Chapter Text
Three years earlier on a cool September morning in 2008, Dean Winchester had returned to the Inn and at first glance had thought it hadn’t changed. Even as the sun beats down upon the rundown farmhouse-turned-Inn-and-bar in the thick woods of South Dakota. The shutters were freshly painted green, and the white curtains danced in the cool morning breeze. The cedar siding was the color of dusty snow. The splash of red leaves framed the house in a brilliant array of fire and more drifting from branches from one spot to the next in rhythm with the crisp autumn breeze.
For once in a long time, everything was okay. But looking closer, he saw the small changes in the structure that cosmetics work couldn’t hide: decayed corners, rust up on the roof, water stains near the gutters. The Inn seemed to be winding down, and thought he knew there was nothing to be done to change that.
Flash to the present, he stands in the kitchen of his own house, a few months before his thirty-sixth birthday, Dean hung up the phone after speaking with his brother. He sat at the table, reflecting on his most recent visit to the Inn, remembering the long weekends he would spend inside its walls. Despite all of the changes in his world, Dean still likes to close his eyes and remember the past.
Outside, the rain pounded on the windows. Listening to the tapping on the glass made him thankful of the constants in his life. Remembering those days always seemed to stir up the deep emotions inside of him– the feelings that cause Dean to stop and think, ‘Am I going to grow lady parts?’ Truth is, the nostalgia that he has felt as he looked back fondly, he was happy that he had the chance to make those memories. They were his, and his only. And in those five days, Dean has learned more about life than the rest of his thirty-six years.
He was alone in his large house in the small town of Lawrence, Kansas. His son and his little brother all grew up, and his own father passed away in 2006. Mary Winchester died in a house fire when Dean was four, leaving him and his brother Sam John, who was almost always on a job somewhere. When he was home, however, he never missed a night of drinking or teaching Dean how to be a man. The only person to catch on to the abuse was Bobby Singer, an old hunting buddy of John’s. He owned a scrap yard on the edge of town, where Dean grew up fixing cars. He’d been divorced from Lisa four years now, after a marriage that lasted only five.. Though his brother and friends urge him to find someone to spend the remainder of his years with. Dean had no desire to do so. It wasn’t that he was weary of men or women, though he finds his eyes catching a few younger women in the supermarket, he was content with being alone in his four bedroom home.
It’s not that Dean fear growing older, he just doesn’t have energy anymore. Carrying multiple loads of groceries up and down the stairs, or keeping up with Sam’s daughter Mary as she raced around the yard. If he ever got the chance to be young again, however, Dean wouldn’t. As a matter of fact, Dean was thankful for his experiences.
Sam, though he may be taller, he was also younger than Dean by four years. Even before the fire, Dean would assume the paternity role when John went out to drink every night. This continued until Sam went away to Stanford to become a lawyer. Ben was Dean and Lisa’s only son. When Lisa picked up and left, she took Ben with her. He was eleven when Dean last saw him two years ago. The last Dean heard of his family, they moved to Indiana.
Sam took it pretty hard. After losing his real parents when he was a newborn, Bobby was hurt in a hunting accident. First, getting stabbed, keeping him from walking again, then getting shot in the head. The head shot didn’t kill him, but it sure as hell slowed him down. He regained movements of his arms, but he lost the ability to speak. It took Bobby almost ten years to die from old age. It was a quiet way to go for a loud man.
Sam was pushed over the edge seeing Dean in a funk after Lisa and Ben left. He fell into a deep depression where he wouldn’t speak to anyone for days, defied orders, but none of that affected his schooling. Instead, he worked harder until he got a full ride to Stanford. Sam had met Jess there and married after graduation. Like many young couples, they struggled for the first couple years, holding them off from having children. When they thought they were ready, Mary was born. As a precaution, they bought life insurance, thinking they wouldn’t need it for a long, long while.
They were wrong.
Jess had been gone for eight months now, the victim of ovarian cancer. Dean had watched his brother sink into another deeper depression, and yesterday afternoon, dropped Mary off. Sam had the curtains closed and the television on mute. His face had visible distress, a similar face at the funeral. At that time, Dean knew it was time to tell Sammy about the past.
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Six years. That’s how long it had been since his first Sioux Falls visit.
In all those years, Dean only told one person about what happened, but Bobby died with the secret, unable to tell anyone, even if he wanted to.
Bobby Singer was a truly amazing man. He loved the Winchester boys like they were his own. The boys grew up in the scrap yard while Bobby work diligently with his own projects, including hunting with his buddy Rufus Turner. He always wore an old as hell trucker’s cap and a moth-eaten flannel button-up. On the outside, he may look like a lean-mean- hillbilly machine, but in truth, he is incredibly smart. He can read and write fluent Japanese, read old books, and take apart a motor blindfolded.
After the accident when Dean was barely eighteen, Bobby had to be admitted into the hospital. When he didn’t recover from his wounds, Dean dropped out of school and raised his brother, all while paying the hefty assisted living bills. That’s when he met Lisa. Lisa was a yoga instructor, a hot yoga instructor. It was love at first sight. It took Dean two years to pop the question, in which Lisa jumped for joy. They were both twenty and hopelessly in love. Benjamin was born soon after that. And for a while, all four of them were happy. That is, until Lisa ran away with a rich doctor by the name of Matthew.
A month ago, when Dean had gently tried to talk to Sam about what he’s going through. Sam had stood up with an angry shake of his head. “Dean, this isn’t like you and Lisa,” he’d said, “She found someone better and you two couldn’t get your shit together, so you guys split. But I loved Jess. I’ll always love Jess, and I lost her. You don’t know shit about what I’m going through.”
Dean had said nothing, but when Sam left the room, Dean lowered his head onto his hands and whispered one word.
Cas.
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While Dean understood what his brother was going through, he was concerned about Mary. Sweet little Mary was five when her mother died. She started wetting the bed again, and she cried every day before Kindergarten. She wasn’t her usual chatty and energetic self anymore. Sam, however, withdrew even further. He took a leave of absence from the firm. When that was up, he took more unpaid leave. Because of the insurance, he did so without having to change their lifestyle.
Dean tried to help as much as he could. He went over their house, prepared meals, kept the bills in order. By the time early summer rolled by, he thought his brother was better. He began to smile more and more, play with Mary every chance he got. Until August rolled by, and what would’ve been their seventh wedding anniversary. He fell back into old habits of shutting out everybody. Mary didn’t only lose her mother, her father soon followed.
It was time to tell Sam.
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Dean paced through the kitchen, glancing nervously at his watch. At his request, he asked Emma to take Mary to the movies, so that he could spend the evening with his brother.
In the room he used to share with Lisa, he kept a box wedge between the wall and his bed. Inside it, there were a bunch of knick-knacks collected from the five days at the Roadhouse, letters, and a picture. He brought the whole box down to the kitchen and placed it on the table before Sam arrived. He had an extra minute before Sam was due to arrive. He took out a letter and began to read:
Dear Dean,
I’ve always been good at writing letters, but I can’t tell you what I really want to. So I’ll hope you forgive me if I’m not able to make myself clear.
I arrived on a donkey, of all animals, this morning. He reminded me of you, a little. He was light-colored, and stubborn as all fuck. I wish I could tell you that it was better than I imagined, but in all honesty, I can’t. The clinic is short on just about everything– medicine, equipment, and the necessary beds.
I haven’t seen Claire yet. She’s been at an outreach clinic in the mountains and won’t be back until later this evening. I’ll let you know how that goes, but I’m not expected much at first. Like you said, I think we need to spend more time together before we can resolve any problems between us.
I can’t even begin to count how many patients I saw today. Over a hundred, I’d guess. It’s been long time since I’ve seen patients in this way with these types of problems.
I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I feel like this whole journey is for you, and it would only lead back to you. Although this journey is far from over, I look forward for the day I will see you again, where I belong.
That’s how I think of that now, where I belong, that is. With you. I imagined that when I arrived in Quito, you were in the crowd. I knew that was impossible, but it made my departure easier. That I wasn’t running away from you, but towards you.
I wish that was true. I would want nothing more in the world but to go back to you. But, I’m here to close a past chapter in my life, to clean up my mess. We both know the reason I went to Sioux Falls, and I thank the high heavens for something that went right in my life. I thought I went to find myself on the shore, with myself only. But instead, I found you, and I learned that I can’t do things on my own anymore. You taught me that, and it was you all along. We both know that I have to be here awhile. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, and even though it hasn’t been long, I realize that I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anyone. And I will be back, I promise you. In the short time, we have spent together, we have what most people only dream about, and I’m counting the days until I see you again. Never forget how much I love you.
-Cas
Dean smiled fondly. He folded the letter neatly and returned it under the old he and Cas had found the one Saturday morning. It smelt like brine, but Dean didn’t mind. All he cared about were the old memories resurfacing. Shutting the lid, he ran his fingers through his hair.
His brother would arrive shortly.