Time for another story from me! Yay! I honestly didn't think that I would get this one done. It was inspired by a friend of mine, the MCR song 'Teenagers' (which I suggest you download cuz it's awesome!), and Dean's self-esteem issues. Enjoy!
Title: Goodwill
Summary: The boys and girls in the cliques, the awful names that they stick, you're never gonna fit in much, kid... My Chemical Romance said it best. The boys head to a small town in Iowa where they spent two years of their lives, and Sam discovers a hidden piece of his brother's past, one that effects the present in more ways than one.
Rating: T for language and a few violent images toward the end
A/N: Every chapter name is a line from the My Chemical Romance song 'Teenagers,' which inspired the story. I don't own the song or the lyrics. They belong to the band and record label. My muse jsut enjoyed rocking out :)
Disclaimer: Guess what? Supernatural isn't mine, either.
Goodwill
1.
Gonna Clean Up Your Looks
He liked trying on clothes. He liked looking in the mirrors in the little dressing rooms and appraising himself. He liked the way the new fabric felt against his scarred skin, fresh and clean and smooth. He liked looking like he was worth something, like he could afford clothing that hadn't already been worn and ripped and stained.
He could never buy them, though. Clothes weren't important, not like guns and ammo and lighter fluid and matches and salt. The only reason they spent any money on clothes at all was because they were a necessity. To be accepted into society, you needed to cover up.
So, Dean would leave the motel rooms saying that he was going to get something to eat, pick up a few supplies, maybe grab some beer. He would do those things, make sure that he did those things, because Sam was smart, and Sam couldn't figure this out. He would do those things after he got back from Wal-Mart or K-Mart or Target or whatever else was in town that was cheap and sold clothes. All the superstores.
He went in and headed straight to the clothing section, browsing and picking out things he liked and then trying them on in the dressing rooms and marveling at the way he looked, the way he felt. He always considered buying something, hiding it from Sam, keeping it safe until it was absolutely necessary to wear it, but he never did. They didn't have much money, and what little they had should go towards food and supplies. Not clothes. Never clothes.
When the time came to trade in one set of tattered shirts and pants for another, the Winchesters went to Goodwill. Stuff was cheap there, affordable on their salary. They'd shopped there since the fire, and Dean had no intention of stopping. They needed to save up their money, and that was the best way.
Never mind that most of the stuff at Goodwill in their size was already ripped, stained, worn through, or smelly. It was all they could afford. Sure, it itched, and Sam had actually gotten a rash from a shirt once, but that wasn't important. What was important was keeping food on the table and weapons in the trunk.
Sighing, Dean headed out of the latest dressing room, a few shirts and a pair of jeans in his hand. He set the pants down on the counter, hung the shirts on the rack, only pausing to glance again at the tags and consider his choices.
He put his hands in his pockets and walked away, looking for the chips and beer he'd promised his brother he'd return with. He didn't see Sam duck down behind a clothing rack, didn't know that the younger man had gotten suspicious after beer runs had started taking over an hour.
Slowly, Sam crawled from his hiding place and walked over to the return rack. He flipped through the clothes his brother had put back, constantly looking over his shoulder for signs of Dean's return.
There was nothing special about the shirts. Most of them were black tees. He looked over his shoulder again. It wasn't the first time he'd followed Dean. Small towns made for easy tracking, as did GPS capabilities in cell phones. It was always the same thing when the older man went off alone. First to the clothing aisles, then down to business. Sam was just waiting for the right time to confront him about it.
Sighing, the young hunter headed for the door, knowing that he had to get back before his brother. So what if Dean liked looking at clothes? Maybe he just liked to check out the latest styles. Just because his brother did something that seemed out of character didn't mean that there was some deep-seated issue behind it. Right?
o0o0o0o0o0o
"Got a new hunt," Sam announced as Dean strolled through the door with a grocery bag full of chips and cheap beer.
"Great," the elder announced, dropping his purchases on the floor and flopping down on his bed. "Where and what?"
"Stratlebie, Iowa. Sounds like a poltergeist."
Dean sat up. "Stratlebie? Did we go to school there once?"
Sammy nodded. "Yep. That was the longest we'd ever stayed in a town. The central location in the U.S. helped, I guess. Dad took a lot of jobs those years, huh?"
"Man, how long did we stay there?"
"'Bout a year and a half, maybe two," Sam guessed. "I think you spent your last two years of junior high there."
Dean slumped back down on the bed. "Yeah," he muttered, "I did."
"So, this job," Sam said, apparently not noticing his brother's morose tone, "there's a lady in the town, Candace Merriwhether. She called tonight while you were gone. Got my number from one of her friends, I guess, who got it from dad or something. She thinks there's something that wants to hurt her and her daughter. She wants us to check it out."
"Great," Dean mumbled, not really paying attention anymore, lost in thought about the town he'd been forced to spend two formative years of his life in.
"I told her we'd stop by tomorrow," Sam continued, "it's not too far from here. What do you think?"
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, all right. Whatever." He sighed, getting up off the bed and heading into the bathroom, running a shaky hand through his short hair.
Stratlebie. He remembered the town, all right. Remembered it all too well. It only made sense that the one town their father decided to settle in for more than a month or two housed the richest, meanest kids on the freakin' planet, kids who weren't afraid to speak their minds.
He didn't want to go. The small Iowa town was on the top of his list of places to avoid, even above Lawrence. He'd sworn as they pulled out of that hellhole for the final time that he would never return, never give them the pleasure of a second chance.
He looked into the mirror, at his shabby reflection. Worn clothing, dirty hands, a day's worth of stubble, and haunted eyes stared back at him. He wasn't ready to go back, hadn't acquired the things he'd always imagined would make them like him. He could still hear their catcalls ringing in his ears, could feel his face redden at the memories, could feel his self-esteem sink even lower. He hadn't even thought that was possible.
And still, his reflection stared back at him, the eyes no longer haunted, but lit by thoughts of things to do to make him suffer, the face smooth, hands clean, clothes no longer in tatters, but brand new. He lashed out, hit the mirror, smashed it effortlessly, as easily as he had told himself he would smash those wretched kids. It shattered around him, much as his childhood had, raining down splinters of broken glass covered in the blood from his split knuckles.
He didn't feel the pain, only felt years of pent-up aggression and hatred and self-pity suddenly come rushing out.
It could always have been worse, though. It could have been sooner. He could have gone back after two years instead of fifteen. Maybe those kids had moved. Maybe they weren't even there anymore. Maybe he could finally make his peace with the worst two years of his life.
And maybe unicorns really did ride on silver moonbeams and shoot rainbows outta their ass.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, as usual. I really want to know what you guys think about this one :)