a l c o h o l & l o v e ↬ d.w. & c.n. [completed]

1 | regular

this spring night was cold and laid a somewhat uncomfortable layer of fog over the small town. the coast wasn't as far away from the center of the city, yet this district, at the end of the town, would never be touched by the soft and clear sea air.
here cars drove fast, illegal races. and some stole their enemy's wheels just to have them buy their own wheels back for $20 each. and after that their wheels would be stolen just so they had to buy them for $25 each.
even now in the dark one could here the regularly, mechanic noise. it was either someone stealing the wheels or someone trying to save their own.

big grey blocks of cement rose from the ground. each and everyone looked the same, just some had a black and unstable balcony attached to the wall. all the metals used in all those inorganic steel shapes glanced in the light of the moon.
And today the street nearly was empty, the clock showed 1 am, so it was sure to assume that most of the chaos happening on those dark, lonely streets, would still happen.
because there was no other way for it to go, every night in this district was nearly the same, just like the grey apartments that rose from the ground.

in one of those regular grey apartments dean winchester stood in front of a small window, from there he could inspect everything that was happening on the streets below him.
his father would call those tarred streets, his streets.
but dean winchester wasn't like his father.

dean stood in a dark room, and inside his head, his mind begged that nobody could see his silhouette, because he never liked the people around here, and he never liked being seen, when he couldn't see his stalker.
the only scource of light inside the small and dirty room was a flickering tv. on it was some war documentation, or maybe just the regular evening news. dean winchester sometimes couldn't see the difference.
sometimes he wondered when the difference went missing, and how it came that nobody looked for it anymore.
but he shook this thought off and concentrated on the streets, again.

one of his beautiful and pure green eyes pumped badly inside his skull. it was swollen and all he could see was black. he tried to close his still functional eye, and as everything went completely dark, he knew that this time was worse than others.
and still he focused on the dark streets. on their sides only a few lanterns shone in a warm tone, some others did not shine anymore.
the town didn't care for the broken lightbulbs, some of the sharp glass pieces were spread on the pavements, to be replaced.

dean winchester felt heat building up around his eye. his limbs ached and all in all his whole body, which normally was in a well shape, screamed for rest. his own helplessness made him want to resist the urge to fall into bed even more.
dean winchester was stubborn.

behind him he could hear the calm, deep voice inside the tv talking.
millions were killed, the attacks rose from the past few months. children, the old, women and men die in the same streets they had to call their home after the bombings.

his body was stiff and he still stood in front of the window as suddenly a loud thud ran through the empty streets. he recognized the door of the main entrance, it was closing.
and as he finally heard the familiar howling of the starting motor and the noise getting quieter as the car drove off, he let out a breath, knowing that now his father had left the building, and him, alone for at least the night.

and his muscles relaxed as dean winchester fell into his bed, yet his bones felt cracked and his skin turned blue and green.

*

a figure gazed over him. the tall body laid a shadow on the somewhat white, but now messy, bedsheets. the air in the room was thick and smelled like sweat. but dean wouldn't feel the incredible burning scent crawling through his nostrils anymore. to him it was a regular situation. especially after a night like the past.

   Awakening out of his trance his vision was blurred, against the light all he could see was shoulder long hair hanging down and a sturdily body. but that was all he needed to recognize his little bother.
sam winchester a little bit too good in shape for his age. dean was only two years older, soon to be turning 18, so him and his brother nearly looked the same age.

he squinted his eyes and immediately a terrible pain followed. though now he could see his brother clearer, still one of his eyes nearly couldn't see anything. just very little pictures got trough the swollen one.
   he tried to sit up but again a pain ran trough his body like an electric wave. his heavy head with the dark brown short hair fell onto the pillow again like a stone.

"what happened?" sam questioned but his brother only groaned and turned on his side, whilst moving every muscle in his ace to suit the aching in his bones.
"you should stay here today. john is out anyway."
   john was their father, more like an animal at times. he meant good in the past but people change or maybe, dean sometimes thought, maybe they just need time to show their true, ugly faces.

"no, no" he grunted "i'm coming to your art class thing. when is it again? 2pm?"
"listen it's fine..."
"When?"
"2:30"

*

dean winchester went in nothing but black to model for his brother's art class. the younger boy was talented in most certainly every aspect of life. most of the time he could easily find people that wanted to pay him any kind of promotion.
   so it was the sam spent most of his free time not having free time but visiting clubs, events and friends. home to him was everywhere but the old scrappy apartment.

now dean sat in the middle of a big room with talk beige walls, surrounded by a dozen artists with dirty brushes in their hands, starring at him.
    but he couldn't loosen his eyes off of one guy in a dirty overzied bright blue t-shirt. he looked at his bruise and at dean with mixed emotions as if he was something new.
    not regular.