Who: Dean Winchester dean & Stefan Salvatore wouldberipper When: May, after Stefan’s werewolf bite Where: Rainbow Motor Repair What: Come to Jesus Meeting Rating/Warnings: Foul Language, Supernatural Creatures with Mad Drama Status: Complete Upon Posting
Dean had sent a text Stefan's way -Come see me. You don't want me to come see you.- when he heard his pal was on the mend. Saved in the nick of time. They were the kind of men who didn't just get saved in the nick of time. There was always a consequence to go along with the truth of their so-called miracle save. It was possible something very, very nasty was the consequence of saving Stefan.
He needed to know if that was the case.
Orange County was its own Freak Show, but it was Dean's Freak Show. He wanted to keep it intact. There was no one he wanted to see hurt in his home. People had no idea how much home meant to Dean Winchester. This life allowed him to have a semblance of it; in that other life, they had taken everything from him which could even be remotely considered a home. He wouldn't let that happen in the OC.
"Glad you decided to come to me. I would have hated to have to hunt you down for a 'Come to Jesus' meeting."
~*~
Stefan was still reeling that he wasn't dead. Wasn't dying. The blood from Damon had done its job, and now Stefan was free to walk the world again, as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. And Stefan had very nearly died. There were some conflicting emotions inside him, ones he couldn't really put into words. The closest he came was to describe the sensation as anger. Orange County was fucking with them, with all of them. Orange County could throw them together, send Stormtroopers after them, do whatever it wanted. And they were supposed to just roll over and die, bitten by a werewolf and hallucinating. And that was okay with everyone?
Stefan wasn't going to tiptoe around anymore. He wasn't walking on eggshells. He was doing whatever felt good to him at the time because he knew that tomorrow the end could come. Very easily. So he'd started nicking Lexi's blood bags, started drinking more. A whole lot more. It helped with the hunger, though he was still fighting it. All the time. More with the human blood in his system than before.
Stefan scoffed. "Come to Jesus? Really?" He stepped in closer, then leaned his hip against a car. "I think that would be incredibly awkward for both of us."
~*~
"You're right about that. The high road isn't something I take regularly. It doesn't come naturally to me."
Dean had never been the good son in the family. Sammy was the one who did everything right while Dean barely made it through. He didn't have a problem with who he was or how he lived; he did have a problem with whatever breakdown Stefan was having because there wasn't time for it alongside all the other bullshit going on constantly in the OC. They had to keep themselves together. Who was going to kick them out if they fell down into Hell?
It wasn't like they had access to the same resources in this world as they did in the one in Dean's dreams.
"I seriously do not want to chase you down for eating tourists. You're not eating tourists, are you? This whole almost dying thing seriously isn't an excuse to go crazy anymore. Trust me. I've done the dying thing too many times to use it as an excuse. If my brother was around, he'd tell you in graphic detail why it's not valid since like---2006."
He rubbed a hand through his hair, hating it was getting long on him again. Dean needed to keep up with his life. There was always something to do. Cars in the garage not getting worked on, lawns not getting done, and a million other things Dean needed to get to before he worried about his own problems.
"Dude. I need you to not be eating tourists. Why? Because I already hate you for having stupidly perfect hair without constantly going to the barber. I don't need another reason."
~*~
Well, that was a very valid reason for Dean to need Stefan to refrain from eating tourists. His hair was pretty perfect, and he didn't do much to it. Except wash, dry... okay, and add some product. But that was it. Really.
Stefan knew that Dean didn't really hate him, but he also knew that the other man was under a lot of stress and pressure. He was running two businesses, and had Dream shit to deal with, and a personal life? Perhaps? Stefan didn't want to get in the way of any of Dean's shit. Actually, the contrary was true. He wanted to help wherever he could. But the fact was that Stefan was going through some of his own shit, and he was hard pressed to give too many fucks about other people's business.
Orange County wanted to kill him. Nearly did. Orange County was fucking with him, and Stefan didn't appreciate it.
"I'm not eating tourists." Stefan said, frowning. "Why would you even think that, Dean? You know I'm a vegetarian vampire." As much as anyone could be. But it was a lie. Stefan had started sneaking blood bags. It made him feel stronger, more alive. It also made him feel more hungry.
~*~
People tended not to think much of Dean's intellect. He was the guy who barely made it through in classes and didn't bother getting a GED after he dropped out of high school. Being a hunter was more important than being a high school graduate. Who gave a damn about a high school diploma when he could disassemble and reassemble a Smith & Wesson in less than ten seconds?
Skills the likes of which Dean had? They weren't the kind learned in a classroom.
"I came back from Hell. More than once. You want to try to tell me what it's like to give Death the finger? Trust me: I will school you on near death experiences. I've been you. I know what it's like and I know you."
Stefan had been on the proverbial wagon for a long time as far as Dean knew. The guy hadn't lied to him about his eating habits up to this point. It was possible he wasn't lying now, but that didn't mean he was happy about keeping vegetarian. Sometimes Dean wished he didn't know all the things he did. There was a lot of hate built up in him with all the death, dying, dealing with death and dying.
"We don't have to throw a big party over what you're planning to celebrate your miraculous save. I just need to know you're not melting down on me. You want to snack on someone voluntarily? If you can do that? I'm fine with it. You start up a snatch-and-grab kind of deal? That is not okay with me."
~*~
Stefan had assumed that since he and Dean had so much in common, and that he'd never really lied to the other man, that he would be trusted now. He wasn't sure if that was actually the case, or wishful thinking.
"I have no intention of feeding on anyone. Voluntarily or involuntarily." Stefan spoke with conviction. After all, it was the truth. Blood bags were one thing, but Stefan would not--could not--drink from the vein. He would lose control, he knew it. As angry as he was at Orange County, and as tired as he was of fighting, Stefan was no killer. He wasn't the Ripper from his Dreams.
"Dean, you know me. Look into my eyes. I'm not a killer." He insisted, stepping closer. "You and I have no problems. None. I'm not going down that road."
~*~
"Good. I don't want to see you on that road because me?"
Dean made sure Stefan was looking into his eyes as he offered up the only truth he knew these days.
"I am a killer. Can't change that. It's too late for me. I thought it was this place at first, but then it wasn't a dream or Dreaming or anything related to something other than who I am, what I am, and what I have to be because the world needs someone to do the dirty work."
He hadn't asked for the knowledge of the supernatural world which existed in his other life. Dean would have never gone looking for information about anything occult in nature. Pleasure was far more his speed than pain; recipes for pie were a Hell of a lot more fun to trade than the contents of gris-gris bags. Dean Winchester was no more interested in picking fights with Hell than he was with Heaven. All he was trying to do was learn how to live the life he'd been given with as much of a smile on his face as he could manage.
Smiling at Stefan was pretty easy which helped.
"If I were the type to whine about fairness, I'd ask why you couldn't go on and be what you are since it's not like it's your fault vamps drink blood. I know life ain't fair though so I guess if you say you can't do it? You just can't do it. There's gotta be a trade off somewhere. You get to be a great guy to drink with when you're laying off the fully-leaded. Me? I get to keep the girl if I keep myself out of Hell's party line."
Dean shrugged, "It all balances out in the end. Or it doesn't. Not like we can do anything about it, am I right?"
~*~
“You’re right.” Stefan said, sighing. He leaned back, turning his eyes to the ceiling. Man, he hated conversations like this one. If only they could be avoided--but fucking Orange County didn’t let well enough alone. “You’re absolutely right. It’s not worth obsessing over when there’s nothing we can do about it.”
He leaned back against a shelf, arms folded across his chest. “There’s more to being a vampire than just drinking human blood. It’s a huge part of it, sure, but not the only part. And I can live well enough on animal blood.”
~*~
Offering a wrench to Stefan, Dean said, "Want to tell me the perks of being a member of the immortal club while pretending to be good at fixing cars which came from a better year than this one?"
He knew Stefan wasn't as into cars as he was, but the guy knew his way around a garage. He was a good hand to have around for help. Dean thought they'd do well together in business though he couldn't exactly say to his friend how he wished they could work together since it made Dean feel better to be in the garage with someone he understood.
Who knew what it said about him to be more comfortable with a vampire than another human?
In the end?
Who cared?
Not Dean Winchester that was for damn sure.
"I can tell you my favorite thing about being human? Beer. Nothing like a good cold beer on a hot day."
~*~
“That works for me,” Stefan replied, taking hold of the wrench. He had more knowledge now than he’d had when he started at this job. There were a lot of cars in his Dreams, and he’d done a lot of work to them.
He went back to work while they chatted. “...Yeah, I think that conversation might take more than beer,” he was frowning at the idea of explaining being a vampire. It didn’t matter who he was talking to about it, it was a very strange subject, and likely needed plenty of alcohol.
~*~
Dean only laughed at the response, "Fair enough."
He could understand the lack of desire to talk about perks to his life. Some thought he had perks, too, which was its own kind of ironic Hell. Dean wanted to force them to live out a day with all his memories swarming inside their minds, stinging their nerves worse than a whole nest of angry wasps. He'd gone to Hell, Purgatory, and back again to both more than once. Heaven hadn't been any nicer to him regardless of it having such great advertisers. All Dean could say about his life on some days was: he was surviving it.
Sometimes survival was all any of them could hope for in life.
Settling in to working on the car with Stefan, Dean let himself relax into the familiar motions, allowing the life from his Dreams to bleed out onto the floor as if it were the old oil getting swapped for new in his engine.
Stefan was good company as the car was slowly repaired.
They couldn't fix themselves, but, hey, maybe fixing this beautiful piece of machinery was good enough. It would have to be. They didn't have any other option at present.