Teufelshunde 2/6
Title: Teufelshunde 2/6
Rating: R
Genre: Gen, AU
Spoilers: None yet, eventually everything.
Warnings: Drunken tomfoolery.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. And that’s probably for the best, really.
Notes: Written for Sweet Charity and the lovely, generous counteragent, who was kind enough to go along with this. Beta'd by indomitable, unsinkable pdragon76. All quotes from Generation Kill by Evan Wright. All text messages from TFLN. Fabulous graphics by animotus!
Summary: An enemy mortar explodes nearby. A mortar blast is different from artillery.
Prologue
Chapter One
Art courtesy of animotus!
Teufelshunde 2/6
An enemy mortar explodes nearby. A mortar blast is different from artillery. You hear the blast as an artillery shell is fired, then the sound of it whizzing through the sky, followed by the boom as it hits. Mortars come out of nowhere. There's no warning, just a blast, and a column of black smoke where it hits. If they're close you feel a sharp increase in the air pressure. The sonic vibrations make the hairs on your body tingle, and your teeth feel numb for an instant.
2011:
The spaghettios are perfect. They taste like processed tomatoes with a hint of tin can.
"What did DeeDee use to call these?"
Dean smiles crooked. "The noodle-free noodles."
"Cause you don't have to use your noodle."
They don't talk for a while. Sam is thinking about DeeDee. Dean is thinking about how, as far as last suppers went, this isn't half bad.
"...and you finally started talking again?" Sam is in the middle of his question before Dean realizes they were having a conversation.
"Huh?"
"I said, do you remember why you stopped talking. Before DeeDee's."
"No," Dean lies.
"I don't either. I remember when you started though."
"July fourth, nineteen-ninety."
"You wanted pickles on your burger."
"Onions."
"Yeah. You asked for more onions."
"I thought she was gonna cry."
"She did," Sam says. "Later."
"I don't remember that."
"I went inside to get the graham crackers for the smores. She was in the pantry."
"Damn."
"She was happy, Dean."
"I know that. I just--I made a lot of trouble for her. A lot."
"She loved you."
"Okay, then. I'm gonna get the tequila."
"Come on, man."
"Sam, you wanna talk about DeeDee. This is not a conversation I can have sober."
"Fine. Just--finish your spaghettio's first."
They clean their plates in silence. Outside, the night is moonless. The stars burn with special fury nowadays. There are no city lights left anymore. It is Topeka, Kansas and they are the only humans in a hundred mile radius. Dinner tastes like civilization.
Another mortar bangs outside. Person smiles. "You know that feeling before a debate when you gotta piss and you've got that weird feeling in your stomach, then you go in and kick ass?" he says. "I don't have that feeling now."
1990:
"Hello, Dean."
Dean kicked his feet against the metal legs of his school chair. He stared at the bulletin board.
"Dean," DeeDee said, "Mr. Adamson and I wanted to talk to you today about something important."
Dean shrugged.
"I'm gonna give it to you straight," Mr. Adamson said. He was a youngish man, fresh out of college, with bad hair and unstarched shirts. DeeDee trusted him. "School isn't your thing. I understand that. But it's something you're going to have to put up with for a little while longer. And if we keep on the way we're going, we're going to start running out of options."
Dean turned and faced the teacher for the first time.
"What Mr. Adamson is saying is that things don't change, they're going to put you on a different track."
He turned and looked at DeeDee, the question on his face.
"They'll move you to a different school," she said bluntly. "They'll move you to another school and you won't be able to ride the bus with Sam. You won't be able to pick him up after school."
"I don't want that," Mr. Adamson said. "I don't want to do that at all. But the school has rules, even if I think they're dumb."
"So Mr. Adamson and I need your help."
"You don't have to do anything big," Mr. Adamson said. "You don't have to start talking until you're ready. But you do need to be more engaged in class."
Dean turned his hands palms up, lifted them in frustration.
"I mean," the teacher clarified, "that I need you to start turning in assignments. If you want to stay close to Sam, I need you to do some of the reading. And the in-class assignments. We can negotiate on homework. I think we should meet again at the end of the month, see where we're at, and make adjustments if we need to."
Dean nodded, face white and closed.
They never needed to meet again. Dean didn't talk at school, but he turned in every stupid worksheet, every scrap of homework, and even wrote down some of his answers to the questions Mr. Adamson asked in class. And on the last day before Christmas break, he turned to his now favorite teacher.
"See you next year."
1991:
"'Lo?"
"Kelsey?"
"Dee?"
"You need to come over."
"Have you called the cops yet?"
"What? No. The boys are at a sleepover."
"Oh thank God. What's wrong?"
"I have all this wine. I'm alone. And I have all this wine."
"Shit. I completely forgot."
"I don't want people to have to remember me. And my pathetic life. And my sad, sad basement full of sad, sad things."
"Okay. Don't drink anymore. I'm on my way. Have you eaten anything?"
"I found his ring today, his high school ring. He thought I was beautiful."
"I'll bring some pizza."
DeeDee was still on her back on the cement basement floor when Kelsey showed up.
"Did you know he was Valedictorian? I didn't know that."
"No," Kelsey said. "But I'm not surprised. Here, eat this. Your husband was the most uptight prick that ever lived in Llano. Until he met you."
"He was, wasn't he? Took me two months, but I finally got him into bed. And you know what he said to me in the morning?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"He said 'Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to treat you so indecently.' I laughed so hard I cried."
"Sounds like him."
"Sometimes I look at the boys, and I think 'Damn. This would be so much easier with him around.' And then...and then sometimes I wish they were mine outright. And then sometimes I wish they were ours outright. The boys we were supposed to have. And I hate their mother for dying and I hate their stupid father for getting locked up. Because I wish they were just mine. Does that make me a horrible person?"
"No, Dee." Kelsey reached out, stroking Dee's hair. It was something that she did for her own children, when they were inconsolable.
"We were gonna have boys. We were gonna have three. And Gideon wanted to give them Bible names, but I said over my dead body. I was gonna name 'em Robert, Kevin, and Derek."
"Those are good names."
"Kelsey?"
"Yeah?"
"I miss my husband."
"I know, baby. I know."
DeeDee curled up on the floor and cried for a long time. Her husband had been dead for exactly six years. Kelsey stroked her hair and drank wine out of the bottle and waited for it to pass. Dee hadn't been this bad since that first anniversary, when Kelsey had found her in the parking lot of the Texaco by the highway.
"Sorry," Dee said after a while.
"Don't be sorry. Come on. Help me out here. We've got all this wine to drink."
"Okay."
"You wanna go upstairs?"
"No."
"Okay."
"I just want to eat pizza and get drunk."
"We can do that. Where did you say the boys were?"
"At Sue Gregg's for a sleepover."
"You sent Dean to a third grade sleepover?"
"Had to," Dee said, around a mouthful of pizza. "Dean was worried about Sam being alone. Sam was worried that Dean was worried. Sam wanted to go, but he couldn't go if Dean was going to be worried the whole time. So I sent them both."
"Did you at least warn Sue first?"
"Sure. I warned her there was a neurotic, twelve year old adult coming over, and that he wouldn't play with the other boys 'cause he'd feel like a burden. But he'd be happy to do chores around the house. She called back a couple hours ago."
"And?"
"And she says you can eat off her garage floor now."
1992:
DeeDee laced her fingers together on the table. On either side, the boys traded looks. Sam squirmed in his chair. After a moment, Dean crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"I wanted to wait until you were both home to talk about this."
"You didn't need to," Dean said. "We know what this is about."
"Excuse me?"
"You're sending me back. I knew you would. Eventually."
She was dumbstruck.
Sam gasped, gripped the tabletop and dug his nails in. "DeeDee, please. We'll do better. We'll--"
"Don't bother, Sammy. She's made up her mind."
"Jesus--no." She finally found her voice. "Nobody's going anywhere. Okay? Nobody's going anywhere."
Sam exhaled. Dean narrowed his eyes.
"I wanted to talk about our legal options."
"Legal options?" Dean asked, uncrossing his arms.
"Right now, as a foster parent, I have certain rights. Temporary guardianship. But, technically, that could be revoked at any time. I don't plan on that happening, I'd fight it, and so would Kelsey."
"But they could still do it," Sam said. "They could still move us, take us away."
"Technically."
"Big fucking surprise."
"Dean. Language." Oh God. I really am turning into my mother. "There is something I can do to make sure you two stay together. But we need to talk it over first. Now, you can say no. And we'll keep on the way we've been going. You can say no, and that's fine." It'll kill me. But it'll be fine.
"We're listening," Dean said.
"You'd stay together and you'd stay with me. Permanently. If I legally adopted you."
"We have a dad."
"I know that, Dean. I know that. And he'd still be your dad. I would just be a legal parent, on paper." Just on paper. "I would assume the legal rights that, currently, the state has. And that way, nobody could break you up. Nobody could move you."
"What if we just want to wait for Dad?" Dean pointed his chin up, challenging.
He's gonna make me say it, isn't he?
"Dean," Sam warned.
"The court stripped your father of all custody rights when he was sentenced. He can't ever live with you again. And you're legally barred from all contact before you turn eighteen." He made me say it.
The boys didn't speak. Sam looked nonplussed, just another piece of information to file away for later. Dean swallowed, slowly, and sat up a little straighter in his chair.
"And nobody could break us up. Ever."
"Never."
"We need to think about it."
"Okay. Take as much time as you want."
It only took a day. By the end of the year, she was the legal mother of Dean and Sam Winchester.
1996:
(D): I feel like tequila is Gods way of lighting my fuse to do something awesome
Sam sighed, tossed the phone on the bed next to him. DeeDee was working tonight, thank God. She was out with Mr. Pearson who, according to her, liked to tell stories about the storming of Normandy and attempt to cop a feel. Sam always laughed, but Dean never did.
Dean, who was probably with his friend Jorge drinking tequila, was concerned about Mr. Pearson's morals. Sam didn't get it. He also didn't get pre-algebra. Which was disheartening because he was pretty sure you needed pre-algebra to get algebra. And you needed algebra to get trig and trig to get calculus. Essentially, his academic future rested on pre-algebra.
"I come from the land of the ice and snow where the...hot chicks drink...and the..."
"Dean?" Sam leaned backwards, looked out to where Dean's F-150 was still sitting the driveway. He and Jorge had probably walked home. Good.
"Helloooooo," his brother slurred, sliding into Sam's frame of vision. "Little pig, little pig, get your ass out here and unlock the door. What are you working on, anyway?"
"The quadratic formula," Sam said, not moving a muscle. He had no interest in aiding and abetting his brother's debauchery.
"Sweet. I love that shit. Let me in, and I'll teach you my favorite menenonic...nememonic...remembery trick."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): I'm laying in our front yard are you home
"Unbelievable," Sam muttered. He rolled over and looked out the window. The Corolla was back, so DeeDee was home. Which was why his brother couldn't come in without waking her up. He needed Sam to open their bedroom window and haul his drunk ass inside. Preferably very quietly. He opened the old, glass pane window and looked out. Dean was not, in fact, in the front yard.
"Unbelievable," he repeated. It was increasingly difficult for Sam to climb out of the window. He was getting taller, and he hadn't really figured out how to fit all his limbs through without falling on his ass. This time, at least, he landed on all fours. Didn't take long to find Dean. He was on the neighbor's lawn. And he smelled like PBR and pot. Sam extended a hand.
"Jorge's a bad influence." He hauled Dean upright, steadying his brother with a hand.
"He is. And I love him for it. I love him, his hot little sister, and his fake ID. Love."
"Keep it down. You get loud when you drink. She's gonna hear."
Unbeknownst to Sam, DeeDee was already listening from her bedroom door. They made a hell of a lot of noise getting inside. They tried to be stealthy about it, but quite frankly, they were pathetic. She'd made an art of sneaking out and into her house back in the day. And that was the eighties. If Dean ever had to contend with stiletto heels, spandex, and chandelier earrings, he'd be a sorry mess. When she got caught, her parents had responded with prayer, corporal punishment, prayer, and mandatory fasting days. After her sophomore year, she was too good to catch. So, yeah, she'd rather the boys be loud. At least she'd know where they were. After her day shift with Mr. Pearson, she called Kelsey.
"I think I'm in trouble."
"I'll call you when I get home."
"Okay. Sam's got soccer till five thirty. They'll stop for a coke. And Dean will probably have a cigarette--I know, I know. So, they'll be back around six."
"Call you in half an hour."
In the meantime, DeeDee made out the grocery list. That was the only chore she was permitted to do. The boys had been with her for two weeks when she realized that somebody was cleaning the bathroom and it definitely wasn't her. When confronted, they both denied it. The trash got taken out, the dishes got washed, the floors got swept. Jesus, she'd thought, They're afraid I'm going to send them back. No. They're afraid I'm going to send Dean back. She'd called Kelsey then, too, and Kels had told her it was just a relief to hear they were taking some ownership of the household. Kels had said not to worry about it, just feed them regular, and make sure they got to school. She said that was more than enough.
So DeeDee considered the grocery list. Before the boys, she'd never needed to measure things by weight. When it was just her and Gideon and then, when it had been just her, she eyeballed everything. Six or so apples, a box or two of cereal, some oatmeal, a few chicken breasts. Now every trip the grocery store was like the invasion of Normandy. It required planning, intense thought, angst, and contingencies. She checked the fridge and, sure enough, someone had clipped all the coupons from the Sunday paper. The edges were a little crooked, so it was probably Dean this week. Always afraid to be a burden.
They both liked bananas, so she'd need three big bunches of those. There was a coupon for Lucky Charms, which Sam claimed he'd outgrown. But she and Dean knew better. She could get several of those. Five pounds of chicken breasts. Ten pounds of ground chuck, if she was going to make lasagna on Wednesday and burgers on Saturday. Tuna and cream of mushroom, so she could leave a good casserole on Tuesday night. A pot roast, so she could set that in the oven for her Friday night shift. And lunch meat. Oh, Lord, the lunch meat. Apparently turkey and cheddar were on sale. The boys weren't too particular. And oranges--at least ten pounds of those. The boys didn't love 'em, but they'd eat 'em--and they were cheap right now. Ten pounds of potatoes, more ketchup, more mustard, hot dogs and buns, sweet potatoes, frozen peas for the casserole...
The phone rang.
"Hey, Kels."
"How's it going?"
"I'm making a shopping list. I'm not sure if I'm feeding two boys or a football team."
"Just wait until they start bringing friends over."
"Jorge comes by sometimes, but--"
"Jorge Delacruz?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Kels sighed. "He's harmless. Mostly. Drinks and smokes a lot of pot."
"That's kind of why I called."
"Fire away."
"Dean's drinking. Not every night, but he sneaks out on the weekends. And I think I caught him high once. Either that, or real hungover."
"Oh," Kels said, relieved. "Is that it?"
"Is that...I just told you that my ward is drinking underage."
"Is he driving? Or in a car with someone who is?"
"No, they mostly do it at Jorge's place. He walks home."
"Is he missing school?"
"No. He skipped class once, but the principal called the day of. I brought it up at dinner--I think he was mortified he got caught. Never happened again."
"Is he getting into fights at school?"
"A couple, but not since Sam got to middle school. I'm sure there'll be a couple more when Sam's a freshman."
"Is Dean displaying any violent tendencies? Towards you, his brother, or any third party?"
"Good God, no."
"Do you suspect anything harder than pot?"
"No."
"Is he having sex?"
"I'll say."
"Protected?"
"I found an economy pack of Trojans under his bed last week."
"Do you think he is in any way a danger to himself or others?"
"Maybe to his future liver function. But honestly, I feel safer with him in my house than without."
"Then I think you're good."
"Jesus, Kelsey, I'm trying to tell you I've got a p--"
"I won't tell you what's in Dean's file, Dee. Not just because I can't, but because I won't. But I want you to know that my assumption, when I placed him with you, was that he would bounce out by the end of the week. And end up dead or in prison before the age of eighteen."
"You don't mean that."
"I do," Kelsey said bluntly. "At the time, I thought the best we could do with those boys was to split 'em up. That Dean was dead weight, and the only way Sam would have a chance in hell was if he got away from his brother."
"I don't believe you."
"You would if you'd seen the files I've seen. DeeDee, I don't know what it is you're doing for those boys, but if I had my way, I'd clone you and send you out all over the state."
"Oh, bullshit. I don't even know what I'm doing half the time."
"This morning, one of my fosters came into my office and offered me sexual favors in return for an emergency transfer. That was the way he'd grown up. That was the only way to get things. You're doing good."
1997:
(D): so explain again why im purple
(S): no
"I'm thinking rubbing alcohol." Dean considered himself in the mirror. "What do you think?"
"Is it...everywhere?"
"It is. It looks like the worst case of blue balls I've never seen. That or like the Phantom's junk."
"The Phantom's costume is purple. The Phantom's white."
"Fine. Then my goods are dressed as the Phantom. Or the Kool-Aid guy. Oh my God. This could be awesome. I'm thinking ahead to Halloween here. With a little planning, I think I could pass for the Hulk."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): jorge lit his nipple on fire and said "i am the only highlander"
DeeDee was making coffee in the kitchen when Dean stumbled in. Quite frankly, she was surprised he was even conscious. After the ceremony, she'd had to go to work. God only knew where he went. His hair was stuck in one direction, and he was coated all over with a thin film of grime.
"Have fun at graduation?"
"Oh God." He put his hands over his face. "I thought you were working."
"It's four in the afternoon. Relax. I made coffee."
"Really?" With small, shuffling steps he approached the coffee maker.
"So how was last night?"
"Jorge...there was tequila...and then there was a pasture party...and then I woke up in the back of a pickup truck with a dog. That smelled kind of like BenGay. I don't know."
She laughed, he winced, and she lowered it to a snicker.
"You seem...awfully cool with this."
"I was eighteen once. And stupid."
"Oh yeah?" he picked up his coffee and made his way, slowly, to the table. "I thought you were born all responsible and shit. Stuff. Sorry."
"My daddy was a preacher. He gave a lot of Sodom and Gomorrah sermons about me." Never got to the Prodigal Son, though.
"Nice."
"Yeah. We need to talk."
"Can it wait? I'm a little..."
"Sam's at soccer practice. He'll be back in half an hour."
"Okay then. Fire away."
"You're eighteen. And you've graduated high school."
"Oh. Am I getting the boot?" He flicked his middle finger against the mug, a small act of aggression.
"Not yet."
Dean snorted. She eyed him carefully. He wanted to stay, she knew that much. But Sam needed some breathing room. And just some room, for pity's sake. He was almost as tall as Dean. The idea of them sleeping on bunk beds in the same room was downright comical.
"Here's the deal. You have two weeks to get a job. If Jorge's dad doesn't give you one at the garage, I will eat my socks."
"You already called him, didn't you."
"You start at the end of the month. You'll pay me four hundred dollars in rent. And you buy your own groceries. Also, you're moving into the basement. Which you'll spend the next two weeks sprucing up. Got it?"
"Got it." He cleared his throat, twined his index finger around the handle of the mug. "Thanks."
What she wanted to, what she really wanted, was to ruffle his hair and kiss him on the forehead. But that was a job for mothers.
"You're welcome. I like having you around."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): Hello Sam, you need to come pick me up at Llano County Jail and bring $750-$1000 for bail. I just got a DUI. Thank you.
(S): What!?!?! How are you txting?!
(D): Because this is Officer Martinez, and I just arrested your brother.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Sam froze in place, one foot in the air, and ice water down his spine. At another time, it might have been funny. Now, it was just pissing her off. More.
"The garage?"
"The hell you are. You sit your ass down in that chair and you do it now."
He did as he was told.
"Did he call you?"
"Texted me. How--"
"My husband was a goddamn sheriff's deputy. How do you think I heard?"
"Right." Sam stared at the scuffed linoleum.
"You were gonna bail him out?"
"Yes."
"With what money?"
"I've been saving up."
"For this?"
"For college."
She nodded. Sam was always looking ahead. He was also lying through his teeth.
"Sam." DeeDee almost didn't recognize her own voice.
"Okay, yeah. I've been saving for bail."
"How were you gonna get to the station?"
"I called Jorge."
"You called Jorge. Well. You can call him back and tell him that nobody is bailing Dean out tonight. Or tomorrow."
"DeeDee--"
"Sam. Make the call."
He called Jorge. When he hung up, the shower was on in the bathroom. I'm gonna kill him, Sam thought. DeeDee's in there crying where I can't hear. I'm gonna kill him. The water was still running when Sam closed the door to his bedroom. It wasn't exactly surprising that he couldn't sleep. He padded into the kitchen a few hours later, looking for some dishes to do or something, only to find DeeDee drinking at the kitchen table. She saw him, but didn't say anything.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm drinking alone at two in the morning on a Wednesday. How do you think I am?"
"Right. Okay, I'll just--"
"Your brother scares the shit out of me, Sam."
"Yeah. Me, too." He leaned against the counter. "I thought you hated Budweiser."
"I do."
"Then..."
"It was Mr. Strickland's favorite."
"Oh."
"Tomorrow afternoon."
"Huh?"
"You can go get your brother tomorrow."
It was not exactly a red letter day for anyone. Jorge picked Sam up, looking reasonably afraid of DeeDee. Sam showed up at the Llano County Jail and, for the first time, bailed his brother out for a criminal offense. Not that Dean hadn't broken the law before. He certainly had. He'd only come home in the back of a squad car twice, though. After that he got smart and didn't get caught.
The whole transaction was very businesslike. Sam had been expecting something more akin to a hostage negotiation. This felt like a trip to the grocery store. He paid the deputy, the deputy gave him a receipt. Another deputy brought Dean out. He was wearing a grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Miss me?" he asked.
The next thing Sam knew, his brother was on the floor with a bloody nose. It marred the smirk but didn't dispel it.
"Take it easy there," the deputy said laconically. "Janitor just came through here."
"Jesus Christ, Sammy. The hell?"
"You made DeeDee cry."
Dean stopped smiling.
Sam brushed his hands on his jeans, and left Dean to pick himself up. Jorge took one look at Sam, one look at Dean, and shut his trap for the thirty minute ride to DeeDee's place.
DeeDee wouldn't even look at Dean.
"Sam, go take a ride with Jorge."
"What?"
"Go get in the car and don't come back here for an hour."
Sam hesitated until Dean gave him a nod. Then Sam got gone. He hesitated, in the driveway, turned his back to the house. Jorge cursed in Spanish, so Sam shut up and got in the car. It scrabbled for traction for a moment, leaving his brother and DeeDee alone in the house.
In the kitchen, DeeDee made herself comfortable at the table. She was very careful to look in Dean's eyes. When the churn of tires on gravel had passed, she began to talk.
"Is this the first time you've gotten wasted and decided to drive?" She was trying not to yell, not to scream, so what came out was muted, clipped and furious.
"No, but Jorge usually--"
"So it's not. You've done this before."
"Jorge usually takes my keys."
"Usually."
Dean swallowed.
"It's a shame you never got to meet Mr. Strickland--Gideon. He woulda liked you."
"I thought he was a cop."
"Yes he was. All the same, he woulda liked you. We knew each other in high school, but he was a jock. And I was the girl smoking cigarettes behind the gym. He arrested me a couple years later. Well, he tried to. Too much of a gentleman to put me in cuffs. He wanted to just drive me home, to my parent's place, but I didn't want to go. So I told him not to be a sexist prick and put me in lockup already."
"Did he?"
"He took me back to the station and cuffed me to his desk chair. And fed me water and saltines until I sobered up. Then I asked him out."
"He say yes?"
"Yes he did. He had a hard time saying no to me. So I married him. But I had to wait until he proposed. Anyway. On February 9th of 1985--we were twenty-five--a drunk driver T-boned him at the on ramp at I-16. It was ten in the morning. I took him off life support six days later."
"I didn't know."
"I don't give a shit whether you knew or not. I'm only telling you now so that you'll understand."
"Understand what?"
"I'm taking Sam to the DMV this afternoon to get him a hardship license. So you can call him, too, if you're too proud to call me. But you will call one of us."
"I won't ever--"
"The Sheriff's department has your name and license plate number--Jorge's, too. They'll be watching."
"I don't need--"
"You ever drive drunk again, you will not be welcome in my home. I will kick you to the curb and you can negotiate Sam's visitation with a judge."
Dean put his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands.
"Is that clear to you?"
He straightened up, blinking. "It's clear."
1998:
(D): Turns out you can't chew it over with twix in real life
(J): Dude I've never seen anyone get slapped that hard
"What happened to your face?" Sam asked.
Jorge started laughing.
"Chelle Gregg happened to my face. Do we have any frozen peas?"
"I got it," Jorge said, and ducked out to the garage.
"What did you do?"
"What did I do?"
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"I may have been found in a compromising position. With Alicia."
"Head's up." Jorge tossed him a bag. "You still going out tonight?"
"Hell yes."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): remember when she hit me with her car by accident, well apparently it wasn't an accident.
"Unbelievable."
"Nothing's broken," Dean said. "It's just really bruised."
"Can you even stand on it?"
"Sure. It's a little swollen, but it's good."
"You gonna call in sick?"
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"If Jorge finds out I skipped work because Chelle hit me with her Geo, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."
<<<<<>>>>>
(J): Your brother just successfully got half the bar mostly naked
Sam took one look at the text and decided that tonight was a good night to be proactive. Besides, he'd always wanted to see for himself what, exactly, Dean Winchester did on Friday nights.
He pulled up to the bar about twenty minutes after he'd gotten the text. Inside, George Strait was playing at an unhealthy volume. Technically, it was illegal for him to be inside the establishment, so he looked in through the windows.
Well. Now he knew that Jorge was an honest man.
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): please tell me if i'm home and in my bed
(S): negative
(D): come find me please
Sam pulled his shoes on. As luck would have it, he passed DeeDee on her way in.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"To find my dumbass brother."
"Language. And good luck."
"Thanks."
Sam performed the usual grid search without any luck. Then it occurred to him.
"He wouldn't," he said aloud to himself. "Would he? He would. He totally would." He cut through the alley behind the Dairy Queen and saved himself five minutes. He parked a block away from the house and approached with what he hoped passed for stealth. Hurdling the fence was easy, but it did make him a little nervous, sneaking up to someone's bedroom window like that. Sam tapped, very lightly, with his nail. Dean appeared and opened the window. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Chelle again? Seriously?"
1999:
(D): before jorge murders me i need you to know 3 things. 1) i got with jorge's little sister last night. 2) dd's car needs new tires. 3) jorge's little sis digs anal.
Sam picked Dean up at the ER. He had stitches through his eyebrow, a bruise on his jaw, and his left arm in a sling.
"Broken?" Sam asked, as his brother climbed carefully into the truck.
"No," he groaned. "Just dislocated."
"Oh, well, if it's just dislocated."
"I think I'm out of a job."
"You think!" Sam yelled.
Dean winced. "God, please, the Vicodin hasn't kicked in yet."
"What the hell, Dean? Seriously? Jorge's sister?"
"She's an animal." A wistful smile crossed Dean's face. "Turned eighteen last week, so don't worry about that. But--damn, Sam. I thought I was going to die. In the middle of sex. Not a bad way to go, but Jesus. The things she was talking about. I didn't want to buy the farm before we had a chance to try them all."
"You're lucky Jorge didn't kill you."
"It might have been worth it."
Sam drove, tight-lipped, all the way back to the house. The light was on in the kitchen.
"Aw shit," Dean said, voice blurred. The painkillers were starting to show. "I thought she was at Pearson's?"
"He died last week."
"Oh. Good riddance."
"Dean."
"He used to grope her when she checked his pulse."
"Yeah, well...he's dead now."
"Yeah. And good riddance."
DeeDee was warming milk for hot cocoa. She took one look at Dean, sighed, and put some more milk in the pot for all of them. Stirring with one hand, she turned to face them.
"You gonna tell me what happened?"
Dean opened his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch.
"He slept with Mariluz."
"Jorge's Mariluz?" she raised her eyebrows.
"Trust me," Dean said, "Mariluz is an independent woman. And thinker."
"Oh my God in heaven." She closed her eyes.
"She said that, too. A lot. And saints names. Seriously, I have got to find more Catholic chicks."
"He's high as a kite," Sam said. "Dislocated his shoulder."
"Are you fired?"
"Most definitely," Dean said proudly. "But it doesn't matter."
"Oh really?" she arched an eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes.
"I signed my papers today. I'm gonna be a Marine."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): I just fired a shotgun out of the back of a truck going 60. i am going to miss texas.
"So." Dean shifted his weight on his feet.
"So. You're going to San Diego and I won't hear from you again for three months."
"Thirteen weeks. And there'll be mail."
"Mail."
DeeDee winced at the inflection of Sam's voice.
"Dude, please don't make this any harder."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I making this hard on you? You're ditching us for the fucking Army and I'm making this hard."
"For the Marines. And, yeah, you are making this hard."
"Too bad."
"Jesus Christ, Sammy. You make it impossible sometimes, I swear to God." Dean turned to DeeDee. "I'll write you both. I promise."
"Stay out of trouble, okay?" She was twisting the ring on her finger. It was a nervous habit, and this time she couldn't stop. It was a hard conversation to watch. To be a part of.
"How much trouble could I get into on a Marine base?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
He smiled. "No."
Then without any warning, she was enveloped in a crushing hug. He's so tall. When did he get so tall? She turned her face away and squeezed back as hard as she could.
"Love you." Dean spoke so quietly it might have been her imagination. Then he released her, leaving her to wipe her face on the porch while Dean said goodbye to his brother.
"Are you going to hug me or what?"
"I don't want you to go." Sam's voice broke. "It's not fair."
"Oh for fuck's sake. Just come here."
It was Sam's turn, and she was grateful that Dean had the good grace not to notice that Sam was crying, too. Behind them, Jorge honked his horn. "Let's go if we're goin'." Dean flipped him the bird.
"I almost forgot, Sammy. I got something for you. I'm gonna miss your Sweet Sixteen, princess." Dean tossed him the keys to his battered truck. "Good thing you already got a license."
DeeDee smiled triumphantly. The boys had trouble keeping secrets from each other, but this time Dean had pulled it off.
"Dean..."
"She needs her oil changed. And DeeDee's gonna need new tires in about ten thousand miles, so check that. And all the other stuff."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): Nothings more american than taking a dump with a rifle next to you.
"Did you hear from him?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
"Yeah. He says...he says he has to take his rifle with him. Everywhere."
"Oh."
"He also he's doing 'pretty good' at the training stuff." Sam threw himself down in the chair.
"What's wrong with that?"
He fiddled with his place mat. DeeDee waited.
"It's dumb."
She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "Sam."
"It's just...if he has to be a Marine, I don't want him to be a pretty good Marine. I want him to be an awesome Marine."
"Oh. Oh... I don't think you have to worry on that front."
"Why not?"
"You know, Dean says he's pretty good with cars."
"Oh my God." Sam's mouth dropped open. "I asked him how he ended up with a girl like Chelle, and he said he didn't like to brag, but he was pretty good with girls."
"See what I mean?"
2000:
Sam was troubled. He'd expected for Dean to go through basic and get shipped overseas to guard an embassy or something. Instead, Dean was bouncing all over the lower forty-eight for more training. Sam had received postcards from Georgia and Florida, with the deep and meaningful messages: 'Hotter than lizard balls' and 'Make a note: chiggers worse than crabs' and 'Bitten by a moccasin. Not a metaphor.'
The kitchen phone rang. Sam actually levitated off of the bed. He was in the kitchen before the second ring.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Sammy!" Dean said. Behind him, wherever he was, a chorus of male voices echoed him. "SAMMY!"
"Dean? The hell?"
"Shut up, motherfuckers!" Dean yelled. "I'm trying to talk to my brother for fuck's sake!"
"What is going on?" Sam said.
"I'm on liberty!"
"LIBERTY!" went the chorus.
"You're out?"
"Just for the night. Wanted to call."
"Where are you?"
"Florida."
"What are you doing in Florida?"
"Just some more training stuff. No big deal."
"You hear that?" somebody yelled in the background. "It's no big deal!" The peanut gallery booed.
"What's no big deal?"
"Doesn't matter," Dean said. "Look, I'm headed up to Maine for a while after this. I won't be in touch."
"Why not?"
"Tell DeeDee I say hi. And stay out of trouble."
"Okay."
"I'll talk to you later, Sammy."
"SAMMY!" yelled the chorus.
"I mean it motherfuckers, shut up! Jesus Christ."
Sam looked around. There was no one home but him. "I miss you."
Dean sighed. "You too."
2001:
Sam always thought Dean would be here for this part. He always thought he'd share this moment with someone, and that someone would be Dean. Instead, he was alone in his room with a letter.
He'd thought long and hard about college. He and DeeDee had talked about it a lot. The guidance counselor said Sam could write his own ticket. Sam had brochures from everywhere. Northwestern, Washington at St. Louis, Stanford, Emerson, William and Mary, Oxford, Duke, Oberlin, Cambridge. Thing was, he didn't really want to go anywhere.
He visited some places, and even though he was paying attention to the tour guides, all he could hear was Dean's running commentary. Old building...old building...older building...old building...my God, Sam, all these girls look the same. It's like someone brought the Barbie aisle to life. Careful, you could put your eye out with one of those. Now that, on your left, is a good bar. You know how I can tell? Cause it's open at ten am. Did that man just say shed-u-ell? No. You can't go anywhere where they pronounce shit wrong. I won't stand for it. Is that the football team here? Wow. You're fucked. Hope you like softball.
So Sam had just applied to a few places. All inside Texas. He brushed his fingertips over the embossed envelope, the burnt orange ink and longhorn logo. Sam wanted Austin.
So open the damn letter already.
Sam opened the letter.
And he smiled.
<<<<<>>>>>
His roommate's name was Wesley. Wesley was from Houston and his family owned an oil refinery. Sam had never seen someone with such expensive bedding. The guy's towels were nicer than Sam's clothes. So much for rooming with the other scholarship kids.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" DeeDee asked.
"No, I'm good," he said. "If I miss anything, I'll get it over the weekend."
"Don't be silly. You can't come home every weekend." She put her hands in her pockets and suddenly it hit Sam that she looked old. Not, like, decrepit old, but old. Like anybody else's parent.
"Maybe not every weekend. But I'm coming home this weekend."
"Okay. Now, come here and give me a hug so I can leave and do my crying in the car.".
September 11, 2001
"I don't know where he is, DeeDee!"
"Sam, I know. He was in Oceanside last we heard. We know that for sure."
"It doesn't matter where he was a month ago! It matters where he is right now!"
"Stop yelling, please. Please." She sounded like she was going to cry.
"I just need to know where he is."
His phone beeped.
"Call you back."
"Sammy?"
"Dean! Where are you? What's going on?"
"Australia--I'm in Australia. Some chick let me borrow her phone. But they're moving us out."
"Where? Why?"
"I don't know, man. Look, write this down. Lance Corporal Dean Winchester, First Marine Recon Batallion. Alpha Company."
"Dean. What is going on?"
"I don't know. I have to go. Call DeeDee and tell her I say I love you."
"Dean!"
"I know! Sam, I'm sorry. I have to go."
A machine gun rattles up the riverbank.
"Stand by for shit to get stupid," Person says, sounding merely annoyed.
Chapter Three
All quotes from Generation Kill by Evan Wright.
All text messages from TFLN.
Art by animotus!
NO S5 spoilers, please!
Rating: R
Genre: Gen, AU
Spoilers: None yet, eventually everything.
Warnings: Drunken tomfoolery.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. And that’s probably for the best, really.
Notes: Written for Sweet Charity and the lovely, generous counteragent, who was kind enough to go along with this. Beta'd by indomitable, unsinkable pdragon76. All quotes from Generation Kill by Evan Wright. All text messages from TFLN. Fabulous graphics by animotus!
Summary: An enemy mortar explodes nearby. A mortar blast is different from artillery.
Prologue
Chapter One
Art courtesy of animotus!
Teufelshunde 2/6
An enemy mortar explodes nearby. A mortar blast is different from artillery. You hear the blast as an artillery shell is fired, then the sound of it whizzing through the sky, followed by the boom as it hits. Mortars come out of nowhere. There's no warning, just a blast, and a column of black smoke where it hits. If they're close you feel a sharp increase in the air pressure. The sonic vibrations make the hairs on your body tingle, and your teeth feel numb for an instant.
2011:
The spaghettios are perfect. They taste like processed tomatoes with a hint of tin can.
"What did DeeDee use to call these?"
Dean smiles crooked. "The noodle-free noodles."
"Cause you don't have to use your noodle."
They don't talk for a while. Sam is thinking about DeeDee. Dean is thinking about how, as far as last suppers went, this isn't half bad.
"...and you finally started talking again?" Sam is in the middle of his question before Dean realizes they were having a conversation.
"Huh?"
"I said, do you remember why you stopped talking. Before DeeDee's."
"No," Dean lies.
"I don't either. I remember when you started though."
"July fourth, nineteen-ninety."
"You wanted pickles on your burger."
"Onions."
"Yeah. You asked for more onions."
"I thought she was gonna cry."
"She did," Sam says. "Later."
"I don't remember that."
"I went inside to get the graham crackers for the smores. She was in the pantry."
"Damn."
"She was happy, Dean."
"I know that. I just--I made a lot of trouble for her. A lot."
"She loved you."
"Okay, then. I'm gonna get the tequila."
"Come on, man."
"Sam, you wanna talk about DeeDee. This is not a conversation I can have sober."
"Fine. Just--finish your spaghettio's first."
They clean their plates in silence. Outside, the night is moonless. The stars burn with special fury nowadays. There are no city lights left anymore. It is Topeka, Kansas and they are the only humans in a hundred mile radius. Dinner tastes like civilization.
Another mortar bangs outside. Person smiles. "You know that feeling before a debate when you gotta piss and you've got that weird feeling in your stomach, then you go in and kick ass?" he says. "I don't have that feeling now."
1990:
"Hello, Dean."
Dean kicked his feet against the metal legs of his school chair. He stared at the bulletin board.
"Dean," DeeDee said, "Mr. Adamson and I wanted to talk to you today about something important."
Dean shrugged.
"I'm gonna give it to you straight," Mr. Adamson said. He was a youngish man, fresh out of college, with bad hair and unstarched shirts. DeeDee trusted him. "School isn't your thing. I understand that. But it's something you're going to have to put up with for a little while longer. And if we keep on the way we're going, we're going to start running out of options."
Dean turned and faced the teacher for the first time.
"What Mr. Adamson is saying is that things don't change, they're going to put you on a different track."
He turned and looked at DeeDee, the question on his face.
"They'll move you to a different school," she said bluntly. "They'll move you to another school and you won't be able to ride the bus with Sam. You won't be able to pick him up after school."
"I don't want that," Mr. Adamson said. "I don't want to do that at all. But the school has rules, even if I think they're dumb."
"So Mr. Adamson and I need your help."
"You don't have to do anything big," Mr. Adamson said. "You don't have to start talking until you're ready. But you do need to be more engaged in class."
Dean turned his hands palms up, lifted them in frustration.
"I mean," the teacher clarified, "that I need you to start turning in assignments. If you want to stay close to Sam, I need you to do some of the reading. And the in-class assignments. We can negotiate on homework. I think we should meet again at the end of the month, see where we're at, and make adjustments if we need to."
Dean nodded, face white and closed.
They never needed to meet again. Dean didn't talk at school, but he turned in every stupid worksheet, every scrap of homework, and even wrote down some of his answers to the questions Mr. Adamson asked in class. And on the last day before Christmas break, he turned to his now favorite teacher.
"See you next year."
1991:
"'Lo?"
"Kelsey?"
"Dee?"
"You need to come over."
"Have you called the cops yet?"
"What? No. The boys are at a sleepover."
"Oh thank God. What's wrong?"
"I have all this wine. I'm alone. And I have all this wine."
"Shit. I completely forgot."
"I don't want people to have to remember me. And my pathetic life. And my sad, sad basement full of sad, sad things."
"Okay. Don't drink anymore. I'm on my way. Have you eaten anything?"
"I found his ring today, his high school ring. He thought I was beautiful."
"I'll bring some pizza."
DeeDee was still on her back on the cement basement floor when Kelsey showed up.
"Did you know he was Valedictorian? I didn't know that."
"No," Kelsey said. "But I'm not surprised. Here, eat this. Your husband was the most uptight prick that ever lived in Llano. Until he met you."
"He was, wasn't he? Took me two months, but I finally got him into bed. And you know what he said to me in the morning?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"He said 'Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to treat you so indecently.' I laughed so hard I cried."
"Sounds like him."
"Sometimes I look at the boys, and I think 'Damn. This would be so much easier with him around.' And then...and then sometimes I wish they were mine outright. And then sometimes I wish they were ours outright. The boys we were supposed to have. And I hate their mother for dying and I hate their stupid father for getting locked up. Because I wish they were just mine. Does that make me a horrible person?"
"No, Dee." Kelsey reached out, stroking Dee's hair. It was something that she did for her own children, when they were inconsolable.
"We were gonna have boys. We were gonna have three. And Gideon wanted to give them Bible names, but I said over my dead body. I was gonna name 'em Robert, Kevin, and Derek."
"Those are good names."
"Kelsey?"
"Yeah?"
"I miss my husband."
"I know, baby. I know."
DeeDee curled up on the floor and cried for a long time. Her husband had been dead for exactly six years. Kelsey stroked her hair and drank wine out of the bottle and waited for it to pass. Dee hadn't been this bad since that first anniversary, when Kelsey had found her in the parking lot of the Texaco by the highway.
"Sorry," Dee said after a while.
"Don't be sorry. Come on. Help me out here. We've got all this wine to drink."
"Okay."
"You wanna go upstairs?"
"No."
"Okay."
"I just want to eat pizza and get drunk."
"We can do that. Where did you say the boys were?"
"At Sue Gregg's for a sleepover."
"You sent Dean to a third grade sleepover?"
"Had to," Dee said, around a mouthful of pizza. "Dean was worried about Sam being alone. Sam was worried that Dean was worried. Sam wanted to go, but he couldn't go if Dean was going to be worried the whole time. So I sent them both."
"Did you at least warn Sue first?"
"Sure. I warned her there was a neurotic, twelve year old adult coming over, and that he wouldn't play with the other boys 'cause he'd feel like a burden. But he'd be happy to do chores around the house. She called back a couple hours ago."
"And?"
"And she says you can eat off her garage floor now."
1992:
DeeDee laced her fingers together on the table. On either side, the boys traded looks. Sam squirmed in his chair. After a moment, Dean crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"I wanted to wait until you were both home to talk about this."
"You didn't need to," Dean said. "We know what this is about."
"Excuse me?"
"You're sending me back. I knew you would. Eventually."
She was dumbstruck.
Sam gasped, gripped the tabletop and dug his nails in. "DeeDee, please. We'll do better. We'll--"
"Don't bother, Sammy. She's made up her mind."
"Jesus--no." She finally found her voice. "Nobody's going anywhere. Okay? Nobody's going anywhere."
Sam exhaled. Dean narrowed his eyes.
"I wanted to talk about our legal options."
"Legal options?" Dean asked, uncrossing his arms.
"Right now, as a foster parent, I have certain rights. Temporary guardianship. But, technically, that could be revoked at any time. I don't plan on that happening, I'd fight it, and so would Kelsey."
"But they could still do it," Sam said. "They could still move us, take us away."
"Technically."
"Big fucking surprise."
"Dean. Language." Oh God. I really am turning into my mother. "There is something I can do to make sure you two stay together. But we need to talk it over first. Now, you can say no. And we'll keep on the way we've been going. You can say no, and that's fine." It'll kill me. But it'll be fine.
"We're listening," Dean said.
"You'd stay together and you'd stay with me. Permanently. If I legally adopted you."
"We have a dad."
"I know that, Dean. I know that. And he'd still be your dad. I would just be a legal parent, on paper." Just on paper. "I would assume the legal rights that, currently, the state has. And that way, nobody could break you up. Nobody could move you."
"What if we just want to wait for Dad?" Dean pointed his chin up, challenging.
He's gonna make me say it, isn't he?
"Dean," Sam warned.
"The court stripped your father of all custody rights when he was sentenced. He can't ever live with you again. And you're legally barred from all contact before you turn eighteen." He made me say it.
The boys didn't speak. Sam looked nonplussed, just another piece of information to file away for later. Dean swallowed, slowly, and sat up a little straighter in his chair.
"And nobody could break us up. Ever."
"Never."
"We need to think about it."
"Okay. Take as much time as you want."
It only took a day. By the end of the year, she was the legal mother of Dean and Sam Winchester.
1996:
(D): I feel like tequila is Gods way of lighting my fuse to do something awesome
Sam sighed, tossed the phone on the bed next to him. DeeDee was working tonight, thank God. She was out with Mr. Pearson who, according to her, liked to tell stories about the storming of Normandy and attempt to cop a feel. Sam always laughed, but Dean never did.
Dean, who was probably with his friend Jorge drinking tequila, was concerned about Mr. Pearson's morals. Sam didn't get it. He also didn't get pre-algebra. Which was disheartening because he was pretty sure you needed pre-algebra to get algebra. And you needed algebra to get trig and trig to get calculus. Essentially, his academic future rested on pre-algebra.
"I come from the land of the ice and snow where the...hot chicks drink...and the..."
"Dean?" Sam leaned backwards, looked out to where Dean's F-150 was still sitting the driveway. He and Jorge had probably walked home. Good.
"Helloooooo," his brother slurred, sliding into Sam's frame of vision. "Little pig, little pig, get your ass out here and unlock the door. What are you working on, anyway?"
"The quadratic formula," Sam said, not moving a muscle. He had no interest in aiding and abetting his brother's debauchery.
"Sweet. I love that shit. Let me in, and I'll teach you my favorite menenonic...nememonic...remembery trick."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): I'm laying in our front yard are you home
"Unbelievable," Sam muttered. He rolled over and looked out the window. The Corolla was back, so DeeDee was home. Which was why his brother couldn't come in without waking her up. He needed Sam to open their bedroom window and haul his drunk ass inside. Preferably very quietly. He opened the old, glass pane window and looked out. Dean was not, in fact, in the front yard.
"Unbelievable," he repeated. It was increasingly difficult for Sam to climb out of the window. He was getting taller, and he hadn't really figured out how to fit all his limbs through without falling on his ass. This time, at least, he landed on all fours. Didn't take long to find Dean. He was on the neighbor's lawn. And he smelled like PBR and pot. Sam extended a hand.
"Jorge's a bad influence." He hauled Dean upright, steadying his brother with a hand.
"He is. And I love him for it. I love him, his hot little sister, and his fake ID. Love."
"Keep it down. You get loud when you drink. She's gonna hear."
Unbeknownst to Sam, DeeDee was already listening from her bedroom door. They made a hell of a lot of noise getting inside. They tried to be stealthy about it, but quite frankly, they were pathetic. She'd made an art of sneaking out and into her house back in the day. And that was the eighties. If Dean ever had to contend with stiletto heels, spandex, and chandelier earrings, he'd be a sorry mess. When she got caught, her parents had responded with prayer, corporal punishment, prayer, and mandatory fasting days. After her sophomore year, she was too good to catch. So, yeah, she'd rather the boys be loud. At least she'd know where they were. After her day shift with Mr. Pearson, she called Kelsey.
"I think I'm in trouble."
"I'll call you when I get home."
"Okay. Sam's got soccer till five thirty. They'll stop for a coke. And Dean will probably have a cigarette--I know, I know. So, they'll be back around six."
"Call you in half an hour."
In the meantime, DeeDee made out the grocery list. That was the only chore she was permitted to do. The boys had been with her for two weeks when she realized that somebody was cleaning the bathroom and it definitely wasn't her. When confronted, they both denied it. The trash got taken out, the dishes got washed, the floors got swept. Jesus, she'd thought, They're afraid I'm going to send them back. No. They're afraid I'm going to send Dean back. She'd called Kelsey then, too, and Kels had told her it was just a relief to hear they were taking some ownership of the household. Kels had said not to worry about it, just feed them regular, and make sure they got to school. She said that was more than enough.
So DeeDee considered the grocery list. Before the boys, she'd never needed to measure things by weight. When it was just her and Gideon and then, when it had been just her, she eyeballed everything. Six or so apples, a box or two of cereal, some oatmeal, a few chicken breasts. Now every trip the grocery store was like the invasion of Normandy. It required planning, intense thought, angst, and contingencies. She checked the fridge and, sure enough, someone had clipped all the coupons from the Sunday paper. The edges were a little crooked, so it was probably Dean this week. Always afraid to be a burden.
They both liked bananas, so she'd need three big bunches of those. There was a coupon for Lucky Charms, which Sam claimed he'd outgrown. But she and Dean knew better. She could get several of those. Five pounds of chicken breasts. Ten pounds of ground chuck, if she was going to make lasagna on Wednesday and burgers on Saturday. Tuna and cream of mushroom, so she could leave a good casserole on Tuesday night. A pot roast, so she could set that in the oven for her Friday night shift. And lunch meat. Oh, Lord, the lunch meat. Apparently turkey and cheddar were on sale. The boys weren't too particular. And oranges--at least ten pounds of those. The boys didn't love 'em, but they'd eat 'em--and they were cheap right now. Ten pounds of potatoes, more ketchup, more mustard, hot dogs and buns, sweet potatoes, frozen peas for the casserole...
The phone rang.
"Hey, Kels."
"How's it going?"
"I'm making a shopping list. I'm not sure if I'm feeding two boys or a football team."
"Just wait until they start bringing friends over."
"Jorge comes by sometimes, but--"
"Jorge Delacruz?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Kels sighed. "He's harmless. Mostly. Drinks and smokes a lot of pot."
"That's kind of why I called."
"Fire away."
"Dean's drinking. Not every night, but he sneaks out on the weekends. And I think I caught him high once. Either that, or real hungover."
"Oh," Kels said, relieved. "Is that it?"
"Is that...I just told you that my ward is drinking underage."
"Is he driving? Or in a car with someone who is?"
"No, they mostly do it at Jorge's place. He walks home."
"Is he missing school?"
"No. He skipped class once, but the principal called the day of. I brought it up at dinner--I think he was mortified he got caught. Never happened again."
"Is he getting into fights at school?"
"A couple, but not since Sam got to middle school. I'm sure there'll be a couple more when Sam's a freshman."
"Is Dean displaying any violent tendencies? Towards you, his brother, or any third party?"
"Good God, no."
"Do you suspect anything harder than pot?"
"No."
"Is he having sex?"
"I'll say."
"Protected?"
"I found an economy pack of Trojans under his bed last week."
"Do you think he is in any way a danger to himself or others?"
"Maybe to his future liver function. But honestly, I feel safer with him in my house than without."
"Then I think you're good."
"Jesus, Kelsey, I'm trying to tell you I've got a p--"
"I won't tell you what's in Dean's file, Dee. Not just because I can't, but because I won't. But I want you to know that my assumption, when I placed him with you, was that he would bounce out by the end of the week. And end up dead or in prison before the age of eighteen."
"You don't mean that."
"I do," Kelsey said bluntly. "At the time, I thought the best we could do with those boys was to split 'em up. That Dean was dead weight, and the only way Sam would have a chance in hell was if he got away from his brother."
"I don't believe you."
"You would if you'd seen the files I've seen. DeeDee, I don't know what it is you're doing for those boys, but if I had my way, I'd clone you and send you out all over the state."
"Oh, bullshit. I don't even know what I'm doing half the time."
"This morning, one of my fosters came into my office and offered me sexual favors in return for an emergency transfer. That was the way he'd grown up. That was the only way to get things. You're doing good."
1997:
(D): so explain again why im purple
(S): no
"I'm thinking rubbing alcohol." Dean considered himself in the mirror. "What do you think?"
"Is it...everywhere?"
"It is. It looks like the worst case of blue balls I've never seen. That or like the Phantom's junk."
"The Phantom's costume is purple. The Phantom's white."
"Fine. Then my goods are dressed as the Phantom. Or the Kool-Aid guy. Oh my God. This could be awesome. I'm thinking ahead to Halloween here. With a little planning, I think I could pass for the Hulk."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): jorge lit his nipple on fire and said "i am the only highlander"
DeeDee was making coffee in the kitchen when Dean stumbled in. Quite frankly, she was surprised he was even conscious. After the ceremony, she'd had to go to work. God only knew where he went. His hair was stuck in one direction, and he was coated all over with a thin film of grime.
"Have fun at graduation?"
"Oh God." He put his hands over his face. "I thought you were working."
"It's four in the afternoon. Relax. I made coffee."
"Really?" With small, shuffling steps he approached the coffee maker.
"So how was last night?"
"Jorge...there was tequila...and then there was a pasture party...and then I woke up in the back of a pickup truck with a dog. That smelled kind of like BenGay. I don't know."
She laughed, he winced, and she lowered it to a snicker.
"You seem...awfully cool with this."
"I was eighteen once. And stupid."
"Oh yeah?" he picked up his coffee and made his way, slowly, to the table. "I thought you were born all responsible and shit. Stuff. Sorry."
"My daddy was a preacher. He gave a lot of Sodom and Gomorrah sermons about me." Never got to the Prodigal Son, though.
"Nice."
"Yeah. We need to talk."
"Can it wait? I'm a little..."
"Sam's at soccer practice. He'll be back in half an hour."
"Okay then. Fire away."
"You're eighteen. And you've graduated high school."
"Oh. Am I getting the boot?" He flicked his middle finger against the mug, a small act of aggression.
"Not yet."
Dean snorted. She eyed him carefully. He wanted to stay, she knew that much. But Sam needed some breathing room. And just some room, for pity's sake. He was almost as tall as Dean. The idea of them sleeping on bunk beds in the same room was downright comical.
"Here's the deal. You have two weeks to get a job. If Jorge's dad doesn't give you one at the garage, I will eat my socks."
"You already called him, didn't you."
"You start at the end of the month. You'll pay me four hundred dollars in rent. And you buy your own groceries. Also, you're moving into the basement. Which you'll spend the next two weeks sprucing up. Got it?"
"Got it." He cleared his throat, twined his index finger around the handle of the mug. "Thanks."
What she wanted to, what she really wanted, was to ruffle his hair and kiss him on the forehead. But that was a job for mothers.
"You're welcome. I like having you around."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): Hello Sam, you need to come pick me up at Llano County Jail and bring $750-$1000 for bail. I just got a DUI. Thank you.
(S): What!?!?! How are you txting?!
(D): Because this is Officer Martinez, and I just arrested your brother.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Sam froze in place, one foot in the air, and ice water down his spine. At another time, it might have been funny. Now, it was just pissing her off. More.
"The garage?"
"The hell you are. You sit your ass down in that chair and you do it now."
He did as he was told.
"Did he call you?"
"Texted me. How--"
"My husband was a goddamn sheriff's deputy. How do you think I heard?"
"Right." Sam stared at the scuffed linoleum.
"You were gonna bail him out?"
"Yes."
"With what money?"
"I've been saving up."
"For this?"
"For college."
She nodded. Sam was always looking ahead. He was also lying through his teeth.
"Sam." DeeDee almost didn't recognize her own voice.
"Okay, yeah. I've been saving for bail."
"How were you gonna get to the station?"
"I called Jorge."
"You called Jorge. Well. You can call him back and tell him that nobody is bailing Dean out tonight. Or tomorrow."
"DeeDee--"
"Sam. Make the call."
He called Jorge. When he hung up, the shower was on in the bathroom. I'm gonna kill him, Sam thought. DeeDee's in there crying where I can't hear. I'm gonna kill him. The water was still running when Sam closed the door to his bedroom. It wasn't exactly surprising that he couldn't sleep. He padded into the kitchen a few hours later, looking for some dishes to do or something, only to find DeeDee drinking at the kitchen table. She saw him, but didn't say anything.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm drinking alone at two in the morning on a Wednesday. How do you think I am?"
"Right. Okay, I'll just--"
"Your brother scares the shit out of me, Sam."
"Yeah. Me, too." He leaned against the counter. "I thought you hated Budweiser."
"I do."
"Then..."
"It was Mr. Strickland's favorite."
"Oh."
"Tomorrow afternoon."
"Huh?"
"You can go get your brother tomorrow."
It was not exactly a red letter day for anyone. Jorge picked Sam up, looking reasonably afraid of DeeDee. Sam showed up at the Llano County Jail and, for the first time, bailed his brother out for a criminal offense. Not that Dean hadn't broken the law before. He certainly had. He'd only come home in the back of a squad car twice, though. After that he got smart and didn't get caught.
The whole transaction was very businesslike. Sam had been expecting something more akin to a hostage negotiation. This felt like a trip to the grocery store. He paid the deputy, the deputy gave him a receipt. Another deputy brought Dean out. He was wearing a grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Miss me?" he asked.
The next thing Sam knew, his brother was on the floor with a bloody nose. It marred the smirk but didn't dispel it.
"Take it easy there," the deputy said laconically. "Janitor just came through here."
"Jesus Christ, Sammy. The hell?"
"You made DeeDee cry."
Dean stopped smiling.
Sam brushed his hands on his jeans, and left Dean to pick himself up. Jorge took one look at Sam, one look at Dean, and shut his trap for the thirty minute ride to DeeDee's place.
DeeDee wouldn't even look at Dean.
"Sam, go take a ride with Jorge."
"What?"
"Go get in the car and don't come back here for an hour."
Sam hesitated until Dean gave him a nod. Then Sam got gone. He hesitated, in the driveway, turned his back to the house. Jorge cursed in Spanish, so Sam shut up and got in the car. It scrabbled for traction for a moment, leaving his brother and DeeDee alone in the house.
In the kitchen, DeeDee made herself comfortable at the table. She was very careful to look in Dean's eyes. When the churn of tires on gravel had passed, she began to talk.
"Is this the first time you've gotten wasted and decided to drive?" She was trying not to yell, not to scream, so what came out was muted, clipped and furious.
"No, but Jorge usually--"
"So it's not. You've done this before."
"Jorge usually takes my keys."
"Usually."
Dean swallowed.
"It's a shame you never got to meet Mr. Strickland--Gideon. He woulda liked you."
"I thought he was a cop."
"Yes he was. All the same, he woulda liked you. We knew each other in high school, but he was a jock. And I was the girl smoking cigarettes behind the gym. He arrested me a couple years later. Well, he tried to. Too much of a gentleman to put me in cuffs. He wanted to just drive me home, to my parent's place, but I didn't want to go. So I told him not to be a sexist prick and put me in lockup already."
"Did he?"
"He took me back to the station and cuffed me to his desk chair. And fed me water and saltines until I sobered up. Then I asked him out."
"He say yes?"
"Yes he did. He had a hard time saying no to me. So I married him. But I had to wait until he proposed. Anyway. On February 9th of 1985--we were twenty-five--a drunk driver T-boned him at the on ramp at I-16. It was ten in the morning. I took him off life support six days later."
"I didn't know."
"I don't give a shit whether you knew or not. I'm only telling you now so that you'll understand."
"Understand what?"
"I'm taking Sam to the DMV this afternoon to get him a hardship license. So you can call him, too, if you're too proud to call me. But you will call one of us."
"I won't ever--"
"The Sheriff's department has your name and license plate number--Jorge's, too. They'll be watching."
"I don't need--"
"You ever drive drunk again, you will not be welcome in my home. I will kick you to the curb and you can negotiate Sam's visitation with a judge."
Dean put his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands.
"Is that clear to you?"
He straightened up, blinking. "It's clear."
1998:
(D): Turns out you can't chew it over with twix in real life
(J): Dude I've never seen anyone get slapped that hard
"What happened to your face?" Sam asked.
Jorge started laughing.
"Chelle Gregg happened to my face. Do we have any frozen peas?"
"I got it," Jorge said, and ducked out to the garage.
"What did you do?"
"What did I do?"
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"I may have been found in a compromising position. With Alicia."
"Head's up." Jorge tossed him a bag. "You still going out tonight?"
"Hell yes."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): remember when she hit me with her car by accident, well apparently it wasn't an accident.
"Unbelievable."
"Nothing's broken," Dean said. "It's just really bruised."
"Can you even stand on it?"
"Sure. It's a little swollen, but it's good."
"You gonna call in sick?"
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"If Jorge finds out I skipped work because Chelle hit me with her Geo, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."
<<<<<>>>>>
(J): Your brother just successfully got half the bar mostly naked
Sam took one look at the text and decided that tonight was a good night to be proactive. Besides, he'd always wanted to see for himself what, exactly, Dean Winchester did on Friday nights.
He pulled up to the bar about twenty minutes after he'd gotten the text. Inside, George Strait was playing at an unhealthy volume. Technically, it was illegal for him to be inside the establishment, so he looked in through the windows.
Well. Now he knew that Jorge was an honest man.
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): please tell me if i'm home and in my bed
(S): negative
(D): come find me please
Sam pulled his shoes on. As luck would have it, he passed DeeDee on her way in.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"To find my dumbass brother."
"Language. And good luck."
"Thanks."
Sam performed the usual grid search without any luck. Then it occurred to him.
"He wouldn't," he said aloud to himself. "Would he? He would. He totally would." He cut through the alley behind the Dairy Queen and saved himself five minutes. He parked a block away from the house and approached with what he hoped passed for stealth. Hurdling the fence was easy, but it did make him a little nervous, sneaking up to someone's bedroom window like that. Sam tapped, very lightly, with his nail. Dean appeared and opened the window. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Chelle again? Seriously?"
1999:
(D): before jorge murders me i need you to know 3 things. 1) i got with jorge's little sister last night. 2) dd's car needs new tires. 3) jorge's little sis digs anal.
Sam picked Dean up at the ER. He had stitches through his eyebrow, a bruise on his jaw, and his left arm in a sling.
"Broken?" Sam asked, as his brother climbed carefully into the truck.
"No," he groaned. "Just dislocated."
"Oh, well, if it's just dislocated."
"I think I'm out of a job."
"You think!" Sam yelled.
Dean winced. "God, please, the Vicodin hasn't kicked in yet."
"What the hell, Dean? Seriously? Jorge's sister?"
"She's an animal." A wistful smile crossed Dean's face. "Turned eighteen last week, so don't worry about that. But--damn, Sam. I thought I was going to die. In the middle of sex. Not a bad way to go, but Jesus. The things she was talking about. I didn't want to buy the farm before we had a chance to try them all."
"You're lucky Jorge didn't kill you."
"It might have been worth it."
Sam drove, tight-lipped, all the way back to the house. The light was on in the kitchen.
"Aw shit," Dean said, voice blurred. The painkillers were starting to show. "I thought she was at Pearson's?"
"He died last week."
"Oh. Good riddance."
"Dean."
"He used to grope her when she checked his pulse."
"Yeah, well...he's dead now."
"Yeah. And good riddance."
DeeDee was warming milk for hot cocoa. She took one look at Dean, sighed, and put some more milk in the pot for all of them. Stirring with one hand, she turned to face them.
"You gonna tell me what happened?"
Dean opened his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch.
"He slept with Mariluz."
"Jorge's Mariluz?" she raised her eyebrows.
"Trust me," Dean said, "Mariluz is an independent woman. And thinker."
"Oh my God in heaven." She closed her eyes.
"She said that, too. A lot. And saints names. Seriously, I have got to find more Catholic chicks."
"He's high as a kite," Sam said. "Dislocated his shoulder."
"Are you fired?"
"Most definitely," Dean said proudly. "But it doesn't matter."
"Oh really?" she arched an eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes.
"I signed my papers today. I'm gonna be a Marine."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): I just fired a shotgun out of the back of a truck going 60. i am going to miss texas.
"So." Dean shifted his weight on his feet.
"So. You're going to San Diego and I won't hear from you again for three months."
"Thirteen weeks. And there'll be mail."
"Mail."
DeeDee winced at the inflection of Sam's voice.
"Dude, please don't make this any harder."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I making this hard on you? You're ditching us for the fucking Army and I'm making this hard."
"For the Marines. And, yeah, you are making this hard."
"Too bad."
"Jesus Christ, Sammy. You make it impossible sometimes, I swear to God." Dean turned to DeeDee. "I'll write you both. I promise."
"Stay out of trouble, okay?" She was twisting the ring on her finger. It was a nervous habit, and this time she couldn't stop. It was a hard conversation to watch. To be a part of.
"How much trouble could I get into on a Marine base?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
He smiled. "No."
Then without any warning, she was enveloped in a crushing hug. He's so tall. When did he get so tall? She turned her face away and squeezed back as hard as she could.
"Love you." Dean spoke so quietly it might have been her imagination. Then he released her, leaving her to wipe her face on the porch while Dean said goodbye to his brother.
"Are you going to hug me or what?"
"I don't want you to go." Sam's voice broke. "It's not fair."
"Oh for fuck's sake. Just come here."
It was Sam's turn, and she was grateful that Dean had the good grace not to notice that Sam was crying, too. Behind them, Jorge honked his horn. "Let's go if we're goin'." Dean flipped him the bird.
"I almost forgot, Sammy. I got something for you. I'm gonna miss your Sweet Sixteen, princess." Dean tossed him the keys to his battered truck. "Good thing you already got a license."
DeeDee smiled triumphantly. The boys had trouble keeping secrets from each other, but this time Dean had pulled it off.
"Dean..."
"She needs her oil changed. And DeeDee's gonna need new tires in about ten thousand miles, so check that. And all the other stuff."
<<<<<>>>>>
(D): Nothings more american than taking a dump with a rifle next to you.
"Did you hear from him?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
"Yeah. He says...he says he has to take his rifle with him. Everywhere."
"Oh."
"He also he's doing 'pretty good' at the training stuff." Sam threw himself down in the chair.
"What's wrong with that?"
He fiddled with his place mat. DeeDee waited.
"It's dumb."
She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "Sam."
"It's just...if he has to be a Marine, I don't want him to be a pretty good Marine. I want him to be an awesome Marine."
"Oh. Oh... I don't think you have to worry on that front."
"Why not?"
"You know, Dean says he's pretty good with cars."
"Oh my God." Sam's mouth dropped open. "I asked him how he ended up with a girl like Chelle, and he said he didn't like to brag, but he was pretty good with girls."
"See what I mean?"
2000:
Sam was troubled. He'd expected for Dean to go through basic and get shipped overseas to guard an embassy or something. Instead, Dean was bouncing all over the lower forty-eight for more training. Sam had received postcards from Georgia and Florida, with the deep and meaningful messages: 'Hotter than lizard balls' and 'Make a note: chiggers worse than crabs' and 'Bitten by a moccasin. Not a metaphor.'
The kitchen phone rang. Sam actually levitated off of the bed. He was in the kitchen before the second ring.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Sammy!" Dean said. Behind him, wherever he was, a chorus of male voices echoed him. "SAMMY!"
"Dean? The hell?"
"Shut up, motherfuckers!" Dean yelled. "I'm trying to talk to my brother for fuck's sake!"
"What is going on?" Sam said.
"I'm on liberty!"
"LIBERTY!" went the chorus.
"You're out?"
"Just for the night. Wanted to call."
"Where are you?"
"Florida."
"What are you doing in Florida?"
"Just some more training stuff. No big deal."
"You hear that?" somebody yelled in the background. "It's no big deal!" The peanut gallery booed.
"What's no big deal?"
"Doesn't matter," Dean said. "Look, I'm headed up to Maine for a while after this. I won't be in touch."
"Why not?"
"Tell DeeDee I say hi. And stay out of trouble."
"Okay."
"I'll talk to you later, Sammy."
"SAMMY!" yelled the chorus.
"I mean it motherfuckers, shut up! Jesus Christ."
Sam looked around. There was no one home but him. "I miss you."
Dean sighed. "You too."
2001:
Sam always thought Dean would be here for this part. He always thought he'd share this moment with someone, and that someone would be Dean. Instead, he was alone in his room with a letter.
He'd thought long and hard about college. He and DeeDee had talked about it a lot. The guidance counselor said Sam could write his own ticket. Sam had brochures from everywhere. Northwestern, Washington at St. Louis, Stanford, Emerson, William and Mary, Oxford, Duke, Oberlin, Cambridge. Thing was, he didn't really want to go anywhere.
He visited some places, and even though he was paying attention to the tour guides, all he could hear was Dean's running commentary. Old building...old building...older building...old building...my God, Sam, all these girls look the same. It's like someone brought the Barbie aisle to life. Careful, you could put your eye out with one of those. Now that, on your left, is a good bar. You know how I can tell? Cause it's open at ten am. Did that man just say shed-u-ell? No. You can't go anywhere where they pronounce shit wrong. I won't stand for it. Is that the football team here? Wow. You're fucked. Hope you like softball.
So Sam had just applied to a few places. All inside Texas. He brushed his fingertips over the embossed envelope, the burnt orange ink and longhorn logo. Sam wanted Austin.
So open the damn letter already.
Sam opened the letter.
And he smiled.
<<<<<>>>>>
His roommate's name was Wesley. Wesley was from Houston and his family owned an oil refinery. Sam had never seen someone with such expensive bedding. The guy's towels were nicer than Sam's clothes. So much for rooming with the other scholarship kids.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" DeeDee asked.
"No, I'm good," he said. "If I miss anything, I'll get it over the weekend."
"Don't be silly. You can't come home every weekend." She put her hands in her pockets and suddenly it hit Sam that she looked old. Not, like, decrepit old, but old. Like anybody else's parent.
"Maybe not every weekend. But I'm coming home this weekend."
"Okay. Now, come here and give me a hug so I can leave and do my crying in the car.".
September 11, 2001
"I don't know where he is, DeeDee!"
"Sam, I know. He was in Oceanside last we heard. We know that for sure."
"It doesn't matter where he was a month ago! It matters where he is right now!"
"Stop yelling, please. Please." She sounded like she was going to cry.
"I just need to know where he is."
His phone beeped.
"Call you back."
"Sammy?"
"Dean! Where are you? What's going on?"
"Australia--I'm in Australia. Some chick let me borrow her phone. But they're moving us out."
"Where? Why?"
"I don't know, man. Look, write this down. Lance Corporal Dean Winchester, First Marine Recon Batallion. Alpha Company."
"Dean. What is going on?"
"I don't know. I have to go. Call DeeDee and tell her I say I love you."
"Dean!"
"I know! Sam, I'm sorry. I have to go."
A machine gun rattles up the riverbank.
"Stand by for shit to get stupid," Person says, sounding merely annoyed.
Chapter Three
All quotes from Generation Kill by Evan Wright.
All text messages from TFLN.
Art by animotus!
NO S5 spoilers, please!