Work Text:
Dean Winchester
April 2012
Ms. Fowler was in a real rage this time, her face nearly purple as she screamed “You’re never going to get anywhere in life with that attitude, Dean Winchester!”
Dean shrugged as he sneered at the ugly old (she was mid 40’s) hag in front of him berating him for talking to the pretty girl behind him instead of listening to her boring ass lecture on how voting worked, “Well you’re never going to get anyone with breath and an ass like that, bitch.”
He was so fucking sick of this shit, so fucking sick of his teachers and peers, of the jeers, the abuse, the stupid fucking cunt sitting next to him just popping his gum over and over again even though Dean has told him so many fucking times how god damn annoying it is. He was sick of reading Shakespeare, he was sick of doing algebra, he was sick of learning about the Civil War, and he was sick of being TRAPPED HERE for almost NINE FUCKING HOURS a day just to fucking suffer.
High school thoroughly killed Dean’s desire to pursue a career in forestry or ecology. He loved being in nature, loved his biology classes and the little creek in his childhood home before his dad was killed six years ago and he moved to this shit hole in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He loved his family there, his (not-so) baby brother Sammy, his little cousin Jo, and the family friends that took them in Bobby and Ellen Singer, but he hated this school. He tried sports to make friends, and baseball, basketball, and football kept him in shape but didn’t do much for friendship. Alastair and his goons saw to that. If college was going to be anything like this, then he had absolutely interest in it.
His grades were abysmal and his teachers all hated him. It didn’t help that Dean stood up for himself when they were being shitty. He didn’t understand why everyone saw him as some sort of slouch or villain before he even did anything. Yes, he couldn’t keep track of his homework, and he stopped studying for tests because he would just forget everything the day of anyway. So yes, he was bored as fuck and would rather talk to the many pretty girls who actually did treat him as if he was worth anything than pay attention in class. Once teachers started giving him shit for his poor performance or distracting others, he would respond to their hostility with hostility of his own. He didn’t start this feud, but he wasn’t going to lie down and accept their abuse either. As a result, at this point near the end of his sophomore year, he had a bit of a reputation. It probably would only get worse next semester.
As much as Dean tried to make it work, to be a good example for Sammy and Jo or a good “son” to Bobby and Ellen, he just couldn’t stand it here anymore. He didn’t want to rot in this prison when he knew that now that he was 16, he could start working more hours at the Singer Salvage Yard restoring classic cars. Bobby had already shown Dean how to take care of the 1967 Chevrolet Impala his father left him. It had fallen into disrepair as his dad’s alcoholism had taken its toll on the man, and Bobby promised Dean that he would wait to restore it until Dean was old enough to help, which ended up being about two years ago. Dean knew he had a passion for forests and nature, but his passion for his Baby transferred to other older cars well enough that he could make a life doing this instead. Right?
Even though Ms. Fowler was wailing at him more, his focus still managed to drift to the salvage yard and his desire to be free, so when she slammed her fist into the filing cabinet near his desk, he nearly jumped out of his chair as she screamed, “JESUS DEAN ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?” When Dean looked at her again, he heard the class snickering as she smirked and said dangerously quiet, “Office. Now.”
Dean felt his face flush with anger and embarrassment. He muttered, “Whatever cunt,” grabbing his shit and throwing it into his bag. He looked at the girl he was talking to earlier, but she wouldn’t even meet his eyes, so embarrassed to be caught up in his bullshit. He sighed loudly and walked out.
He walked right past the office and to his locker. He didn’t need to go to the office if he was never coming back. He jerked it open and grabbed the few things he cared about. A well-worn Kerouac novel from his mother, a few jackets and flannels that he kept bringing and forgetting to take home, and a few hidden away pictures of his family he would pull out when no one was around to look at to feel better all went carefully into his bag. The rest of the shit the school could throw away, he didn’t really give a shit. He slammed the door shut, then he went right to his Baby.
He chucked his bag into the passenger seat and pulled out his album organizer. For Dean’s 16th birthday, Bobby got Dean a new stereo system that had a CD player and helped him install it. He had plenty of his dad’s cassettes, but today he wanted to listen to his birthday present from Sammy, Five Finger Death Punch’s new album American Capitalist. Dean chuckled affectionately at the memory of Bobby’s face when Dean opened it up, because he didn’t know Sam had bought it for Dean and it was definitely not appropriate for a 12 year old. Then again, Bobby and Ellen were pretty big into metal and rock, and they were pretty cool with any of them cursing as long as it wasn’t at anyone and they didn’t do it outside of the house until they were 18. So they listened to it together a couple of times when the two of them were cruising, and it was perfect for the mood he was in right now.
Dean pealed out of the school parking lot, leaving a long scuff from his tires, screaming along with the music, “I don't wanna believe I'm empty, and I don't want to admit I'm wrong! I don't wanna regret who I've become!” Tears were stinging at the edges of his vision. He didn’t want to regret who he became, but if he stayed in that prison much longer, he wouldn’t live long enough to finish either. He couldn’t drive home yet, couldn’t face Bobby and Ellen quite yet, and couldn’t tell them that he wasn’t going back. He knew they’d put up a fight, tell him how he was so smart and other dumb lies about how much potential he had. Deep down he knew they were right, but whatever potential he had was being choked to death in that hell-hole. He drove out of town and headed towards the country. Sioux Falls was a pretty decent sized town, but farmland wasn’t far away going south on I-29. He always felt better when it was just him and the open road.
He had the radio up as loud as it would go, his windows down letting the wind whip away his scream singing, “It's the world I've grown to know. Unforgiving and so cold, take it away, take it away, I don't want it!” He drove south until the album finished, then he started it over and turned around. He knew he couldn’t run away from this conversation forever, and he didn’t want to worry the people who took his broken ass in and tried to make his life into something he could live with. His thoughts on the drive back inevitably went to his father.
John wasn’t abusive. Like, he didn’t hit Dean or anything, so it couldn’t be real abuse, not like the shit his dad went through with grandpa. John told Dean he loved him almost every night, he told Dean he would die for him and his brother, and he believed it. When John was sober or the right level of tipsy, they would play and watch movies together and have a great time. He just… also said hurtful shit; a lot. Most of it Dean knew wasn’t actually true, like when his father called him lazy or selfish when he was playing video games on a Saturday morning after literally spending every moment after school taking care of his brother and the house. But hearing someone you love insisting nearly daily that you weren’t enough, that everything you gave for your family was never enough, it took a toll. It helped Dean though, it kept him driven, kept him strong, and it was going to make him better than his dad. That was what John told him anyway, and he believed it, as it was all he knew.
After he passed, Bobby and Ellen had to force Dean to do fewer chores, to not cook dinner every night, to stop picking out clothes or parenting Sammy and Jo. They pretty quickly started coddling him, telling him how good a job he was doing, how smart and capable he was, all of this bullshit that made Dean feel even more like a fuck up. He didn’t need to be babied, and he couldn’t stand when they were so nice and fake to him. That wasn’t what they were supposed to do, they were supposed to parent him, to show him where to improve so he could be better. Empty compliments weren’t going to help him.
Slowly, so slowly that Dean couldn’t pin point when but it was probably around when he turned 14, he started to realize that John’s way of parenting wasn’t… actually all that great. It was probably because he could see how… happy Sammy and Jo were being raised their way. They weren’t fuck ups, they weren’t lazy, selfish, careless, incompetent bitches as John convinced Dean he was going to be if he wasn’t on his ass 24/7. Dean started to realize there was something… wrong with him, and the way he saw the world. He loved seeing Jo and Sammy so happy and carefree, and he realized that he couldn’t remember a time when he felt that way. Even though Bobby and Ellen didn’t treat him any different, as much as he tried, he just couldn’t feel genuinely joyful for longer than a few moments, before the anxiety started to settle in. Then that voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like John started to pipe up and tell him horrible lies (or maybe unpleasant truths, it was hard to tell sometimes).
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Dean had walked out during his last class of the day, so by the time he got back, it was nearly 5. He knew he would probably get an earful from Bobby and Ellen for worrying them. He hated worrying them, hated disappointing them, and he knew this was probably going to make him the biggest disappointment in their eyes, but he had to do it. If this proved John right to them, then he would just have to find a way to live with it.
He sat in his Baby a few moments longer in front of the house, psyching himself up to head inside. He got out and stomped into the house, and he saw Ellen’s worried face first. Before he could lose his nerve or hear whatever unpleasant words she had in store, he blurted out as tears welled up in his eyes, “I can’t take it anymore, that place is a fucking prison and I’m losing my god damned mind in there.” The tears started spilling out, further increasing the embarrassment he was feeling at being such a fuck up. He scrunched his eyes shut, unable to bear seeing their disappointed faces that they were almost definitely making, and just kept babbling, “I have to drop out, please don’t be mad, I just can’t anymore, I’m sorry, I’m just- I know I’m- I just can’t- please-“
Dean was interrupted by the feeling of four people hugging him, one on each side. Dean opened his eyes and saw that he was being enveloped by his family, Bobby on the front, Ellen behind, and little Sammy and Jo to either side. He didn’t even hear them moving, but here they all were. Ellen spoke first, “Dean, we understand. That place isn’t made for people like you, you’re too smart and too… passionate for that school.” She sighed frustratedly, and a little voice told him she’s frustrated with you for being such a loser, but a logical voice that Ellen and Bobby taught him to use countered, no, she’s frustrated at the school, and he believed the second voice as Ellen added, “They just don’t understand you.”
Dean could feel Bobby nodding, “Obviously we care about your future and we would rather you stick it out because we know you could do so many things with a degree, but we see how hard it has been and we understand your decision. Do you know what you want to do instead?”
Dean was crying openly now, completely taken aback by their response of love and compassion over the ridicule and shame he expected from everyone. He took a second to collect himself and said, “I want to work at the shop full time. I want to help you take on more clients so we can save up money for Sammy to go to college.”
Jo scowled up at Dean, her tiny voice adorably frustrated as she said, “Hey what am I, chopped liver? I want to go to college too!”
At the same time, Sammy said indignantly, “Dean you don’t need to do that, I’ll be fine!”
Dean ignored his brother, instead looking down at his little cousin, and stroked her hair, “Oh sorry Jo, it’s nothing personal it’s just… Sam and I… it’s always been my job to take care of Sammy, and YES,” Dean added when he heard Ellen about to chime in, “I know you two do that now too, but…” He had to stop for a moment to collect himself, “You already do so much for us and you didn’t have to take us in and I just… honestly I’ve known Sam was college bound since before dad died, I’ve always planned on helping him, but you know what Jo, I’ll save half of it for you too. I just know I’m not school material, but you two are, and I want to make sure you both can go wherever you want so you can follow your dreams.”
Sam looked up at Dean, though lately he’s had less distance to close with how tall he was getting, “Dean, what about your dreams? You used to-“
“I know Sammy but I just can’t THINK about that shit right now, it’s too fucking hard!” He deflated slightly after snapping at his brother. He hated yelling at him. “Sorry Sam, but I love working on cars too. I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”
Bobby jumped in again, “Well that seems like a pretty good plan to me Dean, but at some point I want you to think about getting a GED. It doesn’t have to be any time soon, I think you need a break from schooling for a while, but that is our one condition. Once Sam and Jo get into college and you know what kind of financial load it’s going to be, I need you to be willing to look into it again.”
Dean smiled, pleasantly surprised at how this conversation was going. “Alright Bobby, I will. Thank you.”
They all stood there for a moment longer hugging each other, and Dean had never felt more loved than he did in this moment of weakness and vulnerability. He could feel part of his shattered soul come back together with their compassion, and he knew that this was the right choice. If Sammy got a good enough scholarship, he would consider getting a GED, but that was going to be it. Dean wasn’t cut out for school, and he never would be.