Title: Interview with Dean Winchester

Rating: Pretty much G, except for one light curse word

Characters: Dean Winchester and one OC

Spoilers: none really, though it helps to have seen episode 5.01

Summary: Dean Winchester is interviewed

Beta: Suz Mc

Word count: Aprox. 1800

Prompt: "Imagine you are a journalist, and you are to interview ONE Supernatural character. Come up with 5-7 questions to ask, then IN THAT CHARACTER'S VOICE, answer those questions."

Written for: SPNland challenge

Interview With Dean Winchester

When I was offered the chance to interview Dean Winchester, I jumped at the chance. I mean, who wouldn't? The man is larger-than-life, and his life is more than interesting. I'm not sure I could handle having a life like his, but I'm not a Winchester either.

Having been warned ahead of time the interview would, by necessity, be a short one, I knew I wouldn't have the chance to ask him more than a handful of questions. I was also informed that there would be some questions I would either not be able to ask, or he would refuse outright to answer them. Ok, thanks for the warning, but I still planned to ask him some thought-provoking questions with the hopes he'd agree to answer them anyway. What happened went beyond this journalist's expectations.

He agreed to meet me in a local cafe, where we would talk over cups of coffee and servings of apple pie. That wouldn't be a hardship for either of us, I soon learned. After he saw me seated, he sat across from me, and once our coffee and pie was ordered, he looked at me, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it took me not a little bit of time to focus my thoughts on the matter at hand. The man is devastatingly handsome, and very charming to boot. When he smiled at me I could swear my brain melted, and for the life of me I couldn't remember my own name let alone remember any questions I'd planned to ask him. Thank God for the fact I had prepared a short list of them and had them with me, along with a small recorder to document the interview. Yep, I needed it too, because I didn't get more than a few words written down of what he said.

Yeah, I was a real professional that day.

Once our order was placed on the table in front of us, I watched as Dean took his first bite of pie, and I couldn't hold back a giggle. I mean, the man does love his pie. He grinned back at me and said, "Sorry. I've always said pie should be considered one of the basic food groups, along with coffee and beer."

I told him I agreed, then asked, "What else ranks up there with those basics of life, in your opinion?"

He tilted his head to the side and after a few moments, admitted, "Well, like any man, there are things I'd rather not have to do without. Food, we've already established, ranks up there. There's nothing like a big, greasy bacon cheeseburger first thing in the morning to start a man's day off right. I'm not listing things by priority, but I also have to say my baby - my car - ranks up there. Women." At that word he gave me what any woman worth her ovaries would consider a sexy grin. "Definitely women, and yeah, sex. Gotta make sure sex is on the list." He took another bite of pie and after he'd swallowed, he added, "Family. Friends. A job you love."

I told him, "I'd say you have a good list there. Other than women," I grinned at him, "I agree with you wholeheartedly." We shared a laugh, then we moved on to my next question. "In researching you, I learned what you do with your life. Traveling around the country, helping people, investigating the paranormal. Is that something you truly enjoy doing, or would you choose to do something else with your life if you could?"

Dean turned to look out the window we were sitting next to, and after a minute or so turned to look back at me and said, his voice deep and serious, "There have been a few times in my life - a few defining moments - when I considered what I'd be doing with my life if I weren't hunting. Don't get me wrong--I like what I do and the fact I get to do it with my brother, Sam--but yeah, if I had the chance to do something else, I'd give it a shot. I don't have plans to make a change like that, but the possibility is always there, isn't it?"

I agreed with him, and knew I had to ask my next question: "Do you see, at some time in your life, having a family?"

"A wife, kids, dog, the whole nine yards?" he asked. When I nodded, he blew out a breath and ran a hand over his stubbled face before adding, "Sure, I'd like that. What man doesn't? Will I get that for myself?" He made a scoffing sound in his throat. "I seriously doubt it. I don't think it's in the cards for me. The life Sam and I lead doesn't exactly allow for that, and really, the fact I'm alive right now is a major--I don't like the word 'miracle' but I'll use it in this case. I shouldn't be here."

I could see the subject made him uneasy, but I pressed on, needing to get inside this man's head as much as he would allow me. "I know what happened to you a year and a half ago--" meaning his deal to be sent to Hell, "--and some of what has happened since. Will you talk to me a little bit about that?"

"No. Sorry." His face took on what I would call a stubborn expression, but I had to press on.

"Dean--"

"Listen. It's not that I'm not willing to talk to you. I am. You're a nice woman and all, but that subject is hard to talk about. A lot of shit--sorry--a lot of stuff went down and all I want to do is put it behind me. If what you're looking for is a lot of sharing and emo crap, you're talking to the wrong Winchester."

"Sam wasn't the one I was assigned to talk to, not that I wouldn't have wanted to," I explained. I wanted to get inside his head, needed to by this point, so I gave it one more try. "Dean, is there anything about that time you are willing to talk about? I'm not trying to push you--much--but it is important to me, to this interview, to have you share with me what happened and how it's affected you, your life, your brother..."

He sighed, and I knew he really didn't want to respond to my request, but after a few minutes and more thinking on his part he faced me and said, "Hell was just that, hell. You have no idea what it's like, and I can't begin to describe it to you even if I wanted to. I got through it and that's that. Next question," he said, the tone of his voice making it perfectly clear that the subject of his time spent in Hell was irrevocably closed.

Not wanting to piss him off and take the chance of him ending the interview there and then, I sighed inwardly, and agreed to change the subject. I nodded and pushed my unfinished pie away, and after the waitress topped off our coffees, I asked, "Can you talk about how things are between you and your brother? I've read a lot about how close the two of you are, that you were almost a second father to him as the two of you grew up."

Little did I realize I had just brought up another touchy subject.

Dean gave me a frustrated glare, and I could see his jaw muscles clenching, so I was amazed when he took a deep breath, let it out, then crossed his arms in front of him on the table and looked me squarely in the eye. "I agreed to talk to you, and I will, but this is the last question I'll answer. The status of the relationship I have with my brother isn't up for discussion beyond this: yes, we are and have always been close, except for the years he was at Stanford. Just like most all siblings, we have our fights. There are good times and bad. The bad times're something I don't want to talk about. Period. Now if you were to ask about the practical jokes we've played on each other, or something else like that, I would have been happy to tell you all about it."

He leaned back in his seat and after draining his cup, began to slide out of the bench. I reached out and wrapped my hand around his wrist, stopping his exit. "Dean, I'm sorry," I said as I slid to the end of my seat. "I pushed too far, but I was just doing my job."

He hung his head a moment and sighed, then sank back down on his seat and met my gaze with his. "I know, but there're limits to what I'm willing to talk about. Like I said, maybe you're talking to the wrong brother."

I smiled and said, "Maybe. Maybe not. Thanks for sharing what you did." I thrust out a hand, and after a moment, he took it in one of his and gripped it firmly.

"You're welcome. I, uh, I need to go, but, yeah...all things considered, this was nice. Maybe we can try it again another time." He gave me another one of his heart-melting grins, and yeah, I admit I felt my ovaries explode.

I grinned back and after he helped me rise from my seat, he led me out the door. We walked side-by-side to the driver's-side door of his gleaming '67 Impala. He opened the door and the hinges gave a low, rumbled screech as he moved into the gap between door and seat. Dean paused there before he turned to face me and said, nodding, "Yeah...we ought to do this again sometime. We'll just leave work behind next time." He winked at me, then sat and pulled the door shut. He turned the ignition and the motor roared then settled into a steady purr as only a 'Pala can. He waved cheerily then pulled out, leaving dust in his wake, and I stood there and watched him drive off.

There were most definitely unprofessional feelings swarming inside me at that point. I hope to get part two of this interview later...!