Suburban War - Chapter 10, Part 1
Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home
~Phillip Phillips, “Home”
It’s unsettling how quickly a life can change.
Dean leans his head against the back of his seat and stares out the dirty window of the alarmingly small express jet that’s flying him to Kansas City. He remembers the story that Missouri told him and Castiel about the preacher, Joshua, whose complete life changed in the span of one night. That poor man lost his wife, daughter, and reason for existence, all at the whim of some faulty wiring.
He shifts in his seat, trying to get more comfortable as the plane rocks with turbulence. It’s fortunate this flight wasn’t canceled, given the storm front moving through, but Dean’s not feeling so lucky, as he gives a wary eye to the puke bag nestled in the seat pocket in front of him. For the umpteenth time, he wishes he’d just told Jody to leave him alone and let him ride his bike back to Lawrence, but she was hearing none of it. He knows she was right, that he most likely would have gotten stuck somewhere because of the snowstorm, but as his stomach twists and churns with each drop and bump, he thinks maybe that would have been better than falling to his death from thirty-thousand feet before he could ever make it back to Lawrence.
The wing of the plane outside his window tilts as they hit another air pocket, and Dean has to slam the window shade down to keep from getting dizzy. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to think of something to take his mind off of dying in an exploding ball of fire, but the only other thing he can think about right now makes him just as upset and freaked out.
He has no clue what news awaits him when he lands. The last update Rufus had given him before he boarded was that John was in surgery, and they were most likely going to do a heart bypass. Rufus said the doctors were hesitant to perform surgery because it took them a while to get him stable, but that one of his arteries was so blocked, the risk was greater if they waited. The tone of Rufus’s voice scared Dean more than anything else; he knew when Rufus said your family needs you right now, son that the odds were not in their favor.
When he finally lands in Kansas City, Dean is tempted to kiss the ground in gratitude for finally having landed safely, but he’s too busy getting his disposable phone that he’d bought at Wal-Mart on the way to the airport turned back on, shaking it futilely to try and get a signal. Once he’s out of his terminal and nearing passenger pickup, he’s able to get a call out to Rufus.
“Hello?” the gruff old man yells over the phone.
“Rufus! Hey, it’s Dean! I’m at the airport, were you able to make it?” Rufus had said he’d try to drive out to Kansas City to pick Dean up from the airport, but with the snow coming in he wasn’t sure if he’d make it.
“Yep, I’m parked in the waiting area right now, lemme get moving and I’ll find you somewhere in the pickup area.”
He hangs up before Dean can ask him for any news, making Dean wonder if he did it on purpose to keep from having to give him bad news over the phone. He stands on the curb outside the airport doors what feels like a lifetime, bitter cold wind biting through the fabric of his jeans. He has to keep his eyes slitted almost closed to fight the gusts that twist underneath the overhang, stray snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes as he keeps on the look out for Rufus’s truck.
When Rufus finally pulls up in front of Dean, he leans over the seat to unlock the passenger door. Dean throws his duffel in ahead of himself, and before he’s got his door closed, Rufus speaks. “He made it through surgery.”
Dean exhales, not realizing he was holding his breath until now. “How is he?”
Rufus puts the truck in drive, and pulls away from the curb. “The doctors say it’s touch-and-go for now. They ended up having to do a triple bypass. Docs say that’s pretty routine, nowadays, but he had a reaction to the first anesthesia they were using, so they had to change it up, and they think it could be why he’s having complications now.”
“What kind of complications?” Dean feels like he could puke from the roller coaster his emotions are going through right now. Between this and the shitty flight, he’ll be surprised if he’s not tossed his cookies before the end of the day.
They come to a red light, and Rufus spares a look at him as he pulls the truck to a stop. “He’s not waking up like he’s supposed to.”
Dean stares at him, trying to process the words. “‘Like he’s supposed to’? What’s that mean?”
Rufus looks at him for a long moment, his face full of worry. “It means he’s not responding to them like he should be.” He shakes his head slowly, and looks forward out the windshield as the light turns green. “I’m sorry, Dean. It means he’s in a coma.”
********************
The drive between Kansas City and Lawrence normally only takes about ninety minutes, if that. But because of the winter storm, Rufus has to take it slow, inching his way past other vehicles that are unfortunate enough to slip and slide their way into ditches and stalled out against the concrete barriers. Dean sits in the passenger seat, knees bouncing as he fidgets and shifts, wishing like hell he could grab the wheel and take over. But he knows if he did he’d wreck them within the first five minutes, his nerves too fraught to be careful and take it slow.
When they arrive at Lawrence Memorial, Dean barely waits for Rufus to stop the truck before he’s flinging the passenger door open and running into the building. He finds the elevator, and takes it up to the CCU, where Rufus told him his mom and Sam would be in the waiting room. The elevator doors open up to the nurses station, so he walks up to ask where the family waiting room is, but before he can open his mouth he hears someone call his name behind him.
“Dean?”
He turns around at the voice, and his little brother is standing there across the hall, except he’s not so little anymore as the jerk seems to have turned into a beanstalk while Dean was gone. He’s almost taller than Dean now, he realizes, and he hates himself for missing every inch he’s grown since he left.
“Hey, Sammy,” he says, his voice rough. And he wants to say more, wants to ask how Dad is and say he’s missed him and ask how Mom is and say he’s sorry for everything, but before he can even open his mouth Sam is hugging him, arms wrapped so tightly around his waist that Dean thinks he might have to stop breathing for a minute, but that’s okay.
Dean hugs Sam back, holds onto him and buries his face into the fabric of his shirt, hiding his eyes against his shoulder, because he’s crying now, right along with his brother, and he doesn’t want the nurses or the orderlies or the other families to see him lose it. Sammy’s body shakes with his sobbing, and Dean calms down long enough to wipe his own tears and snot away so that he can walk them out of the hallway and back into the waiting room.
Sam doesn’t let go for several more minutes, and Dean realizes with a stab to the heart that Sammy has been holding himself together and not allowing himself to break down for their mom because he was the only one here for her. “Where’s Mom?” he asks, once Sam has calmed down enough to blow his nose.
“She’s in the room with Dad,” Sam mutters. “We only get fifteen minutes with him every four hours, and even then it’s just one person at a time.”
Dean wipes the hair off Sam’s forehead, wondering absently how he convinced Dad to let him grow it so long. “How is he?”
Sam shakes his head, his face scrunching up as he starts to cry again. “He still hasn’t woke up, Dean.”
Leaning forward, Dean kisses the side of Sam’s head and pulls him into a hug again. “He will, Sammy. Dad’s a tough sunavabitch, right? He can do it.” The door to the waiting room opens, but Dean doesn’t turn around to see who it is, he just keeps his arms wrapped around Sam.
“Dean?”
The voice is incredulous, and sweet and so painfully sad that it takes Dean’s breath away. He lets go of Sam and stands up, turning around to see his mom facing him, her eyes swollen and red. “Hey, Mom,” he whispers, and before he’s aware of it he’s stepped forward and collapsed into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” he sobs, clutching her. “I should have been here.”
“Ssshhh,” she whispers, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, you’re home, we’re all going to be okay now.”
Sam steps up beside them, wrapping his arms around them both, and the three of them stand there, hugging and crying, until they’re all cried out.
********************
The hospital moves John to a private room the following morning. Since they’re allowed to visit with him longer than fifteen-minute intervals, Dean insists that he will stay, so that his mom and Sam can go home for a few hours. They’ve both been here since the beginning, and the exhaustion written across their faces twists the guilt in Dean’s gut.
Dean sits awkwardly in the uncomfortable hospital chair, trying in vain to find a position that won’t kill his back. He watches the blips on the heart monitor, tries to figure out what all the different numbers and levels mean on all the machines hooked up to his dad, but it’s all like Latin to him. The first hour he’s there, he freaks out every time an alarm beeps, thinking it means his dad has stopped breathing. He runs out into the hallway and grabs the first nurse he sees, rushing them in to help, but they always just smile at him, check one of the machines, push a button, and walk out. He hates not understanding what’s going on, and feels like he’s going to go crazy from always thinking the worst every time something beeps, until a new nurse comes on shift.
One of the machines starts beeping again, and Dean runs out for what feels like the thousandth time to grab a nurse. When she glances at the machines, she frowns, pushing some numbers on the one hooked up to his IV. “That beeping just means his drip has stopped. No biggie, but we’ll probably need to put in a new catheter soon,” she says.
Dean exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank god someone is actually telling me something. I don’t know what any of this crap is, so if I hear an alarm, I panic.”
The nurse smiles at him, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Tessa. You want me to explain what everything here does?”
She spends the next twenty minutes going over all the machines, as well as explaining what Dean can expect from the nurses’ rounds and routines. It’s more than anyone on staff here has ever said to him, and he feels like he could hug her for being so patient with him. There’s a kindness in her eyes that makes him feel comforted, and for the first time since he got the phone call from Rufus, he feels like he can relax for a bit.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Tessa asks, finishing up her checks of John’s vitals.
Dean’s stomach chooses this moment to growl loud enough for probably the entire floor to hear, causing them both to laugh. “No, I just haven’t had the chance to grab something. I didn’t wanna leave him here alone,” he says, nodding at his dad.
She finishes writing notes in her chart, and looks up at him. “I’ll have something sent up for you. Do you like pizza?”
Dean stares at her. “I…sure, I guess. How much will I owe you for it?” he asks, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
Tessa waves his hand away. “It’s on us. The nurses on the floor keep up a collection for times like this. I’ll go ahead and get it ordered for you.” She eyes the pillow propped against the back of Dean’s chair, where he’d been trying to make it less unbearable to sit in. “I’ll get a recliner sent up here, too. These chairs suck.”
He watches her fluff his dad’s blanket, tucking his legs in tighter. “I don’t know what to say, Tessa. Thank you so much.”
She smiles at him and winks. “Not all of us are like Nurse Ratched, especially when the family members are as cute as you are.”
He blushes, his face turning redder when she laughs at him. “Don’t worry, this isn’t an episode of Doctor Sexy, MD. I don’t usually go for jailbait, anyways.”
After assuring him that she’ll get his supper ordered soon, she leaves him alone with his dad again, closing the door behind her. Dean pulls the chair up close to John’s bed, and sits down. He stares at his father’s face, trying not to focus on how lifeless it seems. “Hey, at least you ended up with a cool nurse, right?” he jokes, trying to make his voice sound light. His eyes rake over John’s face, willing a response from him, anything, but his face remains the same. Dean’s face crumples, his lip quivering as he pleads. “Come on, Dad, please. Please don’t leave us.”
********************
John wakes up the following day.
It’s only for a couple minutes, and Dean isn’t even there when it happens. Mary and Sam had relieved him at the hospital so that Dean could go home and shower and sleep for a few hours. Dean wakes up to the phone ringing, Sam on the line laughing and crying between words of “He woke up, Dean! Dad’s gonna be okay!”
Dean wants to jump in the Impala and rush down there immediately, but Mary gets on the phone to dissuade him. “Honey, he already fell back asleep, and the doctor says he probably won’t wake up for another several hours, at least. You get your rest, and come back up here later on today, okay?”
Dean tries to go back to sleep, but he’s too excited and relieved, so he walks around the house, instead. It’s so strange being here after being gone for so long. Everything looks different, but at the same time, it’s all the same. It’s his childhood home, but it feels almost like he’s in a stranger’s house. He stares out the kitchen window into the backyard, and sees the giant oak tree. Their treehouse is there, just as it’s always been, and Dean aches to climb up the ladder, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
He misses Castiel so much.
He tries to shake off those thoughts, and goes upstairs to shower. He spends the next couple hours paying visits to Bobby and Rufus, updating them with the good news of John waking up. He stops by Charlie’s house, but isn’t surprised to learn that she’s off at college. Her mom assures him that Charlie’s cell phone number is the same, so he finds a place to park so he can give her a call.
She answers just as he’s about to hang up. “Hello?”
“Charlie? Hey, uh, it’s Dean.”
There’s silence on the other end for several beats. “Huh, the only Dean I know was a jerkface who left town without saying goodbye like a year ago, so this couldn’t possibly be-”
“Ha ha, very funny, how are you, assmunch?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question after disappearing like you did? WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”
Dean drops his face in his hand. “I’m sorry, dude, okay? I just…I had to get away. Shit hit the fan, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looks out his windshield at the park across the street. It’s the same playground where he first met Castiel all those years ago. “So, I got on my bike and drove east, ended up in Tennessee.”
“Is that where you’ve been all this time? What have you been doing?”
“I got a job there, a place to stay…it’s nice there,” Dean answers. He really doesn’t feel like going into details, so he changes the subject. “So, Cal Tech, huh?”
Charlie snorts. “Do you really think I could pass up the opportunity to go to a nerd school with a beaver for a mascot? It’s like this place was made for me.”
Dean laughs, loudly. He’s missed this. “So, you been trapping a lot of beavers since you got there?”
“Yeah, I bet you wanna hear all the dirty details, you little perv,” she teases. “Have you talked to Cas?”
Dean's stomach clenches at the mention of Castiel. “No, I haven’t.”
Charlie sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, Charlie, I know.”
“You want his number at school?”
Dean stares at the park across the street. He doesn’t understand how everything can feel so different after being gone only a year. “No, not right now. I just need some time.”
“How much more time could you need?” Charlie scoffs. “Dude, do you have any idea how much you hurt him by just leaving like that? I’m not one to jump on the guilt train, but you need to get your shit in order.” She’s silent for several seconds before continuing. “Okay, enough with the obligatory you hurt my friend crap, will you be back in Lawrence over summer break?”
“I’m there now,” Dean says quietly, and proceeds to tell her all that’s happened in the past few days. They talk for another ten minutes or so before Charlie has to beg off, claiming she has a history class across campus. When they hang up, Dean climbs out of the Impala, and walks across the street.
It’s so strange how much smaller everything feels. He’s only been gone for a year, but it might as well be a lifetime, given how foreign everything feels. The monkey bars they used to hang daringly from now don’t even take his toes off the ground when he reaches for them. He squeezes himself onto one of the swings, moving back and forth as he stares down at his boots. There’s still snow on the ground from the storm a few days ago, but it’s gray and sludgy from the warming temperatures, and it encourages his feelings of melancholy.
He should be relieved and happy over the news of his dad waking up, as well as finally being home again. But he can’t shake feeling like a stranger here now, and he wonders if things have changed so much that it could never feel like home again. He’s not even sure if he wants it to be home again, but it’d be nice to feel he has a place here if he decides to stay.
He shakes off the feelings of loneliness, and goes back to the Impala, enjoying the purr and grumble of her as he turns the ignition. At least this is one place that will always feel familiar to him; he just hates the reason he’s finally behind her wheel.
When he makes it back to the hospital, John is still asleep. Mary greets Dean with a hug and a smile that’s brighter than Dean has seen from her since he returned to Lawrence. “Did you get some rest?”
Dean nods, not wanting his mom to worry. “Yeah, I got lots. You and Sam can go home now, if you want. I’ll stay here while you get some supper and sleep for the night.”
Once they’re gone, Dean pulls his notebook from his duffel bag, along with a pen. He curls up in the recliner that Tessa had gotten sent up to the room, and begins writing. He’s not had much time for it lately, between work and finding time to make more wood sculptures. But the more monsters and weird little statues he creates to sell in the gallery, the more he remembers of the stories he and Castiel used to weave together when they were younger.
It’s not easy at first, trying to take his mind off everything enough to get the words down on paper. But he has nothing to do but sit as sentry by his father’s bedside, and the more he writes, the more effortlessly the words flow. He smiles to himself occasionally as he writes, remembering warm, golden days with Castiel by his side as they traipsed all around their neighborhood. So many of their stories involved the both of them traveling across the world, finding adventures and fighting monsters and evil, and never leaving each other’s side.
We’re a team, right? You jump, I jump.
Dean sighs, dropping the pen on the table next to him, and squeezing his eyes shut. How the hell did things get so fucked up?
********************
Dean jumps, opening his eyes with a start. He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but he realizes he must have been asleep for a while because all the lights but the bedside lamp have been turned off. One of the nurses must have taken pity on him and turned them off when she came in to check Dad’s vitals. Dean glances over at his father, and finds his eyes open and staring back at him.
“Hey, Dean-o,” his dad whispers, voice rough from disuse.
Dean rushes to stand up, reaching over to grab his hand. “Dad! Hey, how…how are you feeling?”
John smiles weakly at him. “Like somebody tried to rip my heart out of my chest with some rusty pliers.”
Dean laughs, trying to drown out the realization that he came very close to never hearing his father’s voice again. “I doubt they used rusty pliers, but the rest of that’s pretty accurate.”
John stares at him for several seconds, and Dean stares back. There’s so much to say to each other, but now’s not the time. Hopefully, they’ll find a way to communicate with each other once his dad is feeling stronger, won’t clam up and refuse to talk about their feelings once the threat of death isn’t hanging over their shoulders.
“I see our patient has finally decided to wake up and grace us with his presence,” Tessa calls out cheerfully, pushing the door open. “You mind giving us some privacy for a few minutes, Dean? Now that he’s awake, I need to do a bit more thorough check over.”
Dean nods, letting go of his dad’s hand and turning away. Before he walks out the door, he hears his dad’s voice, still weak but sounding stronger, call after him. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
John smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re home, son.”
Dean smiles, but he’s too choked up to say anything, so he nods and waves, closing the door behind him as he leaves.
********************
Mary corners Dean a few days later, once they’re finally both home at the same time. Sam is back in school, needing to catch up on all the work he’s missed. John is improving, albeit slowly, and the doctors have hope that he’ll be able to come home within the week. Dean’s not had a chance to talk with anyone more than a few minutes at a time, since they’ve still been staying with John at the hospital in shifts. But John is finally successful in his insistence that everyone stay at home for at least one day and night, to give themselves a break, as well as him, saying if he has to stare at people staring back at him and expecting him to break with each breath he takes that he’ll scream.
Dean is standing at the kitchen sink, looking out the window into the backyard again. He finds himself doing this, staring at the treehouse and thinking about Castiel, more and more often, but he’s still not gotten up the courage to chase the memories up into the tree.
“Have you been out to the treehouse since you got home?” Mary asks, stepping up beside Dean and scaring the crap out of him.
“Jesus, Mom, warn a guy next time,” Dean yelps. “And no, I haven’t.”
She smiles up at him. “Sam goes out there sometimes, but not very often. And Castiel used to, before he went off to school.” She studies Dean's face, and he tries to hide how much the mention of Castiel cuts into him, but he knows it’s a piss-poor attempt. Her next words surprise him, though, as she changes the subject.
“Where did you go, when you went away?” Her eyes are curious, but they can’t hide the anguish that Dean knows is his fault. Seeing how much pain she’s been in and knowing it’s because of him makes the guilt in his chest hang heavy as lead. For the first time, he wonders at just how selfish that decision was. He’s told himself all along that he ran away for them, to keep the pain he was causing from destroying everyone. But maybe the real reason was because he was too afraid to face the consequences of his actions and to show everyone who he really is.
So, they sit down at the kitchen table, and he tells his mom everything of the time he went away. She listens quietly as he tells her of Chattanooga, about Jody and Owen, and how they welcomed him into their home. He tells her about his job as a carpenter’s assistant, and about his sculptures being a big hit in the gallery, selling more than any designer ever has in their studio. He tells her about going to the baseball games, and about how Jody bitched and complained that she had to sign Owen up for Little League because Dean wouldn't stop talking about how much fun baseball is, but how Jody then ended up loving the games and becoming an assistant coach. Then Dean tells her about how he studied and got his GED, and now he’s considering taking some creative writing classes, maybe try writing a novel in his spare time.
Throughout all of this, Mary watches him, and when Dean tells her about his GED, her eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Dean,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I’m so happy you did that, honey.” She wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close.
“Thanks, Mom,” he whispers against her hair. “It was Jody who talked me into it. She dangled the promise of a raise in front of my nose to convince me.”
Mary laughs, her voice shaky. “Remind me to send her a thank-you card, then. For that, and for looking out for you all this time.”
Dean pulls back, staring down at his hands in his lap. “Mom, I just wanted to say I’m-”
“Wait,” she interrupts. “Before we get into anything like that, I want to hear why you left. You told me where you went, but I want to know why.”
Dean takes a deep breath, nodding. As hard as it is to talk about it, he knows it needs to be done, and he owes it to his mom to be open with her. “I couldn’t go to military school. And I couldn’t stand hearing you and Dad fight because of me. So, I just figured it would solve everybody’s problems if I went away.”
Mary stares at him, her face twisted with shock. “You thought it would solve everybody’s problems if you ran away?”
“I hated hearing you guys fight, Mom. It reminded me of when I was little, and you and Dad used to fight a lot, and you’d get so sad.” He shakes his head. “The thought that I was the one making you sad this time, and making Dad so upset…I couldn’t stand it. I know it was probably the wrong decision, but Mom, I really didn’t think there was any other choice.”
“Dean, running away is never the right choice,” she chides him, and Dean pulls away from her. He stands up, pacing to the other side of the table and back.
“Since when is it never the right choice? Because everyone else runs away, and it seems to be the right choice for them!” He hates that he’s raising his voice to his mom, especially after everything that’s happened, but he can’t help the frustration he feels.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, confusion across her face.
He lets loose an exasperated breath. “Us moving to Lawrence was running away from the Marines and everything going bad in our lives. And Sam plans on running away to Stanford, along with Jo. Charlie ran off to Cal Tech, and Cas…he ran away to I don’t even know where.” Dean thinks about old man Joshua too, about how, when his wife and baby died, he ran away and hid himself from the world for the rest of his life, but he doesn’t mention that. She never knew about the lake and his visits there with Castiel, and she wouldn’t understand how much of an impression that made on them, anyways. He stops in front of his mom, standing still, and opening his arms wide. “It’s okay for everybody else to run away, why not me?”
Mary stares at him for a very long time, her face thoughtful. She sighs, motioning for him to sit next to her. “Dean, sit down, okay?”
Dean shakes his head, but does as she asks, hanging his head in his hands to hide how upset he is. He’d thought he’d gotten past everyone else going away and leaving him behind, especially once he did it to them first, but apparently he’s not as over it as he thought.
“Honey, us moving to Lawrence,” she pauses for a second, and Dean looks up to find her staring out the window. “Us moving to Lawrence, it wasn’t us running away. It was us running to something. To a better life here, for all of us.” She meets Dean’s gaze, her eyes sad. “I grew up a military brat, and I was miserable. I hated that life. And I didn’t want my kids to have to live such an uncertain, uprooted life, too. So, when your father finally agreed it was time for him to retire from it…that wasn’t us running away and trying to hide. We were excited about this, about starting a new life.”
Dean’s brows knit together in confusion. “But I thought Dad hated moving here.”
“What? No! Of course he didn’t! It was his idea to move here and work for Bobby. Why would you think that?” she asks, genuinely surprised.
Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. He just seemed to complain a lot. Like about how boring suburbia is, and having an eight to five job, and stuff.” Now that he says it, he realizes how flimsy this belief was, him hanging this impression on just a few sentences he overheard here and there from his dad over the years.
Mary laughs. “Oh Dean, you know how your father is. He’s not happy unless he’s griping about something.” Her face becomes serious again as she watches Dean. “I know your father and I fight sometimes. We've gone through our rough patches, and I hate that you've probably heard more of our arguments than you would have liked. But he really did want to move here and start a new life. And he’s happy here - we both are - I can promise you that.”
Dean nods slowly. “I’m glad, Mom. That’s…that’s a huge relief, I guess because…well, I kinda always blamed me and Sam for us having to move here. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have been so worried about raising a family in the military.”
“If it wasn’t for you, your father and I wouldn’t have stayed together for as long as we have,” she corrects. “Because he would have never left the military if he didn’t have a family to consider, no matter how much he loved me. So, I have you to thank for my marriage. How’s that?” She raises her eyebrows at him, as if in challenge of his argument.
Dean chuckles wryly. “Okay, you win.” He takes a deep breath. “But that doesn’t change the fact that everybody else is running away to go to college.” He sticks his chin out, a stubbornness that he’s inherited from both his parents.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, pulling him in and hugging him tight. “No one - not Sam or Jo or Charlie or Castiel - is running away when they go to college. Yes, they are leaving, and yes, it’s sad that things can’t stay the same, but that’s life. Everything changes. But just because they’re going to school doesn’t mean they’re leaving you.”
She pulls back to look Dean in the eyes, placing a hand on either side of his face. “You cling so tightly to those you love, and you think just because they don’t cling as tightly back it means they don’t love you or you don’t deserve them. But sweetie, them wanting to go out into the world and find something for themselves doesn’t mean they don’t want you in their lives anymore, or that they love you any less.”
“I know, Mom, but it’s just-”
“No, no buts, Dean. Everyone leaving Lawrence to go to college has nothing to do with their feelings for you. They aren’t leaving you.”
“Okay. Okay, Mom,” he nods his head, clenching his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to believe what she’s saying, but he still can’t help remembering how awful it felt when he realized Castiel was thinking of going away to school and leaving him behind.
Almost as if she read Dean's mind, Mary asks, “Have you called Castiel yet?”
He glances up, meeting her eyes before quickly looking away. “Uh, no. I doubt he’d want to hear from me, after, you know, me leaving without saying goodbye and everything.”
Mary watches him closely as he fidgets and stares down at his hands on the kitchen table. “I spoke to him once, after you left. Dean, he…” she pauses for a moment, and Dean spares a quick glance to see her deep in thought, as if she is trying to find the right words. “What he feels for you, the bond you both share…it’s special, Dean. I’ve known it since that first summer we moved here.”
Dean goes very still, too afraid to look at her, but soaking in every word as if it were gospel. Mary sighs. “So, believe me when I say that no matter what happens, no matter how much the two of you may fight and push each other away, he will always want to hear from you.”
He nods again, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as they fall down his cheek. “Okay, I’ll remember that, Mom.”
Mary stands up, and moves to step towards the counter, but turns back, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I don’t know if you’ve thought about whether you’re going to stay in Lawrence, or go back to Chattanooga, or wherever else, but instead of running away next time, maybe you should find something you want to run to.”
Dean looks up long enough to meet her eyes as she bends down to kiss his forehead, brushing away the tears on his cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion.
********************
The following day, Mary sends Dean out in the Impala with a list of errands. He’s relieved to get out of the house and away from the hospital for a little while, as well as happy to drive around town and see places he hasn’t had a chance to visit since he’s been back. He stops off at the high school right before it lets out for the day, sneaking in to say hi to friends not yet graduated, and to some of his favorite teachers, letting them know how he’s been doing. Even though he dropped out of school and ran away, he’s proud of what he’s done since settling down in Chattanooga, and he even stops off to get advice from Ms. Holmes about taking creative classes at college. He avoids saying where he plans on taking the classes, still not sure what he wants to do once Dad is home and recuperated enough for him to leave.
The last errand on Mom’s list is also the one he’s dreading most. He parks in front of Missouri’s house, staring up at the front porch. Missouri had been kind enough to bake a few casseroles for the Winchesters while John was in the hospital, helping out where she can while Mary was too preoccupied to see to the family’s meals herself. When Mary had asked Dean to return the casserole dishes to Missouri, he’d whined and tried to beg off doing it, saying he knows the woman will most likely chew his ass out for running away and worrying everyone.
But Mary would have none of it, so here he is, walking up to Missouri’s front door, ready to get the stink eye of the century. What he doesn’t expect, is for Missouri to open the door, take one look at him, and then pull him into her arms for the tightest, most suffocating hug he’s ever experienced.
“Dean Winchester, I should wear your hide out for scaring all of us the way you did,” she chides, squeezing him one last time and kissing his cheek before pulling away. “How is your daddy doing today?”
Dean tries to get his breathing back to normal after almost being squeezed to death. “Uh, he’s still improving. Doctors say he might be able to come home in a couple more days.”
“This is good to hear. About time your family got some good news,” Missouri says, nodding her approval.
“So, uh, Mom wanted me to return these dishes to you, and wanted me to thank you again for making the casseroles for us,” Dean says, awkwardness seeping through his pores. He tries backing away subtly, hoping this is his chance to get away unscathed, but Missouri is having none of it.
“You tell your mother I’ll be sending along some more in a day or so. In fact, you come in here, and I’ll put together another care package right now.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of-”
“Dean, get yourself in this house right now, or I will call your mama and tell her you were rude to me!”
He stands there on her porch, mouth opening and closing for several seconds trying to think of something to say; realizing he has no way out of this one, he sighs and steps inside. He follows her into the kitchen, and stands there watching as she pulls out a basket and starts loading it with tupperware containers full of food. She pulls a loaf of homemade bread out of her pantry, and finishes off the basket with a gallon of sweet tea. “You had all of this homemade stuff just sitting around the house?” he asks, incredulous.
Missouri looks at him, exasperated. “I’m in charge this month of taking extra food around to the shut-ins that my church helps, so I’ve been stocking up on things.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Dean reaches for the food basket, but before he can pick it up, Missouri lays a hand on his arm.
“You need to swallow your pride, and call him.”
Dean stares at her, face scrunching up in confusion. “What makes you think I’m too proud to call him?” he replies, not even bothering to ask who she’s talking about.
She rolls her eyes. “You boys have always either been too proud or too scared to say what you feel.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other for years. You’re like magnets, either pulling close or pushing away, but your worlds have only ever about each other, since the day you met.”
“Missouri, I don’t know what you think we are, but-”
“Don’t you lie to me, boy. Even if I hadn’t figured it out years ago, I would have known as soon as I saw Castiel coming home after being with you, with love bites all over him.”
If Dean could melt into the floor and never show his face to the world again, he would. He is mortified at the thought of Missouri seeing his hickeys all over Castiel; they had been stupid enough to believe they were being discreet, at the time.
She narrows her eyes at him, apparently not concerned about the effect of her words on him.“But you running away just about tore him apart for good, and I’ll tell you right now, I won’t allow you to hurt him like that again.”
Dean stares down at the floor. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he says, voice quiet.
“That may not have been your goal, but you ran off knowing full well what the consequences would be.”
He shakes his head, returning her gaze. “But I didn’t know,” he replies imploringly. “I thought it might even help him, since that way he wouldn’t have to worry about making the decision to leave me to go to college.”
“So, you took the decision out of his hands? You can’t just go around making other people’s choices for them. That was his decision to make, not yours. You should have trusted him to make the right one.”
Dean stares at her, surprised. He hadn’t really considered it that way before. But it still doesn’t matter, because Castiel still went away to college, and is probably not ever going to look back. “The outcome is still the same though, right? He still went off to school, doing what his dad wants and becoming some hot shot doctor someday.”
Missouri tilts her head at him. “So, no one has filled you in on what Castiel is doing?” She pauses, waiting until Dean shakes his head before continuing. “Of course, I knew all along that he’d end up going his own way, even if Castiel didn’t realize it at the time. He decided he didn’t want to become a doctor after all, and now he’s doing an arts program in Seattle.”
Dean opens his mouth in shock. “What? But, I thought…he was visiting all these schools with good pre-med programs! It seemed like a sure thing that he was going to med school.” Dean can’t believe Castiel went against his father’s wishes, after all. “I bet Dr. Novak was pissed.”
“You watch your language with me, boy,” Missouri warns. “But yes, he wasn’t very happy with Castiel. And last I’d heard, they still haven’t spoken to each other since Castiel went away to school. It’s a shame the man won’t look past his own failures to see Castiel as he really is.”
“So, why Seattle? I don’t remember him ever saying anything about a good art school there.”
Missouri smiles. “It’s because his sister is there. Anna is working her way through school, as well. She and Castiel have kept in touch, and when he sent her some of his drawings she encouraged him to apply to the University of Washington. He found out right around the time you left that they were offering him a full scholarship to their arts program.”
Wow. Dean can’t help but feel a huge surge of pride for Castiel. He knew his friend was talented, and he’s so happy to hear that others see the brilliance in his work, as well.
“He has the same cell phone number, you know,” Missouri says, watching him closely. “You should call him, Dean.”
He chews on his lip, considering her words. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I thought you didn’t approve of me.” He winces once he realizes what he’s said.
Missouri snorts, picking up a dishrag and wiping the counter in front of her. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, not wanting to elaborate, but he figures what the hell, might as well go for broke. “I overhead you talking to Dr. Novak one day. He said he’d be glad when Cas grew out of his Winchester phase, and you didn’t seem to disagree with him.”
She rolls her eyes. “Dr. Novak is, if you’ll pardon my language since I pardoned yours, a self-important, condescending, cold, and conceited ass, who feels the entire world is beneath him and his children. I never really spoke up against him because I knew it was pointless, and that his opinion didn’t matter much to Castiel.” She steps forward, taking one of Dean’s hands between her own. “I always approved and cared for you, Dean, even when you annoyed every hair on my head. I thought of you as an adopted son, much like I always thought of Castiel. Lord knows, Castiel and you both are the reason I stayed working in that household as long as I did.”
Dean is flabbergasted by her words. He’d always thought she just tolerated him, for the sake of Castiel and, to a lesser extent, Mary. “Thanks, Missouri,” he replies, voice choked.
She smiles again, letting go of his hand to push the basket across the counter and towards him. “Now please, call Castiel. Soon. I don’t like to see you both so lost without each other, if for no other reason than he misses his best friend.”
Dean nods, and grabs the basket, heading towards the door. “Okay, I will. Just as soon as we get Dad home and settled in. I just…I need a bit more time to think things through.”
Missouri wraps an arm around his shoulder and squeezes, before letting go and opening the front door for him. “Please take care of yourself, Dean. And don’t stay away so long next time.”
He’s surprised to realize he’s kind of disappointed to say goodbye to Missouri again. “I won’t, I promise.”
He heads to the Impala feeling a little bit lighter, his chest fuzzy with the first real glimmer of hope that Castiel might be willing to see him and give him another chance.
********************
Next...
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home
~Phillip Phillips, “Home”
It’s unsettling how quickly a life can change.
Dean leans his head against the back of his seat and stares out the dirty window of the alarmingly small express jet that’s flying him to Kansas City. He remembers the story that Missouri told him and Castiel about the preacher, Joshua, whose complete life changed in the span of one night. That poor man lost his wife, daughter, and reason for existence, all at the whim of some faulty wiring.
He shifts in his seat, trying to get more comfortable as the plane rocks with turbulence. It’s fortunate this flight wasn’t canceled, given the storm front moving through, but Dean’s not feeling so lucky, as he gives a wary eye to the puke bag nestled in the seat pocket in front of him. For the umpteenth time, he wishes he’d just told Jody to leave him alone and let him ride his bike back to Lawrence, but she was hearing none of it. He knows she was right, that he most likely would have gotten stuck somewhere because of the snowstorm, but as his stomach twists and churns with each drop and bump, he thinks maybe that would have been better than falling to his death from thirty-thousand feet before he could ever make it back to Lawrence.
The wing of the plane outside his window tilts as they hit another air pocket, and Dean has to slam the window shade down to keep from getting dizzy. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to think of something to take his mind off of dying in an exploding ball of fire, but the only other thing he can think about right now makes him just as upset and freaked out.
He has no clue what news awaits him when he lands. The last update Rufus had given him before he boarded was that John was in surgery, and they were most likely going to do a heart bypass. Rufus said the doctors were hesitant to perform surgery because it took them a while to get him stable, but that one of his arteries was so blocked, the risk was greater if they waited. The tone of Rufus’s voice scared Dean more than anything else; he knew when Rufus said your family needs you right now, son that the odds were not in their favor.
When he finally lands in Kansas City, Dean is tempted to kiss the ground in gratitude for finally having landed safely, but he’s too busy getting his disposable phone that he’d bought at Wal-Mart on the way to the airport turned back on, shaking it futilely to try and get a signal. Once he’s out of his terminal and nearing passenger pickup, he’s able to get a call out to Rufus.
“Hello?” the gruff old man yells over the phone.
“Rufus! Hey, it’s Dean! I’m at the airport, were you able to make it?” Rufus had said he’d try to drive out to Kansas City to pick Dean up from the airport, but with the snow coming in he wasn’t sure if he’d make it.
“Yep, I’m parked in the waiting area right now, lemme get moving and I’ll find you somewhere in the pickup area.”
He hangs up before Dean can ask him for any news, making Dean wonder if he did it on purpose to keep from having to give him bad news over the phone. He stands on the curb outside the airport doors what feels like a lifetime, bitter cold wind biting through the fabric of his jeans. He has to keep his eyes slitted almost closed to fight the gusts that twist underneath the overhang, stray snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes as he keeps on the look out for Rufus’s truck.
When Rufus finally pulls up in front of Dean, he leans over the seat to unlock the passenger door. Dean throws his duffel in ahead of himself, and before he’s got his door closed, Rufus speaks. “He made it through surgery.”
Dean exhales, not realizing he was holding his breath until now. “How is he?”
Rufus puts the truck in drive, and pulls away from the curb. “The doctors say it’s touch-and-go for now. They ended up having to do a triple bypass. Docs say that’s pretty routine, nowadays, but he had a reaction to the first anesthesia they were using, so they had to change it up, and they think it could be why he’s having complications now.”
“What kind of complications?” Dean feels like he could puke from the roller coaster his emotions are going through right now. Between this and the shitty flight, he’ll be surprised if he’s not tossed his cookies before the end of the day.
They come to a red light, and Rufus spares a look at him as he pulls the truck to a stop. “He’s not waking up like he’s supposed to.”
Dean stares at him, trying to process the words. “‘Like he’s supposed to’? What’s that mean?”
Rufus looks at him for a long moment, his face full of worry. “It means he’s not responding to them like he should be.” He shakes his head slowly, and looks forward out the windshield as the light turns green. “I’m sorry, Dean. It means he’s in a coma.”
********************
The drive between Kansas City and Lawrence normally only takes about ninety minutes, if that. But because of the winter storm, Rufus has to take it slow, inching his way past other vehicles that are unfortunate enough to slip and slide their way into ditches and stalled out against the concrete barriers. Dean sits in the passenger seat, knees bouncing as he fidgets and shifts, wishing like hell he could grab the wheel and take over. But he knows if he did he’d wreck them within the first five minutes, his nerves too fraught to be careful and take it slow.
When they arrive at Lawrence Memorial, Dean barely waits for Rufus to stop the truck before he’s flinging the passenger door open and running into the building. He finds the elevator, and takes it up to the CCU, where Rufus told him his mom and Sam would be in the waiting room. The elevator doors open up to the nurses station, so he walks up to ask where the family waiting room is, but before he can open his mouth he hears someone call his name behind him.
“Dean?”
He turns around at the voice, and his little brother is standing there across the hall, except he’s not so little anymore as the jerk seems to have turned into a beanstalk while Dean was gone. He’s almost taller than Dean now, he realizes, and he hates himself for missing every inch he’s grown since he left.
“Hey, Sammy,” he says, his voice rough. And he wants to say more, wants to ask how Dad is and say he’s missed him and ask how Mom is and say he’s sorry for everything, but before he can even open his mouth Sam is hugging him, arms wrapped so tightly around his waist that Dean thinks he might have to stop breathing for a minute, but that’s okay.
Dean hugs Sam back, holds onto him and buries his face into the fabric of his shirt, hiding his eyes against his shoulder, because he’s crying now, right along with his brother, and he doesn’t want the nurses or the orderlies or the other families to see him lose it. Sammy’s body shakes with his sobbing, and Dean calms down long enough to wipe his own tears and snot away so that he can walk them out of the hallway and back into the waiting room.
Sam doesn’t let go for several more minutes, and Dean realizes with a stab to the heart that Sammy has been holding himself together and not allowing himself to break down for their mom because he was the only one here for her. “Where’s Mom?” he asks, once Sam has calmed down enough to blow his nose.
“She’s in the room with Dad,” Sam mutters. “We only get fifteen minutes with him every four hours, and even then it’s just one person at a time.”
Dean wipes the hair off Sam’s forehead, wondering absently how he convinced Dad to let him grow it so long. “How is he?”
Sam shakes his head, his face scrunching up as he starts to cry again. “He still hasn’t woke up, Dean.”
Leaning forward, Dean kisses the side of Sam’s head and pulls him into a hug again. “He will, Sammy. Dad’s a tough sunavabitch, right? He can do it.” The door to the waiting room opens, but Dean doesn’t turn around to see who it is, he just keeps his arms wrapped around Sam.
“Dean?”
The voice is incredulous, and sweet and so painfully sad that it takes Dean’s breath away. He lets go of Sam and stands up, turning around to see his mom facing him, her eyes swollen and red. “Hey, Mom,” he whispers, and before he’s aware of it he’s stepped forward and collapsed into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” he sobs, clutching her. “I should have been here.”
“Ssshhh,” she whispers, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, you’re home, we’re all going to be okay now.”
Sam steps up beside them, wrapping his arms around them both, and the three of them stand there, hugging and crying, until they’re all cried out.
********************
The hospital moves John to a private room the following morning. Since they’re allowed to visit with him longer than fifteen-minute intervals, Dean insists that he will stay, so that his mom and Sam can go home for a few hours. They’ve both been here since the beginning, and the exhaustion written across their faces twists the guilt in Dean’s gut.
Dean sits awkwardly in the uncomfortable hospital chair, trying in vain to find a position that won’t kill his back. He watches the blips on the heart monitor, tries to figure out what all the different numbers and levels mean on all the machines hooked up to his dad, but it’s all like Latin to him. The first hour he’s there, he freaks out every time an alarm beeps, thinking it means his dad has stopped breathing. He runs out into the hallway and grabs the first nurse he sees, rushing them in to help, but they always just smile at him, check one of the machines, push a button, and walk out. He hates not understanding what’s going on, and feels like he’s going to go crazy from always thinking the worst every time something beeps, until a new nurse comes on shift.
One of the machines starts beeping again, and Dean runs out for what feels like the thousandth time to grab a nurse. When she glances at the machines, she frowns, pushing some numbers on the one hooked up to his IV. “That beeping just means his drip has stopped. No biggie, but we’ll probably need to put in a new catheter soon,” she says.
Dean exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank god someone is actually telling me something. I don’t know what any of this crap is, so if I hear an alarm, I panic.”
The nurse smiles at him, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Tessa. You want me to explain what everything here does?”
She spends the next twenty minutes going over all the machines, as well as explaining what Dean can expect from the nurses’ rounds and routines. It’s more than anyone on staff here has ever said to him, and he feels like he could hug her for being so patient with him. There’s a kindness in her eyes that makes him feel comforted, and for the first time since he got the phone call from Rufus, he feels like he can relax for a bit.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Tessa asks, finishing up her checks of John’s vitals.
Dean’s stomach chooses this moment to growl loud enough for probably the entire floor to hear, causing them both to laugh. “No, I just haven’t had the chance to grab something. I didn’t wanna leave him here alone,” he says, nodding at his dad.
She finishes writing notes in her chart, and looks up at him. “I’ll have something sent up for you. Do you like pizza?”
Dean stares at her. “I…sure, I guess. How much will I owe you for it?” he asks, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
Tessa waves his hand away. “It’s on us. The nurses on the floor keep up a collection for times like this. I’ll go ahead and get it ordered for you.” She eyes the pillow propped against the back of Dean’s chair, where he’d been trying to make it less unbearable to sit in. “I’ll get a recliner sent up here, too. These chairs suck.”
He watches her fluff his dad’s blanket, tucking his legs in tighter. “I don’t know what to say, Tessa. Thank you so much.”
She smiles at him and winks. “Not all of us are like Nurse Ratched, especially when the family members are as cute as you are.”
He blushes, his face turning redder when she laughs at him. “Don’t worry, this isn’t an episode of Doctor Sexy, MD. I don’t usually go for jailbait, anyways.”
After assuring him that she’ll get his supper ordered soon, she leaves him alone with his dad again, closing the door behind her. Dean pulls the chair up close to John’s bed, and sits down. He stares at his father’s face, trying not to focus on how lifeless it seems. “Hey, at least you ended up with a cool nurse, right?” he jokes, trying to make his voice sound light. His eyes rake over John’s face, willing a response from him, anything, but his face remains the same. Dean’s face crumples, his lip quivering as he pleads. “Come on, Dad, please. Please don’t leave us.”
********************
John wakes up the following day.
It’s only for a couple minutes, and Dean isn’t even there when it happens. Mary and Sam had relieved him at the hospital so that Dean could go home and shower and sleep for a few hours. Dean wakes up to the phone ringing, Sam on the line laughing and crying between words of “He woke up, Dean! Dad’s gonna be okay!”
Dean wants to jump in the Impala and rush down there immediately, but Mary gets on the phone to dissuade him. “Honey, he already fell back asleep, and the doctor says he probably won’t wake up for another several hours, at least. You get your rest, and come back up here later on today, okay?”
Dean tries to go back to sleep, but he’s too excited and relieved, so he walks around the house, instead. It’s so strange being here after being gone for so long. Everything looks different, but at the same time, it’s all the same. It’s his childhood home, but it feels almost like he’s in a stranger’s house. He stares out the kitchen window into the backyard, and sees the giant oak tree. Their treehouse is there, just as it’s always been, and Dean aches to climb up the ladder, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
He misses Castiel so much.
He tries to shake off those thoughts, and goes upstairs to shower. He spends the next couple hours paying visits to Bobby and Rufus, updating them with the good news of John waking up. He stops by Charlie’s house, but isn’t surprised to learn that she’s off at college. Her mom assures him that Charlie’s cell phone number is the same, so he finds a place to park so he can give her a call.
She answers just as he’s about to hang up. “Hello?”
“Charlie? Hey, uh, it’s Dean.”
There’s silence on the other end for several beats. “Huh, the only Dean I know was a jerkface who left town without saying goodbye like a year ago, so this couldn’t possibly be-”
“Ha ha, very funny, how are you, assmunch?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question after disappearing like you did? WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”
Dean drops his face in his hand. “I’m sorry, dude, okay? I just…I had to get away. Shit hit the fan, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looks out his windshield at the park across the street. It’s the same playground where he first met Castiel all those years ago. “So, I got on my bike and drove east, ended up in Tennessee.”
“Is that where you’ve been all this time? What have you been doing?”
“I got a job there, a place to stay…it’s nice there,” Dean answers. He really doesn’t feel like going into details, so he changes the subject. “So, Cal Tech, huh?”
Charlie snorts. “Do you really think I could pass up the opportunity to go to a nerd school with a beaver for a mascot? It’s like this place was made for me.”
Dean laughs, loudly. He’s missed this. “So, you been trapping a lot of beavers since you got there?”
“Yeah, I bet you wanna hear all the dirty details, you little perv,” she teases. “Have you talked to Cas?”
Dean's stomach clenches at the mention of Castiel. “No, I haven’t.”
Charlie sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, Charlie, I know.”
“You want his number at school?”
Dean stares at the park across the street. He doesn’t understand how everything can feel so different after being gone only a year. “No, not right now. I just need some time.”
“How much more time could you need?” Charlie scoffs. “Dude, do you have any idea how much you hurt him by just leaving like that? I’m not one to jump on the guilt train, but you need to get your shit in order.” She’s silent for several seconds before continuing. “Okay, enough with the obligatory you hurt my friend crap, will you be back in Lawrence over summer break?”
“I’m there now,” Dean says quietly, and proceeds to tell her all that’s happened in the past few days. They talk for another ten minutes or so before Charlie has to beg off, claiming she has a history class across campus. When they hang up, Dean climbs out of the Impala, and walks across the street.
It’s so strange how much smaller everything feels. He’s only been gone for a year, but it might as well be a lifetime, given how foreign everything feels. The monkey bars they used to hang daringly from now don’t even take his toes off the ground when he reaches for them. He squeezes himself onto one of the swings, moving back and forth as he stares down at his boots. There’s still snow on the ground from the storm a few days ago, but it’s gray and sludgy from the warming temperatures, and it encourages his feelings of melancholy.
He should be relieved and happy over the news of his dad waking up, as well as finally being home again. But he can’t shake feeling like a stranger here now, and he wonders if things have changed so much that it could never feel like home again. He’s not even sure if he wants it to be home again, but it’d be nice to feel he has a place here if he decides to stay.
He shakes off the feelings of loneliness, and goes back to the Impala, enjoying the purr and grumble of her as he turns the ignition. At least this is one place that will always feel familiar to him; he just hates the reason he’s finally behind her wheel.
When he makes it back to the hospital, John is still asleep. Mary greets Dean with a hug and a smile that’s brighter than Dean has seen from her since he returned to Lawrence. “Did you get some rest?”
Dean nods, not wanting his mom to worry. “Yeah, I got lots. You and Sam can go home now, if you want. I’ll stay here while you get some supper and sleep for the night.”
Once they’re gone, Dean pulls his notebook from his duffel bag, along with a pen. He curls up in the recliner that Tessa had gotten sent up to the room, and begins writing. He’s not had much time for it lately, between work and finding time to make more wood sculptures. But the more monsters and weird little statues he creates to sell in the gallery, the more he remembers of the stories he and Castiel used to weave together when they were younger.
It’s not easy at first, trying to take his mind off everything enough to get the words down on paper. But he has nothing to do but sit as sentry by his father’s bedside, and the more he writes, the more effortlessly the words flow. He smiles to himself occasionally as he writes, remembering warm, golden days with Castiel by his side as they traipsed all around their neighborhood. So many of their stories involved the both of them traveling across the world, finding adventures and fighting monsters and evil, and never leaving each other’s side.
We’re a team, right? You jump, I jump.
Dean sighs, dropping the pen on the table next to him, and squeezing his eyes shut. How the hell did things get so fucked up?
********************
Dean jumps, opening his eyes with a start. He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but he realizes he must have been asleep for a while because all the lights but the bedside lamp have been turned off. One of the nurses must have taken pity on him and turned them off when she came in to check Dad’s vitals. Dean glances over at his father, and finds his eyes open and staring back at him.
“Hey, Dean-o,” his dad whispers, voice rough from disuse.
Dean rushes to stand up, reaching over to grab his hand. “Dad! Hey, how…how are you feeling?”
John smiles weakly at him. “Like somebody tried to rip my heart out of my chest with some rusty pliers.”
Dean laughs, trying to drown out the realization that he came very close to never hearing his father’s voice again. “I doubt they used rusty pliers, but the rest of that’s pretty accurate.”
John stares at him for several seconds, and Dean stares back. There’s so much to say to each other, but now’s not the time. Hopefully, they’ll find a way to communicate with each other once his dad is feeling stronger, won’t clam up and refuse to talk about their feelings once the threat of death isn’t hanging over their shoulders.
“I see our patient has finally decided to wake up and grace us with his presence,” Tessa calls out cheerfully, pushing the door open. “You mind giving us some privacy for a few minutes, Dean? Now that he’s awake, I need to do a bit more thorough check over.”
Dean nods, letting go of his dad’s hand and turning away. Before he walks out the door, he hears his dad’s voice, still weak but sounding stronger, call after him. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
John smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re home, son.”
Dean smiles, but he’s too choked up to say anything, so he nods and waves, closing the door behind him as he leaves.
********************
Mary corners Dean a few days later, once they’re finally both home at the same time. Sam is back in school, needing to catch up on all the work he’s missed. John is improving, albeit slowly, and the doctors have hope that he’ll be able to come home within the week. Dean’s not had a chance to talk with anyone more than a few minutes at a time, since they’ve still been staying with John at the hospital in shifts. But John is finally successful in his insistence that everyone stay at home for at least one day and night, to give themselves a break, as well as him, saying if he has to stare at people staring back at him and expecting him to break with each breath he takes that he’ll scream.
Dean is standing at the kitchen sink, looking out the window into the backyard again. He finds himself doing this, staring at the treehouse and thinking about Castiel, more and more often, but he’s still not gotten up the courage to chase the memories up into the tree.
“Have you been out to the treehouse since you got home?” Mary asks, stepping up beside Dean and scaring the crap out of him.
“Jesus, Mom, warn a guy next time,” Dean yelps. “And no, I haven’t.”
She smiles up at him. “Sam goes out there sometimes, but not very often. And Castiel used to, before he went off to school.” She studies Dean's face, and he tries to hide how much the mention of Castiel cuts into him, but he knows it’s a piss-poor attempt. Her next words surprise him, though, as she changes the subject.
“Where did you go, when you went away?” Her eyes are curious, but they can’t hide the anguish that Dean knows is his fault. Seeing how much pain she’s been in and knowing it’s because of him makes the guilt in his chest hang heavy as lead. For the first time, he wonders at just how selfish that decision was. He’s told himself all along that he ran away for them, to keep the pain he was causing from destroying everyone. But maybe the real reason was because he was too afraid to face the consequences of his actions and to show everyone who he really is.
So, they sit down at the kitchen table, and he tells his mom everything of the time he went away. She listens quietly as he tells her of Chattanooga, about Jody and Owen, and how they welcomed him into their home. He tells her about his job as a carpenter’s assistant, and about his sculptures being a big hit in the gallery, selling more than any designer ever has in their studio. He tells her about going to the baseball games, and about how Jody bitched and complained that she had to sign Owen up for Little League because Dean wouldn't stop talking about how much fun baseball is, but how Jody then ended up loving the games and becoming an assistant coach. Then Dean tells her about how he studied and got his GED, and now he’s considering taking some creative writing classes, maybe try writing a novel in his spare time.
Throughout all of this, Mary watches him, and when Dean tells her about his GED, her eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Dean,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I’m so happy you did that, honey.” She wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close.
“Thanks, Mom,” he whispers against her hair. “It was Jody who talked me into it. She dangled the promise of a raise in front of my nose to convince me.”
Mary laughs, her voice shaky. “Remind me to send her a thank-you card, then. For that, and for looking out for you all this time.”
Dean pulls back, staring down at his hands in his lap. “Mom, I just wanted to say I’m-”
“Wait,” she interrupts. “Before we get into anything like that, I want to hear why you left. You told me where you went, but I want to know why.”
Dean takes a deep breath, nodding. As hard as it is to talk about it, he knows it needs to be done, and he owes it to his mom to be open with her. “I couldn’t go to military school. And I couldn’t stand hearing you and Dad fight because of me. So, I just figured it would solve everybody’s problems if I went away.”
Mary stares at him, her face twisted with shock. “You thought it would solve everybody’s problems if you ran away?”
“I hated hearing you guys fight, Mom. It reminded me of when I was little, and you and Dad used to fight a lot, and you’d get so sad.” He shakes his head. “The thought that I was the one making you sad this time, and making Dad so upset…I couldn’t stand it. I know it was probably the wrong decision, but Mom, I really didn’t think there was any other choice.”
“Dean, running away is never the right choice,” she chides him, and Dean pulls away from her. He stands up, pacing to the other side of the table and back.
“Since when is it never the right choice? Because everyone else runs away, and it seems to be the right choice for them!” He hates that he’s raising his voice to his mom, especially after everything that’s happened, but he can’t help the frustration he feels.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, confusion across her face.
He lets loose an exasperated breath. “Us moving to Lawrence was running away from the Marines and everything going bad in our lives. And Sam plans on running away to Stanford, along with Jo. Charlie ran off to Cal Tech, and Cas…he ran away to I don’t even know where.” Dean thinks about old man Joshua too, about how, when his wife and baby died, he ran away and hid himself from the world for the rest of his life, but he doesn’t mention that. She never knew about the lake and his visits there with Castiel, and she wouldn’t understand how much of an impression that made on them, anyways. He stops in front of his mom, standing still, and opening his arms wide. “It’s okay for everybody else to run away, why not me?”
Mary stares at him for a very long time, her face thoughtful. She sighs, motioning for him to sit next to her. “Dean, sit down, okay?”
Dean shakes his head, but does as she asks, hanging his head in his hands to hide how upset he is. He’d thought he’d gotten past everyone else going away and leaving him behind, especially once he did it to them first, but apparently he’s not as over it as he thought.
“Honey, us moving to Lawrence,” she pauses for a second, and Dean looks up to find her staring out the window. “Us moving to Lawrence, it wasn’t us running away. It was us running to something. To a better life here, for all of us.” She meets Dean’s gaze, her eyes sad. “I grew up a military brat, and I was miserable. I hated that life. And I didn’t want my kids to have to live such an uncertain, uprooted life, too. So, when your father finally agreed it was time for him to retire from it…that wasn’t us running away and trying to hide. We were excited about this, about starting a new life.”
Dean’s brows knit together in confusion. “But I thought Dad hated moving here.”
“What? No! Of course he didn’t! It was his idea to move here and work for Bobby. Why would you think that?” she asks, genuinely surprised.
Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. He just seemed to complain a lot. Like about how boring suburbia is, and having an eight to five job, and stuff.” Now that he says it, he realizes how flimsy this belief was, him hanging this impression on just a few sentences he overheard here and there from his dad over the years.
Mary laughs. “Oh Dean, you know how your father is. He’s not happy unless he’s griping about something.” Her face becomes serious again as she watches Dean. “I know your father and I fight sometimes. We've gone through our rough patches, and I hate that you've probably heard more of our arguments than you would have liked. But he really did want to move here and start a new life. And he’s happy here - we both are - I can promise you that.”
Dean nods slowly. “I’m glad, Mom. That’s…that’s a huge relief, I guess because…well, I kinda always blamed me and Sam for us having to move here. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have been so worried about raising a family in the military.”
“If it wasn’t for you, your father and I wouldn’t have stayed together for as long as we have,” she corrects. “Because he would have never left the military if he didn’t have a family to consider, no matter how much he loved me. So, I have you to thank for my marriage. How’s that?” She raises her eyebrows at him, as if in challenge of his argument.
Dean chuckles wryly. “Okay, you win.” He takes a deep breath. “But that doesn’t change the fact that everybody else is running away to go to college.” He sticks his chin out, a stubbornness that he’s inherited from both his parents.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, pulling him in and hugging him tight. “No one - not Sam or Jo or Charlie or Castiel - is running away when they go to college. Yes, they are leaving, and yes, it’s sad that things can’t stay the same, but that’s life. Everything changes. But just because they’re going to school doesn’t mean they’re leaving you.”
She pulls back to look Dean in the eyes, placing a hand on either side of his face. “You cling so tightly to those you love, and you think just because they don’t cling as tightly back it means they don’t love you or you don’t deserve them. But sweetie, them wanting to go out into the world and find something for themselves doesn’t mean they don’t want you in their lives anymore, or that they love you any less.”
“I know, Mom, but it’s just-”
“No, no buts, Dean. Everyone leaving Lawrence to go to college has nothing to do with their feelings for you. They aren’t leaving you.”
“Okay. Okay, Mom,” he nods his head, clenching his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to believe what she’s saying, but he still can’t help remembering how awful it felt when he realized Castiel was thinking of going away to school and leaving him behind.
Almost as if she read Dean's mind, Mary asks, “Have you called Castiel yet?”
He glances up, meeting her eyes before quickly looking away. “Uh, no. I doubt he’d want to hear from me, after, you know, me leaving without saying goodbye and everything.”
Mary watches him closely as he fidgets and stares down at his hands on the kitchen table. “I spoke to him once, after you left. Dean, he…” she pauses for a moment, and Dean spares a quick glance to see her deep in thought, as if she is trying to find the right words. “What he feels for you, the bond you both share…it’s special, Dean. I’ve known it since that first summer we moved here.”
Dean goes very still, too afraid to look at her, but soaking in every word as if it were gospel. Mary sighs. “So, believe me when I say that no matter what happens, no matter how much the two of you may fight and push each other away, he will always want to hear from you.”
He nods again, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as they fall down his cheek. “Okay, I’ll remember that, Mom.”
Mary stands up, and moves to step towards the counter, but turns back, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I don’t know if you’ve thought about whether you’re going to stay in Lawrence, or go back to Chattanooga, or wherever else, but instead of running away next time, maybe you should find something you want to run to.”
Dean looks up long enough to meet her eyes as she bends down to kiss his forehead, brushing away the tears on his cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion.
********************
The following day, Mary sends Dean out in the Impala with a list of errands. He’s relieved to get out of the house and away from the hospital for a little while, as well as happy to drive around town and see places he hasn’t had a chance to visit since he’s been back. He stops off at the high school right before it lets out for the day, sneaking in to say hi to friends not yet graduated, and to some of his favorite teachers, letting them know how he’s been doing. Even though he dropped out of school and ran away, he’s proud of what he’s done since settling down in Chattanooga, and he even stops off to get advice from Ms. Holmes about taking creative classes at college. He avoids saying where he plans on taking the classes, still not sure what he wants to do once Dad is home and recuperated enough for him to leave.
The last errand on Mom’s list is also the one he’s dreading most. He parks in front of Missouri’s house, staring up at the front porch. Missouri had been kind enough to bake a few casseroles for the Winchesters while John was in the hospital, helping out where she can while Mary was too preoccupied to see to the family’s meals herself. When Mary had asked Dean to return the casserole dishes to Missouri, he’d whined and tried to beg off doing it, saying he knows the woman will most likely chew his ass out for running away and worrying everyone.
But Mary would have none of it, so here he is, walking up to Missouri’s front door, ready to get the stink eye of the century. What he doesn’t expect, is for Missouri to open the door, take one look at him, and then pull him into her arms for the tightest, most suffocating hug he’s ever experienced.
“Dean Winchester, I should wear your hide out for scaring all of us the way you did,” she chides, squeezing him one last time and kissing his cheek before pulling away. “How is your daddy doing today?”
Dean tries to get his breathing back to normal after almost being squeezed to death. “Uh, he’s still improving. Doctors say he might be able to come home in a couple more days.”
“This is good to hear. About time your family got some good news,” Missouri says, nodding her approval.
“So, uh, Mom wanted me to return these dishes to you, and wanted me to thank you again for making the casseroles for us,” Dean says, awkwardness seeping through his pores. He tries backing away subtly, hoping this is his chance to get away unscathed, but Missouri is having none of it.
“You tell your mother I’ll be sending along some more in a day or so. In fact, you come in here, and I’ll put together another care package right now.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of-”
“Dean, get yourself in this house right now, or I will call your mama and tell her you were rude to me!”
He stands there on her porch, mouth opening and closing for several seconds trying to think of something to say; realizing he has no way out of this one, he sighs and steps inside. He follows her into the kitchen, and stands there watching as she pulls out a basket and starts loading it with tupperware containers full of food. She pulls a loaf of homemade bread out of her pantry, and finishes off the basket with a gallon of sweet tea. “You had all of this homemade stuff just sitting around the house?” he asks, incredulous.
Missouri looks at him, exasperated. “I’m in charge this month of taking extra food around to the shut-ins that my church helps, so I’ve been stocking up on things.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Dean reaches for the food basket, but before he can pick it up, Missouri lays a hand on his arm.
“You need to swallow your pride, and call him.”
Dean stares at her, face scrunching up in confusion. “What makes you think I’m too proud to call him?” he replies, not even bothering to ask who she’s talking about.
She rolls her eyes. “You boys have always either been too proud or too scared to say what you feel.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other for years. You’re like magnets, either pulling close or pushing away, but your worlds have only ever about each other, since the day you met.”
“Missouri, I don’t know what you think we are, but-”
“Don’t you lie to me, boy. Even if I hadn’t figured it out years ago, I would have known as soon as I saw Castiel coming home after being with you, with love bites all over him.”
If Dean could melt into the floor and never show his face to the world again, he would. He is mortified at the thought of Missouri seeing his hickeys all over Castiel; they had been stupid enough to believe they were being discreet, at the time.
She narrows her eyes at him, apparently not concerned about the effect of her words on him.“But you running away just about tore him apart for good, and I’ll tell you right now, I won’t allow you to hurt him like that again.”
Dean stares down at the floor. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he says, voice quiet.
“That may not have been your goal, but you ran off knowing full well what the consequences would be.”
He shakes his head, returning her gaze. “But I didn’t know,” he replies imploringly. “I thought it might even help him, since that way he wouldn’t have to worry about making the decision to leave me to go to college.”
“So, you took the decision out of his hands? You can’t just go around making other people’s choices for them. That was his decision to make, not yours. You should have trusted him to make the right one.”
Dean stares at her, surprised. He hadn’t really considered it that way before. But it still doesn’t matter, because Castiel still went away to college, and is probably not ever going to look back. “The outcome is still the same though, right? He still went off to school, doing what his dad wants and becoming some hot shot doctor someday.”
Missouri tilts her head at him. “So, no one has filled you in on what Castiel is doing?” She pauses, waiting until Dean shakes his head before continuing. “Of course, I knew all along that he’d end up going his own way, even if Castiel didn’t realize it at the time. He decided he didn’t want to become a doctor after all, and now he’s doing an arts program in Seattle.”
Dean opens his mouth in shock. “What? But, I thought…he was visiting all these schools with good pre-med programs! It seemed like a sure thing that he was going to med school.” Dean can’t believe Castiel went against his father’s wishes, after all. “I bet Dr. Novak was pissed.”
“You watch your language with me, boy,” Missouri warns. “But yes, he wasn’t very happy with Castiel. And last I’d heard, they still haven’t spoken to each other since Castiel went away to school. It’s a shame the man won’t look past his own failures to see Castiel as he really is.”
“So, why Seattle? I don’t remember him ever saying anything about a good art school there.”
Missouri smiles. “It’s because his sister is there. Anna is working her way through school, as well. She and Castiel have kept in touch, and when he sent her some of his drawings she encouraged him to apply to the University of Washington. He found out right around the time you left that they were offering him a full scholarship to their arts program.”
Wow. Dean can’t help but feel a huge surge of pride for Castiel. He knew his friend was talented, and he’s so happy to hear that others see the brilliance in his work, as well.
“He has the same cell phone number, you know,” Missouri says, watching him closely. “You should call him, Dean.”
He chews on his lip, considering her words. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I thought you didn’t approve of me.” He winces once he realizes what he’s said.
Missouri snorts, picking up a dishrag and wiping the counter in front of her. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, not wanting to elaborate, but he figures what the hell, might as well go for broke. “I overhead you talking to Dr. Novak one day. He said he’d be glad when Cas grew out of his Winchester phase, and you didn’t seem to disagree with him.”
She rolls her eyes. “Dr. Novak is, if you’ll pardon my language since I pardoned yours, a self-important, condescending, cold, and conceited ass, who feels the entire world is beneath him and his children. I never really spoke up against him because I knew it was pointless, and that his opinion didn’t matter much to Castiel.” She steps forward, taking one of Dean’s hands between her own. “I always approved and cared for you, Dean, even when you annoyed every hair on my head. I thought of you as an adopted son, much like I always thought of Castiel. Lord knows, Castiel and you both are the reason I stayed working in that household as long as I did.”
Dean is flabbergasted by her words. He’d always thought she just tolerated him, for the sake of Castiel and, to a lesser extent, Mary. “Thanks, Missouri,” he replies, voice choked.
She smiles again, letting go of his hand to push the basket across the counter and towards him. “Now please, call Castiel. Soon. I don’t like to see you both so lost without each other, if for no other reason than he misses his best friend.”
Dean nods, and grabs the basket, heading towards the door. “Okay, I will. Just as soon as we get Dad home and settled in. I just…I need a bit more time to think things through.”
Missouri wraps an arm around his shoulder and squeezes, before letting go and opening the front door for him. “Please take care of yourself, Dean. And don’t stay away so long next time.”
He’s surprised to realize he’s kind of disappointed to say goodbye to Missouri again. “I won’t, I promise.”
He heads to the Impala feeling a little bit lighter, his chest fuzzy with the first real glimmer of hope that Castiel might be willing to see him and give him another chance.
********************
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