AN: I don't want it to sneak up and trigger anyone, there is slight talk of not suicide exactly, but not wanting to exist. It's hard to explain without spoiling the chapter, but there could be some triggering portions of this chapter.
John didn't change much of anything, but Dean honestly never thought he would. Dean got to go out on more hunts, backup when John needed a second set of hands. It wasn't too often, usually salt and burns on weekends when he didn't have school. They both figured Sam was old enough to not forget to feed himself and starve to death if they left him alone for a weekend.
After some pleading, John finally let Sam help with research. Dean taught him how to match victim profiles and find patterns in history. Sam really seemed to take to it. He liked feeling like he was helping. Dean didn't really like having Sam help, he wanted to keep him away from it, but his little brother was good at it, and it made his dad smile, so Dean zipped him lips and let it happen.
They ended up in Idaho the first week of October Dean's freshmen year of high school. He skated along the outside of high school life, didn't want to bring too much attention to himself just in case his dad wanted to uproot them again. He did, however, find himself staring at the older girl that sat behind in him in Geometry, Janie, when she got up to sharpen her pencil. He did his best to pretend he wasn't staring at her, but he was sure that she caught him a couple times, smiled back even. She had study hall with him sixth period too. She seemed to read a lot, Vonnegut, Orwell, Lord of the Rings, books Dean could never see himself reading.
He was watching her walk around the library over the top of the book he was pretending to read for English and eventual flop into the chair opposite him.
"Do you remember what our assignment was in Geometry?" She asked, twirling a long strand of blonde hair around her index finger.
"What?" Dean coughed.
"You sit in front of me in math, right?" Janie chuckled. Dean nodded. "Do you know what our assignment was?"
"Odds on page ninety five," Dean said quickly.
"Thanks," Janie smiled leaning forward on her forearms across the table. "Whatcha reading?"
Dean looked at the cover of the book, because honestly, he had no idea. "Umm, The Outsiders, for English."
"You're a freshman?" Janie pouted. "Huh."
"Have you started it yet?" Janie asked. "The homework for Geometry?"
"We just got it two periods ago," Dean answered.
"Wanna do it together?" Janie suggested. "Get it over with. I suck at math, but I've spied your grades over your shoulder. You seem to know what you're doing."
"Sure, I guess." Dean shrugged. "If you want to."
Janie flashed a quick smile and switched seats so she was right next to him. She smelled like strawberries. Dean tried to keep his eyes to himself as she leaned down to the floor to retrieve her book from her back pack.
It became a regular thing, Dean doing his homework with the pretty blonde girl in the library. She invited him to eat lunch with her and her best friend Steve, who also had Geometry with them, and suddenly Dean was part of a group again. It was easy, like it had been in Mississippi. Steve and Janie were both hilarious, and didn't seem to care that Dean was freshman even though they were both juniors. Janie had a car and drove Dean back to the trailer park they were staying at for the time being most days, since Sam got out of school after he did and usually took the bus home. He liked being part of a group. He knew it would never last, but it still felt nice, belonging.
The Friday before Halloween, Heather Anderson, the head cheerleader and by all accounts most popular girl in this high school, threw a huge party. Dean flat out lied to his dad about where he was going, saying he was going to Steve's for the night, guy thing, and jumped in the back of Janie's Jeep Wrangler and rode to the Anderson's huge house on the outskirts of town.
Dean had never been in a house that big in his life, he figured Bobby's entire house would fit in the living room. There were pieces of future that probably cost more than everything he owned. Heather had set up a keg on the back porch; red solo cups had already started to litter the house as the crowd grew. It seemed like the whole school was there.
"Wanna beer?" Steve asked guiding Dean by the elbow outside.
"No," Dean shook his head. "I'm good." He thought about all the nights that his dad had dove head first into a bottle, the times he'd had to put a blanket over his dad while he was passed out on the couch. The mornings trying to keep Sammy quiet while their dad slept off a long a night of drinking. There were a lot of things that Dean wanted to emulate in his father, being that sloppy, angry drunk wasn't one of them.
"It'll be fun," Steve urged grabbing himself a cup and filling one for Dean. "We're walking to my place, it's less than two blocks away, no one's gonna get hurt."
"My dad'll kill me," Dean shrugged.
"Grab teenage rebellion by the horns,'' Steve laughed pressing the sweating cup into Dean's hand. "That's what high school is about, sticking it right to your parents. He wouldn't find out, anyway. You told him you were crashing at my place right? We'll chill til the hang over subsides. It'll be all good." Steve smirked and took a long slow drink.
Dean looked around; Janie was laughing with a small group of girls, red cups in all of their hands, and so he gave in, sipping slowly.
"There ya go," Steve laughed as he walked back into the house, Dean followed close behind.
A few hours later, Dean and Steve had started to do shots; lined a bunch of whatever along the side of the sink and tipping back.
"What up boys?" Janie slurred wrapping her arms around Dean's neck. "Enjoying yourselves?"
Dean nodded. Her hair was so soft against his face he couldn't concentrate on anything else.
"I'm gonna get some air," Janie whispered into his ear then disappeared toward the back door.
Dean shifted awkwardly against the counter.
"Follow her," Steven instructed.
Dean shook his head quickly. "No."
"Dude," Steve chuckled. "You dig her right?"
"I guess," Dean shrugged.
"Dude it's like her tits have magnets attached to your eyes," Steve said serious placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You're into her. So go outside, and kiss her. Love her."
"I don't love her," Dean said stepping out of Steve's reach.
"Dean," Steve said looking his in the eyes the best way he could with the alcohol in his system. "I haven't known you very long. But you love her. You love her. Go talk to her. She likes you."
"Really?" Dean said skeptically. "How do you know?"
Steve pointed to himself. "Best friend. She tells me everything. Go." Steve turned Dean around and pushed him toward the door.
The alcohol was making him walk sideways but he made it out to the back porch where Janie was standing alone, waiting.
"I was afraid you weren't gonna follow me," she said wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I wasn't going to," Dean confessed.
Janie turned him so he was pressed up against the house and stepped in close. "I'm really glad you did."
Her hands started to move into his hair, he let his start to roam along her lower back.
"What the fuck are you doing Jane?" Someone Dean didn't know called from across the porch. "You going after retards now? That kid can barely spell his own name."
"Shut up, Andy, you don't know a damn thing," Janie spat.
"Seriously, Janie," Andy laughed. "He's a freshman. You're really down grading."
"Just go away, Andy," Janie rolled her eyes. "You don't know anything."
"I know that kid's a complete idiot," Andy smirked. "Ever listen to him read out loud in class? Idiot."
Dean pushed himself away from her and forced his way back inside. "Wait, Dean," Janie called after him.
"That was way too fast," Steve chuckled as Dean grabbed the bottle of whatever Steve had in his hands and started to pour more.
Fuck all of this, Dean thought. He was getting drunk enough to forget everything. He didn't even know that guy. Didn't know how he knew that Dean was stupid, didn't really care who he was, he just didn't want to feel anymore, because not feeling would be better than Janie thinking he was a moron.
The next thing Dean remembered he was sitting outside leaning against the trellis under Heather's porch while Steve tapped his face and said his name.
"Dean, we called your Dad," Steve said slowly. "He's on his way to come get you."
"No," Dean whined. "No, no, no. Don't call my dad! He'll kill me. He's gonna kill me."
"He's on his way," Steve repeated. "He's gonna pick you up."
"Noooooo," Dean slurred. "No. We're going to your house so my Dad doesn't know 'bout the drinks."
"Buddy," Steve said as seriously as he could. "It's the best if you sleep this one off at home. You blew chucks off the deck. You need to go home."
"I'll sleep here," Dean said trying to lay down on the grass.
"No, Dean," Steve said, grabbing the side of Dean's face and forcing Dean to look at him. "We gotta get you up and out front. You're dad's gonna be here any minute."
"He's gonna murder me," Dean panicked as Steve pulled Dean to his feet. "Kill me dead. You'll never see me again. Deadest dead. So dead."
"I'll make him promise not you kill you, alright?" Steve said wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and walking him to the driveway.
"He's gonna kill me," Dean repeated. "Shoot me in the face."
John pulled the Impala up to the driveway, left the car running as he helped Dean into the back of the car.
"You wanna ride?" John asked. "Or the girl who called?"
"I only live a block away," Steve answered.
"You're not driving anywhere," John said sternly.
"No sir," Steve answered. "I'll take a ride if you're offering. Just let me grab Janie."
John nodded and took the front seat again, Dean moaned loudly in the back.
"You puke in my car," John said seriously. "I don't give a shit how hung over you are in the morning, you'll be cleaning this whole car with your toothbrush."
"Don't kill me in front of my friends," Dean slurred as the doors opened and Janie and Steve hopped in. Janie pulled Dean's feet into his lap. "Please, don't kill me in front of my friends."
"Shhh," Janie soothed rubbing Dean's calf as Steve instructed John on how to get back to his house. "Just go to sleep, Dean. No one's gonna kill you."
"I'm so dead," Dean continued to slur.
Janie and Steve both got out at Steve's house; John continued to drive Dean home while he begged for his life. If there was one thing Dean had ever been sure of in his whole life it was that his father was going to murder him and hide the body where no one would find him. His dad could do that, his dad had told him how to hide a body where no one would ever find it.
John walked Dean into the house and let him flop onto the couch, then pulled off his boots.
"You wanna blanket?" John sighed.
"To wrap my body in?" Dean slurred.
"In case you're cold," John said grumpily. "Sam would miss you too much if I killed you. He whines enough now."
"He's just a kid," Dean replied. "He'll get over it."
John dropped a blanket over Dean and placed a large pot on the ground next to his head before sitting in the recliner next to the sofa.
"I want you to go to sleep," John said softly. "If you think you're gonna puke there's a bucket on the floor. We'll talk in the morning."
"I'm sorry," Dean slurred, pulling the blanket up to his neck. "I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up."
"You're not a fuck up, you're fifteen," John sighed.
Dean was quiet for a while, long enough for John to think he'd fallen asleep and for John himself to start to nod off.
"Dad," Dean whispered very softly. "Have you… have you ever touched a boob?"
"What?" John chuckled.
"Like on a girl," Dean clarified rolling onto his side so he could look at his dad with an extremely serious look on his face. "Have you?"
"Yes, Dean," John said shortly. "Have you?"
Dean shook his head. "No," Dean sighed turning back over. "Do you think my friend Janie is hot?"
"I think she's fifteen," John answered.
"She is seventeen," Dean corrected, like it made all the difference in the world. "And hot. The hottest girl in school probably. Most people think that Heather Anderson is but I think she's kinda slutty. Steve told me that one time a couple years ago Heather blew a good part of the football team and that's why she's the head cheerleader this year. Janie isn't slutty. She's beautiful."
"Okay," John nodded.
"You think that Mom would like her?" Dean asked, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't know nothing about her, Kiddo," John replied. "So I don't know."
Dean rolled again to try to see John in the chair. "If I told you stuff about her would you tell me if you think Mom would like her?
John nodded. "Yeah, go ahead."
"She's in my math class," Dean slurred. "She sits behind me."
"I thought she was older than you?" John interrupted. "Why is she in a freshmen math class?"
"No," Dean stated. "I tested outta algebra, so I'm in upper level math, Geometry. I'm good at math. I've gotta A-."
"I didn't know that," John smiled. "Good job."
"Thanks," Dean said. "Anyways, Janie, we do our math homework together in study hall. And sometime when we finish doing that, she helps me with my English homework. She doesn't call me dumb or nothing for needing help. She just does it. And she gave me a book to read, cuz it's her favorite book. So I'm reading it. And she doesn't care that I read kinda slow, she just wants me to read it cuz she likes it and she wants me to like it too."
"What book?"
"Slaughter House Five," Dean answered. "It's good. You should read it."
"Alright," John nodded.
"She plays the flute," Dean continued. "In the school band. She's the second chair. And she smells like strawberries."
"Sounds like a nice girl," John said.
"Would Mom like her?" Dean pressed.
"I think she would," John nodded.
"Good," Dean nodded. "I wanna touch her boobs. I almost kissed her, but then this guy told her I was stupid and I didn't. I just drank a whole bunch. That was probably a bad idea."
"Yeah," John agreed. "It probably was."
"I'm sorry," Dean moaned flipping onto his back again.
"You got nothing to be sorry for," John soothed. "Just go to sleep."
"I'm a giant fuck up," Dean slurred. "And I ruined everything."
"You didn't ruin anything," John replied. "It was your first party, things like this happen."
"I ruined everything," Dean insisted. "Everything. I didn't stop it, I couldn't save her."
"Save who?" John asked with a yawn.
"Mom," Dean said softly. "I didn't save her. I shoulda saved her."
"You were four, Dean," John said. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I shoulda known better," Dean slurred. "It shoulda been me that got burned up. Then you and Sammy and Mom could be happy and Sam could have a dog and you wouldn't have to deal with me being a fuck up all the time."
"Dean," John said seriously. "Don't you dare say anything like that to me ever again."
"It's true though," Dean said starting to choke up. "I can't do nothing right. I can't even go to a dumb party without fucking up. It would be better if I was gone."
"Dean," John kneeled on the floor next to Dean's head and forced him to look at him in the eye. "You didn't do anything wrong. You understand? You're not a fuck up."
"I am though," Dean said, full on crying now. "I couldn't save her."
"You were four, Dean," John said seriously. "And I couldn't save her either, okay. It's not your fault."
"I ruin everything," Dean sighed. "I shoulda done better. It shoulda been me."
"No," John said seriously. "Don't you talk like that. Don't you think like that, Dean. You did everything you were supposed to do. Now listen to me really good, we're gonna talk about this in the morning. I want you to go to sleep, just close your eyes. I'll wake you up in the morning. You go to sleep and you stop thinking like that."
"Imma," Dean slurred. "I'm a bad kid. Mom would be disappointed in me. You're disappointed in me."
"No," John promised looking Dean straight in the eye. "Your mom would be proud of you. Real proud. The way you watch out for Sam. You're a real good kid. You just messed up. You're allowed to go to parties and mess up, that's what high school is. Am I happy that you got piss your pants drunk and your friends called me to drag your drunken ass home? No, but we'll deal with that tomorrow. I'm not disappointed."
"You're not apposta lie," Dean whimpered, breathing heavy as tears poured out of his eyes. "You keep tellin' me it's wrong to lie. I know I'm a disappointment. You don't want a loser idiot son. I wouldn't want me either. I'd trade me for Mom every day."
John wiped the tears away from Dean's eyes. "Listen to me, Dean. You're not an idiot loser. You're just a kid. I'm not disappointed in you and I would never trade you. Understand? I miss your mom but I'd never trade you. Ever. We'll talk about this in the morning. Go to sleep now."
"Okay," Dean said, taking big deep breaths to try to calm down. He eventually cried himself to sleep with his Dad kneeling next to him, wiping the tears from his face before falling into the recliner to catch a few hours before Sam woke up and demanded breakfast.
AN 2: I just wanted to thank everyone reading this story. Thank everyone for your encouragement and kind words about my story. I never thought that one person would read it, let alone all the wonderful readers who have so far. Thank you very much, you have no idea how much it means to have such positive messages.