A/N: Thanks to michelexXx for betaing(is that even a word?) and to my reviwers. You guys rock socks.

Chapter 4: Arrangements.

Dean walked into a dimly lit room surrounded by different colored caskets. He had asked to come along with his grandmother to help her pick out his parents' caskets… I shouldn't let her do this by herself. There were other family members in town; uncles, cousins, aunts, and some other distant relatives that he was not close to them. He heard from them on holidays and the occasional family reunion. Besides, he was their son and a part him felt he had to. Dean ran his hand over the lid of a white casket feeling its smooth surface. He lifted the lid and it made a creaking noise as he did. Inside it was white lining that matched the outside. He closed the lid and looked at the casket across from it. There was a walnut colored casket by the white one and the light shone on it giving it some shine. He walked over to it and ran his hand over the lid, it was smooth like the white one.

The light was turned on all the way and Dean looked up startled. In the doorway stood his grandmother and the funeral-home director. "Dean?" Teresa spoke going over to his side, "Did you find something." Dean gestured to both of the caskets. "These two. I think the white one should be for mom and the brown one for dad. Unless you think there should be something different." Teresa glanced over the caskets and then back to the funeral-home director. "These two will be fine."

"Those are both fine choices made by the best experts. They speak of your deep feelings for the departed. Shall we discuss prices?" The funeral-home director said turning to leave. Dean went to follow his grandmother out the room but looked back at the casket. What if they don't like them? After all they're the ones that are going to be buried in them forever. Six feet under.

"Dean?" Teresa asked. "Is something wrong?" Dean debated telling her but then decided against. She'll say it wasn't a good idea to come along and tell me to go home. "No. Nothing's wrong." He forced himself to say. "Come along then." Teresa ushered. Dean left the room without giving the caskets another thought.

Dean was sitting at the dinning room table with his grandmother, papers around them. He did not know what the majority of them were about nor did he care. Teresa had a yellow notepad held in her hand and would write something down every so often. She peered up from writing at one point and looked at Dean "What type of flowers?" She asked him.

"What?" Dean responded unsure what she meant.

"What type of flowers do you think there should be? I was thinking sunflowers for your mother since it was her favorite flower but I don't know about your father. What type of flowers do you think there should be for him?"

Mom always did like sunflowers. "Sunflowers sound good for mom. Umm...I don't know about dad. Something manly I guess. Is there such thing as a manly flower?" He tried to think of time, if there was any time, his dad mentioned flowers. The only time he ever thought of flowers was buying them for mom. He was never a flower person. I'm not a flower person. Guys aren't flower people. Why would she ask me this? Dean pondered for a second. Oh, that's right. You didn't want her to do this by herself. You wanted to be involved.

His grandmother smiled slightly. "Not really Dean. Perhaps something yellow?"

"Yellow. That sounds good. Or green. His favorite color was green." Or was his favorite color blue? Great, now I can't remember. Green would have to do. Teresa went back to writing and talked without looking back up. "I was thinking maybe we could have the wake at that Weston's Bakery. It's a nice place for the rest of the family and friends of your parents to gather. With the way I've seen the people in the town act I'm sure Weston's wouldn't mind. Is there another place you have in mind?"

"No. Weston's is fine." Dean said then mumbled, "Even though dad's didn't like wakes."

"What was that Dean? You can tell me."

"I said dad didn't like wakes. He would say that the funeral was depressing enough." Teresa did not say anything for some time. "Very well then. Since you're father didn't like them there won't be a wake."

"How are we going to tell people? Most of them will be expecting one right?"

"Yes, most of them would. We can put it in the program."

"What sounds right? 'After the burial there will not be a wake'?"

"Maybe something a little more formal. 'By request of the family a wake will not proceed the burial'?"

Dean nodded in agreement. "That sounds good. What about pictures for the program? Should there be a separate one of each of them or one together?" He could not explain it, but every little detail felt important to him. Everything had to be just right. He did not want anything to be wrong. This was his goodbye to them and everything needed to be just right.

"I have several pictures I found here." Teresa moved papers aside and pulled out a few photos. Dean took the pictures and looked through them. The first photo was of his mother taken last Christmas. She had her hair pulled back, a smile on her face, and was wearing the candy canes earrings that Clara had made. And badly made too. Dean thought. This doesn't really show who she was. Dean tossed the picture to the side and moved on to the next. The second one was of his father. He was turned to the side and was wearing sunglasses. Dean could not remember where it was at or when. This one won't work; you can't even see his eyes. He flipped through several more but nothing was good enough. I need there to be one so when people see it they will be able to see them how they were. Not some posed fake photo.

Dean came to the last picture and half grinned. The picture was taken at the beach the summer before they moved to Stars Hollow. Both his parents were standing on the sand. His father had his arm wrapped around his mother's shoulders and his mother was leaning her head towards his father. They were both smiling and waving and a few seagulls were present in the background. This one is perfect. He handed it over to his grandmother who took it and gave a little sad smile. "This one's lovely Dean."

Teresa spent a few minutes writing on her notepad again before speaking. "Now Dean," She started hesitantly. "Would you like to say a few words at the service?"

"Uhh..." Dean had not thought of it. Should I say something? I should right? People are going to be expecting me to speak but I've never been good at speaking in front of people. His grandmother must have seen Dean starting to look panic. "Dean it's okay. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

"No, I should say something. I will."

"Are you sure? Because you don't have to."

"I'm sure, Granny."

"You don't have say much. I was going to speak as well."

"I said I would speak."

"Okay then. Well, I think everything's been decided. We should talk about what's going to happen after the funeral."

Dean frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked puzzled.

"I'm talking about the living arrangements." Teresa said sternly.

"Oh." Dean had tried not thinking about it, wanting to make it pass the funeral.

"You know your parents left me in charge of you and Clara if anything happened to them."

"I know."

"I was thinking maybe I would came and stay with until you graduate high school." Teresa offered.

Dean was surprised by her remark. He thought she would insist on him moving to Chicago to live with her. "Really?" Teresa nodded in response. "This wasn't an easy decision for me to make Dean but with you settled in school here and Clara in the hospital. I need to be here for you and Clara. I don't know if we'll be able to stay in this house though." She confessed.

"What? Why not?" Dean asked.

Teresa sighed. "Dean, what your parents have left in their bank accounts is going mostly towards the hospital bills and the life insurance is for the funeral expenses and keeping Clara in the hospital. It's just me and you Dean until Clara wakes up."

"If she wakes up." Muttered Dean.

"I'm sure there's a smaller house around here somewhere and it's not like we're going to be moving tomorrow. We can take sometime to find a house." Dean was not too happy at all about what his grandmother had said. What can I do about it? It's not like it matters. This is just a house Dean. "Sounds good." Dean's voice was flat and emotionless."

"Dean I know you don't like the idea but it's for the best."

"If you say so." Dean said his voice still emotionless.

"Dean-"

"No, Granny. It's fine. I'm fine. Are we finished?" Dean was growing impatient and he needed to leave the room. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

"You know Dean if you need to talk-"

"I don't. Can I go, please?" Teresa sighed but gave in.

"Yes you can. If I come across anything else I'll come talk to you."

"Okay."

Dean got up and went to his room irritated. He never thought about having to move to another house now that they were not here anymore. Why can't we stay in this one? Is there not enough money to live here? The memories of them were here and if they moved those memories would be gone. What about their stuff? What am I going to do with all their things? Give it all away so someone else can have them? And what about Clara's stuff? She doesn't have any use of it now but what if she wakes up? Uh! I can't think about this.

He went over and sat at his desk. He pulled out a notebook and a pen. What can I say at the funeral? He opened the notebook, the blank white paper staring back him. He began to write repeating his words as he wrote them. "My parents were great people. Always looking out for my sister and I-" Dean ripped the paper out of the note book, balled it up, and threw it towards the wastebasket. He picked up his pen and tried writing again. "My parents Josh and May Forester, were great people. Both of them always seemed to know what to do in tough situations and solved them with…Ugh! No. This isn't right!" He tore the page out of the notebook and handled it like the previous one.

Think, Forestor, how hard can this be? They were your parents you should be able to say something about them. Tell them how they were, the truth. He pressed the pen to the paper and tried again. "I never fully got along with my parents. What teenager does? But they always took care of Clara and I and not just because they were my parents and that was part of their job. But because..." Because why? Do you even know where you're going with this? Forget it. Instead of ripping the page out, Dean tossed the whole notebook towards the trashcan. The notebook hit the trashcan knocking it over.

Frustrated, Dean pressed his wrist into his forehead. How can this be so hard? Dean let out a heavy sigh. I'll think of something later. Dean looked over at his clock; it read four-thirty. The funeral isn't until two tomorrow. I have almost twenty-three hours to think of something. Dean ran a hand through his hair. He turned around in his chair and noticed that the door to his closet was partly opened.

He walked over to his closet and fully opened the door. He pushed clothes aside until he reached the back of the closet. Dean took out two suits. The only ones he owned. One was a dark blue and the other one was black. When was the last time I wore any of these? Do they even fit me anymore? The dark blue one looked way too small for him now and he threw it to the side, not caring where it landed. He held up the black one in front of him and studied it. The jacket had rather large hole in it on one of the sleeves and it was wrinkled on some parts. I need a new jacket. I can't wear this to the funeral. He looked the suit over again. Something was missing.

Tie, I need a tie. Hanging the suit on the doorknob of his closet, Dean went over to his dresser and drug through his dresser. He shoved articles of clothing out of the way trying to find a tie. He only had one and it was blue. How can I not have a black tie? I should own a black tie. He needed to find a tie and a jacket for tomorrow. Grabbing his wallet on the way out of his room, Dean rushed down the stairs to the door. "I'm going out! I'll be back later!" He shouted back as he closed the door loudly.

Dean pushed the door opened to 'The Store For Men', a bell ringing above the door as he walked in. A rather enthusiastic Kirk greeted him. "Welcome to Stars Hollow 'The Story For Men' where we carry anything from church wear to prom wear. Today is fifty percent off Monday. Where everything in the store is fifty percent off. Is there anything which I can help you with today?" Dean tried hard not to look annoyed. He did not want to deal with Kirk today.

"I'm fine Kirk."

"Are you sure? Because I will be very happy to help you. It's my job to see to it that you, the customer, receive the things that you are looking for."

"Kirk." Dean said growing aggravated. "If I need your help I will ask. Alright?"

"Very well then. I'll just be behind the counter if you need my assistance."

Dean headed over to rank full of black jackets. He glanced at the tags until he found his size. He quickly tired it on. The sleeves were a little big but other then that it was a perfect fit. "I must say that jacket looks nicely on you." Kirk said from behind the counter. "Umm...thanks Kirk." Dean was a little weirded out by his remark but then again it was Kirk after all.

With the jacket in his hands Dean went over to the ties. There were a variety of colors and types of ties. I just want a plain black tie. He picked up several but they were either too large or too small. "Do you need some help there? I like to think of myself as an expert when it comes to picking ties out. I have worn plenty in my life time."

"No thanks Kirk." Dean looked over the ties again but did not see anything to his preference. The bell went off over the door but Dean kept looking through the ties.

"Hey Dean." What was Rory doing in the store?

"Oh, hi Rory." Dean met her eyes with his. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you through the window and thought I would come and see what you were doing. I tried to call but you didn't answer." Rory explained. Dean checked his pocket but his cell phone was not there. "I must have left it at home. I'm trying to pick out a tie but I can't seem to find one."

"Do you want some help?"

"Please?"

"Oh, that's right. Accept help from the girlfriend but not from the person whose job it is to help people." Rory glared at Kirk who immediately shut his month and starting busying himself with something at the counter.

Dean watched Rory's hand roam above the ties and she eventually picked up a black one. "Here. Try this one and it's silk." Dean held the tie up to the mirror. He started at his reflection. "This one's good." Rory smiled happy and held up another tie. "And there's a special. Two ties for fifteen, you can't beat that." Dean smiled back. "No, I suppose you can't."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No. This was it." Rory's smile grew. "I was thinking maybe we could eat at Luke's and then go back over to my house and watch a movie. Unless you don't feel like watching a movie or eating at Luke's." Dean shook his head. "Luke's and a movie sound good." He paid for his jacket and ties; Rory was standing by the door holding out her hand.

Dean took Rory's hand and she gave his a slight squeeze. She kissed him on the cheek and they walked over to Luke's.