Standing Together

Chapter 9

"What was your dad like?" Castiel asks, just to hear him talk about something, anything, so Castiel doesn't have to. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to think; he just wants to sit here in silence.

Dean lets out a low whistle. "If you're looking for something to cheer yourself up, you might want to ask a different question."

Castiel shakes his head. "I don't care. I just — talk. Please. I don't care if it's happy."

Dean sighs. "Alright, uh..." He chuckles awkwardly, almost sounding nervous. "Well, he was a dad. He acted like a dad. Um..." He pauses, trying to find something to say. "Well, he was a cop — but you already knew that, I think. So that lasted for, like, eight years; from when my mom died 'til when he did. Um..." He sighs. "I don't know. He was a good man, and an even better father. You would've liked — well, no, probably not, actually."

"Why?" Castiel asks quietly, just to keep him talking. He can't bring himself to care that Dean sounds sort of uncomfortable talking about this — he doesn't really notice, actually.

"Well, he just..." Dean shrugs. "I don't think you ever had a parent like him. From what I've seen, Chuck seemed really relaxed and just kind of let you do what you wanted, and my dad just... didn't. He was a lot more strict.

"Actually, I remember, once..." Dean chuckles, doubtlessly remembering some fond memories. "It was getting to be my birthday, and I didn't really care because we hadn't really celebrated anything since my mom died, but I guess Sammy had been talking to his friends too much, because he was hell bent on throwing me a birthday party. He made the mistake of asking my dad when he was in the middle something, and he didn't even finish his question when my dad told him to go away."

"That's so sad," Castiel says, feeling a pang of pity for the kid, even though Sam himself has probably forgotten this by now.

"No, actually, that's where things get interesting," Dean says. "'Cause Sammy, he was the most stubborn seven-year-old I have ever met, and if he wanted to throw me a birthday party, he was going to throw me a birthday party, no matter how many times I had to tell him not to or how mad my dad was going to be if he found out.

"So, we leave town, which is big feat for a seven-year-old and an almost-twelve-year-old who knows how to drive but couldn't legally leave our property. But we did it, god knows how, and we somehow make our way to a club, and it was nuts. I mean, people are drinking, and they're smoking, and they're snorting whatever. I'be never seen anything like it, and god knows Sam hadn't, either. And this girl walks up to me and she's like, 'Hey, why don't you come over, sit down with me and my friends at this table.' And I was a dumbass twelve-year-old, so I was like 'Hell yeah!'

"And then, a few minutes later, the room goes dead silent. And I'm talking a room the size of this whole stadium, filled wall to wall with drunk ass kids, and you could hear a pin drop, it was that quiet. And I'm like dude, what the fuck, you know? That's not what I signed up for. And my first thought was that I have to find my brother. I don't know what's going on, I don't know if there's some police raid or whatever, and I needed to find Sammy.

"And then I see him. He's just walking towards me, real slow, and I just knew that shit was about to go down. And then I look, and right behind him is my dad. Now I'm freaking out 'cause what the hell is my dad doing there, and everyone else is freaking out too — no one can even look him in the eye, and he's just standing there, not saying anything, and I knew shit was about to hit the fan, you know?

"And he drags me out of there — physically drags me out — and Sam's walking behind us with his head down 'cause he knows just as well as I do that this is going to be bad, and my dad just throws me in the car and doesn't say anything, and as we're driving away, I realize just how drunk I am, and honestly, I don't even know if it was just alcohol or if someone drugged my drink, but either way, I'm pissed, and the more I think about it, the more pissed I get, and I start yelling at him because 'embarrassed me' and I told him I hated him.