|Sam Winchester (bitch____) wrote,|
@ 2008-05-26 18:00:00
|Entry tags:||dean winchester|
Part 2 ( continuation )
[ Dean-centric. Believe it or not, I've never written as Dean before, either. - Yeah, so these are my first Supernatural fics ever, pretty much. Be kind. In comparison to Miko who is the best Dean EVER .... eh, let's just say I'm not even worthy to touch the character she's mastered so well - but I gave it a stab, because it just didn't feel right to write Supernatural stuff without Dean. 'Cause hello! Dean.
Anyway, again, haven't proofread. Proceed with caution. Enjoy. ]
Great. Could anything else go wrong? He'd never had a single problem with his wheels ... until tonight. It's as if someone up there was getting a real kick out of watching him suffer. Yeah, that's right. Go ahead and laugh, you sorry ass excuse for a - damn it! There was nothing wrong with his car! No matter how many times he inspected under the hood, everything was in its rightful place, and he knew that for a fact because no one knew this beautiful baby better than him. It was the one thing that had never let him down: ole' faithful. So much for that. It's like the universe was looking for one big cosmic joke, and BAM! There was Dean Winchester: just sitting smack dab in the center of it all with a smug grin on his face thinking 'none of those jokers will ever get to me.' And even if they had been able to sink their claws into him, they weren't getting Sammy. Fat chance. When Hell froze over, and all those other cliche catch-phrases people used when there was absolutely no way something was happening, ever. Guess again! Looks like they were both destined to go straight to the Pit in a month, but at least they were going side by side. Wasn't that just dandy? And Sam ... Sam's whole attitude about this was unbelievable. He wanted what from him exactly: for the gesture to make him feel all warm and tingly inside? Now not only was he as good as dead, but his baby brother - the one he'd sworn to protect and take care of his whole life - shared the same dreaded fate. It never had to be this way! That's what irked him the most. He'd had everything under control, then Sam had to go and do something stupid. It was never supposed to end like this.
He felt his temper rising more and more until he just couldn't stand there and bear it any longer without doing something to get rid of all that pent up frustration, and with no prospective hunt on the horizon and not being able to go anyplace thanks to a currently broken down vehicle, he'd do the first and only thing that came to mind. He sent a harsh kick to the side of the Impala ... which was proof right there that he wasn't in the right state of mind. The kick was followed by a punch, then another, and another, until his knuckles were raw. During his fit of rage, he'd blocked out everything else - which made him completely unaware of the hitch-hiker that'd approached and now hovered just a few feet away, watching him unleash his fury on a piece of scrap metal that had turned on him, just like everyone and everything else. "Stupid, son of a bitch." A slew of curses spilled forth as he relentlessly rammed his fists into the side of the car he'd affectionately titled 'his baby.' Needless to say he wasn't feeling very affectionate at the moment. All the 'good' emotions had been sucked right out of him once he found out the deal that Sam had made behind his back.
"Hey." The first time she spoke, she was drowned out by all the whamming and muttering going on, so she raised her voice and tried again. "Hey!" She boldly stepped forward, hoping that once she came into his peripheral view that he'd acknowledge her presence and snap out of it. To be quite honest, it was a little scary, especially for a first impression. Fortunately for him, she didn't scare easy.
This was so not the time for interruptions, but he did hear her the second time around - and, just like she wanted, he stopped ... Although as soon as he told this bitch to take a hike, there was nothing to prevent him from continuing what he'd started. Her somewhat mortified and confused glance was met by a harsh glare before he asked gruffly, "Is there something you want?"
Yeah ... for starters, he could explain what the heck he was doing beating up his car. But she decided that using that for an opening line might make him even more aggressive than he already was, if that was even possible. So she went with a more basic question - one that couldn't be labeled as 'prying' or 'being nosy.' "Car trouble?" After all, the hood was up - and he was pulled off the side of the road in a pretty deserted location. She couldn't fathom why else he would've chosen to stop here.
He scoffed. What was she, a mechanic? Bet little miss Susie Q here had risen right up out of the depths to work some kind of voodoo mojo to get his car up and running again. With his luck, she'd end up claiming to be some kind of tripped-out solution to all his problems. Yeah, right. "How'd you guess?" He quipped, followed by a roll of the eyes. For his next question, he'd leave in the heavy sarcasm and mix it with a big dose of skepticism. "You know something about cars?"
"I might," she replied abruptly. Arms lifted to cross in front of her as she silently studied him. He was quite a sight, and he more than likely thought if he huffed and puffed enough, that she'd go running in the opposite direction and leave him be - but he was so wrong. Not only was he completely falling apart at the seams, but he was bleeding. "You should probably take care of that hand first." A nod was made in the direction of his injured hand which remained balled in a tight fist.
"Listen lady, if I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it. I'll decide what gets dealt with first, thanks." He was being a jerk. So what? What did he care what this stranger thought? He'd already managed to drive his own brother away. Who else was there left to impress that actually mattered? "Don't you have someplace else to be?"
She tilted her head a little to one side when Dean icily shot down her concern and basically told her to get lost. Tough crowd. This one was definitely going to take a lot more effort to get through to. "Actually, no. My ride dumped me off a couple of miles back."
"That's too bad." The phrase was spoken flatly before he gave her the once-over. What was this chick's malfunction? Couldn't she tell she was wasting her breath? He wasn't in the mood to chit chat, and even if he could offer her a ride, it wasn't likely to happen. "Well, as you can see, I'm not going anywhere either. So, wish I could help. Can't. Guess you better keep on walking. Hey, maybe you'll get lucky. Lots of power to you." He'd reverted back to sarcasm now, obviously. Convinced she'd continue on her merry little way and finally leave him to fume in peace, he'd turn, round to the front of the vehicle, and reposition himself in front of the hood as he began looking over the contents beneath it for like the thousandth time. As he did so, he clenched and unclenched his right hand; the feeling had started to return to it.
"Look, I don't know what you're used to, but -" Anything else she was about to say was interrupted by a loud clasp of thunder from overhead, followed by a sudden downpour of rain that immediately drenched both Dean and the mystery woman who didn't seem to be able to take a hint.
Of course! Now it was storming. Hey, if he was really lucky, maybe he would get struck by lightening. That'd be a pretty neat way to go, right? How many people could have that written on their tombstone: death by lightening? Pretty awesome thought, actually. It would've been much cooler if he hadn't glanced around to the side of the shimmery black beauty before him ( who was now a little bent up, thanks to his violent outburst - but at least she was getting a good wash ) and seen the girl that'd approached a few minutes ago, supposedly all worried and crap, still hanging around. Wasn't she gone yet? "You're still here." It was more a statement of fact than a question, but she seemed compelled to confirm it, all the same.
"Yeah, I'm still here. I'm now completely soaked, but we can talk in the rain. I don't mind if you don't." Reverse psychology. She decided that was the best way to go with Dean. Even though she was a little cold, she knew she wouldn't be coming down with pneumonia or anything like that. He, on the other hand, really needed to take better care of himself.
"Are you insane?" Because he was really beginning to think she was. Even now he couldn't catch a break. Man, he'd been hoping she was evil. Then he would've had something to fight, even if he didn't have anything to fight with other than his hands ... which right now would've suited him just fine. - A heavy sigh and another chain of under-the-breath curses and mumbling followed, before he shook his head in agitation and wildly gestured towards the passenger side door. "Get in." God! The things he ended up doing for other people ... All he'd wanted was to be left alone. Alone! Was that too much to ask? He'd finally gotten Sam off his back, and now this. Though if he were to be completely honest, he kind of regretted ditching his brother back at that cabin.
He slammed the door once inside, just incase she hadn't realized how extremely pissed off he was. "When the rain stops, you're gone." No if's, and's, or but's about it. He was tired of this crap, and he wasn't looking forward to this whole 'talking' thing she'd mentioned.
"I really appreciate it." She smiled over at him, although it was obvious that she was a little uneasy - seemingly so, at least. Any normal person would be.
Why did she have to be so freakin' nice? She was making it increasingly difficult to be rude. Damn. How he wished his radio was working right about now, so he could at least tune her out until things settled down outside. Of course his cell phone wasn't picking up a signal, so he couldn't call for help. Useless piece of junk. What good were these things, seriously? He restlessly beat his palms against the steering wheel as he squirmed around in his seat. By this time, a heavy silence had settled between them. He was determined not to encourage any kind of conversation she might've been hoping for, and she was undoubtedly waiting for him to say something: anything, to spark one. The sad truth of the matter was that this situation was ideal; it gave him the perfect excuse to talk to someone, yet it wasn't like it was exactly his choice. He hadn't asked for this twiggy little thing to show up and cling to him as vigorously as she had. "What's your deal?"
She'd been beginning to wonder if he was going to say anything at all, then finally he broke the lingering silence. "Excuse me?" Curious hues shifted from the window she'd been staring out of, watching the pattern that was left on the glass as the rain trickled down; gaze now settled on Dean. She wasn't sure she was entirely clear on what he was asking her.
"You appear out of nowhere, see a guy beating up his car who snaps your head off every time he opens his mouth, and you just stand there and freakin' take it." Most people wouldn't do that. For some reason, she didn't seem to have a problem with it. In fact, she didn't seem to mind at all. It was a little suspicious, if you got right down to it - unless she was one of these that secretly got off on that sort of thing. Somehow, she just didn't seem the type.
"Stranger things have happened," she replied calmly. Okay, so it hadn't been ideal first impression material, but everyone deserved a second chance. Now that he'd cooled down a little, he wasn't so bad. Maybe a little snippy or defensive still, but not intolerable. There were plenty of worse things to be. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
He knew it. Here came the kicker: the punch-line. The real 'fun' was about to begin. "Oh God, here it comes." It was obvious that he lacked all enthusiasm when it came to the whole subject of personal anything, but he had a feeling she'd ask whether he gave her permission or not. Though just incase what he wanted made any difference at all, he'd leave it at that and not answer her one way or the other.
"Something sure has you upset."
"That's not a question." Although he could make a pretty safe assumption at this point about what the question was going to be.
"You don't seem like a bad person. What made you go off like that?" Inquisitive hues remained locked on him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly unhappy about the route this conversation was taking.
"I don't see how that's any of your business." Maybe that was a little harsh, but he didn't feel like spilling his guts to anyone - especially someone he a.) didn't know and b.) couldn't make a quick get-away from. Though as usual, she seemed to take his discontent with a grain of salt and push forward with what she had to say. Women.
"We could go back to staring out the window, if you'd prefer. I just thought ..." The rest of her sentence trailed off. What had she thought, exactly? "I thought you might could use someone to talk to. It's not like I'll tell anyone. I don't even know your name." Which was a tiny white lie, but one she felt was necessary in order to help her break through the walls he had up, safe-guarding himself from the outside world.
A scowl had surfaced with his last remark, though it soon faded and settled into a heavy frown as he thought over her offer. She did have a point. Who would she tell? And with the things he could tell her ... who'd believe her even if she did repeat it? But he wasn't exactly the caring, sharing type. It was like knocking down bricks for Sam to get him to open up, so the likelihood of him going all soft and gooey with some chick? As cute as she was ... well, the odds just weren't in her favor. Yet at the same time, he felt like a total ass for the way he'd treated his brother: just locked him up and left him there. What if anything had happened to him? What if he was nothing but a sitting duck boarded up in that cabin in the middle of nowhere? What if he'd made his baby bro a target? If anything happened to him .... oh, wait. He was already going to Hell. Not much worse could happen. Still, he hadn't forced Sam's hand on that one. That decision he'd made all on his own.
A long, frustrated sigh shattered the silence that had once again engulfed the two. "My brother and I had a fight. Doesn't matter what about. That part's not important. Bottom line is some things got said that shouldn't of, and now he thinks I hate him - which I don't. But he's real sensitive; he always has been. So anything that's even remotely harsh that comes out of my mouth, he takes ten times worse than the average person." In the past, he loved to pick on Sam about it: call him names like drama queen, or just flat out accuse him of being a girl. But that didn't seem to be enough anymore. All the jokes in the world wouldn't change the dire situation they were in - a situation they might not have been in at all if he'd set a better example for his little brother.
She'd nod every so often to show that she was listening, but she didn't dare interrupt. She let him say whatever he needed to get off his chest, and then threw in her two cents when it was clear that he was done. "Did you ever think about just picking up the phone and calling him to tell him you're sorry?" A simple solution to a not-so-simple problem. She was sure there was more to the story - details in the parts he'd conveniently glossed over and brushed aside as no big deal.
Thank you little miss state-the-obvious. Following a roll of the eyes, he quipped, "It's not that simple."
"It is that simple." Maybe it didn't sound like the ideal thing to do. It was never easy to get someone to swallow their pride and spit out those two words. If that was the problem, he didn't even have to say them. He could say something else. Something along the lines of 'I don't hate you. I'm just really, really mad at you.' That would basically get the same message across.
Why was she so persistent? It was incredibly annoying. "That's not how we do things."
"Why not?" Couldn't the 'rules' be bent a little this one time? It's not like they were carved in stone.
Of course she didn't understand. How could she? But he wasn't about to sit here and justify his actions to a total stranger. "It's just how we are. We get to a certain point where we can't take it anymore. We yell. We say things we don't mean. Sam gets all hurt and weepy. I get angry. We go our separate ways. End of story." He had suddenly become very defensive, both in his tone and his mannerisms. If it were that simple, did she really think he'd be inflicting physical harm on himself or damaging this (usually) mighty fine piece of work they were sitting in? Not a chance.
She chewed lightly on her bottom lip before proceeding forward, choosing her words more carefully than she had been. "You make it sound like this happens a lot."
A lot? Yeah, you could say that. "It does, but it's never been this bad." It's never been 'we're both going to drop dead and get dragged down into the pits of Hell in a month, but hey! as long as we're in it together, it's all cool' bad. It'd never been something they couldn't fix. It'd always been other people that needed saving, not them. But somewhere along the line the tables had turned.
"Do you want things to get better between you two?" Because ultimately, that's the only question that mattered.
"I don't know if they can," he responded flatly. Yet even as he tried his darndest to appear indifferent, he hadn't been able to wipe the sound of Sam's pleas from his mind or forget how crushed his brother had looked when it was made clear that Dean hadn't forgiven him or 'warmed' to the 'we can fight this together' idea in the slightest.
This time she'd be the one to sigh, accompanied by a light shake of the head. "Sounds to me like you're just being stubborn."
He repositioned himself so that he could glare at her more pointedly. "Oh really? Is that your expert opinion? 'Cause I almost forgot who I was talking to." Sarcasm, as well as agitation, had once again surfaced in his voice.
She knew she'd gotten him defensive, and when that happened, those walls would shoot right back up. So she took a mental step back, and approached him more delicately when she spoke again. "All I'm saying is that if you were really that mad at him, you wouldn't be concerned about his feelings. So you can deny it all you want, but this is hurting you just as much as it's hurting him. I just don't see the point of two people suffering alone if it can be avoided." She was only commenting on what she could conclude from not only what was being said, but his behavior as well.
"Maybe I'm sparing him. Did you ever think of that?" Why would she? She didn't know their life. She didn't get it: what was really going on here.
"From what: knowing how much you really care about him? Suppose he's sitting off somewhere thinking this whole thing is his fault - that he deserves to suffer. Is that really better than the alternative?" And she knew for a fact that's exactly what Sam was doing - or had been doing.
He hated it when other people were right, but it wasn't like she was saying anything he hadn't already thought of a million times before. Truth was she'd probably nailed it right on the head: where Sam was and what he was doing. It just wasn't fair - any of it. It'd all been endurable until the whole 'two for one' thing got added to it. That's when the deal had become too much for him to bear. But his meeting with Sammy yesterday had softened him up considerably, despite how it seemed. Now he was more mad at himself, than anything. Funny part was that's mainly who his aggression had always been directed at or intended for. It just hadn't exactly come across that way.
A hand lifted to rub roughly across his face, a clear indication that something was weighing heavily on his mind, before he let out a defeated sigh. "I don't know if he'd even speak to me now." With the way he'd treated him ... just abandoning him like that? Dean couldn't blame him. If the shoe was on the other foot, there'd be no way he'd be so forgiving, especially so soon after it happened. But this was Sam they were talking about. He was truly one of a kind, whether that be a good or bad.
"No harm in trying." She canted her head to try and sneak a better peek at his face. Was that the look of enlightenment? Could be. So feeling her work here was done and not wanting to ruin any progress they'd made, she made an observation. "The rain's stopped."
Had it? With all this soul talk, he'd lost track of the weather forecast. Huh. Looks like the night sky was clearing up.
"You mind if I take a look at your engine?" A gesture was made towards the front of the vehicle.
He raised a skeptical brow. If he couldn't fix it, he hardly doubted mini-Oprah here could, but hey, if she really wanted to give it a shot ..."Knock yourself out." Though he couldn't restrain himself from opening his door and yelling out, "Just don't screw up anything!"
Once she assured him she knew what she was doing ( although if it wouldn't start, she didn't see how she could screw it up any worse ), he popped the hood for her. And after tinkering around with it a little, she'd shout out. "Try and crank it now!" She took a step back as he turned the key.
It cluttered and clanked stubbornly for a few seconds before it sputtered and purred back into working condition. Yes! Success! Don't ever do that to papa again, okay baby? As far as this mystery woman, to say he was surprised she was about to pull it off was a huge understatement. He was speechless ... and a little impressed. Who would've thought someone that looked like she was born and bred for the 'baking cookies in the kitchen' kinda lifestyle could work wonders on the hardware?
He rolled down his window when she came around to his side and extended her hand. "Well, guess this is it. It's been fun."
He somewhat reluctantly took her hand and gave it a quick, firm shake. "Wasn't so bad." That's the best she was getting from him. It was still a vast improvement from half an hour ago. And yet ... as badly as he'd wanted to get rid of her, there was something almost sad about watching her go - which was eventually what caused him to lean out his window and call her back. "Hey! You want a ride? I can drop you off someplace." ... Someplace where she could stay warm and dry, just incase the bottom fell out again. Yeah, yeah. They'd bonded, in a way. He didn't like the idea of carelessly tossing her back on the streets at this hour. It was dangerous. That's right: dangerous. He did still care about what happened to people. "You can use their phone to call a cab from there and get to wherever you're going." After all, how could he resist? She had to keep looking at him with those large, doe eyes of hers, and it was no secret that he was a real sucker for a beautiful lady.
For the first time, her smile broadened until it stretched almost clear across her face. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
"Just hop in before I change my mind." And then once he got rid of his passenger, maybe, just maybe he'd go talk to his brother. When the chick who shall remain nameless slid back into the vehicle, he'd put the pedal to the metal and speed off down the street. So much to do, so little time, but the night was still young, and with the rain had come a fresh breath of life for him.