#preseries!dean

Dean Winchester sat on the hood of a Chevy Impala. His father sitting next to him, holding his baby brother. He watched his home go up in flames. He asked where his mother was. They spent the night at a family friend’s house.

Age 6

Dean quickly learned that the musty hotel rooms they stayed in were going to be the closest thing to home. He had seen some books his father checked out from a library. There were stories of ghosts and demons in them, some with frightening illustrations. Dean was teaching Sammy how to talk more. John had taught him how to use a shotgun.

The first time John left for a multiple day hunt, Dean cried himself to sleep. He never thought he’d see his father again, just like his mother.

Age 8

John had told Dean all about the creatures that go bump in the night. He told Dean that it was dangerous, that’s the reason why he learned how to use a gun, that he had to keep Sam safe. Dean told a little girl at the park that he was going to kill monsters. Her mother shuffled her daughter away, reprimanding him. Saying he shouldn’t talk about such dark, creepy stuff. That he’s just scaring people. He learned to keep quiet about his home life.

Age 9

It was the five year anniversary since his mother was murdered. John held a bottle of hard liquor close to him, guzzling it down. This day was always harder than the others. Sam dropped his dinner on the floor, John proceeded to scream.

Age 13

An open beer sat next to where John had passed out on the motel couch. Seeing his father drink so often, he was curious. He took a sip and crinkled his nose. The yeasty flavor hitting his taste buds. He didn’t see the appeal yet.

Age 14

Dean noticed little hairs growing on his chin. He used to sit and watch his father shave with a straight razor. Smothering his face with shaving cream he drug the blade across his cheek. Sam sat on the floor, watching as he did. Sam had to help Dean bandage up his face. When John came home he scolded him to be more careful, but a bit of pride showing through.

Age 16

Dean went on a hunting trip with his dad. He met a girl about his age whose smile alone made his pants a bit tighter. He ended up getting drunk on strawberry wine coolers with her. He later found out that sex was a way to escape his growing depression.

Age 18

While Sam was trying to make friends at school, Dean was busy picking fights and chasing girls. He was growing into his badass facade and attending parties. He kissed a boy during spin the bottle. It was only because he couldn’t back down from a challenge, of course.

Age 21

Dean had almost forgotten about this. It took seeing his younger self to rekindle the memories. Before him his younger self stood, in front of a mirror, carefully applying eyeliner with a pencil. His mouth open in concentration, he seemed oblivious to Dean’s watchful gaze.

It was something he’d always been interested in. Growing up he’d see kids at school, girls and guys alike, experimenting with makeup. He remembered clearly buying his first eyeliner pencil. He’d hurried into the store, on his way back from an errand his dad sent him on. He’d even rehearsed an excuse for if the cashier asked him about it- it was for his girlfriend. He had practiced applying it in stolen moments of solitude- his first experience had taught him that he’d have to buy makeup remover also.

He’d never dreamed of wearing it in front of his father. He could imagine all too clearly John’s reaction to one of his son’s wearing makeup.

“Fag”

“Makeup is for girls”

“What is wrong with you?”

No, this was something Dean kept private- it wasn’t worth the trouble.

After Sam left, his dad started to leave him alone to handle cases. Dean found the freedom exhilarating- it was something he had never gotten to experience. He began to wear eyeliner freely, as his younger self was proving to him right now.

“How long has he been gone?” Dean posed the question to his younger self’s back- he was still intent on his work.

“Bout a month” the younger man’s response was delayed, his focus elsewhere. “He’ll call me when he wants me to meet back up with him.”

Yeah that was John alright. Not for the first time, Dean wondered why he’d put up with his dad’s ill-treatment of him. It broke his heart to think of this Dean, so loyal to the father who’d done so much wrong by him. It had taken years, but Dean could finally see through the myth that John Winchester had built up around himself.

All that in mind, Dean knew exactly what he needed to say to his younger self.

“That looks great by the way”

The 22 year old turned, and fixed Dean with a firm stare, the lined eyes bringing an additional intensity. His mouth was fixed in a hard line and his eyebrows were raised-Dean recognized the defensive, he still used that expression.

“The eyeliner- it suits you. It’s great that you’re wearing it, you can’t get away with it at my age.”

The corner of the young man’s mouth twitched in amusement, Dean could see that he was fighting to resist smiling. He’d never been all that great at accepting compliments.

“Yeah, I can’t believe we actually lived long enough to get old- real old by the looks of you.”

“Ouch” Dean rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his chest in feigned hurt. The sarcasm was not lost on the other Dean, who responded merely by mussing up his own hair. Dean marveled at his younger self’s indulgent attitude- it was so unlike the man that he had been for so long.

“Believe me, you won’t be laughing when you have to live through it”

“Bring it on I say” the young man grabbed the old leather jacket- Dean hadn’t seen it in years, and pulled it on. “You know me, always up for a fight.”

Dean hummed in affirmation, incapable of tearing his eyes off the young man- he was breathtaking. It was odd to think such a thing about himself, but it was true. Yet Dean knew only too well of the low sense of worth that the young man had, the same sense that he’d always had himself. Objectified and weaponised, Dean knew that this Dean had a very low opinion of his own person. He crossed the room until he was standing in front of the younger man.

“It took me so long to work up the courage to wear that in public” he pointed at his own eye, though he referred to the make up his compatriot wore. “I remember being so afraid that someone would say something.”

A slight flush appeared on the younger man’s cheek. Hurriedly, Dean continued before he was interrupted or deflected.

“But I remember, even after the first time, it was slightly nerve-wracking going out in it- even though no one gave a damn!

“So I just want you to know that I’m really proud of you. I admire your courage. I am so glad that you are doing things for yourself, that your doing something for you and not because it’s what dad wants you to do. You are so strong.”

The younger man was speechless for a moment, which, if Dean remembered correctly, was a rare ocurence at this age. After a second, the younger man shook his head in disbelief, a smile spreading over his handsome face.

“Dude, that got pretty heavy considering we’re just going out for a few drinks?”

Dean shrugged and turned to head towards the door. A hand stopped his movement, resting hesitantly on his arm.

“Thank you, though. That means a lot”

“You’re welcome.”

a mix for preseries!dean (because I think when sam went off to stanford, dean left john for a month or two and had a hell of a lot of fun). or, as my friend called it: "that twink!dean mix you won't shut up about."