A Million Little Pieces

By: supernaturaldh

Summary: Dean's past comes back to haunt him…and Sam may pay the ultimate price.

Set preseason, and current season.

Chapter 1

The Girl of his Dreams

When Dean Winchester was twenty-two years old, he met the girl of his dreams, or at least, at the time, he thought so. He had been on a hunt with his father, John, a salt and burn in Murfreesboro, Arkansas. It was an easy gig, one they had finished in record time. The two tired hunters had headed straight from the graveyard to Mallard Pub, a run down joint on the outskirts of town. Both hunters had a huge hankering for a cold beer, some hot wings, and a nice warm pillow to rest their weary heads against, and according to them, it would definitely be in that order.

It had been a long year for the Winchesters, Dean's baby brother gone from their lives for the last six months. The topic of Sam was never brought up, the reality of it eating away at both men on a daily basis. John's last words to his son had been voiced angrily, advising the eighteen-year-old to go, and if he left, to stay gone, and never come back. It was those words that had cut Dean to the very core, realizing that his father had shut his little brother out of the fold. Although the older brother didn't support it, he stayed with their Dad, and then had to watch daily as the anger and remorse ate the man alive. But John Winchester was hard headed and no amount of talking and cajoling from Dean was going to change his mind. According to John, Sam had made a choice, he had picked college and a new life over his family, and now they were all forced to live with it -end of story.

Dean Winchester understood his brother's drive to get out on his own. Hell, he had had the same urges when he graduated from high school, thinking he should do something else with his life besides hunting ghouls, ghosts, and demons. But in the end, he had made his choice freely, to stay with his father, to put his family first and hunt the supernatural. It also helped that he was saving others, giving his own life a strong purpose, a meaning.

While Dean understood his father, he wasn't so sure he understood Sam. He always knew his little brother was different from them, the kid never liked hunting, nor did he understand his father's drive to kill the supernatural. But then again, Sam had only been a baby the day his mother was murdered, killed by a demon in their own home. Dean had watched from the sidewalk, clutching tightly to his father, as the house and life he had known burnt to the ground, his innocence going up in flames along with it. He had been there when his father had fell apart, drinking himself into oblivion, and grasping at straws to understand what had happened to his wife. The memories were etched forever in his brain. In the end, he had understood his fathers driving need to find his wife's killer, to save the world, but Sam, he had never gotten it. It wasn't his fault, and Dean knew that. The kid was too young to remember his mother, or the life they had before she died. All Sam knew was that he wanted a normal life, a life he had never gotten to have, and it had broken Dean's heart when his little brother had left them to find it.


The young waitress shuffled to the table, face looking from John to Dean. The sounds of Bon Jovi blared on the jukebox, and engulfed the tiny bar. A small smile curled to her lips as she gave the sandy haired, green eyed man in front of her the once over. Damn, he was hot .

"Hey there sugar," John said as he looked from the menu up to the waitress. She couldn't be any older than nineteen, and pretty much perfect. He grunted to himself, too bad he was old enough to be her father.

"I'll have a Coors light and some hot wings." The older man said as he smiled.

The young girl fidgeted from one foot to the other. "And…and what…what about you?" she stuttered out at the handsome young man in front of her.

Dean felt John's metal toed boot shove at his blue jean clad leg beneath the wobbly table, and his eyes darted across to his Dad. John waggled his eyes at him, motioning to the young waitress who was standing, staring at Dean. The young hunters head rose from the menu to gaze at the red haired, emerald eyed beauty that was looking intently at him. Holy crap, she's hot.

"Well, hello there." Dean said almost bashfully.

"Hi….um…" she said sweetly, looking almost embarrassed to be talking to Dean.

John's eyes widened as he watched the awkward exchange.

Dean blinked, suddenly dumb founded as he stared at her perfect face. He wanted to order, but no words crossed his lips as he actually gaped at her.

John snorted. Kids. "He'll have the same," he said with conviction as he yanked the menu from his boy's fingers and plopped it back behind the napkin holder.

"Sure," the young girl smiled, never looking once at John, as she blinked shyly at Dean and then slid easily back out into the crowd.

"Holy crap, she's hot." Dean offered up, his father laughing at his words.

"I don't believe I have ever seen you speechless around a girl, but son, you looked absolutely dumbfounded right there."

Dean blushed slightly and rolled his eyes at his father. He strained to see through the dimly lit bar, eyes searching out and holding on the pretty little waitress.


The weary hunters ended up two blocks from the bar, staying at the Sunny Inn – which was definitely a play on words, the place was dark, and really just a ratty excuse for a motel on the outskirts of town. They silently unloaded the Impala and stowed their gear inside the sparsely decorated motel room. Dean immediately dismissed himself to the shower, and John flung his tired body down against the lime green bedspread, sleep the only thing on his mind.

John nuzzled against the pillow listening to the sound of the shower pounding on the paper thin wall. He grinned smugly to himself at the thought of his eldest. That had been quite a little display at the bar earlier. The raven haired waitress had really done a number on his boy. He smiled. He found it funny to watch how Dean had danced lightly around the conversation for nearly an hour, Dean almost appeared shy in the encounter, and well, that was definitely a first. He had never seen his cocky, self assured boy at a loss for words, especially around a woman - this one had definitely taken Dean by surprise.

Suddenly the bathroom door flung open, steam wafting heavily into the motel room. John watched as his good looking, towel clad son moved quietly around the room, pulling out several nice shirts, pondering which one to wear. He smiled to himself; Dean probably assumed he was asleep and not watching this little show.

"Wear the blue one; it brings out your eyes." John mumbled as he rolled his stiff body from his stomach to lay his back, brown eyes gazing smugly at his eldest.

Dean's eyes lifted to rest on his Dad's, another embarrassed flush crept across his face. "Really?" he asked with hesitation.

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it son."

Dean smiled and nodded at his Dad. He slipped on his boxers, his best blue jeans, the baby blue dress shirt, and moved quickly back to the bathroom.

The scent of aftershave floated from the bathroom.

"So, what's her name?" John asked curiously, as he folded his arms up behind his head and gazed at the paint chipped ceiling.

"Brianna." Dean said gleefully as he stuck his head back around the bathroom door, large grin decorating his face.

"She got a last name?" John inquired as he rolled his head to look at his ecstatic son.

"Boyd, Brianna Boyd," the words flowed lightly across Dean's lips as he flipped on the hair dryer and grinned happily to himself in the mirror.