Normal (Dean Winchester fanfiction) ON HOLD

Prologue

Dean's PoV

Whenever I get with someone, I make sure they know my one rule: it's one night, and one night only. If they can't get that rule across their head, then I drop them and they can figure out what just happened to them on their own. I don't do cuddly and snuggly relationships, I don't do long term. The "longest term" relationship I was in was when I got snowed in at one girl's house, and we made out the entire day until someone dug us out.

A lot of the guys at the shop have adopted this policy as well. On Friday nights, all five of us head down to the local bar, and make a bet between us all to see who's gonna get laid that night. Most of the time they put their money on either me or my buddy Seth, but sometimes a girl walks over and she'll surprise us by picking up John, Stephen, or Barry. Not that they're bad looking guys, but they aren't as open as Seth and I, and they do that whole "committed" thing.

For example, last Friday night, a girl walks over. Smoking hot. She makes our way to the table, and John just gave me a nod like she's coming for you. We all turned, except for Barry. For whatever reason, the guy, poor kid, was flustered as all get out and refused to make eye contact with her. Now this girl, she was a wolf. Poor Barry never stood a chance against her, so when she sunk her claws into him, he had no escaping. And off that poor kid went; he'd fallen for the she-wolf.

My brother, Sammy, he's different than I am. We're polar opposites. While I've never done the whole committed thing, going back to the snow girl, Sammy's got Jessica. She's beautiful, may I tell you. Sammy's lucky, and I'm happy for him. We don't talk as much anymore though, our paths don't really cross even though he's just one town over. He's got his group of friends, and I've got mine. Plus, I'd bring down his reputation. He's got his smart friends, and I'd look fairly stupid around them, and I couldn't do that to Sam.

Growing up, we had a fairly happy home. That is, until dad died. He went to war when I was 10, came home once when I was 11, and I never saw the man again. I remember coming home that day after school, Sammy trailing behind me, whistling some song I didn't recognize. The sun was shining, the grass was green; summer vacation was in a week, and I was thrilled. Dad was coming home in two weeks, after all.

But when I walked into the house, something didn't feel right. I didn't know why, everything was just as it always was. Sammy and I kick off our shoes, hung up our jackets, and put our book bags on the little hooks by the door. Sam went into the kitchen to grab a knife, but I went looking for mom. She wasn't in the living room, she wasn't in any of the bathrooms, nor was she in mine or Sammy's bedroom cleaning. But then I realized something: her bedroom door was closed, and mom never closed her door except for at night time. It was hard to open, and she always complained it was too much to deal with when you had either a laundry basket in your arms or your hands were full. So I twisted the door knob, jerked it up, and then shouldered it a couple times before it opened, scratching the floor as it went.

There laid mom on her bed, clutching hers and dads wedding photo, crying silently. I knew enough about death at that point to know what had happened. In that moment, I had a choice: break down in front of mom, or be there for her. I chose the second option, walked over to the end, and sat next to mom. She didn't even look up, didn't acknowledge my presence. That's when I really knew, because mom always said "Hey there sunshine," when she first saw me when I came home from school. This time, she didn't say anything. She only cried. So I sat there, put her hair out of her face, and petted her head.
"It's okay mom," I'd said, and she looked up at me. Her blue green eyes held no light, no spark they always did. They were dull, dark, sad. "I'll take care of you."

After that, I grew up as Sam's caretaker. I made his lunches every morning for almost a year after dad died, when mom was still too heartbroken to even consider getting out of bed. I helped him after school with his homework, even if it meant I never got my own done. If anyone ever gave him trouble at school, I made sure they knew who his big brother was before they ever tried anything again. He was my little brother, and I was his protector.