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A Million Little Pieces
, Dean’s past comes back to haunt him…
Woman in White
Member No.: 29,278
Joined: 29-December 07
Hey all, here is my next story. It came to me and I just had to get it started. There is nothing like a love struck Dean, an amazed John, and then repercussions from it all. Hope you guys like it.
Look Jules & Chris...I did my own banner, or course its not as cool as the ones Chris does, but hey, I did it myself...Amazing!!
Summary: Dean's past comes back to haunt him...and Sam may pay the ultimate price.
Set preseason, and current season.
A Million Little Pieces
The Girl of his Dreams
When Dean Winchester was twenty-two years old, he met the girl of his dreams, or at least, at the time, he thought so. He had been on a hunt with his father, John, a salt and burn in Murfreesboro, Arkansas. It was an easy gig, one they had finished in record time. The two tired hunters had headed straight from the graveyard to Mallard Pub, a run down joint on the outskirts of town. Both hunters had a huge hankering for a cold beer, some hot wings, and a nice warm pillow to rest their weary heads against, and according to them, it would definitely be in that order.
It had been a long year for the Winchesters, Dean's baby brother gone from their lives for the last six months. The topic of Sam was never brought up, the reality of it eating away at both men on a daily basis. John's last words to his son had been voiced angrily, advising the eighteen-year-old to go, and if he left, to stay gone, and never come back. It was those words that had cut Dean to the very core, realizing that his father had shut his little brother out of the fold. Although the older brother didn't support it, he stayed with their Dad, and then had to watch daily as the anger and remorse ate the man alive. But John Winchester was hard headed and no amount of talking and cajoling from Dean was going to change his mind. According to John, Sam had made a choice, he had picked college and a new life over his family, and now they were all forced to live with it -end of story.
Dean Winchester understood his brother's drive to get out on his own. Hell, he had had the same urges when he graduated from high school, thinking he should do something else with his life besides hunting ghouls, ghosts, and demons. But in the end, he had made his choice freely, to stay with his father, to put his family first and hunt the supernatural. It also helped that he was saving others, giving his own life a strong purpose, a meaning.
While Dean understood his father, he wasn't so sure he understood Sam. He always knew his little brother was different from them, the kid never liked hunting, nor did he understand his father's drive to kill the supernatural. But then again, Sam had only been a baby the day his mother was murdered, killed by a demon in their own home. Dean had watched from the sidewalk, clutching tightly to his father, as the house and life he had known burnt to the ground, his innocence going up in flames along with it. He had been there when his father had fell apart, drinking himself into oblivion, and grasping at straws to understand what had happened to his wife. The memories were etched forever in his brain. In the end, he had understood his fathers driving need to find his wife's killer, to save the world, but Sam, he had never gotten it. It wasn't his fault, and Dean knew that. The kid was too young to remember his mother, or the life they had before she died. All Sam knew was that he wanted a normal life, a life he had never gotten to have, and it had broken Dean's heart when his little brother had left them to find it.
The young waitress shuffled to the table, face looking from John to Dean. The sounds of Bon Jovi blared on the jukebox, and engulfed the tiny bar. A small smile curled to her lips as she gave the sandy haired, green eyed man in front of her the once over. Damn, he was hot .
"Hey there sugar," John said as he looked from the menu up to the waitress. She couldn't be any older than nineteen, and pretty much perfect. He grunted to himself, too bad he was old enough to be her father.
"I'll have a Coors light and some hot wings." The older man said as he smiled.
The young girl fidgeted from one foot to the other. "And...and what...what about you?" she stuttered out at the handsome young man in front of her.
Dean felt John's metal toed boot shove at his blue jean clad leg beneath the wobbly table, and his eyes darted across to his Dad. John waggled his eyes at him, motioning to the young waitress who was standing, staring at Dean. The young hunters head rose from the menu to gaze at the red haired, emerald eyed beauty that was looking intently at him. Holy crap, she's hot.
"Well, hello there." Dean said almost bashfully.
"Hi....um..." she said sweetly, looking almost embarrassed to be talking to Dean.
John's eyes widened as he watched the awkward exchange.
Dean blinked, suddenly dumb founded as he stared at her perfect face. He wanted to order, but no words crossed his lips as he actually gaped at her.
John snorted. Kids. "He'll have the same," he said with conviction as he yanked the menu from his boy's fingers and plopped it back behind the napkin holder.
"Sure," the young girl smiled, never looking once at John, as she blinked shyly at Dean and then slid easily back out into the crowd.
"Holy crap, she's hot." Dean offered up, his father laughing at his words.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you speechless around a girl, but son, you looked absolutely dumbfounded right there."
Dean blushed slightly and rolled his eyes at his father. He strained to see through the dimly lit bar, eyes searching out and holding on the pretty little waitress.
The weary hunters ended up two blocks from the bar, staying at the Sunny Inn - which was definitely a play on words, the place was dark, and really just a ratty excuse for a motel on the outskirts of town. They silently unloaded the Impala and stowed their gear inside the sparsely decorated motel room. Dean immediately dismissed himself to the shower, and John flung his tired body down against the lime green bedspread, sleep the only thing on his mind.
John nuzzled against the pillow listening to the sound of the shower pounding on the paper thin wall. He grinned smugly to himself at the thought of his eldest. That had been quite a little display at the bar earlier. The fire haired waitress had really done a number on his boy. He smiled. He found it funny to watch how Dean had danced lightly around the conversation for nearly an hour, Dean almost appeared shy in the encounter, and well, that was definitely a first. He had never seen his cocky, self assured boy at a loss for words, especially around a woman - this one had definitely taken Dean by surprise.
Suddenly the bathroom door flung open, steam wafting heavily into the motel room. John watched as his good looking, towel clad son moved quietly around the room, pulling out several nice shirts, pondering which one to wear. He smiled to himself; Dean probably assumed he was asleep and not watching this little show.
"Wear the blue one; it brings out your eyes." John mumbled as he rolled his stiff body from his stomach to lay his back, brown eyes gazing smugly at his eldest.
Dean's eyes lifted to rest on his Dad's, another embarrassed flush crept across his face. "Really?" he asked with hesitation.
"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it son."
Dean smiled and nodded at his Dad. He slipped on his boxers, his best blue jeans, the baby blue dress shirt, and moved quickly back to the bathroom.
The scent of aftershave floated from the bathroom.
"So, what's her name?" John asked curiously, as he folded his arms up behind his head and gazed at the paint chipped ceiling.
"Brianna." Dean said gleefully as he stuck his head back around the bathroom door, large grin decorating his face.
"She got a last name?" John inquired as he rolled his head to look at his ecstatic son.
"Boyd, Brianna Boyd," the words flowed lightly across Dean's lips as he flipped on the hair dryer and grinned happily to himself in the mirror.
So what you think? Review are welcomed and appreciated. It keeps me on the mark. Hugs- Denise
Woman in White
Member No.: 29,278
Joined: 29-December 07
A Million Little Pieces
John Winchester zipped up his heavy jacket, his brown eyes spanning the empty graveyard. He glanced over at his eldest; Dean’s sawed off resting in the curve of his arm as his body leaned slightly forward to read the old headstone. They'd been looking to dig up and burn the bones of one Victor Fleming, well know antique dealer from the early 1950’s and the current ugly poltergeist terrorizing Old Time Antiques just outside of Little Rock.
“So,” John’s eyebrows arched inquisitively, “You’ve been seeing this Brianna chick quite a bit, what’s up with that?”
Dean’s head rose from the grave marker to gaze sheepishly at his father, a slight flush spreading across his face.
“I really like her.” Dean offered almost shyly, “I’m meeting her Dad tonight” he offered.
John was amazed; this little lady had certainly done a number on his son. The hunters had made their temporary home in Murfreesboro, Arkansas for the last six weeks, catching hunts around the area, and then going back to the run down rented room they were staying in just outside of town. Dean was gone every night, spending time with Brianna Boyd. To say the father was shocked was an understatement; his boy never took to a girl like this before. The kid was really smitten.
“Meet the parents huh? - Big step there, kiddo.”
Dean’s shoulders shrugged slightly, his gleaming green eyes saying more than words ever could.
“Yeah, well you be careful son, a girl like that can break your heart. in a million little pieces.” The older man mumbled as he pushed the weeds aside from one of the headstones.
“Yatzee, Dean said happily, “looks like ole Victor is going down.” He nodded at the grave marker in front of him.
Dean rested his gun on the ground and reached over to grab one of the shovels from his Dad’s agile fingers. He shoved the metal implement against the cold hard soil and swiftly flung it over his shoulder, dirt and rock spraying out behind him. His father joined in momentarily and they dug silently for a few moments, the only sound, the heaving of their breath as they worked feverishly to uncover the bones.
Dean jumped down inside the grave, John getting the salt, kerosene, and matches from his backpack. The young hunter’s shovel broke through the old pine casket easily, and he grimaced as he took in the rotting bones of Victor Fleming. Sorry dude, time for you to go. He climbed out of the hole and took the salt canister from his father, thoroughly dousing the bones.
Suddenly the wind picked up, a large howl growing around them. John’s eyes grew wide. “Well, crap, was hoping this dude was not gonna show.”
The older man tossed the kerosene and matches toward Dean and grabbed up his salt filled shotgun, finger twitching eagerly against the trigger. “Come on you son of a bitch, show yourself.” He growled.
The ghost wavered behind Dean just as he was pouring the kerosene on the rotting bones.
“Down!” John yelled with urgency.
Dean dropped to the grass, body flat against the cold ground. He had never disobeyed an order, and he was not about to start today. The gunshot boomed above him as his father took out the ghost with one large spray of rock salt.
Dean rolled quickly across the damp grass and instantly stood back up. The match sizzled in his fingers as he tossed it into the hole, the decaying bones of Victor Fleming catching in a bright orange flame of light.
“Another one bits the dust.” Dean said softly as he gazed blankly at the fire.
Suddenly, John’s heart ached with a heaviness he hadn’t felt in quite awhile.
Sammy used to say that. He blinked sullenly at the flames as they darted higher into the dark starless sky.
“But Dad, I’m bringing him over here tonight to meet you; his name is Dean, Dean Winchester.” Brianna whined to her father.
“Well, you’re seeing way too him much of him; you’re never home with us.”
Howard looked irritably at his nineteen-year-old daughter.
“Am too, you’re just never home when I am Dad. I go to school, I work, and I have a life.” The fire haired girl yelled.
“Okay, if this guy is going to take up all your time, then we certainly need to meet him.”
The dark eyed man gazed unhappily at his oldest daughter as she moved quickly toward the front door.
“Isn’t he picking you up?” He blurted out curiously.
“No, he’s meeting me at the bar.”
“I can take you,” her father offered, attempting to make peace.
“Dad,” Brianna rolled her green eyes. “We’ve been living here for three months, and you haven’t taken me to work yet. It’s only three blocks; I can walk.”
With those words Brianna Boyd darted from the house, fixated on one thing, and one thing only, to meet up with the man of her dreams.
Dean sat happily in the corner booth of the Mallard Pub, beer bottle turning lightly around in his nimble fingers. Brianna had promised to meet him here tonight, she wanted to take him to her house, introduce him to her family. It was strange, but he actually wanted to meet them. What was going on with him? He had only known Brianna Boyd a couple of weeks, but in that time, he had been swept literally off his feet. She is everything I ever dreamed of. He smiled to himself, chugged down another large gulp of the lukewarm beer, and focused on the door.
The red haired beauty moved quickly down the street, bright smile decorating her petite face. She felt a light fluttering in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Dean again. She smiled warmly. She was falling in love with this stranger, this man she met a little over a month ago. She couldn’t explain it. She was so happy, happier than she ever thought imaginable in this dreary little town. She hadn’t understood why her step father had wanted to move here, but now, it seemed more tolerable. She shook her head silently, she loved her father more than life itself, but she was going to have to grow up sometime, cut the apron strings, and Dean Winchester, well, he was just the boy to make her do it.
She didn’t bother to look both ways as her feet stepped happily off the curb, nor did she comprehend the city bus as it barreled abruptly down against her.
Fourteen beers and five hours later, Dean still sat in the corner booth at Mallard’s Pub. He was numb now, a heavy knot resting in his chest. Where was Brianna? Why didn’t she show? He didn’t raise his head when his father’s voice boomed against his ears.
“Dean…what the hell are you doing? We got a hunt tomorrow?” John Winchester slid into the corner booth, eyes taking in his drunken son.
“Huh?” Dean looked up quizzically with bloodshot, damp eyes at his Dad.
John’s hard military heart softened and he looked distraughtly at his son. “Where’s Brianna?”
“Sh…she…didn’t ssshow.” Dean slurred.
Women… John’s brows furrowed in anger. “Come on son; let’s get the hell out of here.”
John grasped at Dean’s arms, tugging his intoxicated boy to his feet.
“No,” Dean whispered. He fought against father’s firm grip, arms pushing away as his body staggered forward.
John’s large hands reached out to grab a hold of Dean and stop him from falling face first to the floor.
Dean’s red rimmed eyelids looked forlornly at John. “But, D...Dad...she…she's the girl of my dreams.”
“Uh huh,” John said heatedly as he hoisted his eldest boy up against him, his strong arms wrapping tightly around the kid’s waist.
The father heaved in a heavy sigh as he moved them both slowly toward the door. He nodded lightly at the bartender as he practically carried his inebriated son from the bar.
“Thanks for calling me, Joe.”
Woman in White
Member No.: 29,278
Joined: 29-December 07
Okay- here is the next chapter. Hope it meets with your approval.
Thank you for reading and reviewing, you guys are the bestest!!
A Million Little Pieces
Father Knows Best?
John shouldered the burden of his intoxicated son as they both stumbled out the doorway and away from the smoke filled bar. He felt Dean’s limbs going limp, and he glanced down to see his son’s slack face. Can’t believe the kid drank so damn much he passed out. All ‘cause of a girl…. He shook his head in disbelief and moved his unconscious son up tighter against him. He side stepped quickly, tugged Dean along, allowing a middle aged couple to enter the bar.
The pair moved to the doorway of the pub hastily to escape the cold evening air. Their eyes cast a fleeting glance at the older man and his terribly drunken friend, but they were too engrossed in their conversation to pay them either much heed.
“Can you believe it,” the blonde haired lady whispered. “She was hit by a bus.
She worked here you know, served us dinner last week.”
“Wasn’t she the one with the red hair?”
“Yeah, Brianna I think that was her name.”
“Poor kid, she was so young.”
John stopped, eyes staring at the couple as they moved through the plate glass door. He hugged his precious burden up closer against his side. His chest constricted tightly and he shuddered in a large gulp of air. He watched as the door swung slowly closed, his mind racing furiously. Surely that wasn’t Brianna, Dean’s Brianna. He frowned and clutched his boy tighter up against him, shuffling them both silently toward the car.
Dean’s head ached like he had been hit by a two-by-four, pounding loudly as he tugged open his sleep encrusted eyelids. Where was he? He immediately recognized the low rumble of the Impala and blinked against the bright sun glaring through the windshield. He moved sluggishly against the black leather. How’d I get here? I don’t remember getting in the Impala? He glanced over to the driver’s side, his Dad’s face giving him a quick concerned glare.
“You okay? Don’t throw up in the car.” John said with slight distress.
Dean swallowed; his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, the distinct taste of excessive beer coating his fuzzy teeth.
“Man, I feel like crap,” the young hunter whispered.
“Well I suppose so, drinking half the damn bar.” John barked.
Memory flooded back to Dean and he straightened slightly in the seat, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. Brianna didn’t show up?
“How’d you find me?” he asked sluggishly.
“Joe- bartender called said you were drunk off your ass and I needed to come and get you. Loaded you in the car, cleaned out our room and hit the road.”
“Oh,” Dean whispered quietly. “Where are we?”
“On our way to Colorado, there’s a wolfling terrorizing the woods outside of Aspen. Not good for the ski season, thought it was time we blew out of that little town.”
Dean nodded slightly and crossed his arms, a sad frown ghosting across his pale face.
“I thought she really liked me,” Dean mumbled more to himself than to his Dad.
John eyeballed his hung-over son, wishing he could take the hurt away.
“You want to go back?” The older hunter offered, “We’re only a couple of hours out of town.” His brown eyes darted from the road to Dean’s face.
“No…no…I don’t.” Dean slumped dejectedly back against the passenger seat. I remember now why I don’t get too close, don’t want a girlfriend, ‘because it hurts too damn much. A low moan emanated from his whitish lips and he closed his weary eyes. Thoughts of Brianna flitted through his memory as he drifted back into hangover oblivion.
John Winchester sighed and looked at his overwrought son. He had almost spoken up, told Dean what he knew about Brianna, the words still setting heavily behind his lips. He just couldn’t do it. It would be better for Dean to think the girl just dumped him. John was a father after all, and he knew his son, knew Dean would feel responsible, would take the burden as his own. The girl walked in front of a bus for God’s sake, nothing Dean could have controlled. John shook his head silently and chewed contemplatively on the inside of his lower lip. His decision made, he pushed harder against the accelerator and the sleek black Impala barreled silently down the highway.
Dean’s lips curled up in a satisfied grin as he swallowed another gulp of beer. He gazed around the bar. He and Sam were in West Memphis, Arkansas, having just finished off a fire demon that had been causing havoc in the little town. Of course, they had found it, said the right chant, and sent it flaming back to hell. It had been a perfect ending to a long and difficult week.
He smiled to himself. This was just the kind of joint he liked, small, dingy, and yet large enough to get a good game of pool going and win some funds from the locals. He eyeballed his little brother who sat oblivious at a corner table, staring at the laptop screen. Sam looked exhausted, although he’d never admit it. Dean was well aware that this last hunt had taken a toll on his little brother. Sam had always been deathly afraid of fire and if it hadn’t been for people dying, Dean would have turned the hunt down, told Bobby to find someone else. But Sam had said he would suck it up, get through the hunt if it meant saving innocents. Yep, the last week had been stressful on his little brother, and Dean knew it. It was his job to fix the problem- now- a few days off, a warm bed, some hot food, and Sammy would be just fine. He would see to that.
The older brother swallowed a large gulp of his warm beer, stepped determinedly toward the pool tables, and looked attentively for his first victim.
“Hey, you look’n for a game?” Dean’s eyebrows waggled as he gazed at the half drunken man.
“Sure dude.” The guy slurred slightly.
“Fifty bucks to the winner?” Dean questioned, fingers setting the beer bottle on the edge of the pool table.
“Works for me,” the middle aged man smiled, nodded his head and began racking up the multicolored balls.
And here we go, Dean thought with a smile.
Sam felt someone looking at him and pulled his head from the computer. His fingers fumbled with the beer bottle as he glanced around the bar. Seeing nothing unusual, he chalked it up to exhaustion and relaxed back in the seat. His face settled on the black leather jacket, the intense green eyes laughing and shooting pool. Obviously, Dean had found his next victim. He smiled; the guy Dean was playing pool with looked like an accountant or something, totally out of his element in this bar. Maybe the dude was just out to have a little fun. Perfect catch, Sam thought. He nodded to the waitress who was waiting on the next table, finger pointing downward to his empty beer bottle.
The dark haired man stood silently in the corner, eyes glaring around the bar. He watched the young man with the pool cue with excessive interest. The kid was nice looking, neatly dressed, not overly flashy, just a normal looking guy. He smiled to himself; this kid was all over this pool game. He sucked on his beer bottle and let his tired eyes wonder around the bar, looking intently at all the faces, checking out all the patrons silently. He shook his head, pushed back from the bar stool and swallowed the rest of his beer. He gave the pool game one last look, staring hauntingly at the green eyed player. A coy smile curled to his lips as he moved silently out the front door.
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