feelings. Same old song. "Tomorrow maybe. So whatcha watching?" Dean offered up his most confident smirk, his eyes crystal clear, void of any worry. Yeah, right!

Sam studied his brother's face for a moment more before he responded, sure he saw something behind Dean's eyes, something signally… nah, Dean's fine… Dean's always fine.

"Gibson and Glover… Lethal Weapon." Sam smiled, knowing Dean couldn't resist the action flick.

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Three."

"Cool, at least it has Lorna instead of that wimpy, foreign chick that went and got herself killed." Dean smiled a huge grin and quirked his eyebrows. "You're a lucky man, Sammy. Lorna's hot and tough; gotta love a girl that can handle herself. This is a thousand times better than that damn sinking ship." And then he laughed, knowing that was one sure way to dispel his brother's concerns.

Sam smiled, relieved the old, reliable, cocky Dean was back. "I thought you liked Murtaugh's daughter, Rianne?"

Dean leaped onto the bed beside his brother, stretching out on his stomach with his chin resting on his folded hands. "I do. Of course what I really loved is how she scandalized her dad with that condom commercial." He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned that cocky, eat-shit grin. "That was hot… hell, it made me wanna buy rubbers."

"Dean, you always wanna buy rubbers."

Dean arched his eyebrows again and his smirk was contagious, infecting his entire face. "Not as much as I wanna use 'em."

Sam let out a disgusted grunt and rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you actually liked her."

Dean pulled back, his jaw dropped open and his eyes sparked as if he'd been attacked, displaying all the classics signs of being offended and unjustly judged.

Yeah right! I'll believe that one when Dad stops hunting, or wendigos fly, whichever comes first.

Dean spoke with a brashness to his tone, "Hey… I told ya, I do like her… after all, that girl is smokin' hot in the rescue scene."

Sam punched his brother on the arm. "Yeah? And now you'll just throw her over for Lorna? She's a little old for you, isn't she?"

"Sammy, you ever hear of Mrs. Robinson? Older women can teach you things… important things." Dean twisted his mouth into a smirk and his eyes were shiny and bright, the joy that had been missing the last few days seemingly back. "I thought you were into studying, bro?" Dean leaned back on his right elbow laughing as he pushed his brother off the bed. Sam landed with a thud on the floor next to the wall. "Just wait 'til you find out what an experienced woman knows, kiddo." Dean gave his dirtiest laugh as he licked his lips before pressing them into a sensual smile accented by his deep dimples as his mind took him back to more pleasant times.

Sam scrambled off the floor and pounced on his brother, wrestling with him and trying in vain to pin him to the bed. Dean easily flipped him onto his stomach and pinned him, holding him down with a smug laugh.

"Say uncle."

"Go to hell, Dean."

Dean tightened his grip and laid across his brother so he could continue to watch the movie. Sam's face was turned away from the TV and buried in the bedding. He continued to struggle but Dean held firm, his left arm holding Sam in a headlock.

"Sammy, just say it." Dean waited and received only silence. "Well, all right then…, have it your way... I got all night." He settled in, softly humming Zeppelin to himself.

Sam cursed at how unfair his life was. Dean was older, stronger, and so damn dedicated to Dad's training regimen he was practically invincible. Another year or so and Sam might finally gain the height on him, but that wouldn't help when it was all awkward angles and gawky legs and damn it, I shouldn't have to spend two hours working out in the gym every day. I shouldn't have to play soldier.

Sam continued to squirm under the weight of his brother. "Come on, Dean, let me up."

"Sammy, you know the rules," Dean stated matter-of-factly. "I got no pity. You're gonna have to say it."

"Dean, I'm missing the movie."

"Oh.., I'm so sorry."

"You bastard."

"Yeah, maybe, but you're the one laid out. It's pretty simple, bro… just one word."

Sam gasped from the pressure on his back and neck. He wished he could fool Dean into thinking he was really hurting him because he knew Dean would never inflict real pain on him. Sam knew that gambit wasn't gonna work anymore. It had once, back when Dean was fourteen, back before he had the experience to know just how much pressure to apply and how his sweet, innocent, baby brother would actually tell a fib if it gave him the upper hand in the brothers' battles.

The standoff continued for several minutes until Sam finally uttered the dreaded word.

"Uncle."

Dean immediately released him with a firm clasp to the back of his neck and a tousle of his shaggy hair. "Alright, that didn't hurt too much, now did it?"

Sam glowered at him. He rolled over and pulled a pillow under his chest as he situated himself in front of the TV to finish watching the movie.

Dean reached over and nudged him, trying to get a response.

"Stop goofing around," Sam snapped as he took a swipe at his hand. "They're coming to the good part."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Dean studied the TV before recognition crossed his face as a sly smile erupted. "Oh, right! They're gonna compare scars." Dean grinned as he confidently boasted, "I'll have 'em beat by the time I'm twenty-five."

Grunting into his pillow Sam turned on his side and glared at his brother. "You're such a jerk, Dean. Contrary to what you might believe, chicks don't really dig scars. They find them gross."

"Yeah, bitch? And how would you know what girls like?"

Sam stared at him, his eyes fierce and his bottom lip sticking out in the childish manner he had yet to outgrow.

Dean continued on, enjoying tormenting his kid brother. It was, after all, a perk of the job and definitely a more pleasant diversion for his mind, infinitely better than thinking about that freakin' movie and having to go back to that damn theater in the morning. "Let me guess… you read it somewhere?" Dean roared with laughter, finally totally relaxed, letting his anguish burn down if only for the moment. Dean started tickling his brother as Sam tried to roll away from him. "Sammy, we've got to get your nose out of the books. There are other things, you know?"

Sam was laughing uncontrollably from the sensation even as he swatted at his brother and tried to scowl. He finally got his brother's hands off of his stomach and shoved him hard. "Shut up!" he growled.

---

With the morning light came the stark reality another day of torment was upon him. Dean again felt Sam watching him, the atmosphere tense as if he was on the brink of saying something, but was waiting, for once holding his tongue and letting the moment pass.

Good, Sammy… just let it be. Ain't nothing you can do to fix this so don't even bother trying. It's my problem… I'll handle it.

Sam watched as his brother drank his third cup of coffee in quick order. His hands steady on the cup, but something in his eyes seemed off, just slightly squirrelly, maybe actually… scared?

I don't know what's wrong with you, Dean, but something sure is. You know, you don't always have to be the big, macho gunslinger facing down trouble all on your own. You could always ask for my help… Sam shook his head in defeat. Yeah, right! Like that's ever gonna happen.

"Sam, just stop it," Dean barked out, anger and frustration mixing with raw nerves to deliver a tone too harsh. Dean regretted it the moment he said it, his eyes showing remorse while his mind shoved it to the back into the darkness. The Winchesters weren't ones for apologies or sentimental moments. Life was hard and you learned to deal.

Sam startled back to the moment. "Stop what?" he innocently asked, his sad, puppy dog eyes blankly staring at his brother.

Dean huffed in disgust, angry mainly with himself, and his total lack of control. "All that thinking. You're gonna blow a fuse one of these days." Dean walked over to the sink and rinsed out his coffee cup. "It's not your job to worry. Just sit back and relax and let the grown-ups handle it."

Dean hoped that would end it. If Sam got mad enough he would roll up into a ball on his bed and pout. It might take him the whole day to get over it and that gave Dean one day of freedom without having to constantly be reminded he was a freaking wuss.

Sam stuck out that bottom lip again and rolled over on his side, facing away from his idiot brother. Fine, be that way… He was used to Dad being a bastard, all authoritative and distant, but Dean? Dean could be a major pain-in-the-butt, but he was also the best friend Sam had and the best he would likely ever have, considering their warped lives.

As obnoxious as Dean could be when he really got into playing the role of big brother with his I-am-the-lieutenant-and-you-are-just-a-grunt games, Sam also knew he could always count on Dean to be there for him… to protect him from whatever… and there were a hell of a lot of bad whatevers out there that meant to do Sam harm. Dean would never let anyone or anything hurt his little brother, unless of course he was the one doing the hurting. He seemed to take that as a perk of the job, his inalienable right.

In total disgust for the circumstances of his life and with too many questions and no apparent answers, Sam laid claim to the remote and started flicking channels, stopping on an old ThunderCats cartoon. Let the grown-ups handle it… yeah, right! Like Dean's a grown-up?

---

"Sammy, I'm leaving."

Sam shifted away from the sound of his smartass brother, not wanting to deal with him now. He was tired of always being left out of everything, treated like a baby. Not that he wanted to be involved in the hunt, but it was the principle of the thing. If Dean was struggling with this spirit or whatever it turned out to be, then he should ask for help. Just accept a helping hand for once instead of making matters worse by pretending everything was fine. It was obvious things weren't fine.

Dean gave his brother one last look as he stood in the doorway, the keys to the Impala jingling in his hand.

"Sammy, stay put. Last show is at ten. I'll be back by two." He waited for a response, greeted instead by an icy stare and a grunt. Oh, Sammy, you always were so eloquent! "Bolt the door," Dean instructed as he pulled it closed.

As soon as Dean left, Sam jumped up and pulled out the phonebook from the dresser drawer. Steadying it across his lap he thumbed through it and picked up the phone to make his call.

"Yeah, where are you located? Can you give me directions from the Crescent Motel off the highway?" He pulled out the motel stationary and pen from the drawer and jotted down the information. "How far is it?" He drummed the pen on the stand and a look of determination took over his face and he smiled. "Thanks."

I'm not the baby, Dean. This time you're going to get my help whether you want it or not.

He leafed through the phonebook until he came to the city map and ripped it out, folding it and placing it in his jacket pocket before he took off out the door.

TBC