“They’re driving me up a wall.”
October 25
“SON OF A BITCH, SIRIUS!”
Dean went out to sit on the porch, spend a few minutes outside, maybe sneak over to Bobby’s… instead he walked out and saw Sirius taking a piss off the side of the porch. Not like a freaking animal, but as an animal.
It was Sam’s fault and it was Sirius’s fault and Dean was going to blow up and kill everyone, he was sure of it. The only people safe from Dean’s inevitable blow up were Harry and Bobby.
Harry, cause Dean couldn’t be mad at the kid when he still had a shit memory and was just as stressed as Dean. And Bobby, cause… cause it was Bobby. Dean couldn’t look in those beady and cunning eyes of his and kill him, not like he could Sam and Sirius.
Sirius was going to be first when he ‘changed’ from a dog to a man and gave Dean a shrug and apology smile.
“Mate, I think your brother is tracking my bladder,” he said in the cheery way that Sirius had that was grating on Dean’s nerves.
Sirius was always either cheery or moody and Dean hated all of it. Cheery meant too many jokes, too much hovering over Harry. Moody meant too few jokes, too much Harry hovering over him.
Dean didn’t study psychology or anything, but those two had a real screwed up relationship and if Harry’s memory didn’t get better quick then Dean was going to kick Sirius to the curb. Sam kept saying it, telling Dean that Sirius was ‘a bad influence’, but Harry wanted him there so damn bad. Harry wanted Sirius around badly enough that he was snipping at Sam every time Sam said anything even a little rude to Sirius.
It was driving Dean to the point where he thought he’d ask Bobby for a case or a car to work on just to get away from it all. Dean would have already asked for something, but he couldn’t leave Harry to deal with everyone else’s bullshit alone.
“Whatever.” Dean rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. He’d gone through more Tylenol in the last few days than he had his entire freaking life. Sam kept finding the bitchiest little ways to make sure Sirius knew he wasn’t wanted there and it was their childhood all over again.
Sam probably did have some formula for when he thought that Sirius wanted to take a piss. He used to do that to Dad too - for the first day every time they’d move, Dad couldn’t get in the bathroom without Sam blocking him. Sam did petty shit too, like tie knots in Dad’s laces, hide the batteries from remotes.
Dean thought Sam grew up, but clearly not.
“I’m going to Bobby’s, tell Harry when he wakes up, will you?” Dean asked Sirius. Sirius inched over to the side of the porch to light a cigarette and nodded in response. Dean eyed him for a minute, looking at his clothes that he’d worn every day since showing up. They looked clean, but it was like Groundhog Day having nothing at all change day to day.
“You can grab some jeans and a shirt outta my closet,” Dean told him. He started to head toward Bobby’s house and paused to shout over his shoulder. “Nothing else, dude! We’re not sharing freaking boxers and socks!”
“I’ll just steal Sam’s!” was Sirius’s smartass reply.
Dean really hoped that he didn’t steal Sam’s clothes cause Sam was an obsessive son of a bitch. Dean had to share everything he ever owned with Sam and even if he didn’t like it, he did it. Sam never had to share jack and would pitch a fit if Dean so much as touched a pair of his too-long sweats.
As long as they didn’t blow up the trailer or start a fight in front of Harry, then they could just deal for a while though. If Dean didn’t get away to have one normal conversation with someone who wasn’t being a bitch (Sam), didn’t cause a bunch of problems just by existing (Sirius), or who couldn’t say a name to save their life (Harry), then he was going to lose his shit.
And Dean was the only one bothering to hold it together.
“They’re driving me up a freaking wall,” Dean complained to Bobby. Bobby had been up and moving when Dean walked through the back door. There was coffee brewed and a second mug laid out that Dean scooped up immediately.
Bobby snorted and shook his head. He was dressed for the day, probably working in the lot based on the stains of his shirt. The bleached stained shirts meant Bobby had a hunt, the oil stained shirts were for working out of the junkyard. It was good to know that Bobby was still predictable.
“He ain’t stayin’ until the first, is he?” Bobby asked. “‘Cause I saw Sam yesterday and I reckon he’s tickin’ away to put a bullet in Sirius’s head.”
“He won’t.” Dean cradled his cup of coffee in both hands and tried to roll the tension out of his shoulders. “He might act like a bitch for a while, but Harry’s crazy about Sirius. It’s annoying as hell.”
“So his memory’s back?” Bobby asked. He lifted one corner of his mouth up in a crooked grin. “Damn, I was just gettin’ used to bein’ called ‘hey, you’.”
Dean chuckled, that was Harry’s standard greeting lately. Harry said that even when he could think of the names, they just weren’t going from his thoughts to his words. Dean figured if it was still a problem in a couple of weeks that they’d ask Albus about it. It might be nothing or it might be something, Dean had no idea.
“Most of it’s back, but I think ‘hey, you’ is sticking around for a while,” Dean said, half amused and half frustrated. Harry getting his memory mostly back was good, but it caused some tricky questions —
Dean had been sound asleep, dreaming about himself in a Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson sandwich when Harry shook him awake.
“Hey! Hey! Wake up!”
Dean groaned and forced his eyes to open. Harry had been standing beside his bed, looking too pale and too concerned.
“What’s up?” Dean asked, refusing to wake up fully if he could end the conversation quick.
“Who had a gun to your head the day we got in the wreck?” Harry asked.
It wasn’t a quick conversation and Dean had to drag Sam’s ass out of bed too to reassure Harry that Gordon wasn’t gonna pop back up anytime soon. Harry told Dean that he wished Sam had killed Gordon, but trust Sam to decide to get the dude locked up instead of buried six feet deep.
“Christ.” Bobby scratched at his beard and looked sympathetic enough to Dean’s problems. “You’re takin’ care of three kids over there, ain’t ya?”
“Feels like it,” Dean grumbled. “I’ve got swiss brains one and two and the bitchy giant.”
Bobby didn’t look impressed with Dean’s nicknames, but Dean earned the right to mock them all if he wanted. Dean was the one who overheard an excruciating conversation between Harry and Sirius one morning—
“James?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
— and he was the one dealing with Sammy’s shit too —
“Where you going?”
“Found a job in North Dakota.”
“Seriously? You can’t just chill for a few days?”
“I have to work, Dean. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“At least have Sirius fix your wrist!”
“Screw him.”
So if Dean wanted to bitch to someone who knew nothing Dean said was personal, he damn well would.
Dean bitched to Bobby a while longer until they were interrupted with a knock on the door. Sam wouldn’t knock, Sirius wouldn’t show up at Bobby’s, which meant Dean could feel his eye twitching before Bobby even opened the door.
Harry held on to the door frame while he stuck his head in the kitchen. He looked directly to Dean and Dean just knew he wasn’t going to like what he had to say. Harry was pink in the cheeks which meant he was pissed or upset and neither of those were great for him taking it easy.
Dean kept toying with the idea of nabbing Harry and taking him to a motel out of state for a few days. If relaxation was supposed to help recovery or whatever, it wasn’t any wonder why names were still a blank spot for him.
“They’re fighting,” Harry said bluntly. “Can I hang out here too?”
“You’re not going to take a chance to yell at Sam?” Dean asked, already kicking a chair out for Harry. It was driving Sam insane, having Harry back Sirius every time Sam so much as looked at him wrong. Dean didn’t like it much either, but he got it.
Dean knew that Harry would let Sirius call him the wrong name and guess his age incorrectly for the rest of his life and never say a word about it. It wasn’t just blind loyalty, the kid loved that man and he was his family. It didn’t mean Harry didn’t care about Sam, but since Sam was the one starting shit and the one who didn’t have his head as screwed up as Harry’s, Sam was the one who got bitched at.
Served him right too, in Dean’s opinion.
Harry shrugged and helped himself to a cup of coffee when Bobby told him it was hot. Dean didn’t know if he wanted a caffeinated amnesiac on his hands, but he wasn’t going to tell Harry no to coffee.
“The other one started it,” Harry said when he sat down between Dean and Bobby. “Something about socks, I think.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dean dropped his head in his hands and groaned at the table. It wasn’t almost like he was sharing a trailer with three kids- it was exactly like that.
“If I kill ‘em both, how much are we gonna fight about it?” Dean asked Harry, lifting his head just enough so Harry could see he was joking… mostly. Dean wouldn’t mind grabbing Sam and Sirius both by their hair and knocking their heads together.
Harry pretended to consider it while he sipped his coffee. It must have been wearing on Harry too, the constant bickering, for him to even pretend to think about it. Any other time and Dean would get a real Sam-like glower and biting comment about not being funny.
“I think if you hit my head just right after you do it, I might forget they ever existed,” Harry said, a hint of humor in his eyes to lighten the sarcasm. “Though they might kill each other, I don’t think I’ve ever heard our brother yell so loudly.”
Bobby cleared his throat, catching Harry’s attention, and gave him a dead serious look while he leaned toward him intently.
“Maybe ya have… and you forgot.”
Harry laughed, Bobby laughed, Dean dropped his head to the table and debated where he wanted to be least - with Harry and Bobby making jokes about something that was stressing Dean the hell out or back at his place where Sam and Sirius would be stressing him out.
Dean was going to go grey before he hit thirty, if he didn’t stroke out in the meantime.
Everyone owed Dean a hell of a lot of whiskey and Tylenol.
Dean felt like a douche bag when Bobby decided to go out to get some work done and Dean didn’t tag along to help. Dean would have, if Harry hadn’t been there, but Harry didn’t need to be outside doing any labor and Dean knew he’d follow him if he left. Bobby waved Dean’s apology off with a comment about how he didn’t need Dean’s help anyway.
It left Bobby’s place quiet enough that Dean could move to the living room and kick his feet up for the first time in days. Harry seemed just as relieved with the quiet, though Dean knew he’d never admit it.
Stubborn seemed to be a family trait.
“They’re driving me a bit mad,” Harry said, causing Dean to immediately take back everything he had thought. They had kicked on the TV, some soap opera had been on that neither of them cared enough to change. Harry held his complaint in until the commercial break and Dean looked over at where he was stretched out across the couch.
“They’re pissing me off,” Dean told him bluntly. Harry got the benefit of being the brother with the head injury, so even when he jumped up to defend Sirius, Dean still blamed the other two for fighting in the first place.
“I think… I mean, it’s your house…” Harry stammered and chewed his lip and Dean picked up what he was putting down.
Thank fucking God.
“You want me to make Sirius leave?” Dean asked. He didn’t mind being the bad guy, he wouldn’t make Harry do it. It could be real easy, Dean would just tell Sirius that Harry needed peace and he wasn’t getting it with Sirius there.
It was half Sam’s fault, but it was Sam’s home to be a dick at.
Harry seemed to be thinking it over so Dean gave him some time. It was a crap situation for him, Dean wasn’t debating that, but he was a hair trigger away from playing the guardian card and kicking Sirius out anyway. The only reason he didn’t do it already was because Harry seemed to like having the guy around.
“He has another home he could stay at, our brother doesn’t,” Harry finally said. He looked at Dean with big puppy eyes, like Dean was gonna judge him for making the right call.
“Oh thank God.” Dean pushed down the leg rest and pulled himself upright in no time at all. Dean grabbed his boots and began pulling them on before Harry could change his mind. “You wanna wait here for a few?” Dean asked him.
Dean didn’t know for sure, he hadn’t gotten a single sideways word from Sirius since he showed up, but if any conversation turned to an argument he’d rather Harry hang back.
“No, I’ll go with you.” Harry sighed as he too got to his feet. “Er… is there anyway that you would…?”
“Tell Sirius that it’s not him, it’s Sam, and leave you out of it?” Dean grinned and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders, relieved that life could get back to normal soon. “I’m all over it, kid.”
Harry must have felt the same weight shift that Dean did because he grinned a little cocky grin that Dean hadn’t seen in a while.
“I’m probably not supposed to have a favorite, but it’s you right now,” he said.
Dean laughed clear from Bobby’s place to theirs. He would have kept it up, except they could hear screaming from inside the trailer before even stepping on the porch. Sam sounded pissed, but so did Sirius…
“I better be your favorite,” Dean told Harry. If Dean had to get in the middle of a fight and kick out the crazy wizard, then rubbing Harry’s favoritism in Sam’s face would make a decent consolation prize.
Dean and Harry stepped in the middle of a full on fight between Sam and Sirius. Neither man was holding back any and Harry screamed at Sirius while Dean lunged for Sam to break it up.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Harry screamed, throwing himself right in front of Sirius. Sirius had his back to the wall, Sam had his fist set to fly, and Dean had the worst freaking headache.
“One hour, Samuel,” Dean hissed, intentionally hitting below the belt while he held Sam in an awkward chicken hold. It was probably killing Sam’s wrist, but that was too damn bad.
“He’s lost the plot!” Sirius howled. Sirius had a split lip, Sam had a bloody nose.
If there had been a plot, they both fucking lost it.
“He took my stuff, talked shit, and - and cast magic on me!” Sam screened, struggling in Dean’s hold as much as Sirius was struggling to aim a wand around Harry.
“I FIXED YOUR ARM, YOU BLOODY WANKER!”
“I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO! THAT’S ASSAULT! ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON!”
“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”
“SHUT UP!” Harry yelled, just managing to scream over the two grown men acting like damn babies. Babies with a pre-law degree and a magic wand.
Dangerous babies, but freaking babies.
It was familiar in the way that it made Dean want to throw up just like it always had when Sam and Dad fought.
Dean tossed Sam to the side, pushing him in the wall to try and knock some sense in him. Then he grabbed the kid who was entirely too pale and much more gently pushed him to the recliner. Harry didn’t sit, but he grabbed on the back and stared hard at Sirius.
Sirius had fallen silent the second that Harry screamed and Dean could feel the guilt radiating off him.
“Harry, I…”
“You should go,” Harry told him, quiet, but firm. Dean was proud of him, it took guts to say that.
Sirius’s face fell some; Dean didn’t think he looked real surprised. Disappointed, maybe, probably at himself.
“Yeah…” Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. “Yeah, Remus said I could stay with him until the - the trial… probably best I head that way.”
Dean stood by Harry and sent Sam the shittiest look he could. It was well past time for Sirius to leave, but Sam should have followed Dean’s lead and not started shit with him at every fucking opportunity. Sam didn’t even care, he just glared at the floor with his arms crossed.
Bitch.
“I’m sorry…” Harry took a step toward Sirius and reached out for him, only to get ignored. Dean grimaced and his hand twitched, but it wasn’t his job to jump in yet.
“Don’t be.” Sirius straightened up and he could have been one hell of an actor with the way he was suddenly breezy and smiling. “You’ve got your family here, Pup. And I’ll write and let you know how the trial goes, eh?”
Yeah, Dean didn’t love the guy. Sirius was about a couple years less mature than Harry and God knew that Dean would love to take a swing at him for making Harry look so conflicted.
“You’re my godfather,” Harry said, earnest enough that Dean wanted to drag Sam from the room to give them some privacy. It had Dean hot under the collar, hearing Harry basically pleading with Sirius when he shouldn’t have to.
“And a bloody useful one I’ve been.” Sirius laughed and smoothed down his shirt absently before sticking his wand in the bun of black hair on top of his head. He grinned, self-deprecating and sarcastic. “You’ve done more for me than I have you, kiddo. Just - keep practicing names and maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
Sam couldn’t hold his fucking mouth for one second. Dean was pissed, Sam was belligerent.
“You fucking practice names,” Sam muttered, loud enough that everyone heard him just fine.
Sam Winchester, ladies and gentlemen, kid never did know when to shut the fuck up.
Dean didn’t get a chance to pop Sam in the mouth - Harry didn’t get a chance to grab Sirius like Dean saw he wanted - before Sirius turned on the spot and disappeared.
Harry stared at the spot where Sirius had been with his mouth half-open and the uncomfortable shine of tears building in his eyes. It was painful for a few seconds, Dean didn’t know what to say.
Sam was a bitch, Sirius was a dick, sorry about your luck?
“Why would you do that?” Harry pinned Sam in place with his softly accusing tone and his wet eyes. Dean was more than happy to step back some, let the kid tear into Sam on his own.
“That guy’s a dick,” Sam said, sticking to his guns. “Harry, he treats you like crap!”
“No, he doesn’t!” Harry snapped with pink cheeks. “He’s sick! He was in prison for twelve years! You - you’ve got no idea! HE SPENT TWELVE YEARS HEARING HIS WORST MEMORIES OVER AND OVER AND YOU COULDN’T LET HIM STAY FOR FIVE BLOODY DAYS?!” Harry’s voice broke and the dam holding back the waterworks went with it. “HE DID NOTHING TO YOU! AND NOW HE MIGHT NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN!”
“If he would ignore you because of something I said, then—”
“THEN NOTHING!” Harry yelled over Sam’s self-righteous bullshit. “IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!”
If the actual tears weren’t already killing Sam, the scathing look Harry sent him before storming to his room and slamming the door had to.
Dean waited a beat, made sure Harry’s message sunk in before he cleared his throat.
“This is why I’m his favorite,” Dean said nonchalantly.
It wasn’t a big shocker when Sam ran right out the front door not one second later.
Dean must have been the only one who remembered that Harry was supposed to be taking it easy and had been in the ICU, clinging to life, just nine days ago.
It shouldn’t have taken a big fight to get some peace and quiet in the house, but that was familiar too to Dean. Dean had checked on Harry and saw he had fallen asleep in bed. There weren’t any dishes that needed done or anything interesting on the TV, so Dean snagged Sam’s laptop and fooled around on some card game he found online.
Dean was pretty sure he was playing against robots and absolutely certain they were kicking his ass.
“If I were a computer, I’d win too,” Dean complained when he’d lost the third round in a row. The front door opened then and Dean looked up, kept his cool when he saw it was Sam, and clicked to start a fourth game.
The cast was gone and it must have been raining cause Sam was soaked to the bone. Sam had his kicked puppy look, complete with the curled up shoulders, which meant he was ready to grovel. Dean didn’t need an apology, Dean agreed with every word Sam said to and about Sirius, but it did Sam good to start the infamous apology tour with him.
“What are you playing?” Sam asked in a nice and raspy ‘I cried myself to my senses’ tone. Sam hovered by the table where Dean had set himself up with some chips and the laptop. Sam hovering was always annoying, he didn’t need an invitation to sit.
“Texas Hold ‘Em,” Dean said evenly. He kicked a chair out for Sam to sit and then blew on the keyboard to clear away some stray crumbs. “You gonna bitch about the mess?”
“Nah.” Sam took the seat and folded himself up real small. “Dean, I’m sorry, man. I don’t - I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“For one,” Dean didn’t look away from the computer screen even with all his senses focused on Sam, “I’m thinking Harry and Sirius aren’t the only ones who can’t remember who’s who.”
Sam’s face creased up, so Dean explained real slow to his brother what he thought the problem was.
“I don’t think Sirius Black and John Winchester even sound anything alike.”
Dean kept clicking, pretending like he had any idea what was happening in the game, while he let Sam work that out for himself. Sam always had a spot of hatred saved for men in authority, it didn’t take a genius to see it carried over to shitty father figures too.
If Dean could figure it out, there was no way that Sam hadn’t.
Sam went quiet for a little while, long enough for Dean to lose another round and get sucked in a fifth. If it were a real game, Dean would be throwing shit to get beaten so badly. Dad used to see him with a shiner after starting a brawl over pool and tell him to learn how to lose.
It was shitty advice, Dean never had the balls to tell him so. Nobody needed to learn how to lose if they could get real good at winning instead.
“You got mail, by the way.”
Dean frowned when he looked at Sam, looked at the manilla envelope Sam took from the inside of his jacket and tossed on the table. If Sam didn’t want to talk about Sirius or Dad, Dean wasn’t complaining, Dean just didn’t know who would send him mail.
“Open it.” Sam smiled at Dean, all bashful and uncertain with his dimples showing. “I bet I know what it is.”
That made one of them.
Dean snagged the envelope and slowly opened it, continuously glancing between it and Sam’s face. If it were some kinda joke and - and dick shaped glitter or something blew up in his face then Dean was gonna kick Sam’s ass.
There was a folder inside the envelope, white with a red logo on it that Dean barely glanced at before opening up. The folder was filled with papers, which was a joke in itself probably.
“‘Dean Singer, it is with great pleasure that I congratulate you in being accepted…’” Dean began to read the first page and then shut his mouth when he realized what it was. Dean’s eyes flicked down the page quickly, looking for any sign of it being a joke.
He… got accepted?
“I got accepted?” Dean looked over the paper to Sam and saw that his brother was giving him a thousand watt smile.
“You got accepted!” Sam said, laughing. “You’re a college boy now, Dean!”
It wasn’t some big accomplishment. It was the community college, the automotive program that Dean kinda thought he’d kick ass at. Bobby had helped Dean gather up some documents, a birth certificate, GED with ‘Singer’ instead of Winchester… Dean must have gotten in on a technicality, but…
“I got accepted.” Dean laughed too, cause it was stupid.
Dean? In college? Sam? Making money as a hunter?
What the fuck were their lives?
“And now, I’ll show you how you’re supposed to act when your brother gets into college.” Sam was grinning when he stood up and grabbed Dean by the shoulders, hauling him to his feet and pulling him in for a back-slapping hug.
“Congrats, man,” Sam said, sounding like he meant it. “I’m proud of you.”
Dean had been hard on Sam lately, he knew it. Sam was getting hit from all sides - some of it earned, some of it just Dean’s own frustration about shit Sam couldn’t have counted on happening. Sam stood there and hugged Dean, congratulating him in the way nobody ever did for Sam when Dean’s ‘accomplishment’ wasn’t even a third of what Sam had achieved when he got accepted to Stanford on a full ride scholarship.
So Dean made their manly hug less manly when he grabbed Sam by the back of his wet shirt and hugged him tight, taking Sam by surprise.
“I’m proud of you,” Dean said, gruff and uncomfortable. “You’re kickin’ ass, Sam.”
Sam looked like he wanted to say something sappy when Dean broke the hug, refusing to make the whole moment emotional and girlie.
“Now go apologize to Harry so I can grill up these celebration steaks!” Dean told him. “I was gonna save ‘em for when Harry knew my name, but you only get accepted to community college once.”
Sam took off quick and Dean looked down at the folder lying on the table beside Sam’s laptop. It was kind of awesome, even if Dean thought someone made a mistake in accepting him. Either that or they just let everyone who filled out the application in.
College…
Dean might flunk out in a semester, but…
It was kind of an awesome way to end a shitty day.