The Tale of Bitch and Jerk:
Note: This chapter comes with a trigger warning for some more mature thematic elements. It isn't explicit so I haven't changed the story's rating, but some parts of this chapter are a little darker than the others before.
I dedicate this chapter to my teenage relative who died street racing in June. Today was your birthday, kiddo. RIP.
Dean led Cas to the library. He had tucked a case of beers under his arm. His eyes were already bloodshot, weary and mentally unprepared for this task.
He pulled a chair up for Cas. Then he sat on the table and set the beers opening two of them and trying to swig both at the same time in the same clenched fist.
"Okay, hit me with it. What are you dying to know?" Dean's eyes rolled in his face. Cas almost regretted making him do this, but he needed to know.
"I...I well, I guess what Sam said about you raising him. I think I understand the rest from what I heard, but...You always made your father sound so pleasant, I don't understand...And...well, Dean, let me be frank. You and Sam….You scare me sometimes with how poorly hidden your brokeness truly is. What if one day neither of you can take it anymore, and can't collapse into one another? Wouldn't it be better to have someone else who knows? I won't breathe a word to anyone." Cas reached for Dean's hand. It had been sitting beside him on the table, trembling like a leaf in an autumn tree. He swallowed. And to Cas' amazement, he let him take his hand.
"I loved my Dad. Worshipped him. But he was always leaving me...Always. There were times I thought we were gonna die. I wasn't old enough to work, so I had me and Sam living in some crap motel until the money ran out and then, we'd be peddling gum or hand-rolled, hand cut cigarettes, or some other cheap crap on the street to get by…"Dean swallowed and swigged the beers again, coughing. He at last dropped the empty bottles near his feet. Beer poured down his neck and his eyes filled up with pain that was searing a Sahara to the tears it replaced.
"It's true, I raised Sam, but only because I was older. What he doesn't say, and he wouldn't, is that he also raised me. You have to understand that all my life, all growing up my Dad treated me like a tin soldier. Barely looked at me unless he was barking at me to do something. I loved him. I don't know if he loved me or not. I swear to God that's something that I'm still completely clueless about all these years later. To him, I was just a little army man. To everybody else, I was "Pretty"." Dean swallowed. Cas cocked his head.
"Yeah, teachers, preachers, Hell little grannies at grocery stores I bummed weekend jobs at. I was Pretty, the kid with the cute face but the box of rocks for brains. And Pretty did as Pretty was told and he kept his mouth shut because he was too dumb to do anything but look at. They thought that cause I didn't really talk when I was young, you know. Not much. Not after she died." Dean sucked his teeth, looking over his shoulder toward his mother's room. And then he laughed a wet laugh and Cas felt something die inside him.
"I'mma sound really fruity right now, but...Sam, see he was like a stand-in Mom to me. I'd come home sapped of all my willpower and Sam would give me these little pep talks. Like he does everybody now. But he'd tell me I was as smart as I was good to look at and I could be anything when I grew up and it made me feel like Superman." Dean nodded.
"And now I'm gonna sound really horrifically like a girl, but when Sam was about 11 he saved my life. Saved me from something worse than death. And I...Well, my Mom always told me angels were watching over me. I just didn't realize that I was falling upside down and my angel was looking out for me by looking up to me." Dean bit his lip.
"He...Did he save you? When he was that young? How?" Cas felt Dean's hand and his whole body attached to it go weak in his grip. He sucked his teeth.
"I-I don't think you want me to tell you about that." Dean gnashed his teeth. But Cas could feel it in his spirit and he put a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"What did they try to do to you? Those men who ran the street races?" Cas tilted his head. Dean's face turned the color of a cotton swab. His mouth fell open. Cas nodded.
"Dean, don't forget. It may not be fair, but I hear the silent prayers you pray. Help me understand. I promise, no one else has to know we ever talked about this. If they overhear it, I'll wipe their minds of it." Cas smiled. And Dean...Dean's teeth chattered a bit, grinding so hard they cracked.
"We were starving. I was...I had dropped two pants sizes. I think Dad was captured by a djinn or something and I...Well, I'd let the phone service lapse so I couldn't call anyone to help me. I was...Man, Sammy's hollow looking eyes...I was desperate. I'd fed him everything we had. And I'd resigned myself that I was gonna die, but I thought that I could keep him alive for a bit, just until Dad finally came back again or Bobby got to missing us. I was 15. I'd gained a reputation for street racing. Thought if I won a prize or a pinks raise I could make fast cash and keep us in the motel and buy Sam one more meal." Dean bowed his head. Cas knew where this was going, and he didn't like it.
"Dean...What did they try to do to you?" Cas took Dean's shirt to keep him from sliding off the table. Dean's eyes opened and he drew a silent, shaky breath.
"I lost. A big prize suite. And the guy cheated so I took a swing at him. But the boss, he said since I was desperate that I could...I could still make money. Because I was sure Pretty...And you know, Pretty would do what he had to do." Dean's face crumpled. And Cas' jaw dropped.
"He gave me this bag with these shoes and this makeup and perfume and crap. It was sick. People were gawking at me. He said come back tomorrow same time and I could work something out…"Dean bowed his head again, closing his eyes. The memory flashed into his head, unbidden. Cas saw it.
Dean held the bag to his chest, back to the motel door. He'd put the shoes on, but he couldn't bring himself to put on the shaw just yet...He was bawling now...Like the boney little trick he'd turned into. He was bawling and he was pretty sure he was about to barf on himself.
He wrapped the leopard shaw around his chest, bangs falling in his eyes. The perfume was part of it, but he just about couldn't bring himself to do it. Then he thought of Sammy laying over there in his bed, in a hungry daze. And with a little squeak of desperation, he splashed it on his neck.
"Dean, are you going to some kind of costume party?" Sam sat up on the bed, head tilted to the side.
"Stay here, Sam! Don't open the door for anybody." Dean wiped his nose, trying to hide his terror at what came next. This was not the way he'd expected this to happen the first time...
"Wait, I've got a surprise for you...Are you sure you have to go?" Sam stood in the middle of the room, hair on end, tying another knot into the bandana belt he was using to synch up his pants.
"Sam, damn it, yes! Go back to bed!"
Dean trudged out the door and jumped into the pickup he stole from the junkyard. He sat behind the wheel, bawling into the shaw knowing what he was doing was sick and that he should hate himself for it. What he didn't know was that Sam and his cash prize for a rare set of baseball cards he'd sold had climbed up into the truck's bed.
Dean got to the race strip and pulled around to the back parking lot where several guys stood waiting for him. Catcalls and whoops of joy were waiting for him.
"You ever do anything like this before, Trixie?" The boss stood there smoking, a smug smile on his face.
"If you don't pay me after, I'll cut you." Dean was trying to keep up his machismo.
"Hmm, well here's how it's gonna work. We're gonna have a silent auction for you. Everybody puts his name and his money in the hat. The one with the most money gets to take you back to his car. Blindfold him…"The boss nodded to one of his goons. Dean felt a tiny shriek escape him. The little scream and the laughter were enough to keep him from seeing Sam sneak out of the truck bed and put the 1,500 dollars from the prize he'd won and his name into the hat.
"Okay, we've got 5 by Joe and 6 from Allen and 7 bucks from Davy….Woo, Pretty, you're worth 7 bucks!" Keening laughter and Dean was sure he was about to vomit. He was pretty sure he might wet his pants too. What the hell was he thinking?!
"Oh, wait...You! You're the one who put in 1,500 eh? Well, 1,500 bucks in exchange for this chicken bone...What do you guys think the money or the little punk?" There was a commotion of sound that Dean in his sudden blindfolded terror didn't hear.
"Okay, fine then. Be glad we don't like them like you. Also, be glad you brought that much lettuce. Now get out of here with your little ho, you Bitch!" The boss spat and Dean could feel it on his face.
"What about my money?!" Dean screamed. All of this for nothing?!
A rough hand was on his shoulder. It hauled him in the direction of a vehicle. He didn't realize until later it was the pickup truck he'd driven here. He was slammed on his back in the driver's seat and squealed like a girl as someone climbed up with him and closed the door.
The blindfold was tugged off roughly but he kept his eyes closed tight, not wanting to see who was going to do this to him. He suddenly felt tiny woman-sized hands take his face. Oh, help, a freaking cougar?! Really?! Dean was bawling like a baby when he felt someone's lips press gently to his closed eyelids and a voice practically cooed to him in what sounded suspiciously like relief.
"You are such a-a freaking JERK! What the hell are you doing with these creeps?! And what's with the getup and why the heck are they trying to buy you? Is this like that movie...uh...Pretty Woman?!" The voice. It was his Sammy's voice!
"What the?!" Dean's eyes flew open. And Sam was in the cab with him…
"Wait...you're "Bitch"?"
"What are you calling me a bitch for, jerk?!" Sam was crying now, but he was also laughing. He ripped the leopard shaw and the shoes off of Dean throwing them in the floor with a ferocious growl that sounded more like a puppy's yipping squeal in the 11-year-old's voice.
"BITCH!" Dean took Sam's face in his shaking hands.
"You smell like cotton candy...And Dean….The surprise was supposed to last a while. What were you doing?! Now we only have enough left for one set of cheeseburgers or something…"Sam held up 20 dollars. Dean leaned forward, planting several wild kisses on Sam's face. Sam sat long-suffering, face scrunched up at the fact that Dean's face was snotty and wet.
"You beautiful little bitch you saved me…."Dean was bawling harder now his whole body shaking. Sam sighed.
"Dean...You know, I'm not a little kid. I know about this kind of stuff...And that's just freaking sick what you were gonna let them do to you! You're supposed to save that for somebody who loves you...Somebody you could get married to…"Sam shook his head. Dean was bawling into and chewing at his sleeve now. Then, he leaned over the seat and threw up in the floorboards.
"Oh, you, you freaking JERK! Look at you…"Sam reached over and held Dean's hair up off his face. He rubbed his back as Dean bawled around the vomit that was streaming down his legs.
"Shh,...Dean we gotta go before those creeps come back. Here, scoot over…"Sam manhandled Dean until they switched places. He took the costume and sopped up the puke with it, growling again in frustration as he pulled cigarette boxes out of the glove box and rubber band strapped them to his feet so that he could reach the pedals. He then boosted himself to see over the steering wheel by sitting on the money box he'd had under his arm this whole time.
"See, I sold those old baseball cards Uncle Bobby gave me for my birthday. They were worth way more money than I'dda thought, Dean! But you know something, they weren't worth as much as you...Nothing is...Please, please, please pretty please with like a bushel of cherries on top don't ever do anything like this again, you...you freaking JERK!"
Dean looked up at Cas with innocent eyes. Cas felt his stomach flop up to his chest, finally understanding where the strange endearments had come from.
"We-um...We never talked about it again. And I...I hated myself for years. But that sweet little kid saved me. He raised me up above what I thought I was worth and he made me swear on a Bible a few hours later never ever to try and do that again no matter how hungry we got. We bought cheeseburgers and groceries and even some stomach medicine for me with that 20 dollars and Dad came back about 5 days later…"Dean smiled. He blinked then and took Cas by the coat.
"Sam...He's the reason why there's any kind of value left to me. He preserved me. He's my salvation. And...And see, that's who I am. That's the story of my life and my first love. My little brother has been the center of my world for more reasons than anybody could possibly understand. So, if you want to understand who I am and who I was before you came along, you only need to look to him." Dean shook himself, realizing in his heart that he was being a lot more open now that Michael had left him so vulnerable.
Cas was speechless. Just then, Sam stumbled into the room, scratching his head, oblivious to the emotional conversation.
"Hey, buddy, how you feelin'?" Dean's face visibly brightened when Sam came into the room after that dreary conversation. Cas felt his stomach put back in the right place again.
"Turns out even after getting healed, bleeding a lot makes you friggin hungry. The kid's asleep so I'mma grab a snack. Does anybody want anything? Or, let me rephrase that, does anybody want something that's non-alcoholic?" Sam gave Dean a smug look. Dean smiled.
"I'll take a bacon sandwich, Bitch." Dean winked. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Okay, one cold and two-day-old bacon sandwich coming up, Jerk." Sam pointed at Castiel who was now breathless to hear these nicknames used knowing their origin.
"No, no I'm good…" Cas smiled at Sam who held his thumbs up and shuffled off to the kitchen.
Cas looked at Dean who was watching Sam walk away face completely radiating the strong affection he'd dredged up. And Cas realized like a thunderclap, he really was okay!