"What's wrong with Romeo?" Bobby asked John. Dean had dropped his duffle on the couch and flopped himself next to it. "He have to break up with that girl he was always babbling on about?"
"No," John shook his head. "She dumped him pretty hard. Didn't see it coming. I'd feel bad for the kid if he hadn't been like this for a week and half. He's really making the most of being sullen."
"Young love, John," Bobby placed a hand on John's shoulder. "You remember how much that sting when it ends."
John huffed a sigh and nodded.
"He'll get over it eventually," Bobby continued. "Find a prettier girl, break her heart right back."
"I don't think it helped much that I made him go to school for a week afterward," John replied. "Made him see her every day, talk to her."
"If he lived a normal life," Bobby said walking into the kitchen and picking up a manila envelope off the table. "He'd been seeing that girl every day for the next three and half years. He'll get over it. He's been through worse. If you interested, though John, I gotta job in Wisconsin that needs a good shake; ten dead brunettes in one apartment building in seventy years."
"Let me see the file," John replied, reaching out to take the file as he stepped closer.
"We'll be leaving for western Wisconsin after Christmas," John told the boys that night over dinner. "Probably won't be there long, but I gotta job."
"Awesome," Dean rolled his eyes.
"So we won't be there long enough to really make friends or nothing?" Sam sighed. "Can we stay til, like, February break or something?"
"We'll see," John answered.
Bobby always did the best he could to make Christmas good for those boys when they were over there. Christmas morning was filled with the smells of bacon and pancakes, a little tree perched on Bobby's desk with a few gifts for the boys around it. He liked seeing them smile, and it seemed like every time they came back to South Dakota their smiles faded just a little bit more.
They'd really made out that year, each getting new shoes that they both desperately needed. Sam got a big fancy book of lore because Bobby noticed the kid kept sneaking Bobby's old copy up to their room whenever he was over. Dean got a very nice leather wallet that caught his eye when Bobby took the boys to the state fair that summer.
John and Bobby headed back to the kitchen after the boys opened their gifts to talk shop, leaving the boys to their own devices for a while. Sam disappeared upstairs running back down loudly a short time later.
"Here," Sam dropped a package into Dean's lap then sat down next to him. "I hope you like it."
Dean ruffled Sam's shaggy hair and smirked. He pulled the paper apart to find a very worn copy of Lord of the Rings trilogy.
"You were reading The Hobbit," Sam said quickly when Dean looked over at him. "And you seemed to like it and stuff, and I saw those at the Goodwill for a dollar and I figured that you'd want to read them. I know you don't really like books and stuff, but you seemed to like that one, so…"
"Thanks," Dean pulled Sam into a head lock. "I do like it. I'll read 'em."
"After you read them," Sam said softly. "Can I read them?"
"Did you buy me a present for yourself?" Dean chuckled.
"No," Sam scoffed. "I just wanna borrow it when you're done. We share everything else."
"Here," Dean tossed him a little box. "It's not much."
Sam pulled open the little box, finding a new Sony Walkman inside.
"Really?" Sam's eyes went wide. "Where'd you get a hold of something like this?"
"Around?" Dean shrugged. "I didn't steal it. I bought it."
"From a real store?" Sam turned it over in his hands. "These are expensive, Dean. Where'd you get that kind of money?"
"Don't worry about it," Dean said, smiling down at his brother.
Sam looked over at Dean skeptically.
"If you stole the money to buy it," Sam said with a worried expression. "It's still stealing. You gotta stop doing things like that. You're gonna get in trouble."
"I didn't steal it," Dean said seriously. "I swear. Now go get some scissors see if this puppy works."
Sam nodded and jumped up.
Dean had saved up for almost a year to buy that Walkman. Fifty bucks didn't come easy in their life, but he did what he had to do, cutting lawns, washing neighbor's cars, shoveling driveways. He understood why Sam would think that he stole it, but it still stung a little when he was accused.
Sam dropped the scissors off in the coffee table before running upstairs to find a cassette tape. Dean worked to open up the package before Sammy got back downstairs.
"We need some batteries," Dean announced when Sam slid back down next to him. "I didn't think about that."
"I'll see if Bobby's got some," Sam nodded standing up again. "What do we need?"
"Four double A's," Dean answered turning the Walkman over in his hand.
"Bobby's got everything in there," Sam nodded toward the kitchen as he handed Dean the batteries. "I swear, anything you could ever want he has in the junk drawer by the fridge. There's, like, frog brains and bones and all sorts or random stuff."
"I'll keep that in mind," Dean mumbled, shoving the batteries in. "Here kiddo, check it out."
Sam placed the headphones over his ears and stuck his tape in the deck. He leaned back against the couch, big smile across his face. That smile was the best present Dean could ever get.
"Hey, Dean," Bobby said, popping his head around the wall between the kitchen and living room while wiping his hands on a dish rag after lunch. "Wanna help me out with something out in the yard?"
"Yeah, sure," Dean answered pushing himself up off the sofa and following Bobby out through the junk cars. "What ya want me to do?"
Bobby leaned against a car and tossed a set of keys to him. "I wantcha to drive this thing."
"I don't know how to drive, yet, Uncle Bobby," Dean shook his head, trying to hand the keys back.
"You'll be sixteen in a month right?" Bobby asked, sticking his hands into his pockets. Dean nodded. "You think your daddy's shillin' out a couple hundred bucks to send you to driver's ed? You think he's gonna let a kid with no experience behind a wheel drive the Chevy?"
"No," Dean mumbled.
"Then hop in," Bobby instructed, opening his door.
Dean walked around the car filled with nervous excitement.
"Was this my dad's idea?" Dean asked as he strapped himself in.
"No," Bobby shook his head. "Just think, maybe you need a little cheering up. Your dad told me about the girl in Idaho."
"Oh," Dean said. Bobby watched the boy's whole body language change from excited to sullen again. "You don't have to teach me to drive because you feel sorry for me. You don't have to feel bad for me. It was my fault for falling in love with her in the first place."
"You can't help who you fall in love with, Dean," Bobby said seriously. "Put the key in the ignition and check your mirrors. We're gonna drive around the lot for a while, build up some confidence. Maybe before y'all pack it up and head to Wisconsin we'll have you on the road."
Dean nodded and turned the key, following Bobby's instructions to check the mirrors and pull forward. The best thing about the salvage yard was it was big enough to drive around in circles for hours without it getting repetitive.
"You wanna talk about it?" Bobby said after telling Dean to turn at engine block sitting in the middle of a passage way. "Your girl?"
"Not really," Dean answered making sure he didn't hit a truck bed he was about to pass on the left. "I would really rather just forget about her, but it hurts too much. So I just try to ignore it."
"That's about as healthy as drinking the problems away," Bobby replied.
"That's how you and Dad deal with things," Dean shrugged.
"We're adults," Bobby countered. "You're a fifteen year old. You should talk it out. We've talked about this before, Dean. Just talk to me, okay."
"She just," Dean sighed. "I just don't get it. How can someone just not care? She just didn't even hesitate to dump me like I was nothing. I don't get it, Bobby."
"You probably never will," Bobby replied. "One of the great mysteries of life, women and what they think. I believe your daddy was right telling you that you probably cared a lot more about her than she did about you."
"But," Dean pressed. "Steve, my friend, he's Janie's best friend, Steve said that I was a good thing for her, that the other guy did to her what she did to me. And she just went right back there the first chance she got."
"You'll figure it out soon enough," Bobby said. "Nothing girls do will make a licka sense to you for a long time, probably ever. How about we park the car for now?"
Dean pulled the car back to where they started and turned it off.
"Just know that you're not the only one confused by girls, Dean," Bobby said placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're young, you'll find a new girl, a prettier girl, a smarter girl, and you'll think back to that girl in Idaho and you'll wonder what you ever saw in her. I promise."
Dean handed the keys back to Bobby. "You're sure?"
"Believe it or not Kid," Bobby smiled. "I was a love struck teenage boy once too and so was your Dad and so was every other guy you pass on the street. You'll be fine." He patted Dean on the cheek and popped the door open. "You're gonna be a fine driver; might even have you out on the road tomorrow if you're up to it."
"Really?" Dean's whole face lit up.
"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "We'll go out in my truck. That's at least road legal."
Every day for the week they stayed with Bobby, he seemed to need something at the store and made Dean his personal chauffeur. That unfortunately didn't translate into letting Dean drive the Impala when they headed East.
"Please," Dean pleaded. "Just for like, an hour. Bobby says I'm really good."
"I'm not letting you drive this car on the highway," John sighed. "Maybe when we get a place to stay, I'll let you drive around the parking lot of the motel."
"I'm good on the road," Dean nodded. "I'm road ready, ask Bobby. I was driving downtown to do errands for him all week."
"Bobby's truck isn't a '67 Impala," John said seriously. "And downtown Sioux Falls ain't I-90. Not gonna happen til you got a little more experience under your belt Dean."
"How am I gonna get experience if you don't let me drive?"
"You keep up the attitude," John said, turning to look Dean in eye. "And you'll never be behind the wheel of another car while I'm alive. You understand?"
"Yes, sir." Dean slouched down in the front seat. He pulled the book Sam bought him out and decided to read while the sun was still out and he could see the pages.
They took up residence in a Best Western in what Dean guessed counted as downtown in this "city" as the locals called it. The apartment building with the murdered brunettes was just up the street by the hotel. John enrolled both the boys in school. Since it was such a small town, the middle school and high school were in the same building. John decided that he'd keep the boys here until the end of February when break started, like Sam wanted. He didn't like watching his boys struggle to fit in and feel like they were always behind when they came into a new town, but that was the job, and there wasn't really anything he could do to change it. Not until he found the thing that killed their mom.
It took about twenty minutes talking to locals to find out what was going on in that apartment building. According to local legend, a man tired murdered his wife in apartment 3A in the thirties. Before he was convicted, however he was killed in a prison riot, lore had it that he came back and killed her, since the wife was the first victim. Then every woman who even vaguely resembled the woman was killed. It took a lot longer to find out where the dickhead was buried than it did to confirm the story.
"We can always rent an apartment and have Sammy live there," Dean suggested. "With that hair anyone could mistake him for skinny chick."
"Be nice to your brother," John sighed.
"Yeah, jerk," Sam stuck his tongue out.
"You need a hair cut," Dean replied. "You look ridiculous. How can you even see?"
"Shut up," Sam whined, shoved Dean hard in the ribs.
"Don't pick a fight with your brother," John exhaled. "This room isn't big enough to have the two of you wrestling."
John sent Sam and Dean over to the Hillside Cemetery to find the guy while he stood watch over the building. It was a pretty wide open place than they were used to. Even in the dark, it would be very easy to see what was happening if you drove up.
"This is stupid," Sam whined. They'd barely broke the surface of the grave.
"Shut up and dig," Dean replied. "We don't got a lotta time and we're out of in the open. Dig Sammy, I can't do it without ya."
It took forever with Sam complaining every twenty minutes that his arms were tired and how stupid this was.
"Shut up and dig," Dean said for the eighth time when they heard a car start to pull up. "Drop the shovel and run. Run as fast as you possibly can before they get over here. Go get dad."
Dean lifted his brother out of the grave and watched as he started to take off in the opposite direction as the approaching car.
"Fuck," Dean breathed when he saw the car slowly creeping toward him was black and white. He turned to see where Sam was, and thankfully he was nowhere in sight.
"Excuse me," The office said shining a light directly into Dean's face. "May I ask what you think you're doing?"
"Diggin' for treasure?" Dean said with a sly smile on his face.
"Climb out there for me," the officer said, smacking on a piece of gum.
Dean pulled himself up and brushed his shirt off.
"Turn around for me and put your hands on your head."
Dean followed directions was promptly arrested and led to the car while the officer read him his rights. He was heading to lock up for trespass, but it could be pushed up to grave robbery depending on what the officer found when ran his prints at the station.
Dean leaned forward and rested his head on the glass between the seats as they drove across town. With any luck Sammy had made it back to the hotel and their dad so they could finish up the job before the spirit got anyone else.
Dean sat in the holding cell with a few of the local drunks, waiting. He knew better than to say anything before his dad got there. It took over two hours before his dad showed up to bail him out.
"According to the people I talked to in there," John explained once they got to the car. "You'll be wanted in the court downtown next week to see a judge."
"Are we bookin' it then?" Dean asked seriously.
"No," John answered. "We're staying. I don't need warrants following my sixteen year old."
"So what happens after that?" Dean mumbled softly.
"You'll be fined," John replied. "Probably quite a bit, but it's a first offence, and the police said they weren't filing disturbing a grave site to the charges since it's the first time you've been arrested. Otherwise you'd be spending the night in jail."
"Oh," Dean squirmed a little.
"Gotta be more careful," John shook his head.
"It was a wide open grave yard," Dean defended. "There was, like, no way to not be seen there."
"I managed it," John shot back. "Got the job you couldn't do."
"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "I got Sammy outta there though."
"Yeah," John sighed. "That's about the only thing you did right today."
Dean remained silent as they drove back to the hotel. He'd never seen more relieved look on his little brother's face when he walked through the door.
"I was sure you were going to jail," Sam said, voice muffled by Dean's shirt.
"I was for a little bit," Dean said. "But it's all good for now."
"Til next week when I have to figure out how I'm going to come up with a couple grand cuz you don't know how to cut and run," John said, dropping his heavy leather jacket into the chair next to the television.
"But at least, Dean doesn't have to go to jail with a bunch of crazy people with toothbrush knives and stuff," Sam reasoned.
"You're not allowed to watch TV anymore, Sammy," Dean chuckled messing up Sammy's hair before sitting on the bed to take off his boots.
"This isn't a joke, Dean," John said seriously. "Don't treat what happened tonight as a joke. I've been doing this job for eleven years, and I've never been arrested digging up a grave. This was the first thing I let you do by yourself and I had to bail you outta jail."
"I said I was sorry," Dean shrugged. "I can't go back and change it, what do you want me to do about it?"
"Enough of the attitude," John replied. "I wish I could think of something to take away from you, but I can't even think of a proper way to punish you for this."
Dean looked down at floor, away from his dad. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do about it. He couldn't change it. There was always a chance of getting caught and with the grave site wide open like it was in full view of the road. He thought he did the right thing getting Sam out of there, but apparently not. Apparently he needed to be perfect.