all your time waiting ,for that second chance,
for a break that would make it okay, there's always one reason,
to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day,
some distraction, oh beautiful release
memory seeps from my veins, let me be empty
and weightless and maybe, I'll find some peace tonight
the arms of an angel, fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage, of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there
tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back, and the storm keeps on twisting
you keep on building the lie, that you make up for all that you lack
it don't make no difference, escaping one last time
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees
the arms of an angel, fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage, of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there
Copyright – sarah mclachlan
Dean Winchester was twenty six years old and at the moment he felt that he had nothing to show for a life that was, at best, half done considering the line of work that he was in. The total sum of his possessions in life were an old beat up duffle bag, a few clothes and a car that he'd inherited from his dad. A '67 Impala which was sitting outside the motel room door with a small arsenal loaded in the trunk.
Oh, and he had a brother who had ditched him two years ago to go to college and a dad that had ditched him a month ago for his latest hunt. Neither brother nor father cared enough to pick up the phone to check if Dean was hurt or angry or sad or happy or hell, just breathing. He had never felt so alone in his whole miserable life and for him that was really saying something. If there was such a thing as rock bottom, Dean had fallen under it one week ago.
He was sitting in the latest of a long line of dingy motel rooms with, at this moment, his only two friends in the whole world on the table in front of him. A three-quarters empty bottle of Jim Beam and his.45. Dean had been drinking steadily for the last week as it became apparent to him that yet again he was taking second place to whatever was going on in his father's endless quest to find the thing that had taken his mother from him at the age of four. What his father, John Winchester, failed to realise was that Dean had lost his own right to a life that night too. When Dean had carried his little brother through the front door of the burning house that evening he became the son that would always followed his father's orders without question and the brother that would protect his sibling at all costs, no matter how high. What Dean would want for himself had ceased to matter.
He had just finished leaving yet another voice mail on his father's phone. This message had made twenty one in total, none of which had merited the courteously of a reply. Of course his father could be dead but Dean didn't think so, somehow he would know if that were so, he would feel it. John's orders had been to meet back up at this motel and so Dean had sat alone in this room for the better part of a month, waiting. He had finished the hunt that John had sent him on and came here spending his time hustling pool in various local bars, eating, sleeping, watching porn on the motel TV and now, getting drunk. He knew what his father would think if you turned up to find Dean in this state but frankly he didn't care, mainly because he didn't believe that his father was coming back for him, but still he waited.
Orders where orders.
He had even tried to reach his brother at Stanford but Sam had been there two years and Dean was yet to speak to anything other than to his voice mail message either. Now hadn't been any different.
Dean had swung by once, a year ago, to check on him but the sight of his brother sitting with his pretty blonde girlfriend and all his college buddies had filled Dean with emotions that he wasn't proud of. Sure he was happy for his brother but he was envious of him too. Why did he get to escape and have a normal life? What had Sam done to deserve that when he didn't? Hadn't he always been the good son? The obedient one? He had been jealous of the way that Sam's girlfriend had looked at him, her eyes full of love, caring and affection. Dean had only known one person that had ever looked at him like that, the one he had told the family secret to, the one that had eventually left him too, freaked when he confessed what his life was really like, what he really did for a living.
Yeah, one by one everybody in Dean Winchester's life had washed their hands of him.
Not for the first time since his father left Dean wondered just who would care if he put his gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Would his brother?
The brother he had practically raised and who had then up and left him when a better life had beckoned, cutting him off completely because of something that their father had said? Is it so hard to pick up the friggin' phone?
Would his dad?
The man that thought of him only as another weapon in his arsenal against evil? The man that couldn't be bothered to call to see if he was ok? The man whose only goal in life was to catch the thing that had killed his wife without thought of what he put his family through to do it?
Dean thought that he could lie here a very long time dead before someone would even care to look. Hell the room was paid for a month and the 'do not disturb' sign was on the door. He thought perhaps the smell would finally bring someone in and then perhaps his damn family would answer their phones.
He finished the bottle, threw it in the trash next to the others and headed for the door. He desperately needed some company fast, something to blot out his self-pity. He got in the car and peeled it too fast out of the car park almost colliding with someone on their way in but he didn't stop. The car swerved violently as he drove as he almost willed the police to stop him and jail him, call his damn family. Think they might pick up for the police? He laughed a cold hard laugh. Probably not. He laughed dryly.
Dean saw the lights of the bar and pulled in.
Amy was working, a few more drunken fumbles in the back of some guy's pick-up and she would have enough money to call it a night and go home. Go home and scrub off the smell and the feel of the men that she had been with that night, the men that had paid for her company, the men that let her cloth and feed her kids.
She watched as the newcomer entered the bar, noticing how the way that he casually cased the place was actually anything but casual. His eye caught her and rested on her briefly before he continued his look round. He signaled to the waitress and took a seat in the corner, back to the wall, eyes still searching for any sign of trouble. She dismissed him instantly, guys that looked as good as he did didn't have to pay for the services that she provided, guys like him usually could have their pick of the room. She watched as the waitress brought his beer, and laughed as he brushed off her attempt to flirt, watched as he sat playing with the label on his bottle, lost in thought but still aware of everything happening around him.
She tore her eyes away and started a walk through the room, sizing up her possible pick ups and avoiding the ones that she knew from experience would be trouble. She walked by his table and couldn't resist a look, if anything she noticed he was even better looking up close, almost beautiful, if you could use that word to describe a man, she glanced over his body, and he was definitely all man.
She suddenly realised that he was staring straight at her, his deep green eyes locked on hers.
Dean recognised a fellow hunter when he saw one, he had watched her walk through the bar, sizing up her next target, watched as she stopped and momentarily let her sights rest on him. She was like him, her cock-sure smile hiding the hurt and the sadness. Her eyes had a little hard edge to them probably caused by the things that she had seen and she had done, by the life that had chosen her, but that was not her choice. He knew how that felt all too well.
"Can I help you with something?" His voice had a soft Texan drawl to it that complimented him adding to the picture of perfection. She thought that in another time and place she could get lost in that voice forever. He smiled as her, the smile soft and very sexy although never quite reaching his eyes, and she took this a signal.
"Well sugar, I was just about to ask you the self same question." She smiled back at him and lent on the table, giving him a little view of her wares, teasing him.
She was surprised as he was when he gestured to her to sit, offered her a beer. She thought for one moment that he had mistaken what she was and she set about setting the picture straight, she couldn't afford to give it away no matter how fine this man was.
"Honey you know what kinda of girl I am, don't'cha?"
Dean hesitated for a moment; there was something about this woman, something that drew him to her. She was pretty, older than him with long shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He decided in that moment that he would rather pay her to be with him than spend the next hour or so trying to finesse someone else into bed with him, looking for a little moment of honesty in the web of lies that was his life and he wouldn't have that awkward moment in the morning, 'cos in the morning she would be gone and he would be alone again.
He lent over and gently pushed a 100 bill into her top. She looked down and smiled as him.
"Well you've got my attention, what do want to do honey?"
"Tell me your name while I finish my beer and then we'll go someplace a little quieter." He lent forward and touched her cheek and she felt a little shiver run through her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath; hear the loneliness in his voice.
"Ok ….what's your name?"
"Dean, my name's Amy."
Most men didn't even care what her name was, never mind anything else about her, it was all wham, bam, thank you ma'am. In fact she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of men she'd been with who had ever asked that and she had never told any of them her real one, until now. She had no idea why she had, it had just felt right and she somehow knew that he would know if she had lied to him.
He finished the beer and held his hand out to her, helping her to her feet. Outside in the car park she shivered, her small skirt and her thin top not enough to keep out the cold and she smiled as he stopped and gave her his jacket, tucking her inside to warm her. He lent her against the car, placed his hands on either side of her head and gave her a gentle but firm kiss on her mouth; she surprised herself by responding to his touch, leaning into the kiss. He reached round her and opened the car door.
"Shall we?" He waited until she had climbed in and then walked round to the driver's side. He lent on the car roof, one last moment of doubt filling his mind then drowned by his need for company. He opened the car door and climbed in beside her.
Dean stopped the car outside the motel room and they got out. She followed him up to the room door but as he opened it and stepped through he saw her hesitate, following her line of sight his eyes rested on the gun still lying on the table where he had left it. He walked over and took out the clip, throwing this back on the table and the gun in his bag.
"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you, I promise. If you don't want to I'll take you back, you can keep the money."
She stared at him and then realised that he was serious, waiting for her answer; stepping into the room she closed the door and moved over to him. He took his jacket from her shoulders, pushing it back, caressing her arms as he did and she almost laughed as the little jolt of electricity that ran through her. Just a client Amy, she reminded herself, a strange one that actually seemed to care what she thought and wanted, but in the end just another client.
This she thought, is going to be different. "Well how would you like to do this?"
"Wait for me."
He turned from her and walked into the bathroom needing a minute to collect himself. He looked in the mirror and wondered again just what the hell he was doing, was he really reduced to paying people to be with him? Had he really sunk that low? He splashed some water on his face and walked back out intent on telling her to go.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed and had turned all the lights out except the small bed side lamp. It cast a glow round her almost making her appear like an angel as the light shimmered through her golden hair, a fallen angel, yeah he thought, that would be just about right.
He went to speak and she silenced him with a kiss, melting his resolve, re-awaking his desire to be with someone tonight, not to be left alone with his thoughts again, scared of what he might do if he was.
He pushed her gently back on the bed climbing on top and she felt the roughness of his hands as he slid her blouse up and started to kiss her stomach, his lips brushing her skin.
He unbuttoned the front of her blouse and sat her up letting it ghost down her arms. He bit gently into the flesh on her shoulders and then slid her bra straps down onto her arms, unhooking it and freed her breasts his hands sliding round to cup and fondle each one as his mouth sought hers. His kisses where deep and passionate while his hands continued their journey of exploration over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her skin, searching for the areas that made her squirm involuntarily under his touch.
She had slept with countless men and she had forgotten almost how it felt to have someone consider her needs, her wants but when he touched her it was with a reverence that ignited her very core and for the first time in a long time she found herself wanting to be touched by a man. She pulled his tee-shirt over his head and rolled him onto his side her mouth reaching for his nipples, nipping them gently causing a small cry from his lips. She traced the lines of the scars on his body, kissing each one, making him groan as her lips connected with his skin. She wondered just how someone so young could have so many, wondered just what he had been through on his journey to this point in his life.
She mentally pulled herself up; this was a client she should be getting on with business.
She worked her mouth up to his neck alternating between kisses and bites, listening to his responses and adjusting her approach to him accordingly. She reached down, her hands opening the button on his jeans, sliding her hands in, making him groan again. She felt him help her finish undressing him, felt him shudder as her hands explored him, stroking him. She stood and discarded her skirt and underwear and then she lay back down beside him. He rolled her over, getting on top, his mouth covering her breast, his tongue working the nipple, sending shots of pleasure through her.
She never did this but then most of her clients never took any time with her, never touched her the way he was touching her. She felt his hands slide down between her legs and she opened up to allow him in. He worked her with his mouth and his hand sending her senses reeling. She tried to regain some control, his touch to intimate for what this was, for what he was paying her for.
She slid her own hands down, building the pleasure in him. Eventually he took her hand away, he steadied himself and then they were moving in sync, his strokes gentle yet forceful, tender yet full of desire. His need filled her and she felt herself going, drifting over the edge and then he followed her.
She lay breathless for a moment and then she wanted to get away, away from this man that had made her feel little things that she hadn't in a long time, that had put her pleasure before his, that had made love to her not just used her for sex. He had put a little crack in her armour that she couldn't afford and she wanted to put distance between them. She went to stand but he stopped her, gently gripping her wrist in his hand.
"Please don't leave me." His green eyes glistened and she saw the fear in his eyes. "I'll pay you." He reached for his jeans and pulled his wallet out, opening it and lifting another two 100 bills. "Please, just till I'm asleep, then you can go." She hesitated, looking at the money he placed on the bed side table. It was more than she would earn for the rest of the night and all he wanted was her company. She climbed back into bed and he pulled the covers over them. He settled her into the crook of his arm, her head lying lightly on his chest. The silence hung in the air between them until she couldn't stand it anymore, not used to staying on after the main event and she broke yet another of her golden rules. She asked his about himself, trying to keep the conversation general.
"So Dean where are you from?"
"Originally Kansas, but I'm a kinda wherever I lay my head kinda guy these days."
"So no place you call home then?"
"Just the car outside the door. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You got a home? You stay in this town?"
"Born and raised, probably die here too." She didn't want to talk about her, shifted the conversation back to him. "You got family, a girl somewhere that doesn't know what you do on your travels?" She laughed trying to lighten his oppressive mood.
"No girl…no family." She noticed the hesitation in his voice, the pain evident.
"No family at all?" Her head was screaming client to her, no need to ask this Amy, just let him fall the hell asleep and get home to your kids, but her mouth and her brain didn't seemed to be communicating at the moment. She found herself wanting to know this guy's story.
"A brother at college, we don't really talk anymore and my dad kinda travels around too." The sadness in his voice as he mentioned his brother made her wish she hadn't asked, but since she had she pushed on.
"My dad and him had a fight, about going to college; I kinda got caught in the crossfire."
Dean had no idea why he was telling her this except that he wanted to keep her here with him as long as possible and if it meant opening up to her what did it matter, it wasn't like he'd see her again, beside he couldn't remember the last time he had had anything that would pass as a conversation with anyone.
"So he just cut you off? Doesn't sound like much of a brother." She felt him tense beside her.
"He's a great brother!" She flinched at the anger which flared briefly in his voice until it was replaced by resignation. "We just wanted different things that's all."
"Have you tried to contact him, visit him?"
"Yeah, I've called but he doesn't answer and I went down once but….but he doesn't need me anymore."
"So you know that for a fact do you? Is that what's best for him, to be cut off from his family by some angry words? What about what's best for you? You miss him don't you?" She took his silence as a confirmation. "Well you should go talk to him, what's the worst that could happen, you end up feeling worse than you do just now?"
"What would you know about it?" There was no anger in the question.
She laughed. "Do you think my family is happy with my line of work? Do you think my brothers speak to me? I probably know more than you think, I left it too long with them, you shouldn't do that."
"Thanks I'll take that advice on board. Do you charge for that too?" She had probed too deep and got bitten. She backed off, settled down against him, signaling an end to the conversation.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's all right you can go." He stood and walked over to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
She dressed quickly, picked her money up and hesitated. She almost knocked on the bathroom door to see if he was ok but thought better of it. Just a client Amy who's asked you to leave. She turned and did just that.
Dean was feeling worse than he had the day before as he listened to the door close behind her. Just go visit? Could it really be that easy? Perhaps the cold rejection of the unanswered phone calls would be better than hearing the words from his brother's lips, less final, less permanent.
He ignored the mirror, climbing into the shower and then turning it on. The blast of cold water made him gasp until the heat kicked in and he scrubbed his skin until it was raw. He waited until the water was almost cold again before he stepped out and shut it off. Finally, he looked in the mirror barely recognising the man staring back. He couldn't look into his own eyes, afraid to see the darkness that lingered there, waiting to pull him back down.
Dean went out and sat on the bed, only his family could make him feel like this, unwanted, unloved, worthless. He went to pick up his phone to try his dad again and that's when he noticed the voice mail that had been left late the evening before.
"Shit." He called the answer phone and listened as his dad's voice spoke.
"Dean. Something is starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try to find out what's going on. Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger." Dean listened to the EVP on the recording.
He sighed, he was drunk and screwing around with a hooker and his dad might be in trouble. He called John again and cursed as it went to voice mail. Time to get your act together Dean. He needed to find his dad and he decided that this time he wasn't going to go alone. He had enough of being on his own. He had to try with Sam, no matter what the cost.
He shaved, brushed his teeth and tidied his hair then walked out to grab some clean clothes from his duffle and got dressed quickly. He threw the two unopened bottles in the bin and gathered his stuff. He checked out and then got in the car. If his family wasn't going to come find him then he would go find them. Finally with his sense of purpose returning he started the big muscle car up and pushed the Metallica tape into the deck on the dash turning the volume all the way up. He pulled out onto the street and floored the accelerator, smiling as the car responded with a growl from its innards. At least his baby never let him down.
He set out for Stanford; if his brother wouldn't answer his phone then he was damn well going to answer his door. Dean didn't care if he had to beg Sam to come with him to find their dad, just as long as he did. Dean had never asked his brother for anything in his life, always the giver never a taker, but this time was going be different, Sam owed him and Dean was going to collect.
It was night again as he pulled into Stanford and an idea formed in his head. He slowly cased the outside of the apartment that Sam lived in and spotted the open window. "Sloppy Sammy, very sloppy!" He climbed up and into his brother's kitchen, deliberately knocking over some of the stuff on the counter.
Silently he slipped his game face on, transforming into the confident, cocky, big brother Dean that Sam would except to find, he waited for his brother to finally come to him.