Dean Winchester faced himself in the mirror and scowled at the image reflected back at him. He hadn’t had a hair cut in 6 weeks. He normally had one every three or his stylist, Stefan, whined and complained to his mother that he wasn’t taking care of himself. As it was, his hair had lost that freshly styled look and it seemed to him that it was more natural. Most people didn’t get styled all the time and he was trying very hard to look like most people right now.
He hadn’t shaved either. His normal routine involved a clean, close shave followed by an intensive moisturizer that would keep his skin soft, smooth and wrinkle free. Not that he was particularly worried about wrinkles at 18, but according to his dermatologist you couldn’t be too careful.
He looked at his eyes next. He’d been avoiding looking himself in the eye for the past few weeks. Dean could see the differences now. His eyes were colder, harder and seemed to scream with the anger buried deep inside him. He’d have to be careful with that. Where he was going, they would surely be able to see the anger in him.
His clothes, well, they hadn’t changed much. Yet. He still had to make it out of the house past his mother and she wouldn’t let him be seen in the clothes he planned on wearing later. So it was his typical golf shirt and khaki’s, perfectly pressed and ready for a night out with his perfectly pressed friends.
Except that Dean wasn’t going there tonight. Tonight, he was going to find out who’d tried to kill his brother. Tonight, he was going to take the first steps to make them pay. He slipped his glasses on, even though he didn’t need them anymore. Glasses didn’t fit with the new image he was trying to present so he’d gotten contacts. He hated contacts, hated sticking his finger in his eyes more than just about anything. But, then again, he’d do anything for Sammy.
Dean looked over his suite of rooms, making sure that everything was exactly as it should be. His mother would surely come in and snoop around after he was gone. It was what she did, after all. She’d been doing it to both him and Sammy for years and, while they normally joked about it, they occasionally left something slightly incriminating lying around just so she wouldn’t know that they knew. Tonight he couldn’t afford any mistakes so he made sure his room was perfect.
He went down the stairs and into his mother’s study. She was curled up in her perfect floral print chair, reading a book that he was sure was recommended by at least 3 of her friends. She looked perfectly relaxed and perfectly content. In fact, she just looked perfect, from the tips of her perfectly highlighted blonde hair to the tips of whatever fashionable shoes she was wearing.
She smiled when he entered and he smiled back. Neither smile reached their eyes and they both noticed but chose to ignore it. It was the way things were, now. Since the accident, none of them smiled a real smile. It just wasn’t possible. He crossed to her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Going out for a while, Momma.”
“Dean, sweetheart, do you have to go?”
He smiled at her again, his famous crooked grin that worked on everyone. “Come on, Mom. Please?”
She always caved when he did that. Everyone did. It was his secret weapon. “Okay, okay. You’ll be extra careful?”
That was the difference. Before, she’d have said “have a good time” or “be home by midnight”. Now, she worried about his safety. The Winchesters were no longer invincible. “I’ll be extra, extra careful. I promise.”
She ran a hand over his bristly cheek. “You really need to shave, sweetie.”
He grinned again. “It’s the new style. Stefan says that it makes me look sexy and will turn all the girls heads. What do you think?” Dean knew that if he told her Stefan said it, it was like coming straight from the Bible.
“Oh, well, if that’s the style, I guess I’ll just have to deal with scruffy for a while. I do hope this style doesn’t last long though.” His mom looked at him with her innocent expression and Dean almost felt guilty for deceiving her.
“I’ll be home a little late. Don’t worry, though, okay? I’ll have my cell on me if you need me.”
“Okay, honey. Just…”
“I know, Mom. I will. Love you.” Then he was out the door, heading for the garage. It seemed strange now to see his car. A month ago it had been his pride and joy, his baby. Now, it was a symbol of his wealth and status. And it wasn’t a good symbol. You couldn’t show up in a silver Aston Martin on the side of town he was going to.
He had a plan, though. Dean started the car and listened to its purr for a moment. The sound soothed him and he eased it out of the garage carefully before heading for the streets. He focused on keeping the car at normal speeds, making it out of the gated community and onto the main roads without a single squeal of tires.
As soon as he hit the main roads though, Dean opened her up and let the powerful car fly. She was smooth as silk and hugged the roads. His baby was the envy of all his friends. When he’d asked his grandmother for her for his 16th birthday, he’d not really expected to get his wish. He should have known better. His grandmother gave him everything. At the time, he’d bragged and crowed and rubbed it in everyone’s faces. They could take their Mercedes and BMW’s and shove them. His car was in another league, just like he was.
Now his car was a hindrance. There was no way in hell he could take her to the bad part of town. It couldn’t happen. So, he’d used some of that money his grandmother had spent the last 18 years throwing at him and bought another. Dean pushed the control to enter the storage facility and opened the electronic gate. He pulled to his unit and hopped out to open the door.
Inside was his new baby. Well, he really didn’t think he could get away with calling this car a baby. Where the Aston was sleek and sexy, the Impala was rugged and manly. It was black, not the shiny black of the new cars, but an old faded black that told of too many nights out in the elements. It was perfect.
Dean slid the Aston into its spot next to the Impala and turned off the engine. He needed to change more than his car. He opened the trunk of the Impala and laughed at his new wardrobe. His mother would probably have a heart attack if she saw the faded jeans and plain t-shirts. He grabbed the top of each from the pile and changed quickly. It was getting late and he needed to get going.
Polo, khaki’s and glasses were replaced with denim, cotton and shitkicker boots. Brand new Aston Martin was replaced with a 30 year old Chevy. Image was everything. Dean knew that better than anyone. He started up the Impala and laughed again. The Aston purred; the Impala growled. It was amazing.
He backed the Impala up and quickly secured his baby in the storage unit. Then he headed for the only place he knew of where he might be able to find out just what had happened to Sammy: Jake’s.
Jake’s was a rough and tumble bar that catered to the sort of person Dean had never really had contact with. But then he’d never expected to own a car that cost less than $100,000. The Impala had only set him back just over $10 grand. Dean had a hard time imaging that anyone would actually want a car that cost so little.
However, as he let the Impala’s engine roar to the wrong side of the tracks, he got the appeal. Hell, this car was a monster and it screamed ‘don’t fuck with me’ to anyone who dared get close enough to breathe its exhaust. And as he pulled into the parking lot of Jake’s, Dean knew he’d made the right choice. The car fit in here and so would he.
**************************************************************
Spike sat at his post guarding the door of Jake’s. The pay was shit but it got him out of the house and gave him a bit of his own money so he wouldn’t complain. Jake looked out for him, helped him avoid his asshole of a father as much as possible. Plus, he got to hear the bands that Jake brought in which he’d never be able to get away with otherwise.
He heard the car before he saw it. Spike knew most of the regulars at Jake’s and this wasn’t one of them. Then he saw who climbed out of the car and about fell off his stool. Shit. Dean-fucking-Winchester. What the hell was that asswipe doing here? And what the fuck was he wearing?
Dean sauntered up to the door like he owned the place. Spike nearly laughed. Dean-fucking-Winchester thought he owned everything and everybody. Wanker. Just because he was a Winchester – of The Winchester’s – didn’t make him shit any differently than Spike did. Spike steeled his spine. Well, Dean didn’t own Jake’s and there was no way in fucking hell he was getting past Spike.
Spike looked him up and down, wondering what the fuck he was doing on this side of town. And dressed like that. He was going to get himself beat to death. He looked like he was wearing a fucking costume. ‘What to wear when you want to try to look like you don’t come from piles of fucking money.’ Well, people who didn’t have piles of fucking money didn’t dress like that.
Dean held out a $20 and Spike just looked at it. “I don’t think so, asshole.”
Dean stepped back. “What?”
“You ain’t getting’ in so just go on back home to mommy.”
“What?”
“Did I fuckin’ stutter? Go. Home. To. Mommy.”
“What?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you asshole. You aren’t old enough to get in here and this isn’t your kind of place. So just toddle on home like a good preppy and get back to your own kind.”
The band started its next set and Spike turned his head towards the sound. Damn. This one was good and he had another half hour of door-sitting duty before he could go in and check them out. He realized that Dean was still standing there and turned back towards him.
“You still here?”
Dean looked really confused. It was a good look on him. “How, I mean, why…do I know you?”
“Yes, you shittard. We go to school together. Not that I would expect you to recognize me. I’m one of the scholarship kids. You know, the ones your kind turns your nose up at and pretends aren’t there breathing your valuable oxygen?”
Spike realized Dean was looking at him like he’d never seen him before. Well, he did look a bit different, Spike would give him that. He didn’t slick his hair back for school. He took out most of his piercings and he sure as hell didn’t wear his make up.
Dean looked like he was going to leave and then he straightened his spine and glared at Spike. “Listen, I’m just here for the music.”
“Preppie, you wouldn’t know punk if it came up and bit you on your Abercrombie ass. I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re playing at but you need to get the fuck out of here before I call the bouncer.”
Dean stared at him for a moment before getting that smug look that always pissed Spike off at school. He whipped out his cell phone. “You know, I don’t know who you are, but if you go to school with me, I’m going to say that you aren’t old enough to be here either. So I’m just going to make a quick phone call and see how fast I can get this shithole shut down.”
Shit. He had a point. And Spike knew that with his connections he probably could have Jake’s shut down within the hour. “Fine, Preppy. You want your ass handed to you on a platter, you just go on in. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And you go near the bar and I’ll have your white ass thrown out of here so fast you won’t know what hit you. Got it?”
Dean nodded and went in. Spike sighed. Shit. The asshole was going to get his ass kicked and then Spike really would be out of a job. He jumped from the stool and followed Dean in, gesturing at his replacement to head out and take over. Sure enough, Dean was already in trouble. Fuck.
Spike went after him and stepped between Dean and the man who was currently preparing to rip him to pieces. “Tony, what the fuck, man? You trying to kill my boy, here?”
Tony was 6’5 of pure muscle. His bald head gleamed even under the dim lights of the bar. He turned his eyes to Spike, ready to rip him a new one. Tony rolled his eyes. “This prick with you, Spike?”
“Afraid so. He’s sadly lacking in his education. Thought I’d help the poor asshole out a bit.”
“Well, keep him away from my bitch or I’ll give him a few new holes.”
“No problem, Tony.” Spike grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him over to the corner. “Shit, man. I told you. You never fuckin’ listen. You had to go and talk to Tony’s boy. Stupid fucker.”
Dean looked pale and Spike realized he was trembling a bit. “Come on, you git. Let’s get out of here and then you’re going to tell me what the fuck is so damn important that you’re risking your rich white ass to come here.”
Spike started to lead Dean towards his muscle car, but seeing the shaken look on his face changed his mind. He changed direction, taking him instead around back where Spike kept his bike. He pushed his helmet into Dean’s hands and swung his leg over. Dean stared at him blankly for a moment. “Put the fuckin’ helmet on and get on the damn bike, you wanker.”
Dean obeyed and Spike started the bike with a roar. Dean grabbed onto him as he tore out of the parking lot. Spike could still feel him shaking, though. Fuck. Tony must have scared the living shit out of him. Not that Tony didn’t scare the living shit out of everybody, Spike included, but that was beside the point.
He pushed the bike harder, letting the wind slap his face as he led them through the burg and towards the highway. It wasn’t far, but far enough that Dean had started to settle a bit by the time Spike pulled into the Waffle House parking lot.
Spike guided Dean inside and they took a booth in the back. Spike smiled as a familiar waitress approached with a smile. “Spikey!”
“Hey ya, Harmony. Lookin’ good, hot stuff.” She giggled. “How about gettin’ us a big ole pot of coffee. And maybe a couple of those omelet thingies. Oh, and waffles with strawberries.”
“Sure, thing, blondie bear.” She wandered off, still giggling.
Spike turned back to Dean. “Hope you’ve got cash, ’cause you’re buying.”
Dean nodded.
“So, want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing on my side of the tracks?”
Dean looked up at Spike blankly for a moment. “I should have known I couldn’t do it. It was a fucking stupid idea.”
“Do what?”
Dean sighed and looked away, but not before Spike noticed that his eyes were looking suspiciously damp. Oh fuck, the asshole was crying. Well, hell.
“Listen, Dean. I don’t know what the deal is but you seem like you need to talk to somebody and, hey, normally I’d be the last person on earth to volunteer but I kind of owe your brother one, so I’ll make an exception.”
Dean’s head swung back around to him. “You know Sammy?”
“Uh, yeah, you git. We go to the same school. Course, not now that Sammy got his fancy ass scholarship to that fancy ass nerd school he’d been going on about. Still can’t believe he left without saying goodbye. The wanker.”
“You owe Sammy one?”
Spike sighed. “You tell anyone this and I’ll kill your ass. But yeah, Sammy was helping me with some computer stuff. Never had one, and well, they were having us do all this fancy ass shit and telling us to work on it at home. Kind of hard to do for me. So Sam let me borrow his laptop and taught me a few things.”
“Seriously?”
“No, you fucktard, I’m making it up. For fuck’s sake, what is your deal?”
“I didn’t know that. Sammy never told me.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that. Sammy wouldn’t want to hear it from your group about him helping me out. Besides, he’s just like that. Would help a fella out who needed it.”
“Yep, that’s Sammy.”
Harmony came back with their coffee and Spike flirted with her a little more. Too bad she was dumb as a box of rocks or he’d try to do more than flirt. She twittered away again and he turned back to Dean.
“So, how is ole Sambone anyway. Liking the new digs?”
“Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“If I tell you this, it goes no further. You got it? I will hunt you down and fucking kill you.”
“Fine, yeah, it won’t go anywhere. Hell.”
“Sammy isn’t away at school.”
“What?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
“WHAT?”
“He’s hurt pretty bad.”
Spike’s mind was reeling. What the hell? Sammy wasn’t off at fancy school, but was laid up in the hospital. It made no sense. “What happened?”
“We don’t know. He won’t talk about it. Course, he’s not really awake much yet to talk about anything. They’re keeping him pretty drugged up.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad. They fucking tore him up, Spike. Sammy. Sammy who would never even hurt a damn fly.”
“Who did it?”
“Don’t know.” Dean took a deep breath and Spike could tell he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. Hell, Spike was having a hard time not tearing up. “He called me. Three weeks ago, tonight. I was at a party. I almost didn’t answer but Sammy never called unless he needed something. God, Spike. He sounded so bad. He just kept begging me to help him. I didn’t know what to do so I just ran out of the party.”
Spike reached across the table and grabbed Dean’s hand. “Go on.”
“He was lying in a fucking ditch. Thrown out like trash. They’d, oh hell, Spike. They’d messed him up. I’d never seen so much blood. It doesn’t look like it does in the movies, you know. I was surprised. I remember thinking, it doesn’t look like it’s supposed to. Isn’t that stupid?”
“Not stupid at all, pet.”
“He didn’t have pants on. I didn’t think about what that meant at first. He was holding onto his phone though. They’d left his coat on him and it was in his pocket. I don’t know how he managed to hang on for so long. He wasn’t conscious when I got there. Thank God Dad had gotten us those stupid GPS phones for Christmas. Sammy sent me his location. Only Sammy would think to do that. He’s so fuckin’ smart.”
Spike was shocked. Sam Winchester was one of the sweetest, smartest kids around. About the only one who gave Spike the time of day at school. No one deserved what had happened to Sammy. But Sam, well, he deserved it less than most.
“He came to for a minute when I got there. He was crying. I just held onto his head while I tried to think what to do. He told me not to call the cops. He was ashamed. I was so pissed off. I finally called Dad’s security guys and they came and we got him to a private hospital. He almost died. Dad’s team has been trying to find out who did it but until Sammy gives them some information, they can’t do much.”
“Why isn’t he talking, pet?”
“He’s in a bad place. He won’t talk about it. I’ve got to help him, Spike. Got to make sure those mother fuckers get what they deserve.”
“I’m with you. What can I do to help?”
“You can tell me who at Jake’s did it.”
“What?”
“That’s where I found him. Outside of Jake’s.”
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looking forward to more.
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I love the setting and the story is so very intriguing!! All I can think of is more more more!! I need to know what happened to Sammy, and I can’t wait to see Spike and Dean getting closer. It’s a bit different thinking of Dean as the rich kid but you make it work honey!!
Also, even though I know nothing about cars I really loved your descriptions of Dean’s two cars and the way you showed how they different but both part of Dean’s personality.
Oh I love this to bits!!! But I love you more *gg*
xoxoxo
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SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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*runs off to read more*