Chapter Text
“Shit, Dean. You can still work at a garage, or wait tables, or tend bar out in LA. They have crappy jobs in LA, too. But at least out there you’d be giving yourself a fighting shot at something bigger than Kansas community theater gigs.”
It had been a little more than three years since Sam had sat him down in their cramped apartment back in Lawrence and delivered that speech, the day after he’d gotten his acceptance packet from Stanford, along with a scholarship award letter granting him a full ride. They’d gone out to celebrate the night before, but it had taken nearly a full day for Sam to work up the nerve to bring out his detailed list of reasons why Dean should head out to California when Sam left for school in the fall. He’d been honing the list for months, writing and rewriting it until he felt he had the most concise and compelling argument it was possible to make.
There was nothing tying Dean to Lawrence anymore now that Sam would be leaving for college. Sure, they both had friends, some even close enough that they were considered family, but Dean hadn’t even been on a date in at least a year, let alone had a serious relationship since… he couldn’t even remember. Everyone in Lawrence would still be just a phone call away, and Sam himself would only be a few hours’ drive north. Sam left it unspoken between them that Dean moving to within a reasonable driving distance to Stanford would help both of them feel better. He knew Dean would get it without having to turn it into a chick flick moment. Dean preferred to save those for when he was up in front of an audience, giving life to the words in a script.
The scholarships Sam had applied for came through even bigger than he’d hoped and Dean wouldn’t need to worry about clinging to the job stability he’d earned in Lawrence to cover any of Sam’s expenses. That had been a pleasant surprise. Sam hadn’t been relying on the fact when he’d begun crafting his list, but now it only served to strengthen his case.
Sam had planned all along to pick up a part-time job to cover incidental expenses and pocket money, and Dean had never fought him on that before. Now, with the bulk of his other expenses covered for the next four years, the savings account Dean had been socking every last spare cent into since he’d turned eighteen and dropped out of school to work full-time no longer had a purpose. Knowing Dean, Sam assumed that fact alone wouldn’t change anything.
Dean would still worry about him; would still feel responsible for him. That money had always been Sam’s college fund. He knew Dean wouldn’t willingly touch it to help himself.
Unless Sam could convince him otherwise.
When their dad had disappeared at the beginning of Dean’s senior year, they hadn’t thought much of it at first. It was just the latest in a long string of disappearances. He’d blow town, leave Sam and Dean with a couple hundred bucks, and then turn up a week or so later with a wad of cash and a hangover. Two weeks went by, then three, without a word from John. When their rent came due Dean scraped together enough to cover it from his weekend job at Bobby’s garage. By the end of the next month when they fell woefully short, their landlord told them they had two weeks to pay up or get out.
Bobby took them in for a few months, but as soon as he could, Dean dropped out of school and took on several jobs in order to pay their own way. He was not gonna mooch off Bobby’s generosity forever if he had a say in it. He could step up and make sure that at least Sam could finish school without worrying about when John would show up-- or if he’d ever show up again at all. For Dean, that also meant dropping out of the theater club and abandoning the leading role he’d earned himself in the school’s play.
He’d done it without a second thought, or at least that’s what he’d wanted Sam to think. From that day forward, Dean never complained about having to give up on his own dreams to take care of Sam. That didn’t mean Sam couldn’t see it wearing on his brother. It’s when Sam first started composing the sorts of detailed arguments he’d been using for years to nudge his brother into doing anything for himself.
You need a hobby, Dean.
You need something more than working under cars all day or behind a bar all night. You were always happiest on stage, and you were too good at it to just quit.
The community theater is having auditions this Thursday. You should go. You should try out. I can make dinner for myself for one night. Go, have fun. I think this role would be awesome for you.
I miss seeing you perform. I miss seeing you on stage. I miss seeing you that happy.
Yeah, Sam had known all Dean’s weak spots, knew exactly where to push to get the result he wanted.
“I don’t know if I should be proud of you, or terrified that you wanna go to law school,” Dean had said, stunned, the first time Sam had presented his case and convinced Dean to audition for a role. “World’s slipperiest lawyer already at fourteen.”
And that had been the end of it. Dean slumped back in his chair and sighed while Sam grinned to himself and went right back to his homework. But Dean went to the audition and he’d earned himself the starring role. For a long time, that had been enough to keep Dean happy. As long as he was making enough to cover their expenses and put a little away every month toward Sam’s college fund, he really had been content to let the acting be an occasional side gig.
With the next four years of his future now relatively secure, Sam had known it was time to push Dean again.
And it had worked.
They’d packed up their lives, said goodbye to everyone and everything they’d ever known, and driven out to California. Dean dropped Sam off at Stanford and then headed south to Los Angeles with just under ten grand in his pocket and list of references from his acting coach back in Kansas.
It hadn’t been easy, the last few years. Dean found a job at a garage near the rundown old shoebox apartment he rented out, and made enough to cover his bills. It was finding acting work that was more of a challenge. Sure there were far more opportunities for an aspiring actor in Hollywood than there were in Lawrence, Kansas, but there were also far more people just like him who’d flocked to the city in hopes of landing one of those same finite opportunities. Competition for parts was fierce, but weekly calls to Sam had kept him hopeful that he’d eventually land something.
After a few months he’d accepted a guest starring role on a procedural cop drama, if Bad Guy #2 counted as a “guest starring” role. Three days of AFTRA minimum pay had been a nice bonus, too. He’d reluctantly had to dip into Sam’s college fund to pay for a new set of tires for his Baby, all in the name of making sure she stayed road-worthy enough to make the occasional trip up to Stanford for a family visit. It felt good to be able to pay back what he'd borrowed with interest.
Apparently someone had been impressed with his menacing glower or the convincing way he’d thrown a punch, because his agent began finding him a steadier and steadier string of jobs after that. A few more increasingly prominent TV show roles, and then a couple of minor but well-received parts in a series of spy thriller movies, and he began earning a name for himself.
When his agent called him in for a meeting nearly a year ago, he’d been a little concerned that she was going to tell him the work had dried up and that she was unable to find him any more jobs. After a frantic phone call to his brother, who reassured him that he had nothing to worry about because his last film had done great, Dean put on a shirt he’d actually ironed and his nicest pair of jeans, gave himself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, and then drove downtown to meet with his agent.
Parking his Baby in Hollywood was a bitch, but there was no way in hell he was giving up his girl. He’d grudgingly pay the ridiculous rates to park in the garage to keep his Impala safe for the afternoon. Assuming he wasn’t about to be fired, his agency might even validate.
Dean walked through the doors of Case and Talbot feeling as nervous and apprehensive as he had the very first time he’d been there. The grandiosity of the venerable office was more than a little intimidating, and it still boggled him to think that people with that kind of money would want to represent someone like him. Still, he was an actor, and if the rags weren’t lying, most people thought he was a pretty damn good one. Dean knew how to perform under pressure. He let himself slide into the headspace of a cool and confident businessman, maybe with a touch of federal agent swagger, and stepped up to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi. Dean Winchester. I have a one o'clock appointment with Ms. Talbot.”
The perky blonde receptionist just grinned at him. “I know who you are, silly. You can go right on through. Bela’s expecting you.”
Dean didn’t let the strangely familiar way the woman-- Becky, if he remembered correctly-- greeted him rattle him from his performance. He gave her a quick appreciative nod and then strode confidently down the hall to Bela’s office.
She usually kept in touch with him by phone and email, calling to discuss various roles he might be interested in auditioning for and then sending along scripts and other correspondence when necessary. He hadn’t been back to the office more than a handful of times since that first visit, but in a staid old institution like Case and Talbot, nothing much had changed in the last two years.
The walls were still paneled in wood, with portraits of various superstar clients interspersed with artworks by painters so famous that even Dean recognized them at a glance. Dean’s face wasn’t among the portraits, at least not yet. Maybe not ever if he let himself slip out of character before he even made it to Bela’s door. He pulled himself together and knocked twice.
“Come in, Dean,” Bela called out. “And shut the door behind you.”
Dean came in and did as he was told. He knew how to hit his marks. Pleasantries exchanged, Bela asked him to sit and then seemed to compose herself in a way very similar to Dean’s little ritual out in the hallway. She sat up straight and confident, tossed her long brown hair over one shoulder and then slid a manila folder across her desk toward Dean.
“I know this is highly irregular,” she began in her most formal classy British tone. “Normally I wouldn’t have made you drive across town to discuss a potential role, but I felt this required your immediate attention.”
A potential role? Dean let himself relax just a fraction. At least he wasn’t getting fired. Bela raised an eyebrow and nodded down at the folder, so Dean took a deep breath and flipped it open. He didn’t even have time to start reading the documents inside before Bela started talking again.
“I’ve been approached directly by the producer of a new film series. They wrote the part with you in mind, and they haven’t even considered another actor for the role.”
Dean froze, slowly raised his eyes from the incomprehensible offer in front of him to take in Bela’s barely-restrained smile.
“They wha?”
Bela’s smile grew into a grin. “It’s a good thing they’re not asking you to write the film, but they do expect your performance to be more articulate than that.”
Dean just stared at her for a few seconds, letting it all sink in.
Bela smiled pleasantly at Dean’s numb expression. “The only drawback is they’re asking for a three film commitment from you. No outside work for any other studios until your contract is complete. If the franchise is successful, there’s a potential for more, but that would be renegotiated down the line.”
“Three?” Dean croaked out and then cleared his throat. “What?”
“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Bela said, leaning back in her leather chair. “And I confess the main reason I wanted to present this offer in person was so I could enjoy that exact look on your face.”
Dean shook himself and realized his mouth had been hanging open. He snapped it shut and swallowed hard. “Three films. They want me to star in three films.”
Bela finally took pity on him, or she’d just drunk her fill of Dean’s flustered shock, and began explaining the details of the agreement. She covered the week’s worth of negotiations she’d already made with the studio, the producer, and several other people involved with production. Filming was set to begin in a few months, pending Dean’s agreement, with a release date for the first movie scheduled right at the beginning of the following summer’s blockbuster season.
By the end of their meeting, Dean’s unrufflable professional actor persona had fallen away completely and both he and Bela were celebrating the launch of Dean’s career from second-string face in the crowd to one of Hollywood’s brightest up and coming leading men. He’d signed without any hesitation or reservations on the dotted line, and left with a copy of the scripts and a freshly inked non-disclosure agreement in hand.
So of course he called Sam the second he got home to tell him all about it.
“I haven’t read the entire script yet, but Bela did, and she swears it’s gold, Sammy.”
“So you have no idea what it’s about?” Sam prodded again.
“Eh, it’s kinda complicated, but it’s about this brother and sister who drive around the country fighting monsters and demons. They get caught up in a bunch of shit that kicks off the apocalypse, and it’s up to them to save the world. Wild, right?”
Sam hummed thoughtfully. “So I guess you’re the brother. You know who’s playing your sister?”
“Lisa Braeden,” Dean said, giddy about the news he’d be co-starring alongside an Oscar nominee. She brought a lot of clout to what might otherwise have been just another fantasy horror popcorn flick.
“Oh shit, Dean. That’s awesome. So, you think there’s gonna be some chemistry between the two of you?”
Dean reeled back and made a face at his phone. “Ew, god Sam. She’s playing my sister, for chrissakes.”
Sam laughed at him. “Yeah, Dean. She’s playing your sister. She’s not really your sister.”
“You’re right. You’re my real sister, Samantha. Now get your head out of the gutter before you mess up all that pretty hair.”
“Whatever, Dean. Speaking of the gutter, have you been seeing anyone lately?”
“You ask me that almost every time we talk, and the answer’s still the same.”
Bela had warned him about making the tabloids for the wrong reasons, and he’d been perfectly content to avoid making a public spectacle of himself. He’d had a few flirtations on various sets, a couple of pretty innocent dates with a few people here and there, but he’d largely kept himself in check. He didn’t want to throw away his career before it had even started.
That hadn’t stopped the rumor mill from trying to grind out a story or two about him anyway. When he’d had a few roles under his belt he’d been photographed leaving some nightclub with his good friend he’d met back on the set of his very first acting gig in LA. The tabloids hadn’t yet picked up on the fact that Charlie was very openly a lesbian and had only been out with Dean because she’d dared him to dance in public.
For his first major movie premiere, even though he’d only had a minor role in the film, he’d caused quite a buzz on the red carpet when he showed up with a man on his arm. Aaron had been one of the set designers who’d worked on the film, and even though they’d actually been out on a few slightly awkward dates, they’d eventually become good friends. Dean just wanted him to get to experience the other, more glamorous side of Hollywood for a change. The dude deserved it after busting his ass behind the scenes.
Either way, Dean hadn’t met anyone he felt strongly enough about to put himself through that mill again. It just wasn’t worth it. He sighed and tried again to explain it to his brother.
“I get it Dean. I do. It’s just I worry about you. I want you to be happy, and I know you’re about to hit it big, but I also know you’re happiest when you’ve got people around for you to take care of.”
“I still got you,” Dean replies, softening a little. “And I got my friends. Everything else can wait a little longer.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You never know when you’ll meet the right person.”
Dean took the opportunity to change the subject with both hands. “So, how’s Jess?”
Sam had begged off coming to visit for another few weeks to spend the first half of the summer with his girlfriend’s family out in Colorado. They were definitely getting serious, and Dean couldn’t be happier for his little brother. He missed having Sam around, but the training regimen he was about to embark on for his new role was going to be taking up a lot of his time over the next few months anyway, and he was glad Sam had someone else to rely on for a while.