Chapter Text
Dean never liked suits. He thinks they make him look ridiculous, and just are ridiculous. He especially hated wearing one today.
As he drove the Impala (now his Impala), silence fell on them. No one said a word.
Sam was sitting next to him, his hair brushed out nicely and his suit ironed. On the back seat was their uncle Bobby, in a matching black suit. Charlie was wearing a black dress, her hair in a bun. Dean tried his best to ignore all of their sad looks.
Dean didn't bother trying to fix his hair, not having much of it in him. He was tired.
Sam wasn't there when it happened. He was in Stanford, awaiting the interview for a university scholarship. There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind he would ace it and knock their socks off.
Bobby was two states away, but he got there as soon as Dean called.
Charlie didn't have much keeping her anywhere other then the Winchester boys, so she stuck around with them.
Dean was the emergency contact. Their father was in a crash, a bad one. Got hit by a truck that lost control. Despite his best efforts he only got another minute with his father.
A man of few words, John never told his kids he loved them. Even less after they came out. He was religious to the point of borderline fanaticism, but he tried for them.
Dean, stupid as always, thought that maybe his father would tell him he loved him, maybe that he was proud of him. Instead, his father simply reminded him of his purpose - watch out for Sammy. He told him that Dean should take care of the Impala, and that he wants to be cremated.
As Death slowly defended upon the man, John started speaking slower, making less sense. He was convinced that Sam had the devil in him and that Dean might have to kill him for it. Dean just nodded, knowing this isn't his father, this was a man who was on his death bed, trying to stay with his son as long as he could. He wasn't angry at him.
As the flat sound of the heart monitor filled the room, he tried blinking away tears to get one last look at his father. The man who did his best to raise him right.
He doesn't remember really being in his body after that. Walking out the hospital felt like being controlled by a puppeteer, with his soul floating above him. If he focused enough, he could've probably managed to be the first person to fly.
Driving back on autopilot, he only remembers the sound of the engine and the air against the windows.
He was sat in the living room, drunk off his ass when Charlie found him. She almost called 911, saying he had a 'thousand yard stare, almost like he was half dead from alcohol poisoning'.
She helped him get to bed, sensing he's in no state to explain right now. The next morning however, came with a massive headache and a worried Charlie demanding answers.
Having lost both her parents, the redhead immediately understood. Granted, she lost them young and up until recently her mother was in a coma. Dean helped her grieve, as well as let go. He refused to leave her side for like a month after that.
She called Sam first, then Bobby and Ellen. As well as she tried to be quiet, Dean still heard the conversations. Hearing the fact his father's dead a few more times didn't help, but he was still too shocked to fully feel it.
Charlie stuck around that day, just sitting with him. They talked a little. Just random things, because he's still his father's son - meaning he won't talk about something until it's eaten his soul and left only crymbs.
Bobby called the night after, telling them he's in town, staying at a motel. Sam texted he booked a plane ticket and rescheduled his interview to next month.
Charlie ordered take out, got pirate versions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, as well as every Star Wars and Star Trek she could find. Only thing she didn't let him do was drink himself stupid under the excuse of 'ruining his liver' and 'he could end up hurt' etc. He was grateful she was there, despite his snark and sarcasm mixed with the 'Dean Winchester feeling some big emotion©' attitude and annoyance.
Sam arrived the morning after Bobby called. He stayed with Dean in his apartment.
After a few days (weeks? He doesn't know anymore) they had the funeral.
It was a small gathering, closest family and friends, occasional work friend or business associate. Dean thinks he would've liked it.
"How ya holdin' up, kid?" Bobby appeared next to him, handing him a glass of whiskey. He never stoped calling him and Sam 'kid' or 'boy'.
"Given the circumstances, good"
"I know ya loved the man. Look, you know ya can always come to me, right? Anytime, call me, come to my house, I'm there for you. If it's the middle of the night i might be a little grouchy, but I'll be there." That got a small laugh out of Dean.
"Yeah. I know, old man" Bobby was more of a dad then their father ever was. It feels wrong saying it or even thinking it at Johns funeral, but it's true.
After a long couple of hours, the guests started slowly disappearing again. The Winchester gang, including Charlie and Bobby went back home. Dean didn't go inside immediately, deciding to get some air while he's already out.
He sat against the hood of the Impala, looking at the bright blue sky. He looked at the clouds, all cotton like with a few slightly darker ones.
He heard Sam approaching. He lef him sit next to him, not taking his eyes off the sky.
"Never stopped to look at the sky. Like, really look at it." He mused.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Sam look up as well, taking it all in. "Isn't it ironic that on the day of our dad's funeral we're just sitting here, looking at the sky?" Dean knee the question was rhetorical, more of Sam's way of keeping the conversation then a genuine act of curiosity.
"No. I think it's maybe dad telling us to look at the bright side, that just because it feels empty and depressive, the world will keep on spinning. He was a great man, but even legends have to die."
Sam shoved him gently "Okay, Mr. I-Hate-Chick-Flicks. Where did you find that one, an inspiration kitty poster moms post on Facebook?"
"Shut up." He shoved him back. "I just... I have a new appreciation for life. I wanna... I wanna enjoy it, actually live it, ya know?"
"I get that. Say, you don't mind me staying at your place for a little longer?"
"Dude, i shared a room with you for 18 years, i think i could last a few more days"
Silence fell again. Dean wad the first one to break it.
"I might move. Go somewhere. See the world, have something to tell my grandkids when im old and gray"
"You sure? Maybe that's just the grief talking"
"Maybe. But i do know that i want to have fun stories"
He stayed like that for a little while longer. When they went inside, Bobby and Charlie greeted them with some beer. They talked. And Dean felt more at home than he had in a while.