Chapter Text
“Dean, I think it’s time for you to start learning about cars.”
Dean looked up from the breakfast that he’d been shoveling into his mouth haphazardly and frowned at his dad in confusion.
John nodded his head as if he’d made up his mind. “I started learning around ten years old too, you know. It’s about time you start learning how to be a man.”
Dean quickly swallowed his eggs, only slightly choking on the food as he felt a slight tendril of panic wind around his throat. Was he going to try and make him talk to people again? So far he hadn’t mentioned other people so it didn’t sound too bad. At least cars wouldn’t care if he talked to them or not.
Dean had been watching his father work magic on cars for as long as he could remember and he was convinced that he could fix anything with ease. Every once in awhile the Impala would start billowing out black smoke and his dad would just pull over and flip the hood up, do something to the inside, and the car would be as good as new. The few times that he’d gone to the shop with him he’d witnessed his dad smiling to customers as they talked in a way that Dean knew he could never do.
At least he’d get to have a Saturday that wasn’t spent stuck in the house, watching after Sam -
Dean glancing over at his brother as he was playing with his cereal before looking back over at his dad again.
“We’ll drop him off at Ellen’s for today and I can start showing you around the shop.” John said, easily translating Dean’s body language.
John dumped his empty dishes in the sink as Dean finished his food as fast as possible. His dad hadn’t let him come visit him at the shop since. . . well, it had been a while.
“Finish up and get in the car, boys.” John said, taking his keys from where they’d been hanging on the wall.
The two of them all but abandoned their plates as they followed their dad out the door and into their Impala.
*
Dean kicked his legs back and forth from on top of the large black chairs in the main lobby of his dad’s mechanic shop, staring at the floor as the sounds of the clanging of metal and whirring of the auto lift.
Today had apparently been uncharacteristically busy for the shop so, instead of showing Dean the ropes as promised, he’d been more or less shunted to the side in the lobby with Billie as the designated babysitter.
“So how old are you, Dean?”
Dean looked up as Billie smiled at him from over the counter and hesitated before holding up ten fingers and quickly looked away again.
“ Ten? Wow, you’re getting so old .”
Dean hid a small smile as he heard her typing on the other side of the front desk. “So are you liking school alright?”
Dean nodded slowly, clasping his hands in his lap, staring at the oil stain that had been added to his shirt while his dad had been showing him around a particularly greasy car before it got busy.
“Anything in particular?”
Dean shook his head.
“Your dad told me you’re not much of a talker.”
Dean looked up, waiting to see Billie frown at him in disappointment - something he really didn’t want because ,so far, he liked Billie - and was pleasantly surprised to see her still smiling at him.
“That’s okay, you know,” Billie took a mint from the bowl set on the table and tossed one to him. “When I was your age my dad was in a car accident. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone after that for a long time and no one knew why.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know why either.”
Dean ducked his head again, cupping the mint in his hands as he listened.
“You’ll talk when you’re ready, okay?” She lifted her waves of dark curls into a bun on her head as she looked back at her computer screen.
The sound of voices from the doorway that lead into the lobby caused Dean to snap out of his thoughts and scurry behind the front desk and duck down into Billie’s leg space. If people came in they might try and talk to him. Billie was safe.
Billie barely looked at him as he ducked underneath the desk when the sound of the door opened and the voices became clear.
“Well it’s not my fault that it’s making the awful noise,” Dean heard a low male-voice say, “Maybe one of them touched something they weren’t supposed to, or -”
“ Or -” a female voice interrupted, “It’s a car and cars just break down sometimes. Honestly, Richard, it’s no one’s fault .”
Dean huddled closer to Billie as he heard the conversation continue from the other side of the front desk.
“Hello,” Billie sounded like she was trying her best to be cheerful. “What can we do for you today?”
The male voice piped up again, this time with an air of importance. “Yes, hello. I’m Dick Roman. You probably know me already so I hope I don't have to stress how urgent it is that my car is fixed soon. It’s making an awful rattling noise and there’s some smoke coming out of the front end.”
Dean grimaced at the arrogant tone to his voice and while he felt like he’d heard the name before, he couldn’t quite place the voice to a face. Not without revealing his hiding spot.
“Of course, Mayor Roman.” Dean looked up to see Billie handing him a clipboard with some paperwork on it. “Just fill this out real quick and pull your car into the shop and John will go ahead and take a look at it.”
There was a long, drawn-out sigh that made Dean cringe inwardly before the sound of quick scribbles against paper was heard.
“There. Thank you very much.”
The sound of footsteps began to fade enough for Dean to risk peeking his head out from behind the desk and saw four figures walk back out the way they came. There was a tall man with dirty blond hair that Dean assumed was the deep voice that had sounded important, and a woman with her own hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head. Trailing behind them were two boys, one a few inches taller than the other, though Dean couldn’t see much else with their backs turned to him.
The door shut behind the family and Dean heard Billie sigh.
“Well, the mayor sure seems like an upstanding guy.” Billie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
She ducked her head down and motioned for Dean to come out of his hiding place. “Don’t worry. They’re gone. Here,” she pulled out a paper cup from one of the desk drawers and walked over to the drinking fountain in the corner of the room, filling it halfway and kneeling down to hand it to him under the desk. “Last I checked, your mom’s flower was looking a little dry . Do you want to go give it something to drink?”
Dean nodded slowly and accepted the offered cup of water, standing up and looking over at the single white rose in a plant pot that he could barely see on the main table inside the interior of the garage. The flower came from a nearly overgrown rosebush that his mom had planted with extra care to the side of their small home. His dad would snip one off for the garage and place it in the pot, repeating the process any time the flower wilted and died.
He’d witnessed his father during this process many times, but this was the first time he’d actually seen the pot in the shop.
The white flower was almost serene in the stark contrast of the grungy garage, definitely out of place but clearly holding significance. Dean carefully walked into the garage, holding the paper cup carefully so as not to spill anything, and made his way over to the table that held the rose. He weaved through the different mechanics with ease, a few of them giving a friendly smile as he passed, and stopped in front of the rose.
This one must have been fresh, picked either today or yesterday, seeing as there were no dark spots forming on the petals that he could see and it hadn’t yet hunched over from lack of proper care.
“Here you go,” Dean whispered affectionately, his voice a little hoarse from disuse, and poured a small stream of water into the pot for the rose to drink, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. Even he knew that touching the petals of flowers would make it die faster, and that was not a fate he wanted for his mother’s rose. Dean smiled as the rose almost seemed to glow in thanks.
The rose was special.
“Who’s in charge, here?”
Dean jumped at the sound of the same deep voice he’d heard in the lobby permeating through the garage. He looked over to see that a sleek, black car with grey smoke streaming from under the hood had pulled into the garage opening without him noticing, and the family from before was piling out.
As quietly as he could, Dean tucked himself into the a corner of the garage a few feet away from the rose and watched as his dad wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and stepped towards the family.
“I am. John Winchester. How are you, Mayor?” He held out his hand.
“Not having the best of days, that’s for sure.” Mayor Roman swept his gaze around the room in what looked like an attempt to ignore the offered hand, before shooting him a smile. “I was hoping that I could get my car looked at. I’m sure you’re a very busy man but it’s necessary that it’s done as fast as possible.”
Dean saw his dad’s posture shift a little and a slight frown etched into his features.
“Well, I suppose I could make some room,” John glanced around him at the other mechanics that all were hunched either over or under someone’s car. “Lemme take a quick look.”
Dean fiddled with the, now empty, paper cup that Billie had given him as his dad pulled the hood up on the car and waved the smoke away from his face.
Mayor Roman sure didn’t seem very nice.
Dean busied himself by thinking of all of the different things he could do to help the flower live longer. Maybe he could give it some kind of special plant food or maybe a better pot. He frowned and tapped his fingers against his chin. What would his mom do?
A slight movement caught his eye that caused Dean to slink back a little. The smaller of the two boys was slowly making his way forward towards the table, an awestruck look on his face.
Dean tilted his head as he studied the other boy.
They looked like they were most likely around the same age, but they were very different in looks. Blue eyes were framed with neatly combed dark hair and he had an air about him that made Dean think he’d never had any kind of dirt on him in his life.
Dean stood still as the boy got closer, hoping that he hadn’t been seen and that he wasn’t coming to talk to him.
But the boy wasn’t looking at him.
With a small jolt of realization, Dean quickly figured out that the boy was walking towards his mom’s white rose.
If the boy hadn’t noticed him, Dean didn’t want to make any sort of fuss that might drive his attention over to Dean instead, so instead of saying something, he just watched in silence. He didn’t look like he was going to hurt the flower, anyway.
The boy stopped when he got within a few inches of the table, staring at the flower more intently than Dean was comfortable with.
An uneasy feeling settled in Dean’s stomach the more he watched the boy watch the flower, a feeling that was quickly turning into a need to protect the flower, if worse came to worst.
There was a moment of panic as the boy reached his hand towards the rose -
“Castiel!”
Both Dean and the boy turned whipped their heads to see the source of the voice and Dean was happy to see that it was the older woman of the family, with a hand on her hip.
“Don’t touch things that aren’t yours,” she said with a purse to her lips. “I raised you better than that.”
Yes. Dean thought, relieved to see the boy - Castiel - drawing his hand back, Don’t touch it. It’s not yours.
“But I -” Castiel’s face fell as Dean watched, and he immediately felt a little guilty for assuming he was going to be mean to his mom’s rose.
“Don’t talk back, Castiel.”
Mayor Roman had turned around to watch the scolding and raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not yours. Show some respect to these people, will you?”
Dean narrowed his eyes at the Mayor, feeling the hypocrisy ooze from his words. It was rich talk from someone that seemed to think he was better than everyone else that he came into contact with. No, Dean didn’t like that man one bit.
It almost made him feel bad for Castiel as he drew his hand back completely and shove it in his pocket with one last longing look at the beautiful white rose.
Almost.