Chapter Text
For his 40th birthday, Dean decides to retire.
It really started when Sam met Eileen. She had ended up working the same case that Dean and Sam were on. Suspected banshee giving an old folks home trouble. She stabbed the sucker right in the heart with a golden knife. Sam had been smitten ever since.
Dean can’t blame him. His sister-in-law is one hell of a hunter and has a much better personality than his jerk of a little brother.
Dean’s a lot of things but he’s not stupid. He could see this coming. An old abandoned bunker isn’t any place for newlyweds. It’s not a place to build a life. Sam and Eileen have plans. They want to set up some kind of hunter network.
So when Sam tells Dean that they’re looking at buying some property, Dean isn’t surprised. He goes out with Sam and Eileen to check it out. It’s a few acres of abandoned farmland. The house is big. Enough for a couple and plenty of guests. They repair the shabby workshop, set up a makeshift gun range, and dig a pit for Sam to test out his more explosive spells.
Sam offers Dean a room there. Dean stays for a while but it just doesn’t feel right. He slips into old habits. He’s bored. He fusses over Sam. He drinks a lot. With the hunting network in full swing, there are fewer cases for Dean to take. He feels like some kind of caged animal, pacing back and forth. Waiting. Just waiting for something, anything to happen.
He yearns for the open road.
He could stay. Get more angry and frustrated. Yell at Sam for every little thing. He lived that life once. He doesn’t really want to again.
Yet, for the first time in his life, he can’t muster the willpower to hunt. It seems pointless now. There’s more people these days, with more skills and resources. Dean isn’t getting any younger.
Retirement it is.
The hardest part about leaving is Baby. Sam and Eileen are a close second. She’s been with Dean for so long. As much as it hurt him to admit it, she’s not perfect and a truck camper cannot fit on the back of Baby. So she’ll have to stay at the Leahy residence. She’ll be in good hands. Dean threatened to cut-offs Sam’s if anything happened to her.
Dean buys a pickup truck. He was all set to buy a rust bucket before Sam intervened. Put on his best “I’m concerned about you” face and dragged Dean to an actual car dealership.
The asshole used Dean’s weaknesses against him. He told Dean would worry about the truck breaking down or Dean being standard far from help. Really laid it on thick. So now, Dean was the proud owner of a respectable used Ford. Extended bed. Even so, Sam gave him a AAA membership. God, his brother is the worst.
Dean finds the camper on Craigslist. He didn’t go with the cheapest one available. Despite what Sam thinks, he does have a little self-preservation. Sam accompanies him to check it out. The guy selling it is friendly enough. Some dentist looking to downsize.
It’s a truck camper in good condition, roughly a decade old. Dean’s spent the last month researching his options. Thankfully Youtube is a thing. There’s no end of people willing to point a camera at their face and give an in-depth tour of their camper or RV. The truck camper seems right. It’s just gonna be Dean so he doesn’t need a lot of space.
The seller gives them a tour before briefly leaving to fetch the paperwork.
Sam walks around the camper, trying to discern its secrets.
“You sure about this?” Sam asks. “You know you have a place with Eileen and I.”
Dean knows. He’s grateful for that but he needs this.
“Sammy,” Dean begins. He doesn’t know how to explain this. “You know I love you and Eileen. But the life you’re building, to be honest Sam, I don’t know. About a lot of things right now. Maybe I’ll hate it and come back after a day. I just need some time.”
Sam looks back at the camper. “I may not understand but I get it.”
“They teach you to be that eloquent at Stanford?” Dean teases. “I, uh, do appreciate it though.”
Sam grins, “Of course, Dean. I'm also glad you decided to purchase a decent rig. This almost doesn’t look like a death trap.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
The camper itself is pretty nice. Little dinette on the right as you walk in. Wet bath on the left. The kitchen has got a sink, three burner stove, microwave, and miniature oven. There’s room for a queen size bed up top. Dean puts in a memory foam mattress. He’s not giving up everything.
Charlie swings by to see him off. She also brings a complicated mess of electronics and installs a whole range of equipment in the camper. Dean doesn’t quite know what all of it does but she assures him he can get WiFi and charge his laptop on the camper batteries. Dean’s got a list of movies he needs to get through.
It’s a deep dark secret but he also gets Spotify for his phone. His piles of mix-tapes would take up too much room in the camper. He stuffs his favorites in the glovebox of the Ford.
Dean, Sam, Eileen, and Charlie sit in the workshop. Drinking beer and talking about nothing in particular.
“Where are you going,” Eileen asks.
Dean looks at her and shrugs. Nowhere. Everywhere.
“Dude, you need at least a direction,” Charlie says.
Eileen's eyes suddenly light up. She signs to Sam. Dean’s smirks, leave it to his sister-in-law to think of something like this.
Sam returns with an old fold-out of the continental United States. Eileen takes it and pins it to the wall. She pulls a knife from her boot and hands it to Dean.
“Throw it.”
Dean tosses the knife in his hands. It’s a small weapon, utilitarian in nature. Good for close quarters combat. It will do.
Dean hurls the knife at the map. It lands with a thud, just east of Las Vegas.
Well, Dean always liked the west.
His destination is technically a few miles east, but Dean figures Las Vegas is an acceptable detour. The drive from Lawrence to Vegas is about 18 hours. Dean takes a lot longer. It’s different from a hunt. There’s no end goal. He can just do whatever he likes.
So he does.
Cassie is in Denver these days. She’s married but it's nice to see an old friend. They eat lunch at some new age cafe. She laughs when she hears he’s retired. Tells him that this life suits him. He doesn’t ask what she means by that.
He’s at a disgusting rest stop one night. The sound of crickets fill the night air. He bought a tattered guidebook at a roadside stand miles back. Dean’s never loved the outdoors. It’s usually cold and there was a high likelihood of a vamp jumping you at any moment. But hell, he drove all the way here. He can at least try to commune with nature. Zion National Park looks beautiful.
It’s more crowded than Dean thought it would be, but the photographs didn’t do it justice. He sits on the tram, stuffed in with other park guests and listens to the ranger talk about the history of the park. Dean only half listens, he stares up at the canyon walls. They dwarf everything below.
Dean then gets the bright idea to go hiking. Angel’s Landing is a little much for him. He’s faced down cold-blooded killers but pushy tourists on a sheer cliff doesn’t sound like a great time. Instead, he huffs it up to Observation Point.
He has the physique of a hunter. He’s made for quick bursts of action. Hauling his ass up 2,000 feet in the wrong shoes almost kills him. He cannot see how people do this for fun.
The view is almost worth it. Almost. He sits there for a long time, drinking what must be gallons of water. The very walls that looked like mountains yesterday, seem smaller but no less spectacular. He looks down at Angel’s Landing in the valley below. It’s full of people. Suckers.
Dean eventually finds the willpower to descend. It’s getting toward evening and he wants to try and see the Milky Way tonight from his campsite. Dean has stargazed before. If a hunt was too much or Dad kicked him out again or some other bullshit, Dean would drive. Drive until he couldn’t see another soul. He would lay on Baby’s hood and stare up at the night sky. Mom had told him angels were watching over him but on those nights, he felt alone.
This feels different. It’s a little hard to stargaze, there are lights from the other campsites. Dean can see the stars all the same as he lays on the roof of the camper. The guidebook was right. Zion is beautiful.
Vegas is Vegas. He gambles, meets a few lovely women, enjoys the Strip afterdark. Still, Vegas is full of traffic.
Dean leaves. He could go east but he’s always wanted to see the beach. So he drives. The beach is fantastic but Los Angeles is also full of traffic. He keeps going. Takes his time up the coast. He runs low on cash past San Francisco.
He could call Sam for money. It’s not pride that stops him. Okay, maybe a little. He wants to keep going at this and propane doesn’t pay for itself. Asking Sam for help feels like defeat.
It’s just Dean’s luck though that he ends up near broke in Mount Shasta.
Dean surveys his options as he walks around town. His skill set isn’t exactly the kind of thing that fits neatly on a resume. He doesn’t know how well he’d fit in at a rock shop/tourist trap.
Then he spots it. Actually, he feels it. The thick, almost tangible sense of the supernatural. It’s coming from a seedy looking bar. Can’t hurt to check it out.
The place is busy. They sell typical gut grease to tourists. A little out-of-place but Dean’s not in the position to be picky. He orders some beers from the barkeep, a friendly woman. She’s armed to the teeth. All concealed but Dean knows a hunter when he sees one. The night wears on. He waits until the place is quiet. Just him and the drunks, passed out at their tables.
An older woman emerges from the kitchen to talk to the barkeep. She glances at Dean, her widening in recognition.
“Are you Dean Winchester by any chance?” The woman asks.
Dean hesitates, “Depends on who's asking?” He doesn’t know anyone in California off the top of his head.
The woman reaches across the bar, offering her hand to Dean. “I’m Jody Mills. I run this place with my wife, Donna. Your brother, Sam Leahy, co-runs a hunting network out of Lawrence right? I’ve taken some online workshops from him and Eileen. You're featured in several powerpoint presentations.”
Of course Sam would do something like that.
“What brings you here? Is it a case? There’s not many hunters out here worth a damn and we’re retired,” Jody tells him.
“Semi-retired,” Donna adds, patting Jody on the back.
Jody looks fondly at Donna and rolls her eyes. “We still take cases now and then. Mt. Shasta’s full of the supernatural. I’m sure you’ve read the brochures.”
Dean explains why he’s in town. Well he says he's on an extended road trip. The exact reasons don’t need to be said. He’s looking for work, least till spring rolls around.
Jody and Donna give each other a look, something passes between them.
Jody smiles warmly at Dean, “We don’t hunt enough to need all that much help but you aren’t dead which is a good sign for a hunter. Too many die young. You can bartend for us, if you want. Wouldn’t hurt to have another pretty face around here.”
Dean throws back the last of his beer, “Ain’t exactly got a lot of experience.”
Jody shrugs, “I don’t need you to know anything. I just need you to do what I tell you.”
Bartending isn’t the best gig around but it’s not the worst. Most of the clientele are tourists or grumpy locals complaining about the tourists. Jody, Donna, and him trade hunting stories during the evening. Those two have seen some shit.
Jody pulls Dean aside, soon after he starts working.
“Son, you ever meet a strange sort around here. Don’t turn them away.” She whispers, as if this is secret information.
“Strange, Jody? Half the people in this damn town are strange.”
“I know that. I mean, actually strange. Other worldly. There’s the supernatural sure but I didn’t believe all that crap about the mountain until I saw it myself,” Jody says.
“Are there really aliens?,” Dean asks, maybe a little too enthusiastically.
“Dean, this isn’t Star Trek.” Jody pauses, “Well maybe it is. Donna and I were out driving once. We were just married, no real plans for the future. We were on some god forsaken back road and an old man appeared out of nowhere. I almost hit him. I pull off to ask what in the hell was wrong with him. Except I didn’t. Something stopped me. He asked for a ride back to town. He sat in the back seat, never said a thing the whole time. We get him here and he says he’d like to repay our kindness. He pointed at this fine establishment. It was a shithole back then but we fell in love with it the minute we walked in. Just something about it. Never saw that old fellow again.”
Dean doesn’t quite know what Jody is trying to tell him. “So I should let strange men into my car?” he ventures, half-joking.
“I’m just saying, not everything is as it seems. We’re hunters. We’re trained not to trust the unknown. Just, there are places out here. People. Things that defy everything you know. You didn’t say it but I know you're looking for something out here. Don’t be afraid to find it. Have a little faith. Who knows who or what that fellow was. I’m here all the same.”
Dean considers her point. Despite what the tourist pamphlets tell him, nothing out of this world has happened to him in Mount Shasta. There’s the occasional supernatural creature but Dean’s seen it all. He knows what’s out there.
Every night as he drives up to the little pad he’s rented for his truck, he does think of Jody’s story though.
He never does run over any strange men.