Bitter Sweet Symphony (3/3)
Bitter Sweet Symphony, Chapter Three: Given to Fly
“He floated back down 'cause he wanted to share
His key to the locks on the chains he saw everywhere
But first he was stripped and then he was stabbed
By faceless men, well, fuckers
He still stands
And he still gives his love, he just gives it away
The love he receives is the love that is saved
And sometimes is seen a strange spot in the sky
A human being that was given to fly.”
-Pearl Jam, “Given to Fly”
The next morning I woke stiff and hungry. My throat was raw and aching and I coughed slightly, eyeing the glass of water on the nightstand, just out of my reach. I sat up, hoping I imagined the creak in my bones. I felt so tired, yet restless. My heart was thumping near out of my chest, and I stumbled to my feet. I needed to move, needed to do something.
I opened the closet and found a pair of sweat bottoms and an old t-shirt. I threw them on blindly, stumbling out the door and into the hallway. Gentle shafts of morning sun struck me in my eyes and I grunted, raising my arm and squinting as I walked down the stairs. The heavenly smell of coffee and bacon wafted up to meet me and my stomach gurgled pleasantly at the prospect of blessed food. I came into the kitchen and locked eyes with Mary who had turned from the stove. I looked away hurriedly.
“Good morning, Cas. You’re up before everyone else, I’m afraid.”
I nodded dumbly, taking a seat at the counter and tracing the scratches on the counter top with my index finger.
“Dean told me you were an early riser, and I wanted to make sure there was something for you when you woke up.”
She placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, as well as a steaming mug of black coffee in front of me before bustling around the kitchen once more.
“Samuel’s already up if you want to sit with him. He’s out on the porch.”
I stood and took my plate and mug without another word. Like she said, Samuel was sitting in one of the rocking chairs facing the lawn. He was reading the newspaper when I came out, and did little else than scuff his plate to the side with his boot so I would have room for mine. We didn’t speak for a good while till after I had finished my breakfast and held the mug close to my chest, allowing it to warm my skin and hands.
“You gonna be okay, boy?”
I was silent. I stared out from the porch, watched butterflies and bees flit lazily from one flower to the next. Watched as the sunlight hit the dew covered grass and glistened like millions of priceless diamonds, lighting up my eyes in a beautiful spectrum of color so bright I had to look away. I shifted my gaze to my plate and then down to my bare feet.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay,” I croaked, taking a hasty sip of coffee, “but I’ll manage. Always have.”
Samuel didn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer, but he let it go. He snapped his paper, straightening it before going back to reading in a comfortable silence.
The rest of the day passed in a similar, restless fashion. I was anxious, that much was certain, but about what I did not know. The Winchesters slowly began to trickle away to their respective homes, till at last only Dean, Sam, Mary, and Samuel and I remained. Being around fewer people helped, for sure, but I was still nervous that the whole fairytale aspect of the trip would crash around me and I would be faced with the ugly truth.
I was a whore.
Dean knew, now Mary and Samuel knew it. I knew they didn’t blame me for the way John treated the family as a whole, but that didn’t change the way I felt. And Sam, I hope to God Sam never found out. It would ruin him. He believed in me, he loved me as if I had been living with the Winchesters my whole life. He brought me into his life, and I didn’t want this to force me out. I just prayed Dean and the others would keep it to themselves.
“Hey.”
I looked up and saw Dean standing at the screen door, holding two beers.
“Mind if I join you out here?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I had sat outside the remainder of the day, watching the sun go down and all the various insects and life come and go in the backyard. He placed the unopened beer in my lap and sat next to me, staring out at the lawn as I was. The sun had dipped to its lowest point, blazing though the tips of the trees and lighting Dean’s face on fire. The older man hardly even squinted when he gazed out at the saturated scenery, and I looked away. He popped open his beer can, and the sound carried through the open field. I was suddenly and fully aware of the quiet.
“Sammy’s at a friend’s house. I convinced him to leave for a few days…give us some time to…to figure this out.”
Dean gestured vaguely with his hands and I nodded again. I faintly registered that I hadn’t properly spoken with Dean since that earlier, horrible spillage of my past. I wanted to talk to him, I wanted him to tell me that everything was fine, he was going to take care of everything and I could live with them.
“Mary doesn’t want you here.”
I nodded again, stiffly. I could feel tears begin to well up, they stung, they hurt, I didn’t want to feel pain yet it felt like someone was squeezing my eyes and the sides of my face and ears in a burning vice. The unopened beer in my lap was sweating and soaking my pajama bottoms through to my leg. I tried to focus on that sensation instead of the infinite pressure in my face and head.
“She wants you to move to the city with me, and I-I do too.”
The pressure vanished and I finally turned to face Dean fully. He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck like he was wont to do.
“We figured it would be easier for you to live somewhere where he didn’t. Where there aren’t any…pictures or things of his.”
I suddenly remembered the small picture of him that I saw on the bureau had vanished.
“Would you like that, Cas?”
I stared at him for another beat. He looked desperate, like he thought I would refuse his offer. How could I?
“Yes, I’d…I’d like that a lot.”
Being in the city was nice, but it was loud and overcrowded. Dean told me it wasn’t as bad as living in a city like D.C., L.A., or even New York of all places. I hoped I would never step foot in any of those cities. One good thing about living in the city was everyone was in such a rush there wasn’t much need to speak to anyone. Dean did most of the shopping, or let me run the errands that required little to no contact with other people. I didn’t mind, I knew Dean was just doing it to help me out.
In the next few months we settled into Dean’s old apartment, and Dean helped me with my English, bringing me along on other errands and letting me sit in his auto repair shop while he worked. I liked to sit and watch when customers brought in their cars for repair, and often times it was for the stupidest things that even my uneducated self could have fixed, after some pointers from Dean of course.
I liked the simplicity of working with Dean. The man was his own boss, and owning the repair shop was more of a hobby for him, considering he inherited everything his father had left him, which Dean then sold. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get his business going and to keep his account well padded for the following years. Mary wanted nothing, so it was all left to Dean and Sam. Sam had gotten a free ride to his university, so he only took enough for other various expenses and that was it. Truth be told, Dean was glad that he had someone else to spend the money on. As long as he never told his newfound brother where the money actually came from he would be okay.
We were milling around in a bookstore one day when Dean strayed towards the foreign language section and picked up a Russian grammar book, leering in my direction.
“What if I learned Russian? We could be like those bilingual douchebags who talk behind people’s backs in stores and shit.”
I grinned, taking the book from Dean and flipped through it, reading some of the exercises under my breath, smiling at their simplicity.
“I think that would be funny. Cruel, but funny.”
Dean snickered, placing the book back.
“Maybe someday you could teach me.”
I smiled shyly, ducking my head.
“Maybe.”
The remainder of the summer turned swiftly to autumn, then to winter almost in the blink of an eye. I was actually doing rather well in the city now, though I still hadn’t forgotten what had happened, what I had discovered in the Winchester home, and neither had Dean. Which was why I was hesitant to return for Christmas break.
“Look, we don’t have to go back if you don’t want to, it’s your decision.”
“I won’t keep you from your family, Dean.”
“They’re your family too, Cas.”
My shoulders slumped at that and sunk into the nearest seat, which happened to be the hood of a customer’s ancient Dodge Neon that refused to start.
“But I’m…I’m not…” I’m not welcome.
“Don’t you dare.” Dean muttered shortly, and his accent had a habit of thickening when he was angry or upset, and to me it sounded almost like a growl.
“Don’t start up this shit again, Cas. You just got over it, you were happy, don’t ruin that.” He warned as he trudged closer and stopped directly in front of me, jabbing a finger into my chest so hard it hurt. I could do little else but nod dumbly and fidget with my hands in my lap.
“Besides,” Dean continued as he stepped away, “Sammy’s gonna be there and you know he’s been dyin’ to see you since we skipped town coupla’ months back.”
Sam had indeed been trying to meet with us on several occasions, yet I couldn’t bring myself to see him. Sam was still very much like a child, and I didn’t want the truth to get out, didn’t want Sam to find out the ugly truth and hate me forever. Besides, we talked for several years through sparse phone calls and Facebook messaging when I could manage it, a few months of blessed silence were nothing in comparison.
“Okay,” I murmured, smiling hesitantly, “okay, we’ll go. But if I don’t like it…or, or if I get scared, you have to take me away.”
Dean smiled at me, and I couldn’t fight the swell of warmth that bloomed in my chest. That was the smile of my brother, my family. They were all my family, whether they like me or not, and I didn’t want to continue to wallow in self-pity. I didn’t live in Russia anymore. I couldn’t run across the street or take up jobs on the other side of town if things got rough. No, it was time to face my fears, my family, and let Russia go.
We left for the Winchester house the next day with our suitcases packed to the brim, yet Dean still forgot his toothbrush. The drive to Dean’s childhood home was silent, but not uncomfortable. My revelation worked wonders on the strange chasm of emotions between us, and now we had settled into a familiarity granted only to family. Family. I would have to get used to the word. I no longer viewed Dean as a closer than normal roommate, or as an involved stranger who took pity on the poor hooker from Russia. He was my brother, by blood, and as soon as I had realized that fact I saw just how far Dean had gone to accommodate me in his life.
He had bought that Russian book from the store behind my back.
That alone had me biting my lip in the car to stifle a grin of stupid happiness that fluttered around my stomach like butterflies. He had taken an interest; he had decided to help me more than simply taking me in. I was flattered to say the least.
When we pulled up in front of the Winchester home it was midday, and Dean’s little cousins, not as little as before, were in the front yard playing with the golden lab in the snow. Sam barreled out of the door, no doubt he heard the Impala from a mile away, and stopped in front of us, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He turned to me, bit his lip and made a face before he lunged forward and pulled me into a warm embrace.
“Don’t run away again, you hear me, stupid?” Sam sobbed into my shoulder, practically lifting me off the ground, crushing me in the process. I cursed in Russian but chuckled when he set me down, the both of us wheezing, and I mock punched his bicep.
“I am not going anywhere, Sam.”
Things weren’t fixed, it would never be over, I couldn’t forget years of abuse and a lifetime on the streets, but I could definitely start trying, especially now that I was with my family.
I was home.
The two men sitting behind Missy Gordon were getting on her last nerve. They were speaking too loud for being in a public establishment, let alone a restaurant, and about the crudest things. Not to mention the shorter, wiry one sounded Russian…God forbid.
“Natalie Portman was so hot though, and Mila Kunis? Please tell me you at least got something out of watching that little bit o’ girl on girl action.”
“Was a girl movie, Dean. Would rather have seen Fast and Furious.”
“I’ve seen that so many times though…”
“Yes, but I have not.”
Missy cleared her throat loudly yet primly. The taller of the two snorted but they fell silent. She nodded to herself, content with the almost silence of the lazy diner, but then the shorter one uttered something she couldn’t understand, and the taller laughed uproariously. They began speaking again, just as loud if not louder, in the foreign language, which at this point she assumed was Russian.
“Boys! Back again, what’ll it be?” The kind waitress from before sauntered up to their table and Missy turned, curious at the level of familiarity in the girl’s tone.
“Jo! How’s it been? Keeping up with school work?”
“You know how it is, mom wants me here longer these days to fill shifts and stuff, and I barely have time to study.”
“Take a lesson from Cas here, he helps out at the shop, the shelter, and still manages to juggle a full course load on top of that.”
“Show off…”
“Dean…” The smaller man, Cas she assumed, hissed. The larger, Dean, chuckled and handed the blonde waitress his menu.
“Do you really need to ask us what we’re having every time?”
“Whatever, what do you want?”
“Two double bacon cheeseburgers, extra fries, extra onions…two black coffees…go ahead and put us in for two slices of whatever pie you got today, and uh, that’s it.”
“You sure?” The waitress snorted and Cas smacked her arm with a laminated menu, smiling and blushing.
“Dean here always has room for pie, am I right?”
“Always, baby.”
Cas frowned and grunted something in Russian, leaning forward to smack Dean upside the head. The waitress laughed and turned away to fill their order.
Missy turned back around, her old bones creaked as she did so and she frowned. If only she was that young again, then she could laugh and carry on as those youngsters did without a care in the world. Even eating took a long time, and she had barely finished her meal by the time the two men had as well. They were carrying on again in Russian, sometimes English, but their conversation was lost to her as she made her way out of the diner and onto the street.
She made it a habit of going out somewhere at least once a day, whether to get something to eat or to the supermarket, even a short walk down the street and back. Her doctor told her it would help her mood…whatever that meant. She instantly regretted choosing a new place to walk to, for it was already dim outside, the sky covered with low and fat rainclouds. She was sure she wouldn’t make it back to her apartment before it began to rain. She knew she didn’t have an umbrella on her, the weather man said it would be clear all week. Buffoon.
Sure enough, not even a few minutes later fat drops fell down and struck her on her neatly permed white hair and she hissed in annoyance, trying to pick up her pace. Not so easy once you passed seventy. Thunder and lightning cracked and boomed off in the distance and she scowled, today was just not her day.
“Grandma?” A heavily accented, gruff voice cut through her thoughts and she looked to her side. One of the men from the diner was walking next to her, frowning in concern. She struggled to remember his name, was it Keane? Or Dan? Something like that…
“Grandma…too wet to walk without a…uh…” He held an umbrella in his hand and fumbled with his words, consternation and embarrassment coloring his features.
“I’m not your grandma, boy. And it’s called an umbrella.”
“Umbrella, yes…” The man uttered under his breath, repeating it a few times for good measure. “Take my umbrella, grandma, it is raining too much to be without one.”
She took it slowly from his outstretched hand and opened it, instantly grateful when the water pounded off the umbrella rather than her head.
“What about you?”
“I am used to it,” he smiled, shrugging and half turning, “Besides, I can share with my brother.” He smiled at the other man from the diner who merely nodded and waved. So they were brothers, then.
“I couldn’t possibly take this, young man, I have no way of returning it to you.” Missy grumbled, but could feel her heart warming when the man’s brother stepped up next to him to shelter them both from the rain, smiling indulgently, almost fondly, down at the smaller man.
“Do not trouble yourself, it is a…ah, a gift. No one should walk alone in the rain, especially without an umbrella.”
She could tell there was more to that statement than he let on. His brother bumped their shoulders and frowned down at him, eyes searching for some silent message. The other smiled grimly, the look not reaching his eyes, but he settled closer under the umbrella as they turned to walk back the other direction.
“Thank you, son, I’ll take good care of it.” Missy said, genuine for once in her thanks.
“Until next time, grandma.” He said over his shoulder. She watched them go, watched them till they rounded the corner and were out of sight. She sighed and slumped her shoulders. Old age had made her cranky and mean, she was a stereotype for Christ’s sake. She chuckled to herself though when she made her way back home, at least she wouldn’t be soaking wet by the time she got home. She looked up at the sky when she made it to her door step, catching sight of her gifted umbrella as well. It was navy blue and had little cartoon raindrops printed on it. It was childish, but she supposed it would do till she saw the man again.
“Dude, you gave that old lady your umbrella? I am not buying you another one.”
I smiled and lounged back against the sofa, stuffing my face with my new favorite snack, popcorn, as we watched The Fast and The Furious.
“She needed an umbrella, so I gave her mine.”
“You always give away your umbrella…” Dean grumbled, and I laughed him off, focusing back on the movie instead. Yes, I made it a habit of giving away my umbrellas to unsuspecting victims of untimely rain. It wasn’t exactly a healthy habit, but umbrellas were cheap and easily replaceable, and Dean knew it helped me whenever I helped someone else out of a small moment of misery. Just as if, at any point during my years in Russia, anyone gave me an umbrella whenever it snowed or rained it would have made my day that much brighter. But no one ever did. I didn’t want to see anyone around me suffer if I could help it.
“Just shut up and watch the movie.” I said between mouthfuls of popcorn, in Russian. After years of practice, Dean was almost completely fluent in Russian, just like he wanted, and we were able to talk behind people’s backs “like douchebags” according to Dean, just like he always wanted. He was so good at the second language he almost sounded native. After all, he had the best tutor he could ever ask for, his own brother.
-END-
Thank you for reading! I'll be putting more stories up soon!
And I signed up for Dean/Cas Bigbang as well, so look forward to that monster!