The State of Perdition

Chapter 2

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Summary: A/U: The boys never got into hunting because their mother died of natural causes. Years later, Dean struggles to find acceptance from his father. Eating-disorder theme.

I haven't decided yet if I'm going to add Castiel to this story or not; it's still up in the air.

In order to keep my muse scratching, I'm also willing to listen to random thoughts, things you would like to see in this story. I may take it, I may take part of it, or I may toss it aside all together. Basically, I'm just looking for anything to trigger an 'Ah-ha!' moment. While I have a general idea about how this story will go and where it will end, as far as long how it will be and what may happen in-between is still up in there air. There are so many possibilities….

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Sammy was gone. It was hard to accept at first that his brother would be spending the majority of time far, far away from home. Even more than that, he had been so excited about making new friends and experiencing new things. Really, Dean was proud of his baby brother; however, that didn't make things any easier. His brother did call at first, several times a week, but how could that compare to their every-night conversations, to the fact that, once upon a time, they had been closer than any friend he'd ever had? The calls became fewer and far in-between, until a month later, Dean hadn't heard a word from his baby brother.

It was fine, though. Sam was probably having the time of his life.

Sam probably forgot about him.

Dean made new friends himself at the garage he found a job at. He'd rather have joined the army and follow in his father's footsteps, but then they got hold of his medical records, discovered his diagnosed eating disorder, and apparently, the scale wasn't his friend that day. They told him that he needed to put on weight if he wanted to join, and everything came crawling back to his father's comment from before. They had to be mocking him, right? They really meant he was too damn fat to join the army. He couldn't even try to be half the hero his father was. Working as a mechanic was nice, but it was also a daily reminder of his failure.

Then, he met her: Carmon. She was beautiful with dark, thick hair and those smoking tattoos. She had an attitude and a bike, and how was it not a match made in heaven, considering his own suave, sexy nature? She was good for a date or two at least; until she turned into something more. The world was against him in every way, but Carmon… she believed in him.

Carmon thought that he was amazing.

Carmon thought that he would be even more amazing, sexy and raw if he just lost a little more weight.

Together, Dean and his new girlfriend worked on building him up to be the man he always wanted to be; someone who his father could look him in the eye and be proud of. Carmon challenged him, too. She would make goals for him.

"You're going to run ten miles today, Dean, you can do it!" She ran her finger lovingly over his prominent collarbone, kissing it.

"You didn't eat anything today, did you?" She pinched his stomach to check; that hurt. It always hurt.

"Step on the scale, baby, let's see how you did." She wrapped her arms around his hipbones, jutting out so she could easily settled her hands there.

"You still have a ways to go, baby; look at that fat right there." It was everywhere. Dean couldn't escape it. But, he was trying.

Dean worked hard. He lost weight. His family couldn't find out, though, because they would never agree with what he was trying to achieve. They had always been against him. Luckily, Dean was old enough that he lived on his own, now; or with Carmon, anyway. He didn't see Bobby, and he definitely didn't Sammy, who had abandoned him a long time ago for Stanford.

Things weren't going great, but Dean was making progress.

And then, Bobby called him and invited him over, along with Sam, for his baby brother's Christmas break.

Dean should have been mad. He should have told him that Sam decided to leave, that was it. He should have been afraid that his family would notice his weight loss, that they would do something drastic, again.

However, Dean was an adult now, and really, what could they do but bitch?

Also, nights with his little brother, talking about everything and anything. His buddy. His best friend.

Dean promised he would be there in three days.

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Dean had to be careful, watch his every move. Luckily, Carmon knew about the situation and was willing to be there for him to help him out. She was his girlfriend, so there was no need for anyone to be suspicious about inviting her to stay with them for Christmas.

It didn't snow in Kansas all too often, or usually very hard, but the winters had their moments in some places, and locals were seen, at this time of year, bundled up. It made deception all the easier.

Everything was going to be perfect.

The door opened, and shit; the smell of a good dinner filled Dean's nostrils and made his hands shudder a little. Mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, beans… the entire aroma was a slice of heaven; and Dean's welcoming Hell. He tried to ignore it.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean greeted his surrogate Uncle with a smile, not at all surprised at the look of wonder and distrust that crossed his Uncle's face. Bobby was a cautious, somewhat paranoid man.

"Good to see you, son," Bobby greeted, his eyes sliding over to Carmon. "And you are?"

"Carmon," the beautiful youth extended her hand. "I'm Dean's girlfriend. Nice to meet you."

"You have a girlfriend." Bobby seemed miffed about that, and that made Dean curious. Could he really be upset that he hadn't told him every detail of his life? Where was Sam, calling at all hours of the day? "Okay, well… come on. It's damn freezing out here." He added, "Wipe yer feet. I don't exactly have an extra bedroom-"

"Come on, Bobby, don't be a prude." Dean couldn't help with a half-smirk, which he attempted to remain plastered on his face, despite the fact that, as he moved into the house, the beautiful scents of the kitchen began to assault his nostrils. Deviled eggs, cranberry sauce, pie. Cherry pie. Shit, Bobby had made cherry pie. "I'm not 17 anymore. She's going to be taking my room."

"Right." The older man scoffed, but there was something else in his eyes. Regret? It hit Dean in the gut, and for the first time in a long time, he began to feel regret, too. Bobby had raised both him and Sam for a good part of their lives; he was almost like a father to them. Had he run from Bobby like Sam had run from him? Could he do any damn thing right?

"Come on, baby." Dean resolved to fix this in any way he could as he took his girlfriend's jacket off, placed it in the closet that hadn't changed, still housed their random jackets – whose was this anyway? He just couldn't remember. His own coat came off, but the hoodie stayed on. Several layer of jeans made it appear as though he was wearing a single layer of skin-hugging pants that filled several inches thicker of flesh and muscle.

His ruse worked. Dean noticed Bobby scrutinizing him, only to send out a somewhat relieved smiled; and awe, Bobby, were you thinking about this the whole time when you invited me, or did you suddenly remember? Either way, he was relieved, he was happy.

"You look good, son."

"You too, Bobby."

Bobby huffed at that. "However an old man's supposed to look."

"Uh-huh." Dean's voice was filled with mock, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look around the house. Almost nothing had changed, and for a moment, this really felt like home. For a moment, Dean had happy memories of wrestling with Sammy for the remote control, of sitting on the sofa and listening as Bobby read them stories and tucked them in at night. Suddenly, the scents floating in from the kitchen didn't bother him as much anymore. "Sammy come in yet?"

"Not yet," Bobby told him. "His flight was running a little late; should be here any minute now, though." He checked the clock. "Come on into the kitchen; we can get started on some pie and beer while we wait."

Shit. Bobby knew just how to push Dean's buttons. Was this a test?

Luckily, he had Carmon. She was here to save him; to keep him from falling. He had a goal to get to, and she was his coach, his savior.

"Desert before dinner?" Carmon asked, almost huffed. She took Dean by the arm and ran a finger down it; down the several layers of clothing. Huh, Dean could barely feel it. "Why don't we just wait? I've been eager to meet this legendary Sammy."

It was then that a knock came at the door; and who else could it be? Dean bit his lower lip. Part of him wanted to run to the fridge, pull out a beer and shake it up, then greet Sammy by opening the door and splashing it all over him.

The nostalgia of his old "home" was getting to him.

Things had changed.

It was Bobby that opened the door, only after a moment's hesitation; but what was Dean supposed to do? Run to it and be all girly and hug and kiss the little brother who abandoned him? He shoved his hands into his pockets, all previous thoughts about what dragged him here in the first place beginning to shed away. He leaned toward Carmon, his lovely girlfriend, his life and reason now, and whispered, "I don't want to stay here."

"You said you wanted to come," Carmon whispered back. "Don't worry, baby." She wrapped her arms around Dean's arm completely, and at least Dean felt that. He closed his eyes as Carmon kissed his lips, and he fought back a moan, fought back just making the Hell out with her right that very second. "I'll help you. They're not going to find out."

That's the reason she thought he didn't want to stay. Was it? The door opened, and the young man that was, when he'd left for Stanford, shorter than him, with shorter hair, but with the same child-like dimples and smile, and that face that lit up when he saw him, made him suddenly unsure of everything.

"Dean!" And suddenly, his taller baby brother was slamming into him, holding him in an embrace that made Dean want to cry, yell, punch him and hug him.

Sammy.

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To be continued…