dudeimbatman | Entries tagged with [also] backstory

[Have you ever had your heart broken?]

His first clue that she wasn’t buying it was a skillet upside his head. Thank God it wasn’t the iron one she made cornbread in. His ears were ringing and his head aching.

“Jesus, what the hell, Cassie?”

“You bastard, next time just tell me you’re cheating on me. You don’t have to make up shit like that!”

That earned her the classic Dean Winchester ‘bwahz’ face. “Seriously? You think that’s what this is about?”

“No, Asshole. I know that’s what this is about. You’re talking vampires and demons, monsters in the closet. No one makes up that sort of bullshit without having an underlying motive. You know, I don’t have to put up with this bullshit. My daddy told me not to get involved with you and I didn’t listen. I thought I knew you better than that.”

“Cass…” he started, emotion choking in his throat. He closed it off, pushed it down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do know me. I know it’s hard to believe, Baby, but I’m not making this shit up. Look around you.”

It was closer to begging than Dean ever liked to get but it was Cassie and if he’d ever had a first love, it was her.

“Get out. You son of a bitch-“ Cassie raised her hand to slap him and Dean stopped her, his fingers curling around her wrist as he squared his jaw, his whole being going cold.

“Don’t. Do not bring my mother into it,” Dean warned her.

“Oh right. The sacred Mary Winchester who was killed by a demon,” Cassie hissed.

She didn’t have to throw him out after that. He packed up and left, slamming the front door so hard the entire house shuddered. It was stupid to get so involved, stupid to let a woman get under his skin. He knew that but he thought she’d be special. He thought she could deal with it. Cassie wasn’t faint of anything, much less heart.

He’d been wrong but the one thing you could say about Dean Winchester, he rarely made the same mistake twice. It didn’t occur to him until he was three hours down the road that he’d never told her he wasn’t cheating on her.

Current Mood: exanimate

Week 5 [Dare: Fall asleep with someone]

This was in part inspired by the cuddle meme. Only Dean doesn't cuddle. Most of the time. Obviously takes place a couple of days after Mary's death.

His head doesn’t even hurt anymore. He’s pretty sure Dad’s does though. Sammy has been crying pretty much since Mom died and Dean doesn’t get why Dad is so angry about it. Sam is just doing what everyone else wants to do. He can get away with it because he’s a baby. The floor creaks and Dean knows without opening his eyes that Dad is pacing the floor with Sammy again even though it hasn’t really helped the last couple of days. Sammy just has to cry himself to sleep then they’ll all get a few hours before the baby wakes up crying again. Dean knows it but Dad seems to have forgotten it.

The first wrapped sounds of ACDC bubble through the room before they even out. Dean cracks open one eye to confirm that it’s his Dad singing Highway to Hell to his baby brother.

“Momma always sang Angels watching over me to him,” Dean says from the mess of blankets that he’s made of the motel bed.

“Yeah…well she ain’t here so he gets ACDC.” Dad’s voice carries more regret then bite. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

And he doesn’t argue that he can’t, not with the way Sammy’s still crying because unless you’re Mom, you don’t argue with John Winchester. Mom that’s not there anymore. Dean hides deeper in the blankets and pulls a pillow over his head. It doesn’t shut out the way Sam cries but Dean’s not sure he wants Sammy to quit crying. At least it’s a reminder that he’s there and Dean did something right. He took care of Sammy.

Highway to Hell breaks off, Sammy’s still crying and Dean peeks out from beneath the pillow to see Dad holding the baby up high above his head. Sam’s still wiggling and crying.
“Come on, Kiddo. I need a break. I lost her too,” Dad says to the baby and Dean wants to tell him baby’s not that smart. Sammy doesn’t understand. He figures Dad knows that though, he’s just going a little crazy from all the crying. Dean’s eyes go wide as Dad moves toward the bed and he holds his breath, trying to be completely still so he won’t know he’s awake.

“It’s okay, Dean. I know you can’t sleep with all this noise.”

He shoves the pillow off his head and looks up to Dad who’s still got Sammy cradled in one arm against his chest. Baby is still crying his eyes out and Dad looks like he wants too.

“It’s okay,” Dean says. “You can.” Because if Dad cries then it means he can cry and he’s been waiting to cry since the fire.

Sam lets out a high pitched wail that signals the start of a real crying jag and Dean watches a look come over Dad’s face that he doesn’t know. The shock of having Dad plop Sammy down in bed next to him is chased away by the complete and total surprise of Sammy’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying. Instead he’s staring up at Dean with wide, wide eyes. That wide-eyed look is reflected in Dean’s face but it’s directed to Dad who’s just laughing right now.

“You take care of your brother, Dean. I’m gonna be right outside. Just yell if you need anything,” Dad says, already half way across the room. Dean wants to ask him to stop. To stay just a little while longer but he’s got a job. The most important job he’ll ever have. His hands look little smoothing across Sam’s forehead, his baby brother tucked in bed next to him, snuggled in the crook of his arm. Dean presses a sloppy kiss to Sam’s head.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll take care of you.”

Current Mood: protective

[What Happened?]

“Seriously, Sammy, what the hell happened here?” Dean asked as he looked around the hotel room. It looked like something had exploded in there.

“It-I-I’m sorry,” Sam stuttered through the apology.

“Oh you’re gonna be,” Dean said as he stormed around the room picking things up and discarding them to the floor again. All their clothes were scattered, pillows were ripped apart, blankets were shredded. Dean picked up a shoe that was covered in slime of some kind and chewed upon. Sam tried to sink a little deeper into the corner of the hotel room. At ten, he could still make a decent attempt at doing so.

“Sammy...did you summon up something from Hell? Because that’s the only excuse I’m coming up with right now.”

“Promise not to be mad at me?” Sam squeaked from his corner, looking up at him with a look that coined the phrase ‘puppy eyes’. If he had been doing it on purpose, Dean would have been pissed and the effect would have been null. The thing about Sammy, he didn’t even know he was doing it. Kid looked like the poster child for pitiful without even trying.

“I’m not gonna be mad at you, Sam. I just need to know what the hell happened so I can go hunt the damn thing or call Dad.”

“No!” Sam said, the expression on his face and the tone in his voice turning to outright fear. “Don’t call Dad.”

Dean groaned and put his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Something there caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes, cocking his upturned head to the side as he studied the goop on the ceiling. “Sam….is that…” A glop of it plopped down on his head. Dean made a disgusted face as he wiped it off his forehead, the scent of some kind of flowers tickling his nose. In response he sniffed his fingers. “…shampoo?”

“Yeah,” Sam confessed in a whispery voice.

“Sam, I’ve never beat your ass in my life but I’m gonna start unless you tell me what the hell happened here.”

“There-“ Sam started and stopped then stood up. He edged along the wall, watching Dean as he did. “This dog…I’ve been feeding him and-“ He was choking back tears, watching Dean warily as he continued to creep along the wall. “I got him to come in the room today and he let me pet him but he smelled bad. I knew you and dad wouldn’t let me keep him if he smelled bad so I-I tried to give him a bath.” Sam looked around the room, face falling as if he were realizing for the first time what a mess had been made of the room. “He didn’t like it very much.”

Dean kind of wanted to be pissed. He wanted to yell and ask Sam what the hell he was thinking. He wanted to warn him about rabies and bites. Instead he laughed and the laugh grew until he was doubled over laughing, leaving Sam staring at him like he’d lost it.

“I just wanted a dog.” Sam was still trying to wiggle his way out of the recrimination he was pretty sure was coming once Dean finished his hysterical fit.

Dean finally looked up at him, tears streaming down his face, breathless from the laughter. “Next time…just let the dog stink.”

Sam looked a little like Dean imagined a confused puppy would, his head tilted to one side, mouth slightly agape. “I’m not in trouble? Are you gonna tell Dad?”

“Nah…I’m not gonna tell dad, but we gotta get this room cleaned up and I’ve gotta grab some pillows and crap,” Dean chuckled. “You clean, I’ll nab.” He started toward the motel room door, stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. “And Sammy, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me about anything you did. You won’t ever be in trouble with me.”

Current Mood: nostalgic

[Discuss what you were like as a child]

John has the radio on low and Dean can hear the sound of the road underneath him. Sammy is asleep in a basket on the front seat and Dean’s sitting in the back seat of the Impala, running the 67 Impala matchbox car his Dad had brought home to him a few days ago. He also had his transformers back there with him. Optimus Prime is transformed into his robot form and he’s battling Megatron. The bad guys are beating the good guys horribly.

“You won’t win, Megatron. You can’t win!”

“Take that back! ‘Cause I’m kicking your ass.” Dean shakes his fist at Megatron and quickly looks up to see if John heard him but his Dad doesn’t turn around or scold him.

“We got a secret weapon,” he says in his scariest, gruffest voice. He drives the matchbox Impala into Megatron, knocking him off Optimus Prime and sending him tumbling to the floorboard. Dean puts aside the toys and scoots to the edge of the seat, leaning on the back of the front seat.

“If the Impala was a transformer, do you think she’d still be a girl?”

John glances over his shoulder, chuckling softly. “Course she would be. The Impala’s a girl no matter what she is.”

“There aren’t any girl transformers,” Dean says skeptically.

“That’s because if the Impala were a transformer, she’d be special,” John responds, his attention going back to the road.

His words make a smile creep over Dean’s face though and he sits back in the seat, his hand curling around the matchbox car. The Impala purrs underneath, lulling him to sleep but his grip on the car remains tight. He’ll keep her secret and she won’t tell his but if Optimus Prime ever needs a secret weapon, he knows where to look.