Chapter 5: Krispy Kreme's and Old Dreams

"I'll take three dozen Krispy Kreme's to go," Dean rattled off to the doughy bread boy behind the bakery counter, picking up a couple of beef jerky sticks along the way. Well over a day spent behind the wheel, and probably what measured out to be a gallon of coffee running through his system, and Dean had made it to Palo Alto.

Once the shock over the invitation had worn off -though it really hadn't, because Sammy was getting married- Dean had rifled through the other contents that had came inside the envelope. Following the wedding invite were a list of dates for a whole bunch of occasions, like the Bachelor Party and a wedding shower brunch. He'd never been invited to a brunch a day in his life, and figured putting two meals into one meant double the food, therefore the event had to at least go okay.

Rushing to Palo Alto wouldn't have been his first thought, since he still was trying to wrap his mind around everything. The problem was, he only checked his P.O. box when it was convenient, which meant the envelope had been in there for a bit. Which also meant that the date for the brunch was only two days away. Being in Oklahoma City and all, it made for a long, nail biting trip to California.

Seeing Sam again for the first time in ten years, truthfully, made him sick to the darkest pit of his stomach. He'd gone over every single detail, from whether he should say 'hey', 'hi', or 'hello', to what lie he would be telling his future sister-in-law-a fucking sister- and her family about his job. And what if things went terribly wrong, and he was asked to return the rest of the invitations? He didn't think he could bear being that close to Sam for what felt like the first time in forever, and having it ripped away. If the first time didn't do him in, surely the second time would.

But, there were always the positives. Somehow they'd kick it off right where they had left off, two brothers glued at the hip. Dean would get along great with Jessica and her family, and he would be able to fit the dusty old puzzle piece of his life back in with somebody else's. Some where along the way, maybe even Dad would get his head out of his ass and finally see the wrongs he had made, and actually learn a couple of things that a father was supposed to be and do. Sure, it all sounded as cheesy as that spray can shit. But it was that little glimmer of hope he had locked away in the depths of his mind, that had kept him going all these years. He had come to realize, his life wasn't worth much if there wasn't a single person to share it with. And he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity to fix this royally fucked up mess.

Grabbing the fresh donuts from the counter, a polite nod to the dough boy, and Dean was on his way out the door. It was now or never, and he sure as hell wasn't waiting for never to happen.

He slid onto the sleek interior of the Impala, put the donuts aside, and started on the final stretch towards Sam. Looking at the dozens of donuts, then back to the street, all Dean could imagine was Sam occupying the seat beside him. His head cricked to the side at a painful angle, while a light snore departed from his lips in slumber. Or perhaps his eyes scanning over the endless lines of a novel, a flashlight held between his shoulder and jaw to brighten the pages. It had been years since anyone had sat himself in the passenger seat. There wasn't anyone to yell "shotgun shuts his cakehole" to over the roaring of Zeppelin, nobody to tell his terrible jokes to, or ruffle their feathers with his explicit stories. It had been years since he had felt the crinkle of a smile, a real smile, stretch across his face. Even with a woman in his bed, or in a full bar, he was forever lonely.

Without his family, Dean felt little purpose. Among hunters from coast to coast, Dean felt inferior, that his small contributions were the minnows among the great white's.

For the first time in 10 years, Dean felt purpose again.

Though the suit was obviously nothing of great expense, Dean knew being the lone member to represent the Winchester side, that he had to step up his game. Usually it was retired to the trunk of Baby, only of use for the research leading up to a hunt. For once, the cheap black suit had finally brought more purpose.

Even with the suit on, Dean strode through the sea side country club with a facade of arrogance radiating outwards. To be honest, he was scared shitless. This was by far the last place he would picture himself, next to out on the golf course itself. He could feel his skin itching to throw on a flannel and some worn jeans. He'd rather be tuning the Impala, grease staining his fingertips, an open beer bottle within his reach. Making his way to the private banquet hall in the west wing of the building, Dean took a deep breath as he heard the laughter and conversation that faintly leaked from the room, standing just outside the doorway.

"Now or never, hot-shot. Time to get a taste of that apple pie." Dean muttered, a useless pep, but it was better than nothing.

As soon as his feet hit the floor within the room, he was immediately struck by the arrangement of people within. He couldn't spot a woman without jewels lining her fingers, wrists, ears, or neck. They were pieced together like those of the woman lining the thick paged, heavy magazines. They were all women of money, their looks and wording portraying so. The men all had a dazzling class ring from the most renowned colleges wrapped around there callus-less fingers, tailored suits fit to there bodies, and forever ticking Rolex's latched to their wrists.

Then there was Dean, standing with his Krispy Kreme's and dressed in a suit the cost of a plate to eat at a place like this. He could feel their questioning eyes molesting him.

Trying to find his wits, Dean walked towards the buffet, hoping to squeeze into the rich atmosphere of the brunch setting. As he set the boxes of donuts down among fruit that sure as hell wasn't your average produce, a voice rang from behind his shoulder.

"Dean?"

A/N:

Sorry for the long wait guys, I just got the time to put my fingers to the keyboard to pump this out. I'm expecting to have the next chapter out within the next week or two (hopefully). Any guesses on who's behind Dean? Please review, follow, favorite, etc., I'd greatly appreciate it. Unless this story is really a piece of shit, then let me know. Don't be the person who doesn't tell their friend they have lettuce stuck in their teeth;) I adore you all.

Sending my love,

Indigo