always_enduphere | (no subject)

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derek

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It helps to know the place is there.

Dean's been standing outside of it for the better part of an hour. Not close, and not where anyone who might recognize him might see him. Just near enough to see the small, nearly invisible sign, hanging there for only willing eyes to notice.

He won't go in. But it helps to know that if he had to, if he really needed to, he could.

Shuffling deeper into his jacket despite the warm night air, Dean looks down at his boots, tongues at the blankness between his ears, the cotton stuffing up his chest. He can stay here, still and quiet, and not think.

It only lasts a moment more before he hears feet beating hard against the pavement, turning the corner and moving fast.

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Sensing that the fight is over, Dean comes forward, clasping Derek's hand in a solid grip. There'd been a time when it would have been unthinkable, but Dean's been a lot of things he isn't anymore, and the world he occupies is a far different place than it was when he was twenty.

"Could come here," he says. "Your family." Dropping his gaze, Dean grits his jaw against a frown. "My brother was here until a few weeks ago."

The thought of seeing his family again makes his heart seize up for a moment, breath hitching as he squeezes Dean's hand hard than he means to. He winces apologetically and lets go. "Most of them died in the fire, that was a good seven years ago."

He wants to ask what happened to Dean's brother, but he doesn't think he'd much like to hear the question. Instead he just turns to sag against the brick wall next to Dean. "Lost my sister last year. She was - " He laughs but there's no humor in it, and he scrubs his hand over his face. "She would my whole world."

"She was the only one to make it out of the fire," says Dean, making some intuitive leaps. Sam had been like that for him, maybe even before Dad died. He's lost him before, and in worse ways than how Dean's lost him now, but it never gets any easier.

"She - " he says and stops. "It wasn't a hunter?"

"No, it was my uncle, the only other one to survive the fire." He sighs heavily, feeling like he's being dragged under with the weight of it all. "He killed her for her power, caused a bunch of havoc, and then I had to put him down."

He lets out a dark chuckle and sniffs, tipping his head back to let it thunk against the brick. "That's why I'm the alpha and I get to have all this power I don't even want."

Edited 2013-06-22 05:04 (UTC)

"Alpha means something a little different where I'm from," says Dean, working through it as best he can. "Sort of the first wolf, the original. All other werewolves are his kids, in a way. No offense," says Dean, mouth quirking just a little, "You don't look quite old enough."

"So there were no packs?" He thinks about what he's learned about the werewolves in Dean's world, mindless beasts that turn once a month and that's it. "I guess there wouldn't have been. Where I'm from, every pack has an alpha. A leader."

He chuckles a bit and pushes off the wall. "And I had a lot of siblings, but not that many." He holds out his hand for Dean again, tilting his head a bit. "Are we done here, or do I need to kick your ass some more?"

Dean touches at his sore jaw, considering, and it seems Derek's taken enough of the edge off. Dean won't sleep tonight, but he won't be climbing the walls, either. "S'plenty," he says, trying to think back to if he'd ever seen evidence of packs. "I don't think they were that organized in my world. There was no control. I think you must've had it a lot better."

"Sounds like it." He shrugs a little and wiggles his fingers in front of his face. "WAnt me to take some of the pain, or do you want to keep it all?"

Derek would understand either way. "You up for a drink? Won't do shit for me but I don't mind the taste."

"Hardly does shit for me either these days," grunts Dean, but it's another moment before he takes Derek's meaning. There's no trace at all of the punches Dean had thrown on his face, not the faintest bruise or even swelling.

"Wait, really?" Dean asks. "You heal so fast...not even whiskey?"

"Nope." Derek shrugs helplessly. "Tried chugging a bottle of everclear once, back in New York. I was drunk for about a minute."

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