Title: The Wreck (That Almost Destroyed Dean's Life)
Summary: A car wreck causes some…emotional stress for Dean and Sam realizes his older brother really is crazy.
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys or the show. The end.
Notes: Trying to lay off the angst…so here's my lame attempt at humor. Excuse the cheesy title. I know absolutely nothing about cars, by the way. And I'll actually take my time writing something one day... I promise.
"Really, Dean, where did you get your taste in music?" Sam flipped the visor down to shield the early morning sun from his eyes.
Dean shot his brother an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye.
"How can you even understand it?" Sam continued, "What with the screaming and guitars and…" Dean reached over and turned the volume on the radio up a few notches to drown out his brother's incessant nagging.
"Dean!" Sam shouted over the blaring music. If you could even call it music. His older brother was drumming his fingers absently on the steering wheel and sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. "Dean, it hurts my ears!"
"Well you're hurting my ears, Sammy!" Dean shot back exasperatedly. "How old are you, five?"
Sam glared as his brother and turned the music down so it was just this side of deafening. He slumped back in the seat and folded his arms across his chest, staring out the window at the small town they were passing through.
A smirk suddenly tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth; he was feeling in a particularly mischievous mood today. "Are we there yet?" he asked with feigned innocence.
"No." Dean replied tersely, glancing sideways.
Sam waited a few moments, then sitting up straighter in his seat asked, "How about now?"
Dean's shoulders tensed. The brat was pushing his buttons. "Will you shut up, Sammy?" he said, irritated. "You are so distracting."
"It's SamSam. Sam. Sam." He over enunciated each one, his voice rising above the blaring music.
"Alright, alright..." Dean replied defensively, putting one hand up, palm outward, in mock surrender. He wants to play this game, does he?
Dean could do that little smirk too. "…Samuel."
Now it was Sam's turn to flinch and glare daggers. Touché, Dean, touché.
The song on the cassette faded as it ended and the tape began rewinding. Dean muttered something vaguely obscene before switching his coffee to his left hand and using his right to fish around for another cassette.
Sam glanced at the road ahead since his brother currently wasn't. "Dean…" he warned as they came closer to a stoplight, his voice suddenly serious. Although presently the light was green, it could change at any moment and Dean was more preoccupied with making himself deaf before the age of thirty than the road.
"Sam, please, you don't even know what I'm about to put in." Dean glanced up at the road and seeing the green light, kept his foot on the gas.
What he didn't see the small white car suddenly coming from the adjacent road that wasn't slowing down.
"Dean, for real man, that car's not stopping!"
And they were crossing the intersection.
Dean's head shot up as he tried to swerve away from the car about to slam into his side, but it was too late. Sam thought the screeching brakes from both vehicles sounded vaguely like Dean's music as his braced for the impact…
The white car smashed into the driver side of Dean's beloved car, spinning the whole thing around and pushing it across the intersection.
Those few moments seemed like forever as glass shattered, metal twisted and shrieked, and the Winchester boys were jerked around mercilessly in their seats.
When everything finally stopped, Sam opened his eyes slowly, released his grip on the door handle and tried to assess if anything was broken. Dean groaned next to him.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked quietly, breathing a little heavily. He unbuckled his seat belt and looked over at his brother who was sitting very still in his seat, his face scrunched up. "Dean?"
Dean's side of the car was bowed inward, the glass from his window shattered and jagged. "Son of a…" he said through gritted teeth, opening his eyes, "…I'm fine. I spilled my damn coffee all over my jeans. You okay Sammy?"
"Sam is fine. Your car on the other hand…"
"Shut up." Dean reached for the handle and opened his door as far as it would go, rising from the car slowly.
Sam suppressed a chuckle and followed suit. The driver from the other car had gotten out as well and was viewing the damage with a dazed look on his face. The front of his car had hit just shy of Dean's door, closer to the front end of the engine where a cloud of smoke was tumbling upward.
Sam walked around to Dean, wanting to take a closer look at his brother who had received the brunt of the crash. Dean's leg could be broken and he'd still hobble out and claim he was fine.
Dean took in the sight and looked like he was about to cry, which Sam had to admit would have been amusing if Dean wasn't cradling his left arm to his chest and if the left side of his face wasn't crisscrossed with tiny cuts.
"Dean, your arm is bleeding!"
Dean turned his head slowly and looked at his little brother as if Sam had grown horns.
"My arm!" he shouted in disbelief, "My car, Sammy, my car!"
Dean took a few steps towards his car, running his fingers through his short hair and brushing out the glass. Sam glanced at the other man who was still gawking at the sight, visibly shaken.
The wreck could have been a lot worse. A small turn of the wheel here and some last minute braking there from both parties had caused the crash to be slightly less injurious. Dean would argue the extent of the damage, of course, since it involved his beloved car.
"What were you thinking, man?" Dean yelled suddenly, wiping around and directing his attention to the bewildered man who, in Dean's opinion, currently had a death wish that he was about to fulfill. "It was a freakin' red light! You stop at those!"
Sam quickly stepped in front of Dean, trying to calm his outraged brother down. "The police are coming, Dean. They'll work everything out, alright?"
Sirens wailed in the distance and Sam prayed they'd hurry; he couldn't hold Dean off forever. Dean was smaller than Sam but he was ornery as hell when he got angry.
And when it came to his car…Sam just hoped the other man would have enough sense to run if Dean charged him.
Dean looked like he was going to throw up when the mechanic gave him an assessment of the damage as he and Sam stood in a small room at the body shop later that day.
The paramedics had come and gone earlier, unable to get more than a minute's time from Dean. No one was seriously hurt, just bruised and scratched. Sam had been tempted to ask if the paramedics could sedate Dean…
The mechanic looked mildly amused as Dean swayed slightly on his feet from the evaluation of the damage. "We'll have her looking like new in no time, son. I promise."
Letting out a piteous moan, Dean dropped to one of the chairs in the room and rested his head in his hands.
Covering a chuckle rather poorly with a cough, the mechanic motioned Sam into a small office out of Dean's earshot so they could talk about the repairs without the older Winchester passing out on the floor.
"He married to that car or something?" The mechanic teased good-naturedly, jerking his thumb in Dean's direction.
Sam shrugged, sighing as he peered out the door at Dean who was looking quite pitiful all hunched over and forlorn.
"It wouldn't surprise me if he was."
Sam leaned back against the headboard as he idly flipped through the pages of the local newspaper. Dean had been driving him crazy after the wreck, puttering around the motel room for days like an expecting parent.
And speak of the devil…
Dean strolled through the door and threw a package on the bed next to Sam.
Sam looked up from the newspaper, his brow furrowing at the sight of the item wrapped rather poorly in that morning's comic section from the paper. So that's where it went…
"I got you something." Dean said absently, shrugging off his coat and walking towards the bathroom.
"What is it?" Sam asked curiously as he began to unwrap the gift.
Dean leaned his head out of the bathroom and gave Sam an exasperated look. "A hooker."
Sam rolled his eyes and tore the rest of the paper off, revealing what was inside.
"I figured with that, you wouldn't have to listen to my music anymore." Dean's voice filtered from the open bathroom door as he shouted over the noise from the sink.
Sam smiled, turning the portable CD player over in his hands.
"Well, it's not a hooker but…" Dean walked out of the bathroom, wringing his hands with a towel before tossing it casually on his messy bed.
"It's great," Sam interrupted, smiling genuinely, "although I know you only got it so you wouldn't have to listen to me complain."
Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "That's half of it, yeah. C'mon," he smiled brightly, jerking his head towards the door, "I've got my car and we're ready to go."
Sam tucked the paper under his arm and grabbed the CD player, following his older brother outside. Dean's car was parked in the space right in front of their room, gleaming in the sunlight.
Dean patted the hood lovingly and sighed, a look of utter contentment on his face. "I missed you…"
He murmured a few other things, but Sam was pretty sure he didn't want to hear because…well, it was a car, not a woman.
"It's an inanimate object, Dean."
"Sammy…" Dean warned, pointing a finger purposefully at his little brother.
Sam rolled his eyes and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door but not getting in. "Why black, Dean?"
Sam rested his arms on the roof of the vehicle, peering over at his brother. "Your car, why'd you pick the color black? Besides the fact that you like to pretend you're a bad-ass…"
Dean face was entirely serious when he responded.
"They were all out of hot pink."