Fic: Ricochet
Title: Ricochet
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: ~3,600
Genre: gen, outsider POV, pre-series, teen!chesters
Characters: Sam, Dean, OCs
Summary: Dean's the coolest guy Reese and his friends ever met. He promises them a wild night out on the town, and they get that and more--way more than they bargained for ... but it's his 12-year-old little brother who ends up really making an impression.
Winchester’s dad was out of town, so party at his house tonight. Reese, Troll and Joe arrived at eight in Reese’s car, ready for anything. Usually, they hung around in Joe’s basement looking at girlie mags and drinking crappy beer, but Dean came to town and brought with him a sense of excitement and possibility heretofore unknown to them. The way he talked about hanging out tonight that afternoon at school, throwing out any number of outrageous things they might get up to, promised a night unlike any they’d had before.
Winchester greeted them at the door with a cool nod, glancing at the six-pack Reese was carrying and then looking away again like it was all in a day. Man, Winchester was cool.
Except that then there was his nerdy little brother sitting right there in the living room, giving them an impassive death stare. “Oh, goodie,” Joe muttered. “Maybe we need to take the party somewhere else,” he suggested.
“Sure,” Winchester said with a shrug. “You cool with going someplace else, Sammy?”
Sam also--barely--shrugged, though the death stare intensified. Safe to say he wasn’t happy with the idea. Well, too bad; he was going to have to get used to it.
“I meant ...,” Joe gestured out the house with jerks of his head, “a, you know, ‘adult party’ ... somewhere else.”
“Sure, whatever you want,” Winchester said coolly. “Sammy can come with us wherever.”
Winchester just wasn’t getting it. Joe lowered his voice and said a few things, then Dean said, loudly and evenly, “Sam’s coming with us. Period. Right, Sam?”
This time, Sam didn’t even nod; he just looked away, rolling his eyes. What a little brat.
“Aw, you got stuck watching your little brother?” Reese said more sympathetically, trying to smooth over the tension that had sprung up between Joe and Dean. “I can relate; I’ve got a little brat--oops, I mean brother--myself,” he said, and was gratified to hear his friends chortle at the kid’s expense.
“Always,” said Dean, grabbing a jacket. “Let’s go. Where were you thinking, the bar? I could really go for some pool.”
Troll snickered. “Not everyone has a fake i.d. like you, and your little brother would have to wait in the car.”
“Anyone can get into Mick’s; you only have to show i.d. if you want to drink. And they have a pool table,” Dean informed them, all business, like a jewel thief might plan a heist. Seriously, he was the coolest thing to hit town since the Geiger twins.
“Yeah? Well, do you plan on using that fake i.d. to get us some beer?” Joe returned, still irritable.
“Sure,” said Dean. He paused at the door to look back at the rest of them, since only Sam had followed, grabbing his book and his own jacket without a word. “You coming or what?”
The rest looked at each other. Mick’s? It was on the bad side of town. Bad shit had gone down there; they’d seen it in the papers. If Dean did manage to get them some booze, they might get busted, not to mention that it would be really annoying having to look after his brother. Maybe Dean just didn’t know what kind of place Mick’s was. Someone should tell him ... but seeing his expectant, unconcerned expression, looking at them like they would be pussies if they objected ... they all got up and followed. Reese would never give anyone a reason to call him a pussy.
At Mick’s, Dean got them a pitcher of beer immediately, without any apparent trouble. They could see him working the bartender, who gazed briefly at their table then, utterly indifferent, pulled them their pitcher and handed it to Dean, who brought it to them. “I’m gonna ...,” Dean said, gesturing to the pool table. He exchanged a long look with Sam, at the end of which Sam got up, expressionless, and followed him.
Reese, Joe, and Troll sipped beer nervously. Truth be told, they were kind of hiding there in a dark corner, praying no one busted them, though no one was paying them any mind. This had sounded so cool in theory, but the reality was nerve-wracking and really not fun, sitting in a depressing bar with a bunch of scary guys, hoping not to get caught. They were afraid to even talk much to each other, so they watched Dean brashly taunt a few extra-scary-looking guys until they agreed to play pool with him for an outrageously large sum of money. Reese hoped Dean would be done with his game of pool soon so they could leave, but he would never say so. He made a few jokes and tried to sound badass and like he’d done this a million times before, then Joe started doing the same thing, telling what were probably lies about other, similar, better situations he’d supposedly found himself in, even though he was only sixteen like the rest of them. Still, Reese couldn’t help but wonder, as he always did, if Joe was lying out his ass or if everyone was just way cooler than Reese ever was. Well, it was what people thought of you that mattered, not what you were really like.
Dean came over in the middle of his game and knocked on their table, eyes shining, all jazzed and full of kinetic energy. He noted how full the pitcher still was and urged them to drink up, saying they’d have to leave after his game. He’d totally left Sam back there at the pool table with those scary guys. His back was completely turned to the kid. He wasn’t looking after him at all.
“Your little brother ...,” Reese couldn’t help but say. He had a little brother, too. Sam was lecturing Dean’s opponents in his nerdy way about the physics of pool and at what angle balls ricochet off a straight surface. Dean’s opponents were rolling their eyes at each other, getting pissed, but the kid didn’t seem to be getting the picture. Reese didn’t feel safe in this bar; he sure as fuck wouldn’t consider bringing his little brother here, and if he did, he’d never let him near those guys.
Dean glanced back at Sam, then looked again at Reese. “What about ’im?”
Reese stared at Dean for a minute, troubled. Dean had seemed so cool. For the first time, Reese got a weird feeling, like ... like there was something wrong with Dean. He just wasn’t like anyone else, and not in a cool way. Something was off, about him, about the way he treated his brother, the way he didn’t seem to get the vibe of this bar or its patrons, his single-minded focus on his pool game. It was like ... whatever he’d had in mind for tonight, it wasn’t just partying with buddies. Well, even if there was something wrong with him, Reese wouldn’t act like he was afraid of him. “Nothing,” Reese finally said.
Dean went back to the game. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with him. He really wasn’t getting the vibe at all. His taunts of the other players were getting dangerously insulting. He was showing off, rubbing in their faces how much better he was at pool than them (though he really wasn’t). It got to the point where Dean was making fun of them outright, going so far as to declare he’d bet them double-or-nothing that his ‘dweeby little brother’ could make the final shot. It was attracting the attention not only of the players’ friends, but of many other patrons in the bar, most of whom were entertained by the spectacle. They started trading bets on the little brother, as well, which Dean insisted upon getting in on.
Reese, Joe, and Troll were getting increasingly uncomfortable. There was going to be a fight. None of them wanted any part of it, but none of them dared admit it. Joe finally muttered, “I’m not letting this dickhead get me in a fight.” Reese was incredibly relieved Joe had provided an out for them, where they could save face. The pitcher of beer not even a third empty, they headed for the door. Joe and Troll just left, but Reese couldn’t seem to make himself, unable to take his eyes off the little brother, short and slight, right there in the middle of all this fuss his brother had created. He must have no idea of the danger his brother was cooking up; Sam was frowning slightly, but otherwise looked untroubled ... and unsurprised. If there was a fight, the kid would be mincemeat. Reese should get out of here so he didn’t have to see it ... but he couldn’t look away.
Dean built up Sam’s shot so much, it seemed impossible Sam could live up to all his bragging. A hush fell over the bar when Sam finally took the cue and aimed. Reese caught sight of Dean’s face, which for the first time wasn’t full of cocky bravado; now it was dead serious, watching intently. Reese would have expected a guy like Dean to make some threat to Sam about how he’d better make the shot--or at least help or coach him--but he stood back, as if surrendering the stage to his little brother, and didn’t seem overly worried about how it came out.
Somehow, Sam made the shot--a tough one, too, at an almost impossible angle, for which he had to use those physics of ricochet he’d been going on about. Tiny, identical smiles lit on both Dean and Sam’s faces. Oddly, Reese had to say, neither of them looked too surprised. In the ensuing uproar, Dean collected money efficiently, even nabbing it from the hands of arguing patrons with a polite thanks, then he hustled Sam out of there, grabbing Reese along the way. They piled into the car as Dean cackled over his winnings. “Drive, drive!” he shouted, waving him forward, and Reese beat it out of there as fast as he dared.
At least Dean acted normal about the money, so thrilled with himself about it and his unbelievably ballsy ploy. Now that they’d gotten out of there safely, and Dean was having such a good time, driving down country roads on a Friday night, the terror of the bar began fading and the night began to feel like they’d expected a night with crazy, wild Dean Winchester to feel. They all started getting loud, turning up the music and singing along, swearing and bragging and generally getting the party started. Only Reese still didn’t feel right. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror at Sam. Dean had whispered, “Nice job, Sammy” on the way to the car and given him a fist-bump after they got in, but that was his only acknowledgment that Sam was really the one who won him all that money. Yet, looking at Sam’s face now as he smiled slightly, gazing out the window, Reese could detect no resentment. Dean had endangered the kid and hadn’t handed him a single dollar for his trouble, but Sam seemed to feel ... safer now, somehow, like they were going to be all right. None of it made any sense.
“Where to now?” Troll hollered.
“How ’bout the grocery store?” Dean suggested, and was met with instant ridicule: “Oh, yeah, the GROCERY STORE! Party city!” and “The night’s gettin’ crazy, now!” Dean shrugged it off. “Well, whatever, but we should hit the store sometime tonight. I’ll buy you some beer--I’ve got the cash for it,” he said, grinning at them, waving his money at them. “As much beer as you want.”
Now the guys started throwing out ideas for things to do. Dean looked so bored by cow-tipping and shooting cans that those were quickly dismissed.
“I know,” piped up Sam. “We could go to the city and find an arcade.”
“Good idea,” said Dean, but Joe complained, “No way, kid; it’s 250 miles away!”
Dean shrugged with a wicked smirk. “Less than three hours, if you know how to drive. I could get us there before you know it.”
Reese, who really didn’t want to let anyone drive his car and who also had no desire to risk a ticket, said, “Arcades aren’t open that late. Only bars.”
Dean shrugged. “We could hit another bar.”
“No,” Reese, Troll and Joe all said quickly. When Dean laughed at them, teasing them about how his puny little brother wasn’t scared of the idea (he really wasn’t), Joe managed to sound so over the whole thing: “We already did that. We should do something different.”
“We could knock over a convenience store,” Dean said, so casually Reese burst out laughing, thinking he had to be joking, but then he saw from the look on his face that he wasn’t. He glanced in disbelief at Sam, who looked so unperturbed that Reese knew this was not a new idea to Sam, and maybe ... not a new experience?
“With what?” Joe sneered. Joe had always been Reese’s most badass friend, but it was becoming clear that was all bravado. He had always loved to talk the talk about exactly this kind of stuff ... but only a guy like Dean would walk the walk ... and evidently his little brother. “We don’t have any guns.”
“You don’t need a gun,” Dean said coolly. “You can use a knife, a crowbar ... anything, really.”
“Dad might be mad,” Sam said, and they all laughed, really hard ... until they saw he was dead serious, stating simple fact. He only ‘might’ be mad?!
Dean shrugged irritably. “All right, not ‘knock over.’ Just, you know ... ‘pick up a few things.’”
Reese and Troll glanced nervously at each other.
“You said the grocery store,” Sam responded. “Why don’t we just go there?”
Reese felt cold shoot through him--that wasn’t really what Dean meant when he suggested the grocery store, was it?? Robbing the store where his classmates worked? “Not in town,” Dean said shortly. “Not where we’re living, Sam, God. Hasn’t Dad taught you anything?”
“We have money,” Sam said crossly, “now, so yes we can go to the one where we’re living. And I want juice.”
“You’ll get your fuckin’ juice,” Dean growled.
“And some lettuce. I want a salad.”
“I’ll get you your fuckin’ salad, all right?” Dean shouted.
“And mayonnaise.”
“I told you this morning that we were gonna have groceries by tomorrow, didn’t I? And we will! So could you just relax and let us have a little fun first?!”
“I have homework.”
“It’s Friday night, Sam.” Dean was beginning to sound dangerous. Everyone else in the car was dead silent. They didn’t have any groceries? Seriously? That’s what that pool money was for? In Sam’s mind, anyway. What about Dean? He just wanted to use the money Sam won him to have fun? What kind of people were these Winchesters? Well, that is, Reese understood Sam, but what the hell kind of guy was Dean and, apparently, their dad? What kind of situation did that poor little kid live in, having to hustle pool for enough money to buy groceries and getting yelled at for trying to get some homework done? Being badass used to sound cool, but if this was what it really meant to be badass ... it sounded like a drag.
Sam had this air of confidence about him Reese had never seen in someone his age, like he knew exactly who he was and what life was all about. Maybe that wasn’t a wonder, with crazy, off-his-rocker Dean for a brother and a never-around useless dad who not only allowed this kind of thing to go on but, apparently, encouraged it. Sam seemed to be the only one who had any idea how to take care of oneself and do what needed to be done.
Reese had the distinctly awkward sensation of feeling intimidated by a twelve-year-old ... and kind of wishing he felt like he was cool enough to be the kid’s friend. Reese found himself wanting to hide behind Sam from Dean, who was turning out to be one of the most terrifying people Reese had ever known. Sam was their only chance of talking Dean out of doing something completely nuts, so the rest of the guys in the car sat perfectly silent, staring out the windows, pretending they couldn’t hear every word and nuance of the disturbing conversation.
Unfortunately, Sam seemed out of arguments. Reese could tell he didn’t back down because Dean had made him or scared him into it; it was more like he’d acquiesced to letting Dean have his fun, and he’d returned to sitting there silently, bewilderingly calm in the midst of this insanity.
Dean grinned at Reese. “I know! We should go out to that dirt road out to the lake. If you let me behind the wheel, I’m sure I can catch some air.”
Reese gulped. He’d never let himself look like a pussy in front of his friends. Not ever. As a consequence, he’d done some really stupid stuff he wished he hadn’t done, too. Truth be told, he could be pushed into just about anything. He glanced back at Sam, a little kid in a car full of guys twice his size who hadn’t been nice to him once all night, who wasn’t scared of them or their ridicule and who wouldn’t let anyone make him do anything he didn’t want to do. As the silence lengthened, even Sam looked over at Reese to see what was going on.
“N-no,” Reese managed to force out. It was the hardest word he’d ever had to say, but then every subsequent word got easier. “No. Let’s go to the grocery store and then ... maybe call it a night.” Glancing back at Sam, he had the small satisfaction of seeing an almost happy look come over his face. At least one person in the car would be getting what he wanted tonight.
Reese turned the car around and headed for the grocery store. When they arrived, Dean handed Sam most of the money and headed straight for the beer. Reese stuck close to Sam, doing his best to act like he wasn’t associated with the crazy dude who was loudly trying to explain how he could be 21 if the bagger--their classmate--said he was in high school with him. Sam hardly seemed to notice the ruckus up at the cash register, eagerly poring over the pasta salad. Reese grabbed a box of Tuna Helper. “This is pretty good,” he offered. Sam took the box, looking it over as if he’d never seen it before, thanked him, and put it in his cart.
“I love the store,” said Sam. “They have so much more here than at the convenience store. There it’s all chips and canned beef stew.” He glanced at Reese and seemed to see something in his face that he felt like he could connect with. “I’m the only one in the family who likes ... you know, food,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “Dad and Dean will eat anything. Plus, we don’t always have a kitchen. So ... I don’t know that much about this stuff. Is this good?” he asked, holding up another box, of some kind of cajun rice mix.
“It’s okay,” Reese shrugged, and grabbed a few jars of spaghetti sauce, handing them to Sam, “but this is my favorite.” Sam seemed glad for his opinion, looked them over, and added two of them to the cart just as Dean got kicked out of the store. Sam watched the spectacle briefly, shook his head, and turned back to his shopping.
Joe and Troll found them, their hands full of candy and soda. They too seemed to feel awkward to be hanging out with a little kid, but in standing up to Dean, Reese found somehow he’d just developed a degree of influence. When they saw him helping Sam and talking to him like he was one of their other friends, after a few minutes’ hesitation, they followed suit. They told him about their favorite things to eat, and he took a lot of their suggestions. They all spent a long time in the store, avoiding having to go back out there and face Dean.
When they were finally checking out, Troll turned to Sam. “Sorry about ....” Sam looked up at Troll curiously as Reese and Joe also eyed him surreptitiously. Reese felt compelled to apologize somehow, too--they’d been such jerks to him--but it was other stuff he really felt bad about: how his family didn’t have any money, and how he’d ended up with such a crazy family, and how he had to deal with a brother like Dean. Sam took everything Dean put him through--helped him out of the unbelievable situations he got himself into, even--without a second thought, like that was what he thought brothers were for. Well, brothers like Sam, anyway. Evidently, brothers like Dean were for screwing everything up and getting you into trouble and dragging you around with his friends when they were up to no good. From the way Troll stuttered, Reese guessed he was feeling all the same stuff. “... about the ... bar,” Troll ended up saying. Reese and Joe looked away, ashamed. They’d just left him in there.
Sam shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing the bills he’d won there together with a grin just before he turned to hand them to the clerk.
When they emerged from the store, they found Dean pacing near the car. “Finally!” he exploded. “Did you all get jobs there or something?! I thought I was gonna be out here all night!” He grabbed bags of groceries out of their hands and shoved them roughly in the trunk. “Hope you didn’t get anything frozen, Sammy, ’cos I thought of the perfect thing to do. It’s gonna be fun, you guys. I mean, if you’re up for a wild night--”
“No, Dean,” Reese said, slamming the trunk shut coolly and getting behind the wheel. “Night’s over. Go home and take care of your brother.”
~ The End ~
Notes:
- If you've read certain of my other stories ( Stuck, The Perfect Life, Three Times ...), you'll see I have a lot of sympathy for Dean having been made to take on the responsibility for taking care of Sam, but there is another side to that coin. Maybe John was sometimes so hard on Dean because he really ISN'T very responsible ....
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: ~3,600
Genre: gen, outsider POV, pre-series, teen!chesters
Characters: Sam, Dean, OCs
Summary: Dean's the coolest guy Reese and his friends ever met. He promises them a wild night out on the town, and they get that and more--way more than they bargained for ... but it's his 12-year-old little brother who ends up really making an impression.
Winchester’s dad was out of town, so party at his house tonight. Reese, Troll and Joe arrived at eight in Reese’s car, ready for anything. Usually, they hung around in Joe’s basement looking at girlie mags and drinking crappy beer, but Dean came to town and brought with him a sense of excitement and possibility heretofore unknown to them. The way he talked about hanging out tonight that afternoon at school, throwing out any number of outrageous things they might get up to, promised a night unlike any they’d had before.
Winchester greeted them at the door with a cool nod, glancing at the six-pack Reese was carrying and then looking away again like it was all in a day. Man, Winchester was cool.
Except that then there was his nerdy little brother sitting right there in the living room, giving them an impassive death stare. “Oh, goodie,” Joe muttered. “Maybe we need to take the party somewhere else,” he suggested.
“Sure,” Winchester said with a shrug. “You cool with going someplace else, Sammy?”
Sam also--barely--shrugged, though the death stare intensified. Safe to say he wasn’t happy with the idea. Well, too bad; he was going to have to get used to it.
“I meant ...,” Joe gestured out the house with jerks of his head, “a, you know, ‘adult party’ ... somewhere else.”
“Sure, whatever you want,” Winchester said coolly. “Sammy can come with us wherever.”
Winchester just wasn’t getting it. Joe lowered his voice and said a few things, then Dean said, loudly and evenly, “Sam’s coming with us. Period. Right, Sam?”
This time, Sam didn’t even nod; he just looked away, rolling his eyes. What a little brat.
“Aw, you got stuck watching your little brother?” Reese said more sympathetically, trying to smooth over the tension that had sprung up between Joe and Dean. “I can relate; I’ve got a little brat--oops, I mean brother--myself,” he said, and was gratified to hear his friends chortle at the kid’s expense.
“Always,” said Dean, grabbing a jacket. “Let’s go. Where were you thinking, the bar? I could really go for some pool.”
Troll snickered. “Not everyone has a fake i.d. like you, and your little brother would have to wait in the car.”
“Anyone can get into Mick’s; you only have to show i.d. if you want to drink. And they have a pool table,” Dean informed them, all business, like a jewel thief might plan a heist. Seriously, he was the coolest thing to hit town since the Geiger twins.
“Yeah? Well, do you plan on using that fake i.d. to get us some beer?” Joe returned, still irritable.
“Sure,” said Dean. He paused at the door to look back at the rest of them, since only Sam had followed, grabbing his book and his own jacket without a word. “You coming or what?”
The rest looked at each other. Mick’s? It was on the bad side of town. Bad shit had gone down there; they’d seen it in the papers. If Dean did manage to get them some booze, they might get busted, not to mention that it would be really annoying having to look after his brother. Maybe Dean just didn’t know what kind of place Mick’s was. Someone should tell him ... but seeing his expectant, unconcerned expression, looking at them like they would be pussies if they objected ... they all got up and followed. Reese would never give anyone a reason to call him a pussy.
At Mick’s, Dean got them a pitcher of beer immediately, without any apparent trouble. They could see him working the bartender, who gazed briefly at their table then, utterly indifferent, pulled them their pitcher and handed it to Dean, who brought it to them. “I’m gonna ...,” Dean said, gesturing to the pool table. He exchanged a long look with Sam, at the end of which Sam got up, expressionless, and followed him.
Reese, Joe, and Troll sipped beer nervously. Truth be told, they were kind of hiding there in a dark corner, praying no one busted them, though no one was paying them any mind. This had sounded so cool in theory, but the reality was nerve-wracking and really not fun, sitting in a depressing bar with a bunch of scary guys, hoping not to get caught. They were afraid to even talk much to each other, so they watched Dean brashly taunt a few extra-scary-looking guys until they agreed to play pool with him for an outrageously large sum of money. Reese hoped Dean would be done with his game of pool soon so they could leave, but he would never say so. He made a few jokes and tried to sound badass and like he’d done this a million times before, then Joe started doing the same thing, telling what were probably lies about other, similar, better situations he’d supposedly found himself in, even though he was only sixteen like the rest of them. Still, Reese couldn’t help but wonder, as he always did, if Joe was lying out his ass or if everyone was just way cooler than Reese ever was. Well, it was what people thought of you that mattered, not what you were really like.
Dean came over in the middle of his game and knocked on their table, eyes shining, all jazzed and full of kinetic energy. He noted how full the pitcher still was and urged them to drink up, saying they’d have to leave after his game. He’d totally left Sam back there at the pool table with those scary guys. His back was completely turned to the kid. He wasn’t looking after him at all.
“Your little brother ...,” Reese couldn’t help but say. He had a little brother, too. Sam was lecturing Dean’s opponents in his nerdy way about the physics of pool and at what angle balls ricochet off a straight surface. Dean’s opponents were rolling their eyes at each other, getting pissed, but the kid didn’t seem to be getting the picture. Reese didn’t feel safe in this bar; he sure as fuck wouldn’t consider bringing his little brother here, and if he did, he’d never let him near those guys.
Dean glanced back at Sam, then looked again at Reese. “What about ’im?”
Reese stared at Dean for a minute, troubled. Dean had seemed so cool. For the first time, Reese got a weird feeling, like ... like there was something wrong with Dean. He just wasn’t like anyone else, and not in a cool way. Something was off, about him, about the way he treated his brother, the way he didn’t seem to get the vibe of this bar or its patrons, his single-minded focus on his pool game. It was like ... whatever he’d had in mind for tonight, it wasn’t just partying with buddies. Well, even if there was something wrong with him, Reese wouldn’t act like he was afraid of him. “Nothing,” Reese finally said.
Dean went back to the game. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with him. He really wasn’t getting the vibe at all. His taunts of the other players were getting dangerously insulting. He was showing off, rubbing in their faces how much better he was at pool than them (though he really wasn’t). It got to the point where Dean was making fun of them outright, going so far as to declare he’d bet them double-or-nothing that his ‘dweeby little brother’ could make the final shot. It was attracting the attention not only of the players’ friends, but of many other patrons in the bar, most of whom were entertained by the spectacle. They started trading bets on the little brother, as well, which Dean insisted upon getting in on.
Reese, Joe, and Troll were getting increasingly uncomfortable. There was going to be a fight. None of them wanted any part of it, but none of them dared admit it. Joe finally muttered, “I’m not letting this dickhead get me in a fight.” Reese was incredibly relieved Joe had provided an out for them, where they could save face. The pitcher of beer not even a third empty, they headed for the door. Joe and Troll just left, but Reese couldn’t seem to make himself, unable to take his eyes off the little brother, short and slight, right there in the middle of all this fuss his brother had created. He must have no idea of the danger his brother was cooking up; Sam was frowning slightly, but otherwise looked untroubled ... and unsurprised. If there was a fight, the kid would be mincemeat. Reese should get out of here so he didn’t have to see it ... but he couldn’t look away.
Dean built up Sam’s shot so much, it seemed impossible Sam could live up to all his bragging. A hush fell over the bar when Sam finally took the cue and aimed. Reese caught sight of Dean’s face, which for the first time wasn’t full of cocky bravado; now it was dead serious, watching intently. Reese would have expected a guy like Dean to make some threat to Sam about how he’d better make the shot--or at least help or coach him--but he stood back, as if surrendering the stage to his little brother, and didn’t seem overly worried about how it came out.
Somehow, Sam made the shot--a tough one, too, at an almost impossible angle, for which he had to use those physics of ricochet he’d been going on about. Tiny, identical smiles lit on both Dean and Sam’s faces. Oddly, Reese had to say, neither of them looked too surprised. In the ensuing uproar, Dean collected money efficiently, even nabbing it from the hands of arguing patrons with a polite thanks, then he hustled Sam out of there, grabbing Reese along the way. They piled into the car as Dean cackled over his winnings. “Drive, drive!” he shouted, waving him forward, and Reese beat it out of there as fast as he dared.
At least Dean acted normal about the money, so thrilled with himself about it and his unbelievably ballsy ploy. Now that they’d gotten out of there safely, and Dean was having such a good time, driving down country roads on a Friday night, the terror of the bar began fading and the night began to feel like they’d expected a night with crazy, wild Dean Winchester to feel. They all started getting loud, turning up the music and singing along, swearing and bragging and generally getting the party started. Only Reese still didn’t feel right. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror at Sam. Dean had whispered, “Nice job, Sammy” on the way to the car and given him a fist-bump after they got in, but that was his only acknowledgment that Sam was really the one who won him all that money. Yet, looking at Sam’s face now as he smiled slightly, gazing out the window, Reese could detect no resentment. Dean had endangered the kid and hadn’t handed him a single dollar for his trouble, but Sam seemed to feel ... safer now, somehow, like they were going to be all right. None of it made any sense.
“Where to now?” Troll hollered.
“How ’bout the grocery store?” Dean suggested, and was met with instant ridicule: “Oh, yeah, the GROCERY STORE! Party city!” and “The night’s gettin’ crazy, now!” Dean shrugged it off. “Well, whatever, but we should hit the store sometime tonight. I’ll buy you some beer--I’ve got the cash for it,” he said, grinning at them, waving his money at them. “As much beer as you want.”
Now the guys started throwing out ideas for things to do. Dean looked so bored by cow-tipping and shooting cans that those were quickly dismissed.
“I know,” piped up Sam. “We could go to the city and find an arcade.”
“Good idea,” said Dean, but Joe complained, “No way, kid; it’s 250 miles away!”
Dean shrugged with a wicked smirk. “Less than three hours, if you know how to drive. I could get us there before you know it.”
Reese, who really didn’t want to let anyone drive his car and who also had no desire to risk a ticket, said, “Arcades aren’t open that late. Only bars.”
Dean shrugged. “We could hit another bar.”
“No,” Reese, Troll and Joe all said quickly. When Dean laughed at them, teasing them about how his puny little brother wasn’t scared of the idea (he really wasn’t), Joe managed to sound so over the whole thing: “We already did that. We should do something different.”
“We could knock over a convenience store,” Dean said, so casually Reese burst out laughing, thinking he had to be joking, but then he saw from the look on his face that he wasn’t. He glanced in disbelief at Sam, who looked so unperturbed that Reese knew this was not a new idea to Sam, and maybe ... not a new experience?
“With what?” Joe sneered. Joe had always been Reese’s most badass friend, but it was becoming clear that was all bravado. He had always loved to talk the talk about exactly this kind of stuff ... but only a guy like Dean would walk the walk ... and evidently his little brother. “We don’t have any guns.”
“You don’t need a gun,” Dean said coolly. “You can use a knife, a crowbar ... anything, really.”
“Dad might be mad,” Sam said, and they all laughed, really hard ... until they saw he was dead serious, stating simple fact. He only ‘might’ be mad?!
Dean shrugged irritably. “All right, not ‘knock over.’ Just, you know ... ‘pick up a few things.’”
Reese and Troll glanced nervously at each other.
“You said the grocery store,” Sam responded. “Why don’t we just go there?”
Reese felt cold shoot through him--that wasn’t really what Dean meant when he suggested the grocery store, was it?? Robbing the store where his classmates worked? “Not in town,” Dean said shortly. “Not where we’re living, Sam, God. Hasn’t Dad taught you anything?”
“We have money,” Sam said crossly, “now, so yes we can go to the one where we’re living. And I want juice.”
“You’ll get your fuckin’ juice,” Dean growled.
“And some lettuce. I want a salad.”
“I’ll get you your fuckin’ salad, all right?” Dean shouted.
“And mayonnaise.”
“I told you this morning that we were gonna have groceries by tomorrow, didn’t I? And we will! So could you just relax and let us have a little fun first?!”
“I have homework.”
“It’s Friday night, Sam.” Dean was beginning to sound dangerous. Everyone else in the car was dead silent. They didn’t have any groceries? Seriously? That’s what that pool money was for? In Sam’s mind, anyway. What about Dean? He just wanted to use the money Sam won him to have fun? What kind of people were these Winchesters? Well, that is, Reese understood Sam, but what the hell kind of guy was Dean and, apparently, their dad? What kind of situation did that poor little kid live in, having to hustle pool for enough money to buy groceries and getting yelled at for trying to get some homework done? Being badass used to sound cool, but if this was what it really meant to be badass ... it sounded like a drag.
Sam had this air of confidence about him Reese had never seen in someone his age, like he knew exactly who he was and what life was all about. Maybe that wasn’t a wonder, with crazy, off-his-rocker Dean for a brother and a never-around useless dad who not only allowed this kind of thing to go on but, apparently, encouraged it. Sam seemed to be the only one who had any idea how to take care of oneself and do what needed to be done.
Reese had the distinctly awkward sensation of feeling intimidated by a twelve-year-old ... and kind of wishing he felt like he was cool enough to be the kid’s friend. Reese found himself wanting to hide behind Sam from Dean, who was turning out to be one of the most terrifying people Reese had ever known. Sam was their only chance of talking Dean out of doing something completely nuts, so the rest of the guys in the car sat perfectly silent, staring out the windows, pretending they couldn’t hear every word and nuance of the disturbing conversation.
Unfortunately, Sam seemed out of arguments. Reese could tell he didn’t back down because Dean had made him or scared him into it; it was more like he’d acquiesced to letting Dean have his fun, and he’d returned to sitting there silently, bewilderingly calm in the midst of this insanity.
Dean grinned at Reese. “I know! We should go out to that dirt road out to the lake. If you let me behind the wheel, I’m sure I can catch some air.”
Reese gulped. He’d never let himself look like a pussy in front of his friends. Not ever. As a consequence, he’d done some really stupid stuff he wished he hadn’t done, too. Truth be told, he could be pushed into just about anything. He glanced back at Sam, a little kid in a car full of guys twice his size who hadn’t been nice to him once all night, who wasn’t scared of them or their ridicule and who wouldn’t let anyone make him do anything he didn’t want to do. As the silence lengthened, even Sam looked over at Reese to see what was going on.
“N-no,” Reese managed to force out. It was the hardest word he’d ever had to say, but then every subsequent word got easier. “No. Let’s go to the grocery store and then ... maybe call it a night.” Glancing back at Sam, he had the small satisfaction of seeing an almost happy look come over his face. At least one person in the car would be getting what he wanted tonight.
Reese turned the car around and headed for the grocery store. When they arrived, Dean handed Sam most of the money and headed straight for the beer. Reese stuck close to Sam, doing his best to act like he wasn’t associated with the crazy dude who was loudly trying to explain how he could be 21 if the bagger--their classmate--said he was in high school with him. Sam hardly seemed to notice the ruckus up at the cash register, eagerly poring over the pasta salad. Reese grabbed a box of Tuna Helper. “This is pretty good,” he offered. Sam took the box, looking it over as if he’d never seen it before, thanked him, and put it in his cart.
“I love the store,” said Sam. “They have so much more here than at the convenience store. There it’s all chips and canned beef stew.” He glanced at Reese and seemed to see something in his face that he felt like he could connect with. “I’m the only one in the family who likes ... you know, food,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “Dad and Dean will eat anything. Plus, we don’t always have a kitchen. So ... I don’t know that much about this stuff. Is this good?” he asked, holding up another box, of some kind of cajun rice mix.
“It’s okay,” Reese shrugged, and grabbed a few jars of spaghetti sauce, handing them to Sam, “but this is my favorite.” Sam seemed glad for his opinion, looked them over, and added two of them to the cart just as Dean got kicked out of the store. Sam watched the spectacle briefly, shook his head, and turned back to his shopping.
Joe and Troll found them, their hands full of candy and soda. They too seemed to feel awkward to be hanging out with a little kid, but in standing up to Dean, Reese found somehow he’d just developed a degree of influence. When they saw him helping Sam and talking to him like he was one of their other friends, after a few minutes’ hesitation, they followed suit. They told him about their favorite things to eat, and he took a lot of their suggestions. They all spent a long time in the store, avoiding having to go back out there and face Dean.
When they were finally checking out, Troll turned to Sam. “Sorry about ....” Sam looked up at Troll curiously as Reese and Joe also eyed him surreptitiously. Reese felt compelled to apologize somehow, too--they’d been such jerks to him--but it was other stuff he really felt bad about: how his family didn’t have any money, and how he’d ended up with such a crazy family, and how he had to deal with a brother like Dean. Sam took everything Dean put him through--helped him out of the unbelievable situations he got himself into, even--without a second thought, like that was what he thought brothers were for. Well, brothers like Sam, anyway. Evidently, brothers like Dean were for screwing everything up and getting you into trouble and dragging you around with his friends when they were up to no good. From the way Troll stuttered, Reese guessed he was feeling all the same stuff. “... about the ... bar,” Troll ended up saying. Reese and Joe looked away, ashamed. They’d just left him in there.
Sam shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing the bills he’d won there together with a grin just before he turned to hand them to the clerk.
When they emerged from the store, they found Dean pacing near the car. “Finally!” he exploded. “Did you all get jobs there or something?! I thought I was gonna be out here all night!” He grabbed bags of groceries out of their hands and shoved them roughly in the trunk. “Hope you didn’t get anything frozen, Sammy, ’cos I thought of the perfect thing to do. It’s gonna be fun, you guys. I mean, if you’re up for a wild night--”
“No, Dean,” Reese said, slamming the trunk shut coolly and getting behind the wheel. “Night’s over. Go home and take care of your brother.”
~ The End ~
Notes:
- If you've read certain of my other stories ( Stuck, The Perfect Life, Three Times ...), you'll see I have a lot of sympathy for Dean having been made to take on the responsibility for taking care of Sam, but there is another side to that coin. Maybe John was sometimes so hard on Dean because he really ISN'T very responsible ....