Week 35: Dare: Go Home
[Go Home]
“We gonna go closer, Dad?” Matthew asks from the back seat. Dean glances over his shoulder, hesitating before he nods. It’s like Doc Brown’s best invention yet back there. Little green and brown army men are strung all across the Impala’s back seat and Dean has to blink a couple of times to make sure it’s all real.
“Yeah…” Dean says slowly then nods, like he’s working himself up to something. The ‘house’ is really just some burned remains. Two house fires in twenty-five years. It’s got a bad luck rap that won’t go away.
“We don’t have to,” Brooke says quietly, her hand creeping over to cover Dean’s.
“Yeah…we do,” Dean responds. This is why he brought them here; to see where the person he is was born and to share the little bit of home he remembers with them. He opens the door and looks over at Brooke, shooting her a grin that is too cocky and too bright to be real. “Come on, we’ll walk around and then we’ll go have pie at the diner where I once had pie with my dad.”
Of course he’d had pie with John hundreds of times after that but it’s the time in Lawrence that really sticks out in his mind.
Dean picks Matthew up and sits him on his shoulders. He doesn’t want Matthew wandering around in the broken glass and debris. His boots crunch as they wander through it, everything of value taken long ago. It takes him a minute to get his bearings.
“That was the kitchen,” he tells Matthew and Brooke who’s right behind him. He knows she hates getting dirty and this is so far from her idea of how to spend a day but she’s there because he needs wants her there. “Mom used to make sugar cookies and she’d dance with my Dad while they baked.” It is a memory that is half hazy in his head. Sometimes he thinks he made it up entirely because he needs it to be real.
“Sorta like you and Mom?” Matthew asks.
Dean nods. “Yeah…sorta. I think Dad was a better dancer then than I am now.” They move on closer to what’s left of the staircase.
“Upstairs is where my room was and where Uncle Sam used to sleep,” he continues the tour.
“Why didn’t Uncle Sam come with us?” Matthew asks, his head tilted up to the sky where a second floor might have once been.
Dean shakes his head in response. “Nah…Sammy didn’t want to come. He’d rather stay and read books…or something.” This was never home for Sam anyway. He gets a little lost staring up those stairs because he can remember running down them, Sam in his arms and so afraid he was going to drop his baby brother. He knows the place is burning behind him and he’s terrified his parents are both going to die. He doesn’t know how he’s going to take care of Sammy. He doesn’t know how he can listen to his dad because he’s four years old and he can’t take care of Sammy by himself.
Brooke’s hand is light on his shoulder and he doesn’t realize until he feels it that he got lost. He clears his throat, blinking away the tears in his eyes and pastes a smile on his lips. “Ready for some pie? I’m ready for some pie.”
“With ice cream?” Matthew asks, house forgotten and pie on his mind. At five he’s easy to distract.
“Of course with ice cream,” Dean nods as they turn around and start back toward the Impala. He reaches out his hand, taking Brooke’s in his. “You guys mind to much if we just head home after pie? Don’t feel much like staying in a motel tonight.”
Dean Winchester
Supernatural
634 words
“We gonna go closer, Dad?” Matthew asks from the back seat. Dean glances over his shoulder, hesitating before he nods. It’s like Doc Brown’s best invention yet back there. Little green and brown army men are strung all across the Impala’s back seat and Dean has to blink a couple of times to make sure it’s all real.
“Yeah…” Dean says slowly then nods, like he’s working himself up to something. The ‘house’ is really just some burned remains. Two house fires in twenty-five years. It’s got a bad luck rap that won’t go away.
“We don’t have to,” Brooke says quietly, her hand creeping over to cover Dean’s.
“Yeah…we do,” Dean responds. This is why he brought them here; to see where the person he is was born and to share the little bit of home he remembers with them. He opens the door and looks over at Brooke, shooting her a grin that is too cocky and too bright to be real. “Come on, we’ll walk around and then we’ll go have pie at the diner where I once had pie with my dad.”
Of course he’d had pie with John hundreds of times after that but it’s the time in Lawrence that really sticks out in his mind.
Dean picks Matthew up and sits him on his shoulders. He doesn’t want Matthew wandering around in the broken glass and debris. His boots crunch as they wander through it, everything of value taken long ago. It takes him a minute to get his bearings.
“That was the kitchen,” he tells Matthew and Brooke who’s right behind him. He knows she hates getting dirty and this is so far from her idea of how to spend a day but she’s there because he needs wants her there. “Mom used to make sugar cookies and she’d dance with my Dad while they baked.” It is a memory that is half hazy in his head. Sometimes he thinks he made it up entirely because he needs it to be real.
“Sorta like you and Mom?” Matthew asks.
Dean nods. “Yeah…sorta. I think Dad was a better dancer then than I am now.” They move on closer to what’s left of the staircase.
“Upstairs is where my room was and where Uncle Sam used to sleep,” he continues the tour.
“Why didn’t Uncle Sam come with us?” Matthew asks, his head tilted up to the sky where a second floor might have once been.
Dean shakes his head in response. “Nah…Sammy didn’t want to come. He’d rather stay and read books…or something.” This was never home for Sam anyway. He gets a little lost staring up those stairs because he can remember running down them, Sam in his arms and so afraid he was going to drop his baby brother. He knows the place is burning behind him and he’s terrified his parents are both going to die. He doesn’t know how he’s going to take care of Sammy. He doesn’t know how he can listen to his dad because he’s four years old and he can’t take care of Sammy by himself.
Brooke’s hand is light on his shoulder and he doesn’t realize until he feels it that he got lost. He clears his throat, blinking away the tears in his eyes and pastes a smile on his lips. “Ready for some pie? I’m ready for some pie.”
“With ice cream?” Matthew asks, house forgotten and pie on his mind. At five he’s easy to distract.
“Of course with ice cream,” Dean nods as they turn around and start back toward the Impala. He reaches out his hand, taking Brooke’s in his. “You guys mind to much if we just head home after pie? Don’t feel much like staying in a motel tonight.”
Dean Winchester
Supernatural
634 words