Dean's POV
I take a swig from my flask, feeling the reassuring burn of the alcohol slide down my throat. At least one thing in this shit-storm stays constant— the peace hard liquor brings.
Hearing a scoff, I look up to see the shrink looking at me with distaste. "Problem?" I ask, really not in the mood.
"You just upset your brother so much, he had to leave the room." she says. Oh, so now she thinks I'm some sort of manipulative, abusive asshole. Great.
Sam's right. I really have become our father, in all his flawed glory.
"And Jack? Your stepson? Look at him. He's terrified of you."
It's my turn to scoff now. "Nah. No, we're simpatico. Right, kid?" I shoot Jack a look, and he complies.
"We're simpatico," he parrots. I don't even know if he knows what that means.
"Convincing."
I want to punch her right in her self-righteous face.
"You're angry, Dean," Mia says, her voice growing softer. I sense there's more to her statement, though, so I ask.
"And?"
"And if you don't want to do anything about it, that's your business," she says. I seriously doubt that. "But you're aiming it at everyone in your life, and they don't deserve that. Especially Jack. You lost the love of your life. He lost his mother. You're more alike than you want to admit."
This just got real awkward. Jack is still here, and he's hearing all of this.
I flop back on the couch, kicking my feet up on the spot Sam vacated. Suddenly, I find that the hole in my heart is opening up again.
I take another mouthful of whisky and close my eyes, letting the familiar tingle take me away, too a better time— one with blonde-haired women, black-clad and sarcastic demons, and angels with the most beautiful blue eyes, ones that made the oceans jealous and the skies pale.
YOU ARE READING
therapy | destiel
Fanfiction"It's how normal people deal, Dean." An alternate version to 13x04, The Big Empty. The way I wish it'd gone.
