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Dean waited until the Greyhound disappeared round the corner before he tried to put his fist through the window of the Impala. He punched and kicked at his baby, the pain as his knuckles spilt not touching the pain inside. He took a vicious pleasure from watching the beloved metal buckle and dent and he kept punching ‘til he was exhausted and sank to his knees. Dry heaving sobs turned to retching and he puked his lunch up on the parking lot.
Dean was dizzy with the absence of Sam, a huge gaping hole that screamed for his brother’s return. It had always been Dean and Sam, Sam and Dean for as long as he could remember. Now it was just Dean, and how the hell am I supposed to deal with that?
“Are you okay?”
Dean shook his head, unable to move or even look up. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Are you not okay – sick; or not okay, need a strong drink?”
Dean finally looked up to see who was talking to him, a pretty Eurasian looking girl smiled back at him. “I’m Angela.” She offered her hand and Dean took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.
He cleared his throat, “Dean, and a drink sounds good.” His voice was rough and rasping.
“Okay then Dean, and just so you know, I’m not hitting on you ‘cos, gross.” She indicated the mess on the ground. “But I’m on vacation and I’m a sucker for a guy in trouble.”
Which was how it started, Dean wasn’t exactly clear on how they ended up in a bar drinking Jell-O shots. Hell he didn’t even know that bars did Jell-O shots. Anyway they’d played pool and she’d beaten him – a girl had beaten him! So he’d suggested a drinking contest ‘cos hell that would even the scores but somewhere along the line things had gotten a bit fuzzy.
The liquor was blurring the edges round the hole that was need Sam, need Sam, need Sam. All of a sudden it was getting very difficult to lift his head off the bar.
“Give me a hand up.” Angela demanded.
“Guh?” Dean looked up fuzzily.
“This is the best song ever, I have to dance.” She grabbed Dean’s shoulder and hauled herself onto the bar. Dean tried to make his eyes focus as long brown legs began to gyrate in front of him. The bar began to grow crowded as men moved closer, whistles and catcalls filled the air. Angela didn’t seem to notice as she shimmied on the bar, she laughed at the bartender as he handed up anther shot. She knocked it back in one go and held her hand out for another.
Dean was only half aware of all the men ogling the girl as she danced. She was hot, curves in all the right places and pert breasts spilling over the top of her red lace cami. A couple of guys were handing the bartender money to buy her drinks and Dean felt like things could turn nasty but he didn’t really care, if there was going to be a fight – bring it on.
As the track ended Angela slid off the bar onto Dean’s lap. A big guy in a muscle shirt pushed through the crowd towards them. “Hey baby! Come with me, lemme buy you another drink.” He offered.
Angela wrapped her arm round Dean’s neck. “I don’t think so, Dean’s my buddy, I’m cheering him up,” she slurred. “Are you cheered up yet sweetie?” Dean knocked back his shot, “Sure am Angie, but I think it’s time to go.” The big guy gave them an evil glare. “I bought you a drink, come and dance with me.” He insisted.
Dean gently pushed Angela off his lap, the promise of a fight sending adrenaline coursing through his veins, sobering him instantly. Sure enough the big guy made a swing for him and Dean dodged out of the way. Dean crashed his fist into the guys face then brought his knee up into his groin. The guy dropped like a shot bear. Dean was quite disappointed really, he was spoiling for a fight.
Angela was cheering him on but she was swaying on her feet and Dean had to grab her as she crumpled to the floor giggling. He swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the bar. She nuzzled into his neck, “An officer and a gentleman,” she murmured sleepily.
Dean figured he was still too drunk to drive. He moaned slightly as he remembered what he’d done to his poor baby. He’d have to take her over to Bobby’s and have some quality time with her in the yard. Dean flagged down a Cab, feeling more than a little bemused by the now comatose woman in his arms. He wasn’t sure what he ought to do with her.
“Angie, hey Angela?” She was out cold, no reply. He loaded her into the cab and gave the address of the motel. Dean slid in beside her and pulled the door shut. He looked at her in the flicker of passing streetlights. She appeared much younger now, the confidence that animated her when she was awake made her seen older than she really was. Dean pulled her against him so that she was nestled into his side. Her sleepy warmth against him was comforting, made him feel protective and mature; like looking after Sammy did.
Back at the motel Angela had thrown up all over the bathroom then passed out again. Dean had found it oddly soothing; cleaning up the mess, looking after someone, he could do this.
He felt a strange affection for the girl as he watched her sleeping on Sam’s bed. He hadn’t felt turned on at all as he’d cleaned her up, stripped off her clothes and dressed her in one of his shirts. Angela had hardly stirred as he’d tucked her into the bed Sam had slept in the night before.
Dean stretched himself out on his bed and finally allowed himself to think about Sam. It was like probing a wound, not picking a scab, it hadn’t had time to make a scab yet. The pain was huge but no longer overwhelming. He still couldn’t believe Sam had left him. He didn’t leave me, I let him go. I should have gone with him.
Dean swung himself off the bed and grabbed a bottle from the six pack on the table. He popped the cap off with his thumb and drained half of it in one go. Shit Sammy, what have I done? I could have come with you, we could have had a life together. No one would have known we were brothers. I could have got a job, supported you. “Sammy!” Dean’s voice was low and anguished, but still it caused the girl on the bed to stir. Dean shushed her, running his hand over her forehead to settle her until she drifted back to sleep.
Dean finished his beer and settled himself back on the bed. It’s my fault, I chose this, I chose to go back to Dad and be a hunter. I decided to do this, now I just gotta learn to live with it.
When Angela woke up it took her a few minutes to work out where she was, not a new situation for her. What was new was that she was dressed in a clean shirt, tucked up in bed, while the cute guy she’d picked up the night before snored in a twin bed across the room from her. There was no soreness or stickiness, nothing to indicate that he’d been anything other than a perfect gentleman, he hadn’t taken advantage at all.
She dressed quietly so as not to disturb him, pulled on her skirt, tied his shirt over her belly to show her new belly button ring. He dressed me in his shirt, how cute is that? Her purse was on the table and she rummaged through it for her wallet. This guy was one of the good ones, she was going to make the most of her vacation before her new job started. Angela headed out in search of Coffee, she’d be willing to bet she’d find a Starbucks within fifteen minutes.
“Hey sleepyhead!” She called as he returned with the breakfast, there was no reply. She peered into the bathroom but that too was vacant. Everything was gone, he’d bailed dammit. The first nice guy I meet all vacation and he freakin’ bails on me. She sighed then sat on the bed to drink her coffee, she could hear Tempe’s voice in her head, “Angela, you should have more respect for yourself, you’re only following a biological imperative to….” She shook her head to clear out the thought. It would be good to see her friend again, maybe she’d cut short the vacation and head on out to the Jeffersonian already.
When he’d woken in the motel room he’d realised at once that the girl was gone, seen her purse on the table and realised she’d be back. He’d lain there watching weak morning sunlight filter through the drapes and realised that he wanted to see her again. I’m using her to replace Sammy. I just want someone else to look after. So he’d thrown his stuff into his backpack and left, not wanting to hurt her with his leaving but knowing that staying would hurt her worse.
Dean was on the highway, music so loud it would make anyone else’s ears bleed. Driving to Bobby’s to fix up his baby, then he’d hook up with Dad and see what needed hunting. In a coupla weeks, when the dust had settled he’d swing by Paolo Alto and see how Sammy was doin’. That’s a plan, I got a plan, I’m gonna make it through this.