“Dean?” Sam called from the bathroom.
“Yeah, Sammy?”
The younger Winchester said something undiscernible.
With a sigh, Dean got up from the couch and paused Doctor Sexy MD on the TV. “What was that?” he asked, socks sliding on the hardwood floor as he approached the bathroom.
Inside the bathroom stood a very frustrated looking Sammy choking the tube of toothpaste in his fist. “I said, did you use up all of the toothpaste again?”
“You know I use a lot of that stuff. Makes my smile look extra nice when I’m flirting with the ladies.”
“Ladies, huh? Well how about you go flirt with the cashier when you GET ME ANOTHER TUBE OF TOOTHPASTE.” Sam threw the useless and empty tube at Dean.
“Woah! Jeez, Sammy, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? What the hell is up with you?” Dean said. Although, it was Dean’s fault… again… (Don’t go there, Dean).
The gargantuan senior leaned onto the counter, rubbing his eyes. Dean knew he probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night. Sam was almost getting as bad as Dean, these days. “Sorry, Dean. I guess I’m just stressed about this whole Stanford-thing. Like, getting in is one issue. All of the essays and interviews and applications. And then of course there’s Dad. I really want to go there, Dean.”
Dean looked at his younger brother and wished again that he could be stronger and be more of a comfort. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re going. Dad doesn’t matter – he’s not even here right now.”
“What about when he does come back? You know he always does.”
Dean ran a hand through his light brown hair. “I don’t know.” He leaned against the door frame, sliding down until he was squatted on the floor. “You know that he does love us, right, Sammy?”
Dean’s voice might’ve cracked a bit, and he coughed to cover it up.
Sam looked at him through his fingers. “I… I suppose. Course the difference is, Dean, you knew him when Mom was around. You knew Mom.”
“I know,” was all Dean could say. After that, however, he could not find anything else to say, so instead he left to go get some more toothpaste.
Dean felt the urge to go to a bar that night.
Just go for a drink. Loosen up.
But Dean couldn’t deny the dead feeling. It was sickening and repetitive. The same depressed emotions – it made Dean want to rip his hair out. Yet there was a nagging voice at the back of his head that told him that he deserved to feel like shit.
So when Dean made it to the bar in his Impala, he couldn’t stop himself from drinking and drinking.
John Winchester’s habit had become his. Dean hated every bit of booze that went down his throat, but couldn’t stop himself from taking another and another. It was addictive, instinctive.
You’re just like your old man, now.
That was one of Dean’s fears. He loved Dad, as he had told Sam in their conversation earlier that day, but he didn’t want to be him. Yes, there was a time when younger Dean had idolized John, but Dean soon realized that he didn’t want the look on Sammy’s face to be directed at him. He didn’t want some child – a kid of his own, maybe – to look at him with disgust and fear and feel like they weren’t loved.
YOU ARE READING
With and Without (Destiel)
FanficDean was depressed, not any other way around it. He was lost, hopeless, and drowning within himself. But Cas helped him up, quite literally, and he just might be the bright sun that finally manages to shine through Dean's persistent rain clouds. Dep...
