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Lived memory is neither immutable nor objective. Lived memory has consequence, it drifts, distorts, evolves, demands consent, memory incurs risk. When the cost of this storage is not paid, the result is not âremembering,â instead, it is hoarding dressed up as heritage.
Cade Diehm, Who Will Remember Us When The Servers Go Dark? 10 March, 2026 https://newdesigncongress.org/en/pub/who-will-remember-us-when-the-servers-go-dark/
Part 28 of Heart of Rock and Roll CW: pregnant character, angst, fighting. Mostly angst.
The hour and change drive back to Bobbyâs is tortuous. Dean switches on Led Zepplin and plays it loud enough to make Samâs ears ring. He doesnât dare say a word to his brother, all too familiar with the look in his eyes thatâs equivalent to a hand grenade with no pin. Heâs speeding up to Bobbyâs house, pulling up fast, launching himself out of the car the moment he takes the key from the ignition. His hands are formed into fists as he charges into Bobbyâs house. Bobby is on a phone in his library when Dean comes charging in, hanging up quickly as Dean moves across the room toward him. Dean is ready to brawl, but Bobby stands up, grabs Dean by the jacket and slams him into a bookshelf.
âYou stupid son of a bitch!â Bobby growls, baring his teeth in Deanâs face. âWhat is wrong with you?!â Â
âYouâre the one who lied to me! All that time I spent looking for her, and you lied!â Dean screams, pushing on Bobbyâs shoulders and arms, trying to release his grip.Â
Dean lands a swing on the side of Bobbyâs face, his knuckles connecting with Bobbyâs jaw. Rage flashes in Bobbyâs eyes that Dean has never seen before, and Bobby gets a tighter grip on Deanâs jacket as he begins to drag him out of the parlor. Dean tries to turn, but Bobby just adjusts his grasp so he has the back of Deanâs neck as well as the collar of his coat. Bobby kicks open the screen door and dumps Dean onto the narrow porch, Dean stumbling halfway down the steps with the force of being dropped.Â
âYouâre no longer welcome in my house. Get out. Go somewhere else and be a jackass.â Bobby snarls at Dean.Â
âSeriously? All this over a chick?â Dean laughs bitterly, wiping the dirt from his hands as he stands at the bottom of the stairs.Â
âYou blow up everything that could ever make you happy, boy. You got a penchant for screwing up I ainât even seen the likes of before. So until your IQ comes above room temperature, I donât want you here anymore.âÂ
âFine! Câmon Sam.â Dean says, adjusting the crumpled collar on his jacket.
âI think Iâm staying with Bobby for a while.â Sam says, walking up the steps to stand by Bobby, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Dean starts to let out a mirthless chuckle.Â
âSeriously? Everyone wants to take her side?â He says, turning away from them toward the car. âIâm not the one who ran and hid! Iâm not the one who kept secrets. This is just as much on me as it on both of you!â he snarls, slamming the door of the impala and tearing away into the night.Â
âDo you think heâll be okay?â Sam asks, a worried look on his face. Bobby lets out a snort.Â
âHeâll get into something he shouldnât, but I think heâll come around. It ainât my job to fix these two back togetherâ Bobby sighs, heading into the house and turning on the porch light, leaving Sam staring into the dim distance.Â
Dean drove all night, stopping to get fuel and bad coffee, until he began to see the sunrise. By the time he found a small hotel, the sun was beginning to give him a headache. He nearly stumbles out of the car, blinking in the bright sunlight as he walks to the motel desk. A woman turns to him, sliding the plastic divider window open.Â
âYou need a room?â She asks, her voice sweet, smiling warmly at him.Â
âUh, yeah. Please. Where am I?â He asks, rubbing his aching head.Â
âTexahoma.â She answers.Â
âIs that in Texas or Oklahoma?âÂ
âDo you want a room on this side or the other side?â She asks, pointing toward the other end of the I-shaped motel complex. He glances back, seeing some trees shading some rooms on the other side, his tired eyes craving some darkness.Â
âUh, in the back, please.â He gives a half smile as he pulls out his wallet.Â
âThen youâre in Texas!â she exclaims proudly. He winces at her volume, keeping a half smile plastered on his face. He passes her a fake I.D and credit card, and he counts the seconds until she hands everything back, so he can go face first into a soft surface. He finds his room, and plugs in his phone, realizing heâs missed about half a dozen phone calls from Sam, and two phone calls from Cass. Anger begins to flash within him, but his overtired body extinguishes it quickly. He kicks off his boots and flops face down onto the mattress, falling asleep quickly despite his aching body rebelling from 12 hours in the car and nearly 30 hours awake.Â
Dean wakes back up in the late afternoon, his phone buzzing on the shoddy nightstand. His mouth is dry and his head still aches, but at least he can see more straight than before he collapsed on top of the stiff comforter. He hits the answer button on his phone before he can even read whoâs calling.Â
âYeah?â He grumbles into the receiver. As consciousness begins to solidify, he realizes it could be Natalie on the line. His heart twinges at the idea of hearing her voice.Â
âDean? Where are you?â Castiel says on the other side of the phone.Â
âHey, Cass. Iâm in, uh, Texahoma? The Texas side? Motel off of 54.â Dean answers, hearing a whoosh as Castiel apparates into the motel room.Â
âBobby and your brother ââ Cass starts.Â
âDonât start about them, Cass. You donât even know what they did. If youâre gonna do that you can just leave.â Dean snaps, standing up to put his boots back on.Â
âI know what they did, and I assure you they did it out of respect and love for Natalie. I may not be able to see her, but I know she loves you, despite her actions.â Cass states flatly.Â
âLove? She ran away, Cass! Sheâs pregnant with my kid, and she disappeared! How do you love someone and do that?â Dean yells, getting closer to Castiel as he raises his voice.
âHaving a child is a terrifying thing, Dean. My memories from my vessel Jimmy show me that very clearly.â Castiel continues calmly, as if Dean isnât inches from his face, nearly foaming at the mouth with rage. âJimmy was filled with fear when Amelia got pregnant with Claire, and that was a child that was prayed for, and wanted.âÂ
âWell, Iâm not Jimmy! She shouldâve told me! We couldâve...figured something out.â Dean says, the anger boiling inside of him wavering. He takes a seat on the bed, his aching head in his hands. âIâm too tired for this crap, Cass. You need to go.â Dean doesnât need to raise his head to know that with a small breeze, Castiel is gone from his room. Dean lays back down, falling asleep once again.Â
Dean wakes up again, this time with the sun setting shining directly through the thin drapes, lighting up every mote of dust, shimmering through the air. His headache is lessened, but his phone is again buzzing on the shoddy nightstand. He groans, holding the power button down until the screen goes dark and the sounds coming from the device stop. He exits his motel room, stumbling into the fading light of the evening. He walks to the receptionist's small office, ringing the bell at the desk. The overly excited blonde girl is still there, still smiling her big smile at him.Â
âWell, Hi!â She says, chipper as ever.Â
âHi, do you know the best place to get some decent food and a couple of beers?â He smiles at her, praying this isnât some kind of small town that doesnât serve alcohol.
âWell of course, itâs No Manâs Land!â She smiles. Dean stands, confused, wondering if perhaps heâs still dreaming, and all of his moments before with Cass were a dream as well. âItâs a restaurant on the Oklahoma side, 3 blocks that way.â She points to the road he drove in on the night before, gives his thanks and starts walking.Â
Reaching No Manâs Land, Dean is accosted by the smell of stale beer and grease, which nearly brings a smile to his exhausted face. He sidles up to the bar, sliding into a backed stool. He waves a few fingers at the bartender, the woman turns to him, her shirt slightly cropped and her shorts showing what seems like miles of skin. She has a deep tan, only made by spending a lot of time in tiny bikinis, which at that moment Dean is sure she owns in nearly every color.Â
âWhat can I get you, darlinâ?â She smiles at him. A smile finally cracks through Deanâs stony facade. He could get used to being called darlinâ.Â
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