Broken Mirrors
Back in Wichita.
After the last time he was here, he never thought he would be back in the city. It had been hard enough coming back the last time; especially with the bad place he was in - fresh out of hell and wondering just what it was that Sam had gotten into during his absence.
If it wasn’t for the fact that his father had stashed a curse box in their old apartment, he probably never would have come back, even if it meant being able to see Chloe again.
He looked back at the house he had once lived in, a now abandoned building. Sam was still inside, tearing the place apart to look for the curse box. Dean was tired of the mundane task, and had decided literally tearing the place apart with a crowbar would save time so they could get the hell back on the road by morning.
Thus, his trek back into the snow to get the crowbar and a couple other tools out of the car. Stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jacket to fish out the keys for the trunk of the Impala, he surveyed the car out of habit.
That’s when he saw it.
What the -
Dean’s eyes locked on the cracked glass on the driver’s side mirror of the Impala. It had not been that way when he had gone into the house a little while ago. His jaw clenched as he scrutinized the damage before turning his gaze on the freckle-faced kid holding the slingshot about ten feet away.
The kid cursed under his breath, eyes widened in horror before he turned tail and ran.
Dean’s brow furrowed in annoyance. Of course the rugrat would run. He grit his teeth before chasing after the kid. He was going to get this kid’s father to cough up some cash to fix his car. He shouldn’t have to hustle pool to pay for the damage.
“Kid!” Dean called, glad that he knew the different escape routes around this neighborhood. He had had them memorized the first week after moving here. “KID!”
He was fast, Dean had to admit, but he wasn’t fast enough. Though maneuvering on the slippery ground because of the snow, Dean got a good hold on the back of the kid’s jacket.
“Get off me!” The kid yelled in irritation. He tried to yank his jacket out of Dean’s grip and when that failed, he aimed a kick at Dean’s shins.
“Hey!” Dean called in protest, dodging the kick. He glared down at the kid who stopped struggling, though he mirrored Dean’s glare. “You broke my mirror!”
“You parked illegally!” The kid retorted.
“Yeah, and I’m sure the local traffic cops appreciate you enforcing that with a slingshot.”
The kid frowned at him. “Whatever.”
Satisfied that the kid wasn’t going to try to run again, Dean let go of his jacket.
“Where do you live?” Dean asked, wanting to get back to helping Sam look for that damn curse box.
“Why?”
Of course the kid had to be a giant pain in the ass and ask questions.
“What d’you mean why? Your parents home?”
“You can’t….” His eyes widened in horror. “You can’t tell my mom! She’s sick. Really sick.”
Dean sighed. “Your dad then.”
He looked away, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “I don’t have one,” he replied. “My stepdad…he’d get really mad…I…He’d hit my mom…”
Whatever he was expecting as an answer, it certainly was not that. Dean looked down at the kid, who was looking back with sincerity in his big, hazel eyes.
“What’s your name?” Dean asked neutrally.
He was quite for a moment, seemingly debating on whether to give Dean his name. Finally, he spoke: “Sully.”
“Sully?” Dean asked, beginning to walk with the kid with no destination in mind. “That’s it?”
“No.” Sully stuffed his hands into his pockets, the slingshot hanging out in plain view.
Dean nodded, wondering why he was bothering to talk to Sully. The kid had broken the mirror on his car, and yet Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry. Sully had to be around eight or nine if Dean had to venture a guess, and living with a sick mother and possibly abusive stepfather wasn’t the best situation.
“You’re a good shot with that thing,” Dean said, nodding towards the slingshot.
“My uncle taught me,” Sully admitted with a small smile.
It was then that the voice cut through the cool air:
“Ryan Gabriel!”
“Man,” Sully muttered. He looked up at Dean. “I’m really sorry about the window…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said truthfully, brow furrowed. He recognized that voice.
“Ryan Gabriel Sullivan, if I have to yell for you one more time…”
As they rounded the corner, he realized why the voice sounded familiar. How many times had he heard it in his lifetime? Rosemary, though older than he remembered, was standing on the front porch with her hands on her hips.
“Always with the full name,” Sully muttered.
Dean’s opened his mouth in surprise for a moment. “I thought you said your name is Sully?”
“It is,” he shrugged, before jogging towards the house.
From the distance away, Dean watched as her eyes narrowed and she held out her hand. Grudgingly, Sully took the slingshot out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. She shook her head before looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes. Surprise registered on her features before a wide smile.
“I’ll be damned, Dean Winchester,” she voiced loudly. Rosemary stepped down from the porch, and crossed the front garden. Sully followed closely in curiosity. “Were you coming to say hello or just freeze in the cold?”
He’d been caught. There was no point in running. “Little of both,” he lied with a halfhearted smile.
“You know him?” Sully asked, confusion on his features.
“Dean and his brother used to live in the house behind us years ago,” Rosemary explained. She turned back to Dean, surveying him. Dean shifted under her gaze. “Look at you, all grown up.”
“It happens,” he admitted.
“You in town long?” She asked quickly.
“Oh, no…Sam and I -”
“He’s here, too?” Rosemary asked brightly. “Where are you staying?”
“Just a hotel further in the city,” Dean spoke. “We’ll be leaving soon…”
“Spending the holidays in a crap motel?” She repeated, scandalized at the thought. “Absolutely not. That settles it. You’re coming for dinner tomorrow. And if you think I’m taking no for an answer, you got another thing coming, boy.”
The holidays? It took Dean a moment to remember that the next day was Christmas Eve.
“That’s really nice of you, but -”
“Dinner is at 4:30 tomorrow,” Rosemary informed him, not letting him refuse her invitation. “You still like apple pie, don’t you?”
“My favorite,” Dean relented, knowing there was no way he could back out of it now.
“Oh, I remember, this old lady hasn’t lost her marbles yet,” Rosemary winked. “4:30. No need to bring anything!”
She turned, heading back towards the house with Sully in tow. He heard a bit of Rosemary telling Sully “Let’s go call your mom and find out when she’s getting here…” before the door closed behind them.
Dean sighed, scratching the back of his head.
Guess they had a dinner to go to the next day.
After the last time he was here, he never thought he would be back in the city. It had been hard enough coming back the last time; especially with the bad place he was in - fresh out of hell and wondering just what it was that Sam had gotten into during his absence.
If it wasn’t for the fact that his father had stashed a curse box in their old apartment, he probably never would have come back, even if it meant being able to see Chloe again.
He looked back at the house he had once lived in, a now abandoned building. Sam was still inside, tearing the place apart to look for the curse box. Dean was tired of the mundane task, and had decided literally tearing the place apart with a crowbar would save time so they could get the hell back on the road by morning.
Thus, his trek back into the snow to get the crowbar and a couple other tools out of the car. Stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jacket to fish out the keys for the trunk of the Impala, he surveyed the car out of habit.
That’s when he saw it.
What the -
Dean’s eyes locked on the cracked glass on the driver’s side mirror of the Impala. It had not been that way when he had gone into the house a little while ago. His jaw clenched as he scrutinized the damage before turning his gaze on the freckle-faced kid holding the slingshot about ten feet away.
The kid cursed under his breath, eyes widened in horror before he turned tail and ran.
Dean’s brow furrowed in annoyance. Of course the rugrat would run. He grit his teeth before chasing after the kid. He was going to get this kid’s father to cough up some cash to fix his car. He shouldn’t have to hustle pool to pay for the damage.
“Kid!” Dean called, glad that he knew the different escape routes around this neighborhood. He had had them memorized the first week after moving here. “KID!”
He was fast, Dean had to admit, but he wasn’t fast enough. Though maneuvering on the slippery ground because of the snow, Dean got a good hold on the back of the kid’s jacket.
“Get off me!” The kid yelled in irritation. He tried to yank his jacket out of Dean’s grip and when that failed, he aimed a kick at Dean’s shins.
“Hey!” Dean called in protest, dodging the kick. He glared down at the kid who stopped struggling, though he mirrored Dean’s glare. “You broke my mirror!”
“You parked illegally!” The kid retorted.
“Yeah, and I’m sure the local traffic cops appreciate you enforcing that with a slingshot.”
The kid frowned at him. “Whatever.”
Satisfied that the kid wasn’t going to try to run again, Dean let go of his jacket.
“Where do you live?” Dean asked, wanting to get back to helping Sam look for that damn curse box.
“Why?”
Of course the kid had to be a giant pain in the ass and ask questions.
“What d’you mean why? Your parents home?”
“You can’t….” His eyes widened in horror. “You can’t tell my mom! She’s sick. Really sick.”
Dean sighed. “Your dad then.”
He looked away, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “I don’t have one,” he replied. “My stepdad…he’d get really mad…I…He’d hit my mom…”
Whatever he was expecting as an answer, it certainly was not that. Dean looked down at the kid, who was looking back with sincerity in his big, hazel eyes.
“What’s your name?” Dean asked neutrally.
He was quite for a moment, seemingly debating on whether to give Dean his name. Finally, he spoke: “Sully.”
“Sully?” Dean asked, beginning to walk with the kid with no destination in mind. “That’s it?”
“No.” Sully stuffed his hands into his pockets, the slingshot hanging out in plain view.
Dean nodded, wondering why he was bothering to talk to Sully. The kid had broken the mirror on his car, and yet Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry. Sully had to be around eight or nine if Dean had to venture a guess, and living with a sick mother and possibly abusive stepfather wasn’t the best situation.
“You’re a good shot with that thing,” Dean said, nodding towards the slingshot.
“My uncle taught me,” Sully admitted with a small smile.
It was then that the voice cut through the cool air:
“Ryan Gabriel!”
“Man,” Sully muttered. He looked up at Dean. “I’m really sorry about the window…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said truthfully, brow furrowed. He recognized that voice.
“Ryan Gabriel Sullivan, if I have to yell for you one more time…”
As they rounded the corner, he realized why the voice sounded familiar. How many times had he heard it in his lifetime? Rosemary, though older than he remembered, was standing on the front porch with her hands on her hips.
“Always with the full name,” Sully muttered.
Dean’s opened his mouth in surprise for a moment. “I thought you said your name is Sully?”
“It is,” he shrugged, before jogging towards the house.
From the distance away, Dean watched as her eyes narrowed and she held out her hand. Grudgingly, Sully took the slingshot out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. She shook her head before looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes. Surprise registered on her features before a wide smile.
“I’ll be damned, Dean Winchester,” she voiced loudly. Rosemary stepped down from the porch, and crossed the front garden. Sully followed closely in curiosity. “Were you coming to say hello or just freeze in the cold?”
He’d been caught. There was no point in running. “Little of both,” he lied with a halfhearted smile.
“You know him?” Sully asked, confusion on his features.
“Dean and his brother used to live in the house behind us years ago,” Rosemary explained. She turned back to Dean, surveying him. Dean shifted under her gaze. “Look at you, all grown up.”
“It happens,” he admitted.
“You in town long?” She asked quickly.
“Oh, no…Sam and I -”
“He’s here, too?” Rosemary asked brightly. “Where are you staying?”
“Just a hotel further in the city,” Dean spoke. “We’ll be leaving soon…”
“Spending the holidays in a crap motel?” She repeated, scandalized at the thought. “Absolutely not. That settles it. You’re coming for dinner tomorrow. And if you think I’m taking no for an answer, you got another thing coming, boy.”
The holidays? It took Dean a moment to remember that the next day was Christmas Eve.
“That’s really nice of you, but -”
“Dinner is at 4:30 tomorrow,” Rosemary informed him, not letting him refuse her invitation. “You still like apple pie, don’t you?”
“My favorite,” Dean relented, knowing there was no way he could back out of it now.
“Oh, I remember, this old lady hasn’t lost her marbles yet,” Rosemary winked. “4:30. No need to bring anything!”
She turned, heading back towards the house with Sully in tow. He heard a bit of Rosemary telling Sully “Let’s go call your mom and find out when she’s getting here…” before the door closed behind them.
Dean sighed, scratching the back of his head.
Guess they had a dinner to go to the next day.