Suburban War - Chapter 9
And my old friends, I can remember when
You cut your hair
We never saw you again
Now the cities we live in
Could be distant stars
And I search for you
In every passing car
~Arcade Fire, “Suburban War”
Dean is surprised how easy it is to pack up his things and sneak away under cover of darkness. Easy in the sense of logistics, as his parents and Sammy both close their doors once they go to bed, and seem dead to the world; and easy in the sense of leaving everything he’s ever loved behind.
It’s easier to leave when you remind yourself that everyone is better off without you around.
He finds the keys to his motorcycle easily, and walks her down the street and away from the house before starting her up. Once he reaches the edge of town he stops, staring up at the street signs telling him where he’s going. He’s glad someone knows, because he sure as hell doesn’t.
He rides south and east for a couple days, stopping long enough to rent a room at the cheapest motels he can find, because even if he’s got some cash, it’s not enough to spend it carelessly. He didn’t take his cell phone with him because he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace his whereabouts, so the one phone call he makes back home is from a pay phone. Dean isn’t sure which is more surprising to him - the fact that pay phones still exist, or the fact that when he makes the call he finally gets a bit of good news.
“Rufus? Hey, this is Dean,” he says, trying his best to block off the chill of the wind through the door of the booth. He’s stopped at a gas station just outside of Memphis, and he doesn’t really know why he’s calling Rufus, other than needing to hear a familiar voice.
“Boy, is that you? You’ve got all your family in a tizzy over here!” Rufus yells down the phone line. “You need to git your scrawny ass back home before they call out the entire state of Kansas.”
Dean can’t help but smile when he hears Rufus’s gruff, pissed-off voice. “I can’t do that, man.”
“Don’t you man me, son,” Rufus chides. “What the hell you think you’re doing running away like this?”
Dean sighs, staring out at the bare branches of the trees in front of the gas station. He wishes it would warm up some, but he guesses he should just be grateful it’s not snowing. “I got into some bad trouble, and I felt like it was just better for everybody if I got away for a while.”
“Son, that is some of the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’m old and been around enough to hear a shit ton of stupid shit,” Rufus grumbles. “Now since you’re a spoiled rotten fool, maybe you’ve been too spoiled and rotten to realize when you’ve got a good thing. But Dean, you’ve got a good thing with that family of yours, and you don’t need to be putting them through this kinda pain.”
“Rufus, I can’t go back,” Dean says. “Not right now.”
He hears Rufus exhale across the line, the man’s voice crackling with static as he curses under his breath. “Okay, then. What do you need from me?”
Dean bites back a sob, not realizing how much he was needing to hear someone say they want to help. “Do you know of any places around Tennessee that might be hiring? Or have any suggestions about places I can go? I’ll be running out of money soon.”
He listens to the white noise on the line, trying not to think of what may have caused the crustiness on the phone’s receiver. Rufus curses for a few seconds before replying. “Hell, son. I might know of somebody near Chattanooga, if he’s still there or hasn’t kicked the bucket yet. I ain’t talked to him since last I saw him about fifteen years ago.” He sighs before continuing. “Can you make it there, or you need me to wire you some cash?”
Dean assures him that he can find a way to get to Chattanooga, and he will. Even if he has to figure out some not-so-savory ways to get more money, he’ll get there. He agrees to give Rufus another call in a day or so to see if he’s able to get in touch with his friend, and begs Rufus not to tell anyone where he is. The old man isn’t happy about it, but when Dean agrees to let him inform them that he called and is okay, he relents. When Dean hangs up, he presses his forehead against the phone and closes his eyes.
Not for the first time, he’s tempted to turn around and go back to Lawrence. As much as he’s been wanting to hit the road and escape, it was never a part of his dreams to do it like this. Running away all alone, cutting himself off from everyone he’s ever cared about…the wrongness of it all has him feeling nauseated.
As he pushes out of the booth, he reminds himself that it’s the best thing for everyone. His presence was only making his parents fight, and he was holding Castiel back. He wonders if Castiel has stayed with him so long out of a sense of obligation to him, or if he just couldn’t bring himself to let go yet. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that he’s cut the ties, they can both move on with their lives.
He considers finding a motel to hole up in until tomorrow instead of driving east, but he figures he might as well get back on the road sooner rather than later. He’ll be heading east whether Rufus’s connection pans out or not, and he doesn’t much feel like being stationary right now.
After consulting his map, Dean climbs back on his bike and moves on. As much as he’d prefer to take the interstates to save money on gas, with the cold temperatures, he’s having to stick to the slower back roads. Even wearing a few layers and gloves, it’s just too frigid to move at the speeds of the main highways. He is enjoying the glimpses of Americana the backroads afford him, though; it’s been the one bright spot of this whole experience, so far.
He gets as far as Lawrenceburg before having to find a place to dig in for the night. He wishes he had a car instead of his motorcycle. He could save a hell of a lot of money by sleeping in a backseat instead of having to rent a room. If it wasn’t so damp and chilly he’d try roughing it in some woods, but he’s not that desperate yet.
The room he gets is about as depressing as every other room he’s stayed in, so far. He knows he should be glad that the carpet and bedspread are both a shit-shade of brown, because he sure as hell doesn’t want to know how much dirt and stains are on either one of them, but he still hates the dreariness of it all. The decor does nothing to help with his feeling of isolation, so he tries to ignore the loneliness by jumping straight in the shower, turning the water temperature up as high as he can stand it, choosing not to notice the mildew and scum on the bathroom tiles.
His sleep is uneasy that night, images of Castiel reaching and yelling for him as he drives away haunting his dreams. He wakes a little after four am, drenched in a cold sweat, but remains in bed until daylight, trying his damnedest to rid himself of the feeling that he’s abandoned his best friend.
In the brightness of the morning, it’s easier to remember Dr. Novak’s words, and to remind himself of all the times he questioned the depth of Castiel’s feelings for him.
And so Dean moves on.
********************
Within a couple hours of leaving Lawrenceburg, Dean hits Winchester, Tennessee, and he almost considers trying to stay there, if for no other reason than how cool it is to share a name with the town you’re living in. And as he drives around, he kind of likes the place, too. It’s got a lot of small town, Southern charm to it, and the lakes and creeks around it are beautiful and filled to the brim with bass, or so the old man at the diner he stops at for lunch tells him.
But a town this small is likely a close-knit community, and the last thing Dean needs right now is to feel like even more of an outsider. And one look at the classifieds tells him the likelihood of finding a job quickly is close to none.
He stops off at a park next to Tims Ford lake, sits on the edge of a pier while eating a soggy slice of gas station pie, and stares out at the calm water. This lake is gorgeous, but the colors are all wrong; instead of golden light and deep green waters, it’s gray and gloomy and dark. He can’t keep his eyes from darting to the empty space next to him on the pier, and he wonders what Castiel is doing right now.
He climbs back on his motorcycle and continues east.
********************
The drive between Winchester and Chattanooga becomes hillier and more treacherous, but Dean can’t complain because the terrain is beautiful. It’s a nice change from the general flatness of Kansas, and he wonders how pretty this area must be in other seasons.
He finds a motel just before sundown, stopping off at a McDonald’s nearby to get something cheap to eat. As much as he loves junk food, he’s already tired of having to get the cheap stuff, and missing his mom’s cooking something fierce. He calls Rufus collect after he’s eaten and showered, eyes welling up when he hears the relief in the man’s voice.
“Dean, I was beginning to worry,” Rufus tells him.
Dean settles back against the headboard of the lumpy bed. “Sorry, sir. I was wanting to wait until I got to Chattanooga to call.”
“So you made it there just fine?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean says. “It’s pretty here, but cold.” He keeps his mouth shut on how lonely it is, too, because he knows what Rufus’s answer will be to that.
Rufus clears his throat. “So I got in touch with my friend. He says he’s retired now, but his daughter took over the business, and he’ll put in a word for you, if you wanna stop by there Monday.”
Dean leans his head back against the bed frame and closes his eyes. “Yeah, that’ll work. What kind of business is it?”
“She’s a carpenter, just like me. Business is pretty good for her, too. Shit knows she’s got more business than I ever did.”
And that…that’s some of the best news Dean’s gotten in a long time. He didn’t dare hope to get a job doing something he knows and actually likes. “Wow, Rufus. That’s awesome. Are they…do they even need anybody right now?”
Rufus chuckles. “Yeah, Art said his daughter’s been griping for months about an apprentice she’s got, s’been wanting to get rid of him but couldn’t afford to be one man down. I told him what a quick learner you are, and you’re not a complete waste of space.”
Dean struggles and fails to hide the emotion in his voice. “Thanks, Rufus. This means…it means a lot, sir.”
There’s a long sigh across the line, and Rufus doesn’t say anything for several moments. “I spoke to your parents.”
Dean sucks in a breath. “You didn’t tell them where I am, did you?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t, so I didn’t,” the old man grumbles. “But son, there’s a world of hurt going on in your family right now. I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, and I don’t wanna know. But you should call them.”
Dean bites his lip, mulling over the words. “I just need some time. I think it’s best for everybody if I’m not around for a while.”
“Shit, boy. If you really believe that, you’re stupider than I thought.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t right now,” Dean sighs. “If you talk to them again, will you just…will you tell them I’m sorry, and I’m okay?”
“I think you’re the one who should be telling them that, but yeah, I will.”
It’s so very tempting for Dean to ask Rufus to get a message to Castiel for him, as well. It wouldn’t even be a difficult task for the man. He could just tell Missouri, and she’d tell Cas.
But he doesn’t ask.
********************
Dean stays in his motel room and watches a lot of basic cable crap on the antiquated TV for the next couple days, biding his time until Monday. He wants to go out and drive around to check out the town, but he can’t afford to waste gas, so he lays low.
He wakes up early Monday morning, so nervous about the job that he steals three different maps from the lobby of the motel just to make sure he’s got it mapped out correctly. The workshop is located in an art district near downtown, and from what Dean can tell, it looks like a decent neighborhood. It’s probably going to be at least a half-hour drive from the motel, depending on traffic, so he decides to leave about an hour before Rufus told him to show up.
He’s screwed as far as nice clothes to wear for the interview, given he didn’t have much room in his duffel to pack anything resembling appropriate; even if he had, it’d be wrinkled to hell by now. He chooses his nicest pair of jeans, buttoning up and tucking in a flannel shirt in the hopes that it’ll be suitable enough.
He arrives about twenty minutes early, so he uses that extra time to drive around the area. It really is a cool part of town, from the looks of it, although maybe a bit too hippyish for his own tastes. What houses and apartments he sees are way too expensive for his blood, so if he gets this job he imagines there won’t be any walks to work in his future.
When he steps into Riverbend Carpentry and Studios, he’s a bit surprised at what he finds. It isn’t a cramped, dusty workshop, like what Rufus has, even though from the outside it looks like nothing more than a warehouse. Instead, it’s got what looks to be a gallery to the left, with ornate, deep mahogany shelves and cabinets containing all sorts of wooden art pieces and collectibles, along with metal structures in strange designs. To the right of the entrance is some sort of reception desk or sales counter, with a really attractive woman sitting behind it, though she looks as if she’d be more comfortable sitting on a Harley and dressed up in leather chaps instead.
“Well, hello, sugar,” the woman drawls, giving him a once over. And then a twice over. “Are you my Christmas present come early? I hope not too early.”
Dean gulps. This is so totally not what he’d been expecting. Grizzled men with pants showing their ass cracks, that’s what he’d been expecting. “Uh, I’m here about a job interview?” His voice is so high-pitched from nerves he wouldn’t be surprised if they assumed he was a eunuch.
“If I get to look at you every day, then it must be Christmas and my birthday all rolled up into one!” The woman steps out from behind the counter, extending a tattoo-covered arm to Dean. “I’m Pamela,” she purrs.
Dean just barely remembers not to wipe his palm against his jeans before extending his hand. “Dean Winchester,” he smiles, albeit still freaked as hell by the way Pamela is eyeing him like a field mouse to her fox. “Is, uh, Ms. Mills around?”
The woman grabs his hand and begins pulling him behind the counter and through the door to the back. “Jody! We’ve got a live one here!”
The back of the warehouse is much more of what Dean had been expecting from a carpenter’s workshop. The floor is a polished concrete, like the front lobby and gallery, but there’s sawdust and shavings all over the place. The workshop is huge, compared to what Dean is used to; there must be close to ten work benches, not including the large tables with blueprints spread out across them. There’s so many stacks and shelves with equipment and tools that Dean can’t keep count, and when he gets a glimpse of the wood that they’ve got stocked towards the back he practically starts drooling.
A woman with short, brunette hair approaches him, wearing jeans and a Ramones t-shirt. “Are you Rufus’s guy?” she asks, holding a hand out to shake.
He grabs her hand firmly, noticing the callouses he finds there. He can appreciate a boss who gets in the thick of things. “Yes, ma’am. Dean Winchester.”
She snorts. “I appreciate the manners, but hearing ma’am makes me feel like a school marm.” She smiles at him then, and her eyes light up with a warmth that reminds Dean achingly of his mother. “You can call me Jody.”
She walks him around the workshop, pointing out tools here and there to see if he’s familiar with them. She seems pleased with what knowledge Dean has, and once again, he’s grateful to Rufus for all that he showed him last summer, tough old fart that he is. Jody explains the presence of the gallery at the front of the building; she and a few of the other carpenters like to play around and make sculptures and odd knick knacks, and once they realized there was a market for it, especially in this area of town, she decided to open up a room to start selling them. Pamela works part time at the front desk to deal with any customers in exchange for Jody letting her sell the metal designs that she welds in the workshop.
“You do a lot of welding here, too?” Dean asks, wondering if he could be trained in that, as well.
Jody shrugs. “Some of our designs require metal, so yeah, it’s a lot less hassle for us to take care of it in-house instead of having to wait and pay a welder for it.”
They finish up the tour in a break room, and Jody asks a couple of the guys that are sitting down drinking coffee to leave them alone so they can finish up their interview.
“So, Dean, can I ask what your deal is? I don’t want to pry, but you seem awfully young, and to have you suddenly just show up on my doorstep…well, you can’t blame an employer for being wary.”
Dean tries not to fidget under her gaze, and decides to trust her enough to tell her at least part of the truth. “Uh, I got into a bit of trouble. With the law.” Jody’s eyes narrow suspiciously, so he rushes to continue explaining himself. “It wasn’t a big deal, it was just a stupid mistake. I got caught smoking a joint. They dropped the charges since it was my first time, but I uh, things weren’t great at home after that, so I thought it’d be best if I left.”
He meets her gaze, and she watches him for several moments before taking a deep breath. “How old are you? Are you legal?”
He clears his throat. “I turn eighteen in about a month.”
She leans against the worktable behind her, staring down at the floor, deep in thought. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and waits, praying to god or whoever the fuck is listening to please let her say yes. If she says no, he doesn’t think he can do this anymore, doesn’t think he can keep from turning around and driving back to Lawrence. He’s lonely, and he’s scared, and he needs a break, just one fucking break, please.
Jody raises her head and looks at him. “Okay. You’re hired.”
********************
When Jody figures out that Dean has nowhere to go for Christmas, she pretty much demands that he come to her house for the holiday, and laughingly threatens to make him scrub the bathrooms and toilets on his hands and knees with a toothbrush if he declines. Since the men’s bathroom doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned since Whitesnake was topping the charts, Dean agrees quickly to attend.
Dean really didn’t want to go. He’d been studiously ignoring the impending holiday, and had planned to camp out in his motel room for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, watching holiday movies and eating beef jerky and stale, store-bought pie. But he felt obligated to go, not wanting to make any waves this early in his employment, so he sucked it up and agreed. On Christmas Eve, as he’s bundled up under the musty, threadbare bedspread and watching It’s A Wonderful Life, he starts to wish he’d buckled and agreed to spend Christmas Eve with her family as well. He hadn’t realized just how lonely he could be until it hits him all at once like a punch to the chest, robbing him of his breath, and making him curl into a ball under the covers.
That night is the first time since he was a kid that he’s cried himself to sleep.
The following morning he tries to sleep late, but the bright sunshine peeking through the cheap drapes has him up early. Jody told him just to show up around noon, and when he’d asked if he should bring anything she’d laughed and said “You just bring your appetite and let me worry about everything else.”
She lives about ten minutes away from the shop, and with the lack of Christmas morning traffic it doesn’t take Dean long to get there at all. When he rides up, he recognizes a few of the cars parked on the street out front, and wonders if this is more of a work party instead of family. Once inside, he only sees a handful of people that he’s not met before, and wonders if they’re all that Jody has of family around here. It seems that a lot of strays like Dean end up at Jody’s home for the holidays.
He can feel his face flush when everybody greets him simultaneously as he’s let inside, and Jody scurries out of the kitchen long enough to make introductions. “Dean, you know everybody from the shop, but let me introduce you to my dad, Art.”
An older man with a receding hairline steps up and holds a hand out. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Dean. Surprisingly enough, even Rufus said some nice stuff.”
Dean laughs awkwardly at his joke, knowing that’s what’s expected. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. And thank you for putting in a good word with my boss.” He gives Jody a hesitant smile.
They exchange a few more pleasantries before Jody wanders back to the kitchen, and her father takes a seat with the other guys in the den to watch football. Dean stands in the hallway between the dining room and den, unsure of where to go and wanting for all the world to run out the door and leave. He’s never spent a Christmas away from his family, and has never felt so out of place before. Just as he’s about to go tell Jody he’s not feeling good and try to get out of here, he feels a tug on his sleeve. When he glances down, he finds wide brown eyes staring up at him.
“My mom said to come and see if you wanted anything to drink,” the little boy whispers.
Dean has to think for a second about who this kid’s mom is, until he realizes it must be Jody. He’s surprised because this is the first he’s heard she has a kid. “Uh, sure. What do you have?”
“There’s soda and orange pop, and milk and chocolate milk, and apple juice and sweet tea,” the boy lists. “And grownup drinks too, but mom said you’re not old enough for that.”
Oh, what Dean would give to have a beer to take the edge off right now. But he smiles down at the kid and says, “I’ll take some sweet tea, if that’s okay.”
The boy turns and disappears into the kitchen, stepping back out a minute later carrying a plastic cup with Bugs Bunny on it, which he carefully hands to Dean. “Do you play Mario Kart?” the boy asks solemnly.
“Sure. What self-respecting guy doesn’t play Mario Kart?”
And that’s how Dean ends up spending most of Christmas day hanging out with Jody’s son, Owen. He learns that Owen is six years old, and that he hates radishes more than anything in this world, except for zombies. Dean doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse that the kid reminds him so much of Sammy. It’s comforting to have someone next to him that reminds him of home, someone who isn’t staring at him and wondering what his deal is. But those moments when he looks over at Owen and expects to see his brother instead are like a cold knife to the heart.
They take a break to eat the Christmas meal with everyone else in the house, but as soon as Dean’s eaten his last bite of sweet potato pie, Owen is pulling on his hand and dragging him back into the rec room. After another hour or so, the full belly and excitement from his new Nintendo begins to take its toll on the kid, and he ends up sprawling out on the floor and falling asleep. Dean plays the game by himself for a while, but starts eyeing the floor next to him when he can’t stop yawning. He wonders if maybe he should say his goodbyes and get back to the motel room. He’s not heard much talking or laughter through the rest of the house for some time, and when he gets up to go to the bathroom, he realizes that everyone else has left, and Jody is busy cleaning up the kitchen.
“Uh, wow, I didn’t realize everybody else had gone home,” Dean says as he steps into the kitchen. “Do you need any help with the cleanup?”
Jody leans back against the the counter, wiping a dish dry. “Nope, Pamela and Marcie helped with most of it. I’m just finishing it up.” She watches Dean fidget for a second, and smiles. “I hope Owen didn’t annoy you too much?”
Dean shakes his head. “Nah, we had fun. He’s a good kid.”
She chuckles, turning around to set the plate up in the open cabinet. “He can be a little shit sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She wipes the counter with a wet rag as she continues. “His dad left us a little over a year ago, and didn’t look back. So, he’s had a hard time of it, you know?”
Dean nods, staring down at his shoes. “I guess you probably haven’t had it too easy, either.” He tries not to think of those he left behind just a couple weeks ago, tries not to wonder what kind of Christmas they have had, but it’s impossible not to feel guilty. One more thing he’s probably ruined for his family.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a picnic at first, but I’m getting over it,” Jody says, shrugging. “He didn’t care enough about us to stay when things got hard, so it’s better for us in the long run that he’s not here.”
“Maybe he knew you’d be better off without him,” Dean says, not able to hold back the words. Something in what she says makes Dean feel defensive, even though he knows deep down that she wasn’t talking about him or his situation. “Maybe he didn’t want to go, but he knew he was no good for you.”
Jody’s eyes narrow as she looks at him. “Trust me, Dean, you didn’t know my husband. Everything about what he did was selfish.”
Dean could kick himself for saying what he did. He had no right to stick his nose in Jody’s business. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I just, I’m really sorry, okay?” He meets her gaze but looks away quickly, and starts backing out of the kitchen. “You’re right, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I should go. It’s getting late anyways, and-”
“Dean, no, wait a second, okay?” Jody reaches out to grab his arm, anchoring him. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was snapping at you. That wasn’t my intention at all.” She waits until he meets her eyes again before continuing. “I can still be pretty snippy when it comes to talking about that asshole, and sometimes I take it out on the wrong people.”
Dean nods and takes a deep breath. “That’s okay. It’s understandable.” He looks to the window and notices that the sun is setting. It’s even later than he’d thought. “I really should probably get going though.”
He fidgets as he feels Jody watching him closely. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Uh, you can ask, but I dunno if I’ll answer,” he mutters, worried. He’s not comfortable talking about himself on the best of days, and this is definitely not one of those.
“Where are you living right now?”
It’s not at all what he was expecting to hear, and Dean answers before he can stop himself. “A motel.” He avoids her stare, watches his fingers as he plays with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt. He’s gonna have to go to the laundromat again this weekend, if he can scrounge up enough change.
She sighs. “Yeah, I figured. Especially after what all Rufus told my dad.”
Dean’s head snaps up at her words. “He shouldn’t be telling my business to everybody. It’s personal.”
“My dad wanted to know what your story was. Wanted to make sure he didn’t expose his daughter and her business to some violent, unhinged psycho,” Jody replies, rolling her eyes. “He pisses me off when he gets all my daughter this and my daughter that, but he’s got a point, and I wasn’t wanting to take that risk, either.” She chews on her lip for a minute before continuing. “You should call your family, you know.”
Dean scoffs. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on with me and my family.”
“I know you miss them, it’d be plain as day even if I was blind,” she retorts, crossing her arms across her chest. “And I know they miss you. Rufus said they’re good people, but I knew that without being told. I could tell it just by talking to you.”
Dean clenches his jaw, willing his eyes not to well up with tears. “I know it’s probably hard for them right now, but it’s the best thing. For all of us.”
Jody snorts, turning around to open the drain on the sink. “Yeah, if you believe that, I’ve got some land to sell you in the Everglades.” She faces him again, clearing her throat as if to make an announcement. “Well, if you’re not going to call your family, then I’m gonna have to let my mama bear instincts take over, and insist that you stay here tonight.”
Dean sucks in a breath in surprise. “What? No, I can’t, I-”
“You can, and you will. I’m not allowing you to drive back to some depressing, cheap motel all alone on Christmas night. I’ve got two extra bedrooms for you to choose from, and you’ll even have your own bathroom.” She pauses long enough to smile at him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, someone’s going to have to eat some of these leftovers for supper tonight, and if it’s left up to me they’ll need to find some Oompa-Loompas to roll me out of the house.”
“But I don’t have anything to sleep in, or a toothbrush or clothes for work tomorrow….” Dean lets his words drift, because as much as he doesn’t want to be somebody’s charity case, the thought of staying in a home tonight, with nice people and home cooking, it’s tempting.
Jody walks into the hallway, motioning for Dean to follow. “I have pajamas that belonged to my husband, we always have spare toothbrushes in the house because of Owen’s friends sleeping over, and the shop’s not opening until noon, so you’ll have plenty of time to drive back to the motel to change.” She opens a hallway closet, pulling out towels and a toothbrush still in its packaging. “You have no excuse not to stay, other than being weirded out that your new lady boss is making you spend the night with her, and even that’s not gonna get you out of this.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Dean mutters, feeling self-conscious as he can feel his face flushing.
“You say, ‘Thanks, Jody,’ and ‘Sure, I’ll eat the rest of the casseroles and pie so that you don’t have to jog to Siberia to work it off, Jody.’ How does that sound?”
Dean takes a deep breath, letting himself relax enough to smile. It’s a smile of relief and gratitude, and the first genuine smile he’s made in what feels like months. “Thanks, Jody. And where’s all this food you’re promising me?”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” She slaps him affectionately on the back before leaning in to add, “Just stay away from the mac and cheese because Owen will have a meltdown the size of Texas if it gets eaten.”
Jody shows Dean the two spare bedrooms, and he chooses the one that reminds him the most of his room back in Lawrence. After the past couple weeks in dingy motel rooms, it looks almost like a little piece of heaven. Before he can sit down on the bed, Jody returns with flannel pajamas, encouraging him to change and get comfy for the evening. “We like to be slugs Christmas evening, so we’ll probably bore you to death with watching TV and Owen playing his games once he wakes back up.”
Dean shakes his head, smiling sadly as he remembers doing much of the same growing up in his family. “Nah, that’s what we always do - did - too.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then,” she continues. “You’re more than welcome to come out and hang with us, I’m sure Owen would love it. Or you can take a nap or take it easy alone in here. Just give me a holler if you need anything.”
Dean assures her that he will, and says he’ll probably come out to spend some time with them in a bit. He just wants to lie down and get his bearings for a few minutes, though he doesn’t say as much to her. When she leaves, he closes the door and crawls under the covers of the bed, breathing in the scent of fresh, clean cotton. It’s amazing the kinds of things you take for granted; he’d never known how awesome clean, nice sheets were until he’d stayed in motels for weeks, wondering when was the last time anything was cleaned properly, if ever.
He burrows into his pillow and closes his eyes. If he were home right now, he’d probably be curled up in front of the TV, hanging with Sammy and Castiel, and talking about how awesome their Christmas had been. Since they’d started high school, Castiel hadn’t spent Christmas night with them, but when they were younger it had been a tradition. They’d made plans to renew the tradition this year, and Dean had even bought his friend a a new sketchpad and charcoals as a present.
Cas. For the first time in days, Dean allows himself to actually think about his friend, and it feels like he’s poking through a scab that covers a hole where his heart should be. He doesn’t know how to be without Castiel in his life. Over the years, Cas has woven himself so deeply into Dean’s world, into the very fabric of his being, that Dean feels as if he’s missing a limb. That’s the only way he can think to describe such a profound feeling of loss.
Castiel’s unflinching, constant, steady presence acted as a foundation for Dean, just as surely as his family’s support always did. He calmed Dean, excited him, enraged and enraptured him, could make him feel precious and important and invincible with just a simple look. But even after years of being best friends, there was always that little voice in the back of Dean’s mind that warned him, made him wonder if Castiel would abandon him once he realized he was meant for better things.
When they were younger, he didn’t pay much attention to that little voice; he just hoped that maybe Castiel would choose him over the life his father wanted him to have. But once their relationship became physical, those doubts became too loud, at times, especially given that Castiel wasn’t one to share his feelings. Dean tried reminding himself that he wasn’t exactly the share-and-care type of guy either, but that didn’t erase his need to hear Castiel reveal the true depth of his feelings for Dean. And overhearing Dr. Novak give voice to his fear of Castiel abandoning him made Dean realize it was only a matter of time before Castiel chose to move on.
He takes a deep breath, and pushes the covers off of himself. Clearly his mind isn’t going to let him rest, so he decides to take Jody up on her offer of company, leftovers, and bad holiday TV.
********************
On New Year’s Eve, Dean gets another surprise when Jody approaches him on his lunch break.
“Are you looking for a place to live?” she asks, sitting down across the table from him.
“Well, since my dream isn’t to live at the Motel 6 for the rest of my life, yeah, I guess so,” he replies. The longer he works here, the more comfortable he’s getting in sharing his snark with everyone else. It’s a good thing for him that Jody and everyone else can give just as good as they get.
She snorts, reaching across the table to steal a couple of his fries. “Okay, I have a proposal for you.” She takes a sip of her coffee and winces. Pamela makes the coffee strong enough to put hair on a trucker’s back. “I have a place above my garage that I paid a couple friends of mine to turn into an apartment a few years ago. My mom passed away, and I’d wanted my dad to move in there, but he’s such a stubborn bastard that he refused to leave the house he already has.” She pauses for a moment and stares at him. “What would you say about moving into it?”
Dean immediately sits up straighter. “Um, I don’t know. Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t serious,” she scoffs. “Look, it’s not like I need extra income. But, it’d be nice to have someone I know and trust close by, in case anything happens with Owen or something. All of my neighbors are jackasses, so I don’t talk to them any more than I have to.”
“So, does it have a bathroom and stuff? Or would I have to come into the house for that?” Dean can feel the hope rising in his chest, and he tries unsuccessfully to squash it down.
“Yep, it’s got it’s own bathroom, and a little kitchen, too. It’s a tiny place, more like a studio apartment, but it has everything you’d need. I even got cable and phone hooked up.”
“I would pay rent, though, right? And help with other bills,” he adds. “I don’t want this to be a charity case.”
“Oh, well yeah, of course you would pay rent,” Jody agrees. “And it’d be nice if you could help me with some of the other chores around the place that I hate doing. Like cleaning the gutters, ugh I loathe doing that.”
Dean eyes her closely. “So is the extra money and help the only reason you’re offering?”
Jody picks at a napkin on the table, tearing it apart piece by tiny piece. “Yes. Well, no, not really.” She exhales and looks up at him. “I don’t like the thought of you living out of a motel. You’re a good kid, and I just…I know if you were mine, if you were Owen, I’d want someone looking out for him.”
Dean's pride is telling him to say no. He’s gotten this far with only just some help from Rufus. He can find a place on his own. But every other part of his being is telling him to accept the help when it’s so gracefully and selflessly offered, even if it feels too good to be true.
“You hardly even know me,” he says, uncertainly.
Jody stares at him, unflinching. “I know you’re a hard worker. I know you’re an honest kid who needs a break. And I know you’re lonely, and needing something like a home.”
Dean looks down at his hands. He’s starting to get callouses from the work, and he’s proud of them. He’s learned so much already in the past couple weeks of working here, and he’s got Jody and the other workers promising to teach him about wood sculpting; hell, even Pamela has offered to show him how she welds metal for her sculptures, though he’s still not convinced she’s not trying to get into his pants. He doesn’t really understand how he’s ended up here, when just a few short weeks ago, he’d ridden out of Lawrence with no idea of where he was going or what he was doing.
“When can I move in?” he asks.
Jody grins. “How about tomorrow? Kick off the New Year with a new home.”
Dean nods and smiles, trying to hide how relieved he is.
Maybe he can do this after all.
********************
The apartment above Jody’s garage is more than Dean had been hoping for. She’d already filled it with furniture they’d built in the shop that had been refused by fickle clients or just had never been sold, and the eclectic decorations throughout the apartment makes it feel like more of a home. It’s really just one big open space, with the kitchen open to the rest of the apartment, the only separate room being the bathroom, of course. The layout of it almost reminds Dean of old man Joshua's abandoned house next to the lake, and Dean tries to chase away the resemblance of it as much as he can by decorating his apartment even more, the memory of how lonely Joshua's house looked making him ache.
Dean loves the apartment. It provides just enough privacy to make him feel like it’s his, but not so much that he frequently falls victim to the loneliness and melancholy that is always threatening to consume him. Jody had given Owen strict instructions to not intrude on Dean, and the sweet kid follows her instructions to the letter; Dean finds that more often than not, he’s the one to go searching for Owen’s company, instead of the reverse.
The morning of his birthday, Dean wakes up expecting to hear his mom whispering Wake up, birthday boy in his ear as she’s done for as long as he can remember. He has to take a moment to remind himself of where he is, and he spends the rest of the day smothering the hope that someone from home will call and wish him a happy birthday. He’d made sure no one could find him, so it’s stupid to wish for it now.
At lunch, Jody and the others bring out a birthday cake, and Pamela makes them all sing Happy Birthday to him, the men, admittedly, more grudgingly than both Jody and Pamela. And when each person hands Dean a gift, he has to swallow down the lump in his throat and hide the tears in his eyes because if the guys see him crying they’ll never let him live it down.
When Pamela hands him her gift, he stares at it curiously. It’s some weird, cool-looking thing made out of iron that she says he’s supposed to hang near his door. “It’s a devil’s trap,” she explains, after he eyes it for a few seconds. “It’ll protect your home from evil.”
As weird as it is, Dean is actually kind of touched by it, as well as by the other gifts he gets. Jody buys him pots and pans for his kitchen, and even the other guys give him presents of things he needs, like oil for his motorcycle, and magazines on carpentry. It’s all way more than he’d expected, and it makes him feel welcomed into this makeshift family they have. He thanks everyone, giving Jody and Pamela a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before excusing himself to the bathroom so he can collect himself.
It’s not his family back in Lawrence, but it’s a good start, he tells himself.
He falls into an easy routine of work and home, and he watches a lot of TV and reads a lot of library books those first few months. He even buys himself a notebook and pen, and begins to jot down a few of the stories he used to tell Sam and Castiel when they were kids. It feels weird putting the stories down on paper, and it’s slow-going, at first. But it gets easier, and as he picks apart the memories it becomes a little less painful to think of Castiel, especially remembering how they were as kids.
On occasion, Dean is tempted to go out and find something else to do, to socialize and maybe make some friends. But before he can, he’ll see or hear something that reminds him of home, of Sam, or his parents, or Castiel. He’ll imagine how much they must hate him right now, and instead of venturing out he’ll crawl into bed, and pull the covers up tight around his ears.
As the temperatures get warmer outside and the days become longer, Dean does start to venture out into the world around him. He meets a dude named Ash one afternoon at the gas station down the road from work, when the guy approaches him to tell him he likes his bike. Ash ends up inviting him to a bowling game that night when he hears that Dean is new in town, and he forces himself to go, if for no other reason than he’s tired of sitting in his apartment and feeling sorry for himself.
Ash is just as likely to be partying and getting drunk or stoned as he is to be having deep philosophical discussions or going on and on about one of his many conspiracy theories. Dean decides early on that he won’t be hanging out with the guy when he’s in one of his partying moods, having had enough of that to last him for quite a while. It’s still tempting to get fucked up so he can forget about everything for a few hours, but he’s been burned enough to not want to go that route again anytime soon.
The morning of May second, Dean can’t resist the urge to call home any longer. It’s Sam’s birthday, and he misses the little shit so much that he’s stopped at a pay phone and dialing Sam’s cell number before he even realizes what he’s doing.
“Hello?” Sam’s voice is suspicious, probably because he doesn’t recognize the number.
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He holds the phone away from his mouth and clears his throat before trying to speak again. “Hey, Sammy.”
There’s silence across the line for several beats. “Dean?” The kid’s voice cracks, and with it, a little piece of Dean’s heart breaks. “Dean, is that you?”
“Yeah, Sammy. It’s me,” he replies, his own voice croaking.
It’s so quiet on the line that Dean begins to wonder if the line is dead or if Sam hung up on him. But then Sam starts speaking in a rush of words. “Dean, where are you? Are you okay? Why won’t you come home? Dude, where are you?!”
Dean smiles, remembering how Sam’s words always get so jumbled when he’s excited. “Hey, Sammy, chill, okay? I’m okay. I’m…I’m safe.” He takes a deep breath. “I was just wanting to wish you a happy birthday. And wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”
“Dean, why did you leave?” Sam asks, voice confused.
Dean sighs, staring out the window of the phone booth. “You know why, I left you that note.”
“Dude, all that note said was, ‘I can’t stay anymore, it’s better if I leave, I’m so sorry.’ That’s not an explanation, Dean,” Sam accuses. His voice has gone from excited and shocked to pissed in about two seconds, but Dean can’t blame him.
Dean exhales slowly, considering just how much he wants to get into with Sam over the phone. “I didn’t wanna go away to that school Dad was talking about, and I didn’t like Mom and Dad fighting with each other over me. It’s just…it’s better this way, Sammy.”
Sam scoffs. “It’s not better, Dean! That’s like the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Mom and Dad are still freaking out. You need to come home.”
“Are they still fighting?”
“No, but-”
“See? Me leaving did help.” Dean’s relieved to at least find out the fighting has stopped.
“Dean, they wouldn’t have kept fighting forever. They were just upset, and didn’t know what to do. I even heard Dad agree with mom that military school was a bad idea.” Sam gets quiet for a moment before continuing. “He blames himself for you leaving, Dean. He’s…Dad’s really torn up about it. Mom, too.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best to keep them from tearing up, and failing pathetically. “I just needed to get away for a while. I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore, and I needed some space.”
“But now it’s better, right? Now you can come home?”
Dean grips the phone so tight he can hear the plastic creaking. “No, Sam. Not yet.”
He hears Sam let loose a breath before spitting out, “You’re such a selfish asshole, Dean! You’re not the only one hurting because of this. Did you even consider how you running away was gonna make me feel? Or Cas? You just fucking left us without even looking back. You ran off to have your perfect life wherever the hell you are, and you don’t even care how much we miss you.”
Dean sucks in a breath at the mention of Castiel. “Sammy, that’s not how it is at all. It fucking killed me to leave you guys.”
“You coulda fooled me.”
“How is Cas?” He hates himself for asking and hates even more how his voice shakes when he asks.
Sam doesn’t say anything for several beats. “Not that you have any right to know, because you don’t, but he’s…I think he’s okay. I dunno. You know how he is, he doesn’t really show how he’s feeling too much.”
Dean nods to himself. He didn’t want to hear that Cas was really hurting, but it still burns a little to think maybe Cas wasn’t even bothered enough to show his emotions a bit. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“He asked if you left a note for him or anything, but you didn’t, did you?” Sam says. “He called it something, I don’t remember what it was…a deer letter? Does that make sense?”
“A ‘Dear John’ letter?” Dean manages to choke out.
“Yeah, I think that was it. But when I told him I didn’t see anything for him, he just kinda nodded. Did you guys fight, too?”
Dean sighs. “No. Well, yeah, kinda. I don’t wanna talk about it, Sam.”
“You know, he comes and hangs out in the treehouse, sometimes. By himself. Mom saw him one day, and she went out and talked to him.”
It feels like the bottom drops out of Dean’s stomach. “What did they say?”
“I dunno. I asked Mom, and she just said she told Cas he was welcome here any time, and that the treehouse belongs to him just as much as it does you or any of us.”
The pressure behind Dean’s eyes becomes almost unbearable. He needs to get off the phone with Sam before he loses it completely. “Hey uh, I need to be going, Sammy. I’m gonna be late for work.”
“Wait, Dean! You never told me where you are. And is this your phone number?”
“No, I’m calling from a pay phone. I don’t have a phone,” Dean lies. He’s got a landline phone, but he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace him that easily. He’d given the number to Rufus after making the old man promise not to give it to anyone else. “I’ll call you again soon, Sam. I promise.”
“Dean, please don’t go yet! You should talk to Mom.”
“No, I can’t, not right now. Just…just tell them I’m doing good, okay? I’m safe, and I’ve got a good place to live, and I’ve got a job. I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“Dean, come on!” Sam’s voice has gone from pleading to angry again.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Dean hangs up before he changes his mind.
He wonders if Sam or anyone else will ever forgive him for everything he’s done.
********************
Dean keeps himself busy through the summer. After some encouragement from Jody, he checks into getting his GED, and ends up taking some study courses at a local center not far from the workshop. He meets up with his study group two nights a week, and forces himself to study a few hours every weekend.
When he’s not working or studying for his GED, he spends a lot of time reading about woodworking. Jody’s gotten more comfortable with letting him work on his own with smaller projects, and she’s even given him permission to use any surplus supplies to create his own stuff. What he’s been surprised to discover is that he has more fun making sculptures and creating his own furniture than working on contracted orders. Once he’s got the basics down of how to make a chair or table that actually serves its function, he starts to play around with style and design, and Jody takes notice of his ingenuity.
“Dean, you keep this up, and we’ll be selling your designs faster than my own,” she jokes, giving him a hug when she sees how much Dean beams at her words.
He begins to carve and sand figurines out of the spare bits of wood they have lying around, trying his best to capture some of the creatures he and Castiel made up for their stories when they were kids. It starts out as nothing more than practice for him, getting his hands familiar with handling the equipment and as something to keep his hands busy, but Jody flips when she spies his creations. “Dean, you have to let me sell these in the gallery.”
He can feel his face flushing at her words. “Do you really think people would want to buy them?”
“Are you kidding me?” she rejoices. “People are going to flip their shit over this. They’re creepy, and bizarre, and fantastical. I don’t think I’ve ever seen wood figures like this before. They kind of remind me of Tim Burton but, I don’t know, there’s a warmth to them, too. Maybe because of the wood? Whatever it is, you need to keep doing it.”
And Jody is right. It’s not long before his figurines become the hottest thing in their gallery, and it’s difficult for Dean to find time to make enough to keep from running out. They take pictures of each one so that Dean can keep track of what he’s done, as well as to know what a client is talking about when they say they want another “monster like the one you had in here a few weeks ago.”
Dean has fun making the figurines, and as time wears on he gets more comfortable with it, and is able to make more and more complicated designs. Pamela steps in one day and offers to give Dean more welding lessons, and before the end of the summer, he’s welding iron designs to sell alongside the wooden ones.
He becomes so busy with work and studying for his GED that he barely has time for anything else. And he’s happy with that. Work and studying keep him from thinking too much, from wondering how everyone in Lawrence is doing or wondering if everyone hates him. What spare time he has, he spends it either hanging out with Jody and Owen, or bowling with Ash. Sometimes, he’ll go off on his own; he’ll go to a baseball game of a local minor league team or off to some batting cages to let off some steam. One time, he borrows a fishing pole from Gus at work, and drives west back to Winchester and Tims Ford lake, but it makes him miss Castiel so much that he decides not to go fishing again.
One Friday towards the end of summer, Jody gives Dean the day off work so that he can take his GED exam. He’s nervous about it until he reminds himself that after all the shit he’s been through lately, a stupid test is a piece of cake, and he’s right. He gets his results a few weeks later, and discovers he passed with high marks. Jody and Owen throw him an impromptu pizza party in celebration, and they spend hours playing Mario Kart and listening to a classic rock station.
He takes a shower before bed that night, and thinks of Castiel as he jacks off, breath stuttering as he moans his friend's name. It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to fantasize about Cas since he ran away, and he comes so hard and so fast when he imagines Castiel’s lips around the head of his cock that he’s surprised he doesn’t chip the bathroom tile.
Sometime after two am he wakes in a cold sweat, screaming Castiel’s name. He’d been dreaming that he and Castiel were lying beside the lake, when Castiel suddenly starts coughing and vomiting black stuff. When Dean tries to help him, grabbing him and begging him to stop, Castiel pulls away and stumbles into the lake, and the next thing Dean knows, he’s pulling Castiel’s lifeless body from the water.
Dean slings the bedcovers off and trips into the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water before throwing the glass into the sink. It shatters, and Dean curses to himself, laughing hysterically and rubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He returns to bed and curls up into a ball, shivering as he remembers what it felt like for Castiel to slip from his hands.
I miss you so much, is his mantra as he tries to keep from falling back to sleep.
********************
The holidays come and go, Dean doing his best to not remember what his life was like just one year ago. Jody once again includes him in with the rest of her holiday plans, and this time he even takes part in the gift exchange. It’s fun for him to actually be able to afford to buy nice presents for others, and he’s grateful he’s able to show Jody and everyone else at least a bit of how much he appreciates everything they’ve done for him.
Dean waits until late Christmas night to call Sam and wish him a Merry Christmas. He knows if he calls any other time, chances are good that their parents will be within earshot. As much as he misses them and wants to talk to them, after all this time he’s unsure of how to take that first step.
“Hello?” Sam answers, and Dean bites back a grin at hearing his voice. His very deep voice, as it seems puberty finally decided to pay his vocal chords a visit.
“Merry Christmas, pipsqueak.”
“Dean! I was wondering if you’d call,” Sam replies. There’s some movement over the phone in the background, and he realizes Sam was moving to close his door when he hears the click of it shutting.
“Yeah, I was really missing you, so I took the chance as soon as I could,” Dean says. “How are you? Did you get a good haul for Christmas?”
“I’m okay. When are you coming home?”
Dean sighs. “Sam, I-”
“No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just come home.”
“Sam, look…I will come home. I will. I’m just…I’m waiting for the right time.”
“The right time was six months ago. No, actually, the right time was a year ago. You never should have left, Dean,” Sam says angrily.
“I know you’re pissed at me. But dammit, Sam, what the fuck was the point of me hanging around just so everyone else could leave me a few months or a few years down the road? Why should I be the one getting left?”
“What are you even talking about?”
Dean is surprised by how pissed he is now. He thought he’d worked past this. “Dad left us when we were kids. You don’t remember it because you were just a baby, but he did, more than once, to go off on his stupid missions. Cas was planning on leaving me to go off to some fancy college and forget all about me. Charlie was planning on going off to school, you’re planning on it, Jo’s planning on it…” he takes a deep breath. “Everyone leaves, Sam. Everyone. So why the fuck couldn’t I be the one to leave first?”
Sam doesn’t say anything for a full minute after Dean shuts up. He’s beginning to think he hung up, but before he can ask if he’s still there, Sam clears his throat. “I can’t believe you think me going off to school, or any of us going off to school, is us leaving you. That’s fucked up, Dean.”
Dean laughs, the taste bitter in his mouth. “Yeah, well I never claimed to be the poster boy for sanity.”
“Will you at least talk to Mom if I put her on the phone?”
The thought of hearing his mom’s voice after all this time makes Dean’s chest tighten up so fast he can barely let out a gasp. “No, I can’t. Not right now.”
Sam huffs. “When, then?”
“Soon. I don’t know when, but soon.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Dean can tell Sam is getting really tired of him giving the run-around, but he honestly doesn’t know when he’ll be okay enough to talk to anyone from back home other than Sam or Rufus. It all still feels too raw, and he doesn’t know what he wants to say or hear. He doesn’t know what he needs to do to make this all better. “I know. I’m working on it, Sammy.”
After they say their goodbyes, Dean climbs into bed, but it takes him quite a while to fall asleep. He’d been too afraid to ask about Castiel, and since Sam didn’t offer any information on his own, Dean has no idea how Castiel is or what he’s been doing. He wonders which college Castiel decided on, and if he’s made any friends where he is. Castiel has never had an easy time making friends, but it got easier for him the older they got. He wonders if Castiel has kissed anyone else since Dean. If he has, it’s Dean’s fault for running away and leaving him behind.
He turns over onto his side, punching his pillow in frustration. Maybe he should start thinking about going back home, even if only for a visit. He falls asleep before he begins to seriously consider it, and the next morning when he wakes up, he’s forgotten all about it.
********************
Just a few weeks later, right before Dean’s birthday, the decision to return home is taken out of his hands when he receives a call from Rufus in the middle of the night.
He answers the phone, still half asleep and cursing the loud ringing. “Hello?”
“Dean, it’s Rufus,” the old man says, voice grave. “You need to come home, son. Your daddy’s had a heart attack.”
********************
Next...
You cut your hair
We never saw you again
Now the cities we live in
Could be distant stars
And I search for you
In every passing car
~Arcade Fire, “Suburban War”
Dean is surprised how easy it is to pack up his things and sneak away under cover of darkness. Easy in the sense of logistics, as his parents and Sammy both close their doors once they go to bed, and seem dead to the world; and easy in the sense of leaving everything he’s ever loved behind.
It’s easier to leave when you remind yourself that everyone is better off without you around.
He finds the keys to his motorcycle easily, and walks her down the street and away from the house before starting her up. Once he reaches the edge of town he stops, staring up at the street signs telling him where he’s going. He’s glad someone knows, because he sure as hell doesn’t.
He rides south and east for a couple days, stopping long enough to rent a room at the cheapest motels he can find, because even if he’s got some cash, it’s not enough to spend it carelessly. He didn’t take his cell phone with him because he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace his whereabouts, so the one phone call he makes back home is from a pay phone. Dean isn’t sure which is more surprising to him - the fact that pay phones still exist, or the fact that when he makes the call he finally gets a bit of good news.
“Rufus? Hey, this is Dean,” he says, trying his best to block off the chill of the wind through the door of the booth. He’s stopped at a gas station just outside of Memphis, and he doesn’t really know why he’s calling Rufus, other than needing to hear a familiar voice.
“Boy, is that you? You’ve got all your family in a tizzy over here!” Rufus yells down the phone line. “You need to git your scrawny ass back home before they call out the entire state of Kansas.”
Dean can’t help but smile when he hears Rufus’s gruff, pissed-off voice. “I can’t do that, man.”
“Don’t you man me, son,” Rufus chides. “What the hell you think you’re doing running away like this?”
Dean sighs, staring out at the bare branches of the trees in front of the gas station. He wishes it would warm up some, but he guesses he should just be grateful it’s not snowing. “I got into some bad trouble, and I felt like it was just better for everybody if I got away for a while.”
“Son, that is some of the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’m old and been around enough to hear a shit ton of stupid shit,” Rufus grumbles. “Now since you’re a spoiled rotten fool, maybe you’ve been too spoiled and rotten to realize when you’ve got a good thing. But Dean, you’ve got a good thing with that family of yours, and you don’t need to be putting them through this kinda pain.”
“Rufus, I can’t go back,” Dean says. “Not right now.”
He hears Rufus exhale across the line, the man’s voice crackling with static as he curses under his breath. “Okay, then. What do you need from me?”
Dean bites back a sob, not realizing how much he was needing to hear someone say they want to help. “Do you know of any places around Tennessee that might be hiring? Or have any suggestions about places I can go? I’ll be running out of money soon.”
He listens to the white noise on the line, trying not to think of what may have caused the crustiness on the phone’s receiver. Rufus curses for a few seconds before replying. “Hell, son. I might know of somebody near Chattanooga, if he’s still there or hasn’t kicked the bucket yet. I ain’t talked to him since last I saw him about fifteen years ago.” He sighs before continuing. “Can you make it there, or you need me to wire you some cash?”
Dean assures him that he can find a way to get to Chattanooga, and he will. Even if he has to figure out some not-so-savory ways to get more money, he’ll get there. He agrees to give Rufus another call in a day or so to see if he’s able to get in touch with his friend, and begs Rufus not to tell anyone where he is. The old man isn’t happy about it, but when Dean agrees to let him inform them that he called and is okay, he relents. When Dean hangs up, he presses his forehead against the phone and closes his eyes.
Not for the first time, he’s tempted to turn around and go back to Lawrence. As much as he’s been wanting to hit the road and escape, it was never a part of his dreams to do it like this. Running away all alone, cutting himself off from everyone he’s ever cared about…the wrongness of it all has him feeling nauseated.
As he pushes out of the booth, he reminds himself that it’s the best thing for everyone. His presence was only making his parents fight, and he was holding Castiel back. He wonders if Castiel has stayed with him so long out of a sense of obligation to him, or if he just couldn’t bring himself to let go yet. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that he’s cut the ties, they can both move on with their lives.
He considers finding a motel to hole up in until tomorrow instead of driving east, but he figures he might as well get back on the road sooner rather than later. He’ll be heading east whether Rufus’s connection pans out or not, and he doesn’t much feel like being stationary right now.
After consulting his map, Dean climbs back on his bike and moves on. As much as he’d prefer to take the interstates to save money on gas, with the cold temperatures, he’s having to stick to the slower back roads. Even wearing a few layers and gloves, it’s just too frigid to move at the speeds of the main highways. He is enjoying the glimpses of Americana the backroads afford him, though; it’s been the one bright spot of this whole experience, so far.
He gets as far as Lawrenceburg before having to find a place to dig in for the night. He wishes he had a car instead of his motorcycle. He could save a hell of a lot of money by sleeping in a backseat instead of having to rent a room. If it wasn’t so damp and chilly he’d try roughing it in some woods, but he’s not that desperate yet.
The room he gets is about as depressing as every other room he’s stayed in, so far. He knows he should be glad that the carpet and bedspread are both a shit-shade of brown, because he sure as hell doesn’t want to know how much dirt and stains are on either one of them, but he still hates the dreariness of it all. The decor does nothing to help with his feeling of isolation, so he tries to ignore the loneliness by jumping straight in the shower, turning the water temperature up as high as he can stand it, choosing not to notice the mildew and scum on the bathroom tiles.
His sleep is uneasy that night, images of Castiel reaching and yelling for him as he drives away haunting his dreams. He wakes a little after four am, drenched in a cold sweat, but remains in bed until daylight, trying his damnedest to rid himself of the feeling that he’s abandoned his best friend.
In the brightness of the morning, it’s easier to remember Dr. Novak’s words, and to remind himself of all the times he questioned the depth of Castiel’s feelings for him.
And so Dean moves on.
********************
Within a couple hours of leaving Lawrenceburg, Dean hits Winchester, Tennessee, and he almost considers trying to stay there, if for no other reason than how cool it is to share a name with the town you’re living in. And as he drives around, he kind of likes the place, too. It’s got a lot of small town, Southern charm to it, and the lakes and creeks around it are beautiful and filled to the brim with bass, or so the old man at the diner he stops at for lunch tells him.
But a town this small is likely a close-knit community, and the last thing Dean needs right now is to feel like even more of an outsider. And one look at the classifieds tells him the likelihood of finding a job quickly is close to none.
He stops off at a park next to Tims Ford lake, sits on the edge of a pier while eating a soggy slice of gas station pie, and stares out at the calm water. This lake is gorgeous, but the colors are all wrong; instead of golden light and deep green waters, it’s gray and gloomy and dark. He can’t keep his eyes from darting to the empty space next to him on the pier, and he wonders what Castiel is doing right now.
He climbs back on his motorcycle and continues east.
********************
The drive between Winchester and Chattanooga becomes hillier and more treacherous, but Dean can’t complain because the terrain is beautiful. It’s a nice change from the general flatness of Kansas, and he wonders how pretty this area must be in other seasons.
He finds a motel just before sundown, stopping off at a McDonald’s nearby to get something cheap to eat. As much as he loves junk food, he’s already tired of having to get the cheap stuff, and missing his mom’s cooking something fierce. He calls Rufus collect after he’s eaten and showered, eyes welling up when he hears the relief in the man’s voice.
“Dean, I was beginning to worry,” Rufus tells him.
Dean settles back against the headboard of the lumpy bed. “Sorry, sir. I was wanting to wait until I got to Chattanooga to call.”
“So you made it there just fine?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean says. “It’s pretty here, but cold.” He keeps his mouth shut on how lonely it is, too, because he knows what Rufus’s answer will be to that.
Rufus clears his throat. “So I got in touch with my friend. He says he’s retired now, but his daughter took over the business, and he’ll put in a word for you, if you wanna stop by there Monday.”
Dean leans his head back against the bed frame and closes his eyes. “Yeah, that’ll work. What kind of business is it?”
“She’s a carpenter, just like me. Business is pretty good for her, too. Shit knows she’s got more business than I ever did.”
And that…that’s some of the best news Dean’s gotten in a long time. He didn’t dare hope to get a job doing something he knows and actually likes. “Wow, Rufus. That’s awesome. Are they…do they even need anybody right now?”
Rufus chuckles. “Yeah, Art said his daughter’s been griping for months about an apprentice she’s got, s’been wanting to get rid of him but couldn’t afford to be one man down. I told him what a quick learner you are, and you’re not a complete waste of space.”
Dean struggles and fails to hide the emotion in his voice. “Thanks, Rufus. This means…it means a lot, sir.”
There’s a long sigh across the line, and Rufus doesn’t say anything for several moments. “I spoke to your parents.”
Dean sucks in a breath. “You didn’t tell them where I am, did you?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t, so I didn’t,” the old man grumbles. “But son, there’s a world of hurt going on in your family right now. I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, and I don’t wanna know. But you should call them.”
Dean bites his lip, mulling over the words. “I just need some time. I think it’s best for everybody if I’m not around for a while.”
“Shit, boy. If you really believe that, you’re stupider than I thought.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t right now,” Dean sighs. “If you talk to them again, will you just…will you tell them I’m sorry, and I’m okay?”
“I think you’re the one who should be telling them that, but yeah, I will.”
It’s so very tempting for Dean to ask Rufus to get a message to Castiel for him, as well. It wouldn’t even be a difficult task for the man. He could just tell Missouri, and she’d tell Cas.
But he doesn’t ask.
********************
Dean stays in his motel room and watches a lot of basic cable crap on the antiquated TV for the next couple days, biding his time until Monday. He wants to go out and drive around to check out the town, but he can’t afford to waste gas, so he lays low.
He wakes up early Monday morning, so nervous about the job that he steals three different maps from the lobby of the motel just to make sure he’s got it mapped out correctly. The workshop is located in an art district near downtown, and from what Dean can tell, it looks like a decent neighborhood. It’s probably going to be at least a half-hour drive from the motel, depending on traffic, so he decides to leave about an hour before Rufus told him to show up.
He’s screwed as far as nice clothes to wear for the interview, given he didn’t have much room in his duffel to pack anything resembling appropriate; even if he had, it’d be wrinkled to hell by now. He chooses his nicest pair of jeans, buttoning up and tucking in a flannel shirt in the hopes that it’ll be suitable enough.
He arrives about twenty minutes early, so he uses that extra time to drive around the area. It really is a cool part of town, from the looks of it, although maybe a bit too hippyish for his own tastes. What houses and apartments he sees are way too expensive for his blood, so if he gets this job he imagines there won’t be any walks to work in his future.
When he steps into Riverbend Carpentry and Studios, he’s a bit surprised at what he finds. It isn’t a cramped, dusty workshop, like what Rufus has, even though from the outside it looks like nothing more than a warehouse. Instead, it’s got what looks to be a gallery to the left, with ornate, deep mahogany shelves and cabinets containing all sorts of wooden art pieces and collectibles, along with metal structures in strange designs. To the right of the entrance is some sort of reception desk or sales counter, with a really attractive woman sitting behind it, though she looks as if she’d be more comfortable sitting on a Harley and dressed up in leather chaps instead.
“Well, hello, sugar,” the woman drawls, giving him a once over. And then a twice over. “Are you my Christmas present come early? I hope not too early.”
Dean gulps. This is so totally not what he’d been expecting. Grizzled men with pants showing their ass cracks, that’s what he’d been expecting. “Uh, I’m here about a job interview?” His voice is so high-pitched from nerves he wouldn’t be surprised if they assumed he was a eunuch.
“If I get to look at you every day, then it must be Christmas and my birthday all rolled up into one!” The woman steps out from behind the counter, extending a tattoo-covered arm to Dean. “I’m Pamela,” she purrs.
Dean just barely remembers not to wipe his palm against his jeans before extending his hand. “Dean Winchester,” he smiles, albeit still freaked as hell by the way Pamela is eyeing him like a field mouse to her fox. “Is, uh, Ms. Mills around?”
The woman grabs his hand and begins pulling him behind the counter and through the door to the back. “Jody! We’ve got a live one here!”
The back of the warehouse is much more of what Dean had been expecting from a carpenter’s workshop. The floor is a polished concrete, like the front lobby and gallery, but there’s sawdust and shavings all over the place. The workshop is huge, compared to what Dean is used to; there must be close to ten work benches, not including the large tables with blueprints spread out across them. There’s so many stacks and shelves with equipment and tools that Dean can’t keep count, and when he gets a glimpse of the wood that they’ve got stocked towards the back he practically starts drooling.
A woman with short, brunette hair approaches him, wearing jeans and a Ramones t-shirt. “Are you Rufus’s guy?” she asks, holding a hand out to shake.
He grabs her hand firmly, noticing the callouses he finds there. He can appreciate a boss who gets in the thick of things. “Yes, ma’am. Dean Winchester.”
She snorts. “I appreciate the manners, but hearing ma’am makes me feel like a school marm.” She smiles at him then, and her eyes light up with a warmth that reminds Dean achingly of his mother. “You can call me Jody.”
She walks him around the workshop, pointing out tools here and there to see if he’s familiar with them. She seems pleased with what knowledge Dean has, and once again, he’s grateful to Rufus for all that he showed him last summer, tough old fart that he is. Jody explains the presence of the gallery at the front of the building; she and a few of the other carpenters like to play around and make sculptures and odd knick knacks, and once they realized there was a market for it, especially in this area of town, she decided to open up a room to start selling them. Pamela works part time at the front desk to deal with any customers in exchange for Jody letting her sell the metal designs that she welds in the workshop.
“You do a lot of welding here, too?” Dean asks, wondering if he could be trained in that, as well.
Jody shrugs. “Some of our designs require metal, so yeah, it’s a lot less hassle for us to take care of it in-house instead of having to wait and pay a welder for it.”
They finish up the tour in a break room, and Jody asks a couple of the guys that are sitting down drinking coffee to leave them alone so they can finish up their interview.
“So, Dean, can I ask what your deal is? I don’t want to pry, but you seem awfully young, and to have you suddenly just show up on my doorstep…well, you can’t blame an employer for being wary.”
Dean tries not to fidget under her gaze, and decides to trust her enough to tell her at least part of the truth. “Uh, I got into a bit of trouble. With the law.” Jody’s eyes narrow suspiciously, so he rushes to continue explaining himself. “It wasn’t a big deal, it was just a stupid mistake. I got caught smoking a joint. They dropped the charges since it was my first time, but I uh, things weren’t great at home after that, so I thought it’d be best if I left.”
He meets her gaze, and she watches him for several moments before taking a deep breath. “How old are you? Are you legal?”
He clears his throat. “I turn eighteen in about a month.”
She leans against the worktable behind her, staring down at the floor, deep in thought. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and waits, praying to god or whoever the fuck is listening to please let her say yes. If she says no, he doesn’t think he can do this anymore, doesn’t think he can keep from turning around and driving back to Lawrence. He’s lonely, and he’s scared, and he needs a break, just one fucking break, please.
Jody raises her head and looks at him. “Okay. You’re hired.”
********************
When Jody figures out that Dean has nowhere to go for Christmas, she pretty much demands that he come to her house for the holiday, and laughingly threatens to make him scrub the bathrooms and toilets on his hands and knees with a toothbrush if he declines. Since the men’s bathroom doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned since Whitesnake was topping the charts, Dean agrees quickly to attend.
Dean really didn’t want to go. He’d been studiously ignoring the impending holiday, and had planned to camp out in his motel room for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, watching holiday movies and eating beef jerky and stale, store-bought pie. But he felt obligated to go, not wanting to make any waves this early in his employment, so he sucked it up and agreed. On Christmas Eve, as he’s bundled up under the musty, threadbare bedspread and watching It’s A Wonderful Life, he starts to wish he’d buckled and agreed to spend Christmas Eve with her family as well. He hadn’t realized just how lonely he could be until it hits him all at once like a punch to the chest, robbing him of his breath, and making him curl into a ball under the covers.
That night is the first time since he was a kid that he’s cried himself to sleep.
The following morning he tries to sleep late, but the bright sunshine peeking through the cheap drapes has him up early. Jody told him just to show up around noon, and when he’d asked if he should bring anything she’d laughed and said “You just bring your appetite and let me worry about everything else.”
She lives about ten minutes away from the shop, and with the lack of Christmas morning traffic it doesn’t take Dean long to get there at all. When he rides up, he recognizes a few of the cars parked on the street out front, and wonders if this is more of a work party instead of family. Once inside, he only sees a handful of people that he’s not met before, and wonders if they’re all that Jody has of family around here. It seems that a lot of strays like Dean end up at Jody’s home for the holidays.
He can feel his face flush when everybody greets him simultaneously as he’s let inside, and Jody scurries out of the kitchen long enough to make introductions. “Dean, you know everybody from the shop, but let me introduce you to my dad, Art.”
An older man with a receding hairline steps up and holds a hand out. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Dean. Surprisingly enough, even Rufus said some nice stuff.”
Dean laughs awkwardly at his joke, knowing that’s what’s expected. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. And thank you for putting in a good word with my boss.” He gives Jody a hesitant smile.
They exchange a few more pleasantries before Jody wanders back to the kitchen, and her father takes a seat with the other guys in the den to watch football. Dean stands in the hallway between the dining room and den, unsure of where to go and wanting for all the world to run out the door and leave. He’s never spent a Christmas away from his family, and has never felt so out of place before. Just as he’s about to go tell Jody he’s not feeling good and try to get out of here, he feels a tug on his sleeve. When he glances down, he finds wide brown eyes staring up at him.
“My mom said to come and see if you wanted anything to drink,” the little boy whispers.
Dean has to think for a second about who this kid’s mom is, until he realizes it must be Jody. He’s surprised because this is the first he’s heard she has a kid. “Uh, sure. What do you have?”
“There’s soda and orange pop, and milk and chocolate milk, and apple juice and sweet tea,” the boy lists. “And grownup drinks too, but mom said you’re not old enough for that.”
Oh, what Dean would give to have a beer to take the edge off right now. But he smiles down at the kid and says, “I’ll take some sweet tea, if that’s okay.”
The boy turns and disappears into the kitchen, stepping back out a minute later carrying a plastic cup with Bugs Bunny on it, which he carefully hands to Dean. “Do you play Mario Kart?” the boy asks solemnly.
“Sure. What self-respecting guy doesn’t play Mario Kart?”
And that’s how Dean ends up spending most of Christmas day hanging out with Jody’s son, Owen. He learns that Owen is six years old, and that he hates radishes more than anything in this world, except for zombies. Dean doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse that the kid reminds him so much of Sammy. It’s comforting to have someone next to him that reminds him of home, someone who isn’t staring at him and wondering what his deal is. But those moments when he looks over at Owen and expects to see his brother instead are like a cold knife to the heart.
They take a break to eat the Christmas meal with everyone else in the house, but as soon as Dean’s eaten his last bite of sweet potato pie, Owen is pulling on his hand and dragging him back into the rec room. After another hour or so, the full belly and excitement from his new Nintendo begins to take its toll on the kid, and he ends up sprawling out on the floor and falling asleep. Dean plays the game by himself for a while, but starts eyeing the floor next to him when he can’t stop yawning. He wonders if maybe he should say his goodbyes and get back to the motel room. He’s not heard much talking or laughter through the rest of the house for some time, and when he gets up to go to the bathroom, he realizes that everyone else has left, and Jody is busy cleaning up the kitchen.
“Uh, wow, I didn’t realize everybody else had gone home,” Dean says as he steps into the kitchen. “Do you need any help with the cleanup?”
Jody leans back against the the counter, wiping a dish dry. “Nope, Pamela and Marcie helped with most of it. I’m just finishing it up.” She watches Dean fidget for a second, and smiles. “I hope Owen didn’t annoy you too much?”
Dean shakes his head. “Nah, we had fun. He’s a good kid.”
She chuckles, turning around to set the plate up in the open cabinet. “He can be a little shit sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She wipes the counter with a wet rag as she continues. “His dad left us a little over a year ago, and didn’t look back. So, he’s had a hard time of it, you know?”
Dean nods, staring down at his shoes. “I guess you probably haven’t had it too easy, either.” He tries not to think of those he left behind just a couple weeks ago, tries not to wonder what kind of Christmas they have had, but it’s impossible not to feel guilty. One more thing he’s probably ruined for his family.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a picnic at first, but I’m getting over it,” Jody says, shrugging. “He didn’t care enough about us to stay when things got hard, so it’s better for us in the long run that he’s not here.”
“Maybe he knew you’d be better off without him,” Dean says, not able to hold back the words. Something in what she says makes Dean feel defensive, even though he knows deep down that she wasn’t talking about him or his situation. “Maybe he didn’t want to go, but he knew he was no good for you.”
Jody’s eyes narrow as she looks at him. “Trust me, Dean, you didn’t know my husband. Everything about what he did was selfish.”
Dean could kick himself for saying what he did. He had no right to stick his nose in Jody’s business. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I just, I’m really sorry, okay?” He meets her gaze but looks away quickly, and starts backing out of the kitchen. “You’re right, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I should go. It’s getting late anyways, and-”
“Dean, no, wait a second, okay?” Jody reaches out to grab his arm, anchoring him. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was snapping at you. That wasn’t my intention at all.” She waits until he meets her eyes again before continuing. “I can still be pretty snippy when it comes to talking about that asshole, and sometimes I take it out on the wrong people.”
Dean nods and takes a deep breath. “That’s okay. It’s understandable.” He looks to the window and notices that the sun is setting. It’s even later than he’d thought. “I really should probably get going though.”
He fidgets as he feels Jody watching him closely. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Uh, you can ask, but I dunno if I’ll answer,” he mutters, worried. He’s not comfortable talking about himself on the best of days, and this is definitely not one of those.
“Where are you living right now?”
It’s not at all what he was expecting to hear, and Dean answers before he can stop himself. “A motel.” He avoids her stare, watches his fingers as he plays with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt. He’s gonna have to go to the laundromat again this weekend, if he can scrounge up enough change.
She sighs. “Yeah, I figured. Especially after what all Rufus told my dad.”
Dean’s head snaps up at her words. “He shouldn’t be telling my business to everybody. It’s personal.”
“My dad wanted to know what your story was. Wanted to make sure he didn’t expose his daughter and her business to some violent, unhinged psycho,” Jody replies, rolling her eyes. “He pisses me off when he gets all my daughter this and my daughter that, but he’s got a point, and I wasn’t wanting to take that risk, either.” She chews on her lip for a minute before continuing. “You should call your family, you know.”
Dean scoffs. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on with me and my family.”
“I know you miss them, it’d be plain as day even if I was blind,” she retorts, crossing her arms across her chest. “And I know they miss you. Rufus said they’re good people, but I knew that without being told. I could tell it just by talking to you.”
Dean clenches his jaw, willing his eyes not to well up with tears. “I know it’s probably hard for them right now, but it’s the best thing. For all of us.”
Jody snorts, turning around to open the drain on the sink. “Yeah, if you believe that, I’ve got some land to sell you in the Everglades.” She faces him again, clearing her throat as if to make an announcement. “Well, if you’re not going to call your family, then I’m gonna have to let my mama bear instincts take over, and insist that you stay here tonight.”
Dean sucks in a breath in surprise. “What? No, I can’t, I-”
“You can, and you will. I’m not allowing you to drive back to some depressing, cheap motel all alone on Christmas night. I’ve got two extra bedrooms for you to choose from, and you’ll even have your own bathroom.” She pauses long enough to smile at him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, someone’s going to have to eat some of these leftovers for supper tonight, and if it’s left up to me they’ll need to find some Oompa-Loompas to roll me out of the house.”
“But I don’t have anything to sleep in, or a toothbrush or clothes for work tomorrow….” Dean lets his words drift, because as much as he doesn’t want to be somebody’s charity case, the thought of staying in a home tonight, with nice people and home cooking, it’s tempting.
Jody walks into the hallway, motioning for Dean to follow. “I have pajamas that belonged to my husband, we always have spare toothbrushes in the house because of Owen’s friends sleeping over, and the shop’s not opening until noon, so you’ll have plenty of time to drive back to the motel to change.” She opens a hallway closet, pulling out towels and a toothbrush still in its packaging. “You have no excuse not to stay, other than being weirded out that your new lady boss is making you spend the night with her, and even that’s not gonna get you out of this.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Dean mutters, feeling self-conscious as he can feel his face flushing.
“You say, ‘Thanks, Jody,’ and ‘Sure, I’ll eat the rest of the casseroles and pie so that you don’t have to jog to Siberia to work it off, Jody.’ How does that sound?”
Dean takes a deep breath, letting himself relax enough to smile. It’s a smile of relief and gratitude, and the first genuine smile he’s made in what feels like months. “Thanks, Jody. And where’s all this food you’re promising me?”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” She slaps him affectionately on the back before leaning in to add, “Just stay away from the mac and cheese because Owen will have a meltdown the size of Texas if it gets eaten.”
Jody shows Dean the two spare bedrooms, and he chooses the one that reminds him the most of his room back in Lawrence. After the past couple weeks in dingy motel rooms, it looks almost like a little piece of heaven. Before he can sit down on the bed, Jody returns with flannel pajamas, encouraging him to change and get comfy for the evening. “We like to be slugs Christmas evening, so we’ll probably bore you to death with watching TV and Owen playing his games once he wakes back up.”
Dean shakes his head, smiling sadly as he remembers doing much of the same growing up in his family. “Nah, that’s what we always do - did - too.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then,” she continues. “You’re more than welcome to come out and hang with us, I’m sure Owen would love it. Or you can take a nap or take it easy alone in here. Just give me a holler if you need anything.”
Dean assures her that he will, and says he’ll probably come out to spend some time with them in a bit. He just wants to lie down and get his bearings for a few minutes, though he doesn’t say as much to her. When she leaves, he closes the door and crawls under the covers of the bed, breathing in the scent of fresh, clean cotton. It’s amazing the kinds of things you take for granted; he’d never known how awesome clean, nice sheets were until he’d stayed in motels for weeks, wondering when was the last time anything was cleaned properly, if ever.
He burrows into his pillow and closes his eyes. If he were home right now, he’d probably be curled up in front of the TV, hanging with Sammy and Castiel, and talking about how awesome their Christmas had been. Since they’d started high school, Castiel hadn’t spent Christmas night with them, but when they were younger it had been a tradition. They’d made plans to renew the tradition this year, and Dean had even bought his friend a a new sketchpad and charcoals as a present.
Cas. For the first time in days, Dean allows himself to actually think about his friend, and it feels like he’s poking through a scab that covers a hole where his heart should be. He doesn’t know how to be without Castiel in his life. Over the years, Cas has woven himself so deeply into Dean’s world, into the very fabric of his being, that Dean feels as if he’s missing a limb. That’s the only way he can think to describe such a profound feeling of loss.
Castiel’s unflinching, constant, steady presence acted as a foundation for Dean, just as surely as his family’s support always did. He calmed Dean, excited him, enraged and enraptured him, could make him feel precious and important and invincible with just a simple look. But even after years of being best friends, there was always that little voice in the back of Dean’s mind that warned him, made him wonder if Castiel would abandon him once he realized he was meant for better things.
When they were younger, he didn’t pay much attention to that little voice; he just hoped that maybe Castiel would choose him over the life his father wanted him to have. But once their relationship became physical, those doubts became too loud, at times, especially given that Castiel wasn’t one to share his feelings. Dean tried reminding himself that he wasn’t exactly the share-and-care type of guy either, but that didn’t erase his need to hear Castiel reveal the true depth of his feelings for Dean. And overhearing Dr. Novak give voice to his fear of Castiel abandoning him made Dean realize it was only a matter of time before Castiel chose to move on.
He takes a deep breath, and pushes the covers off of himself. Clearly his mind isn’t going to let him rest, so he decides to take Jody up on her offer of company, leftovers, and bad holiday TV.
********************
On New Year’s Eve, Dean gets another surprise when Jody approaches him on his lunch break.
“Are you looking for a place to live?” she asks, sitting down across the table from him.
“Well, since my dream isn’t to live at the Motel 6 for the rest of my life, yeah, I guess so,” he replies. The longer he works here, the more comfortable he’s getting in sharing his snark with everyone else. It’s a good thing for him that Jody and everyone else can give just as good as they get.
She snorts, reaching across the table to steal a couple of his fries. “Okay, I have a proposal for you.” She takes a sip of her coffee and winces. Pamela makes the coffee strong enough to put hair on a trucker’s back. “I have a place above my garage that I paid a couple friends of mine to turn into an apartment a few years ago. My mom passed away, and I’d wanted my dad to move in there, but he’s such a stubborn bastard that he refused to leave the house he already has.” She pauses for a moment and stares at him. “What would you say about moving into it?”
Dean immediately sits up straighter. “Um, I don’t know. Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t serious,” she scoffs. “Look, it’s not like I need extra income. But, it’d be nice to have someone I know and trust close by, in case anything happens with Owen or something. All of my neighbors are jackasses, so I don’t talk to them any more than I have to.”
“So, does it have a bathroom and stuff? Or would I have to come into the house for that?” Dean can feel the hope rising in his chest, and he tries unsuccessfully to squash it down.
“Yep, it’s got it’s own bathroom, and a little kitchen, too. It’s a tiny place, more like a studio apartment, but it has everything you’d need. I even got cable and phone hooked up.”
“I would pay rent, though, right? And help with other bills,” he adds. “I don’t want this to be a charity case.”
“Oh, well yeah, of course you would pay rent,” Jody agrees. “And it’d be nice if you could help me with some of the other chores around the place that I hate doing. Like cleaning the gutters, ugh I loathe doing that.”
Dean eyes her closely. “So is the extra money and help the only reason you’re offering?”
Jody picks at a napkin on the table, tearing it apart piece by tiny piece. “Yes. Well, no, not really.” She exhales and looks up at him. “I don’t like the thought of you living out of a motel. You’re a good kid, and I just…I know if you were mine, if you were Owen, I’d want someone looking out for him.”
Dean's pride is telling him to say no. He’s gotten this far with only just some help from Rufus. He can find a place on his own. But every other part of his being is telling him to accept the help when it’s so gracefully and selflessly offered, even if it feels too good to be true.
“You hardly even know me,” he says, uncertainly.
Jody stares at him, unflinching. “I know you’re a hard worker. I know you’re an honest kid who needs a break. And I know you’re lonely, and needing something like a home.”
Dean looks down at his hands. He’s starting to get callouses from the work, and he’s proud of them. He’s learned so much already in the past couple weeks of working here, and he’s got Jody and the other workers promising to teach him about wood sculpting; hell, even Pamela has offered to show him how she welds metal for her sculptures, though he’s still not convinced she’s not trying to get into his pants. He doesn’t really understand how he’s ended up here, when just a few short weeks ago, he’d ridden out of Lawrence with no idea of where he was going or what he was doing.
“When can I move in?” he asks.
Jody grins. “How about tomorrow? Kick off the New Year with a new home.”
Dean nods and smiles, trying to hide how relieved he is.
Maybe he can do this after all.
********************
The apartment above Jody’s garage is more than Dean had been hoping for. She’d already filled it with furniture they’d built in the shop that had been refused by fickle clients or just had never been sold, and the eclectic decorations throughout the apartment makes it feel like more of a home. It’s really just one big open space, with the kitchen open to the rest of the apartment, the only separate room being the bathroom, of course. The layout of it almost reminds Dean of old man Joshua's abandoned house next to the lake, and Dean tries to chase away the resemblance of it as much as he can by decorating his apartment even more, the memory of how lonely Joshua's house looked making him ache.
Dean loves the apartment. It provides just enough privacy to make him feel like it’s his, but not so much that he frequently falls victim to the loneliness and melancholy that is always threatening to consume him. Jody had given Owen strict instructions to not intrude on Dean, and the sweet kid follows her instructions to the letter; Dean finds that more often than not, he’s the one to go searching for Owen’s company, instead of the reverse.
The morning of his birthday, Dean wakes up expecting to hear his mom whispering Wake up, birthday boy in his ear as she’s done for as long as he can remember. He has to take a moment to remind himself of where he is, and he spends the rest of the day smothering the hope that someone from home will call and wish him a happy birthday. He’d made sure no one could find him, so it’s stupid to wish for it now.
At lunch, Jody and the others bring out a birthday cake, and Pamela makes them all sing Happy Birthday to him, the men, admittedly, more grudgingly than both Jody and Pamela. And when each person hands Dean a gift, he has to swallow down the lump in his throat and hide the tears in his eyes because if the guys see him crying they’ll never let him live it down.
When Pamela hands him her gift, he stares at it curiously. It’s some weird, cool-looking thing made out of iron that she says he’s supposed to hang near his door. “It’s a devil’s trap,” she explains, after he eyes it for a few seconds. “It’ll protect your home from evil.”
As weird as it is, Dean is actually kind of touched by it, as well as by the other gifts he gets. Jody buys him pots and pans for his kitchen, and even the other guys give him presents of things he needs, like oil for his motorcycle, and magazines on carpentry. It’s all way more than he’d expected, and it makes him feel welcomed into this makeshift family they have. He thanks everyone, giving Jody and Pamela a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before excusing himself to the bathroom so he can collect himself.
It’s not his family back in Lawrence, but it’s a good start, he tells himself.
He falls into an easy routine of work and home, and he watches a lot of TV and reads a lot of library books those first few months. He even buys himself a notebook and pen, and begins to jot down a few of the stories he used to tell Sam and Castiel when they were kids. It feels weird putting the stories down on paper, and it’s slow-going, at first. But it gets easier, and as he picks apart the memories it becomes a little less painful to think of Castiel, especially remembering how they were as kids.
On occasion, Dean is tempted to go out and find something else to do, to socialize and maybe make some friends. But before he can, he’ll see or hear something that reminds him of home, of Sam, or his parents, or Castiel. He’ll imagine how much they must hate him right now, and instead of venturing out he’ll crawl into bed, and pull the covers up tight around his ears.
As the temperatures get warmer outside and the days become longer, Dean does start to venture out into the world around him. He meets a dude named Ash one afternoon at the gas station down the road from work, when the guy approaches him to tell him he likes his bike. Ash ends up inviting him to a bowling game that night when he hears that Dean is new in town, and he forces himself to go, if for no other reason than he’s tired of sitting in his apartment and feeling sorry for himself.
Ash is just as likely to be partying and getting drunk or stoned as he is to be having deep philosophical discussions or going on and on about one of his many conspiracy theories. Dean decides early on that he won’t be hanging out with the guy when he’s in one of his partying moods, having had enough of that to last him for quite a while. It’s still tempting to get fucked up so he can forget about everything for a few hours, but he’s been burned enough to not want to go that route again anytime soon.
The morning of May second, Dean can’t resist the urge to call home any longer. It’s Sam’s birthday, and he misses the little shit so much that he’s stopped at a pay phone and dialing Sam’s cell number before he even realizes what he’s doing.
“Hello?” Sam’s voice is suspicious, probably because he doesn’t recognize the number.
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He holds the phone away from his mouth and clears his throat before trying to speak again. “Hey, Sammy.”
There’s silence across the line for several beats. “Dean?” The kid’s voice cracks, and with it, a little piece of Dean’s heart breaks. “Dean, is that you?”
“Yeah, Sammy. It’s me,” he replies, his own voice croaking.
It’s so quiet on the line that Dean begins to wonder if the line is dead or if Sam hung up on him. But then Sam starts speaking in a rush of words. “Dean, where are you? Are you okay? Why won’t you come home? Dude, where are you?!”
Dean smiles, remembering how Sam’s words always get so jumbled when he’s excited. “Hey, Sammy, chill, okay? I’m okay. I’m…I’m safe.” He takes a deep breath. “I was just wanting to wish you a happy birthday. And wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”
“Dean, why did you leave?” Sam asks, voice confused.
Dean sighs, staring out the window of the phone booth. “You know why, I left you that note.”
“Dude, all that note said was, ‘I can’t stay anymore, it’s better if I leave, I’m so sorry.’ That’s not an explanation, Dean,” Sam accuses. His voice has gone from excited and shocked to pissed in about two seconds, but Dean can’t blame him.
Dean exhales slowly, considering just how much he wants to get into with Sam over the phone. “I didn’t wanna go away to that school Dad was talking about, and I didn’t like Mom and Dad fighting with each other over me. It’s just…it’s better this way, Sammy.”
Sam scoffs. “It’s not better, Dean! That’s like the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Mom and Dad are still freaking out. You need to come home.”
“Are they still fighting?”
“No, but-”
“See? Me leaving did help.” Dean’s relieved to at least find out the fighting has stopped.
“Dean, they wouldn’t have kept fighting forever. They were just upset, and didn’t know what to do. I even heard Dad agree with mom that military school was a bad idea.” Sam gets quiet for a moment before continuing. “He blames himself for you leaving, Dean. He’s…Dad’s really torn up about it. Mom, too.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best to keep them from tearing up, and failing pathetically. “I just needed to get away for a while. I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore, and I needed some space.”
“But now it’s better, right? Now you can come home?”
Dean grips the phone so tight he can hear the plastic creaking. “No, Sam. Not yet.”
He hears Sam let loose a breath before spitting out, “You’re such a selfish asshole, Dean! You’re not the only one hurting because of this. Did you even consider how you running away was gonna make me feel? Or Cas? You just fucking left us without even looking back. You ran off to have your perfect life wherever the hell you are, and you don’t even care how much we miss you.”
Dean sucks in a breath at the mention of Castiel. “Sammy, that’s not how it is at all. It fucking killed me to leave you guys.”
“You coulda fooled me.”
“How is Cas?” He hates himself for asking and hates even more how his voice shakes when he asks.
Sam doesn’t say anything for several beats. “Not that you have any right to know, because you don’t, but he’s…I think he’s okay. I dunno. You know how he is, he doesn’t really show how he’s feeling too much.”
Dean nods to himself. He didn’t want to hear that Cas was really hurting, but it still burns a little to think maybe Cas wasn’t even bothered enough to show his emotions a bit. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“He asked if you left a note for him or anything, but you didn’t, did you?” Sam says. “He called it something, I don’t remember what it was…a deer letter? Does that make sense?”
“A ‘Dear John’ letter?” Dean manages to choke out.
“Yeah, I think that was it. But when I told him I didn’t see anything for him, he just kinda nodded. Did you guys fight, too?”
Dean sighs. “No. Well, yeah, kinda. I don’t wanna talk about it, Sam.”
“You know, he comes and hangs out in the treehouse, sometimes. By himself. Mom saw him one day, and she went out and talked to him.”
It feels like the bottom drops out of Dean’s stomach. “What did they say?”
“I dunno. I asked Mom, and she just said she told Cas he was welcome here any time, and that the treehouse belongs to him just as much as it does you or any of us.”
The pressure behind Dean’s eyes becomes almost unbearable. He needs to get off the phone with Sam before he loses it completely. “Hey uh, I need to be going, Sammy. I’m gonna be late for work.”
“Wait, Dean! You never told me where you are. And is this your phone number?”
“No, I’m calling from a pay phone. I don’t have a phone,” Dean lies. He’s got a landline phone, but he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace him that easily. He’d given the number to Rufus after making the old man promise not to give it to anyone else. “I’ll call you again soon, Sam. I promise.”
“Dean, please don’t go yet! You should talk to Mom.”
“No, I can’t, not right now. Just…just tell them I’m doing good, okay? I’m safe, and I’ve got a good place to live, and I’ve got a job. I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“Dean, come on!” Sam’s voice has gone from pleading to angry again.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Dean hangs up before he changes his mind.
He wonders if Sam or anyone else will ever forgive him for everything he’s done.
********************
Dean keeps himself busy through the summer. After some encouragement from Jody, he checks into getting his GED, and ends up taking some study courses at a local center not far from the workshop. He meets up with his study group two nights a week, and forces himself to study a few hours every weekend.
When he’s not working or studying for his GED, he spends a lot of time reading about woodworking. Jody’s gotten more comfortable with letting him work on his own with smaller projects, and she’s even given him permission to use any surplus supplies to create his own stuff. What he’s been surprised to discover is that he has more fun making sculptures and creating his own furniture than working on contracted orders. Once he’s got the basics down of how to make a chair or table that actually serves its function, he starts to play around with style and design, and Jody takes notice of his ingenuity.
“Dean, you keep this up, and we’ll be selling your designs faster than my own,” she jokes, giving him a hug when she sees how much Dean beams at her words.
He begins to carve and sand figurines out of the spare bits of wood they have lying around, trying his best to capture some of the creatures he and Castiel made up for their stories when they were kids. It starts out as nothing more than practice for him, getting his hands familiar with handling the equipment and as something to keep his hands busy, but Jody flips when she spies his creations. “Dean, you have to let me sell these in the gallery.”
He can feel his face flushing at her words. “Do you really think people would want to buy them?”
“Are you kidding me?” she rejoices. “People are going to flip their shit over this. They’re creepy, and bizarre, and fantastical. I don’t think I’ve ever seen wood figures like this before. They kind of remind me of Tim Burton but, I don’t know, there’s a warmth to them, too. Maybe because of the wood? Whatever it is, you need to keep doing it.”
And Jody is right. It’s not long before his figurines become the hottest thing in their gallery, and it’s difficult for Dean to find time to make enough to keep from running out. They take pictures of each one so that Dean can keep track of what he’s done, as well as to know what a client is talking about when they say they want another “monster like the one you had in here a few weeks ago.”
Dean has fun making the figurines, and as time wears on he gets more comfortable with it, and is able to make more and more complicated designs. Pamela steps in one day and offers to give Dean more welding lessons, and before the end of the summer, he’s welding iron designs to sell alongside the wooden ones.
He becomes so busy with work and studying for his GED that he barely has time for anything else. And he’s happy with that. Work and studying keep him from thinking too much, from wondering how everyone in Lawrence is doing or wondering if everyone hates him. What spare time he has, he spends it either hanging out with Jody and Owen, or bowling with Ash. Sometimes, he’ll go off on his own; he’ll go to a baseball game of a local minor league team or off to some batting cages to let off some steam. One time, he borrows a fishing pole from Gus at work, and drives west back to Winchester and Tims Ford lake, but it makes him miss Castiel so much that he decides not to go fishing again.
One Friday towards the end of summer, Jody gives Dean the day off work so that he can take his GED exam. He’s nervous about it until he reminds himself that after all the shit he’s been through lately, a stupid test is a piece of cake, and he’s right. He gets his results a few weeks later, and discovers he passed with high marks. Jody and Owen throw him an impromptu pizza party in celebration, and they spend hours playing Mario Kart and listening to a classic rock station.
He takes a shower before bed that night, and thinks of Castiel as he jacks off, breath stuttering as he moans his friend's name. It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to fantasize about Cas since he ran away, and he comes so hard and so fast when he imagines Castiel’s lips around the head of his cock that he’s surprised he doesn’t chip the bathroom tile.
Sometime after two am he wakes in a cold sweat, screaming Castiel’s name. He’d been dreaming that he and Castiel were lying beside the lake, when Castiel suddenly starts coughing and vomiting black stuff. When Dean tries to help him, grabbing him and begging him to stop, Castiel pulls away and stumbles into the lake, and the next thing Dean knows, he’s pulling Castiel’s lifeless body from the water.
Dean slings the bedcovers off and trips into the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water before throwing the glass into the sink. It shatters, and Dean curses to himself, laughing hysterically and rubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He returns to bed and curls up into a ball, shivering as he remembers what it felt like for Castiel to slip from his hands.
I miss you so much, is his mantra as he tries to keep from falling back to sleep.
********************
The holidays come and go, Dean doing his best to not remember what his life was like just one year ago. Jody once again includes him in with the rest of her holiday plans, and this time he even takes part in the gift exchange. It’s fun for him to actually be able to afford to buy nice presents for others, and he’s grateful he’s able to show Jody and everyone else at least a bit of how much he appreciates everything they’ve done for him.
Dean waits until late Christmas night to call Sam and wish him a Merry Christmas. He knows if he calls any other time, chances are good that their parents will be within earshot. As much as he misses them and wants to talk to them, after all this time he’s unsure of how to take that first step.
“Hello?” Sam answers, and Dean bites back a grin at hearing his voice. His very deep voice, as it seems puberty finally decided to pay his vocal chords a visit.
“Merry Christmas, pipsqueak.”
“Dean! I was wondering if you’d call,” Sam replies. There’s some movement over the phone in the background, and he realizes Sam was moving to close his door when he hears the click of it shutting.
“Yeah, I was really missing you, so I took the chance as soon as I could,” Dean says. “How are you? Did you get a good haul for Christmas?”
“I’m okay. When are you coming home?”
Dean sighs. “Sam, I-”
“No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just come home.”
“Sam, look…I will come home. I will. I’m just…I’m waiting for the right time.”
“The right time was six months ago. No, actually, the right time was a year ago. You never should have left, Dean,” Sam says angrily.
“I know you’re pissed at me. But dammit, Sam, what the fuck was the point of me hanging around just so everyone else could leave me a few months or a few years down the road? Why should I be the one getting left?”
“What are you even talking about?”
Dean is surprised by how pissed he is now. He thought he’d worked past this. “Dad left us when we were kids. You don’t remember it because you were just a baby, but he did, more than once, to go off on his stupid missions. Cas was planning on leaving me to go off to some fancy college and forget all about me. Charlie was planning on going off to school, you’re planning on it, Jo’s planning on it…” he takes a deep breath. “Everyone leaves, Sam. Everyone. So why the fuck couldn’t I be the one to leave first?”
Sam doesn’t say anything for a full minute after Dean shuts up. He’s beginning to think he hung up, but before he can ask if he’s still there, Sam clears his throat. “I can’t believe you think me going off to school, or any of us going off to school, is us leaving you. That’s fucked up, Dean.”
Dean laughs, the taste bitter in his mouth. “Yeah, well I never claimed to be the poster boy for sanity.”
“Will you at least talk to Mom if I put her on the phone?”
The thought of hearing his mom’s voice after all this time makes Dean’s chest tighten up so fast he can barely let out a gasp. “No, I can’t. Not right now.”
Sam huffs. “When, then?”
“Soon. I don’t know when, but soon.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Dean can tell Sam is getting really tired of him giving the run-around, but he honestly doesn’t know when he’ll be okay enough to talk to anyone from back home other than Sam or Rufus. It all still feels too raw, and he doesn’t know what he wants to say or hear. He doesn’t know what he needs to do to make this all better. “I know. I’m working on it, Sammy.”
After they say their goodbyes, Dean climbs into bed, but it takes him quite a while to fall asleep. He’d been too afraid to ask about Castiel, and since Sam didn’t offer any information on his own, Dean has no idea how Castiel is or what he’s been doing. He wonders which college Castiel decided on, and if he’s made any friends where he is. Castiel has never had an easy time making friends, but it got easier for him the older they got. He wonders if Castiel has kissed anyone else since Dean. If he has, it’s Dean’s fault for running away and leaving him behind.
He turns over onto his side, punching his pillow in frustration. Maybe he should start thinking about going back home, even if only for a visit. He falls asleep before he begins to seriously consider it, and the next morning when he wakes up, he’s forgotten all about it.
********************
Just a few weeks later, right before Dean’s birthday, the decision to return home is taken out of his hands when he receives a call from Rufus in the middle of the night.
He answers the phone, still half asleep and cursing the loud ringing. “Hello?”
“Dean, it’s Rufus,” the old man says, voice grave. “You need to come home, son. Your daddy’s had a heart attack.”
********************
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