Fear Itself

Now left alone with nobody to lean on, my eyes fell upon Dean and Casper, who were still in front of the gun rack, chatting away with their backs to me. Left with the choice of sitting alone in my room or trying to talk to a husband that wouldn’t listen, I decided that any company was better than no company at all. Careful and quiet, I approached behind them, beginning to hear their discussion.

“You mean Chandler Jacques is coming down here?” Casper exclaimed in a loud voice, followed by throaty laughter and a wide grin. “I love that guy! I would actually kill for once his suits. No lie,” he proclaimed. “I would kill a thousand men for a Chandler Jacques suit. I can’t believe you’re bros with that guy.”

“You would piss yourself if you saw my closet, mate.” Dean’s laughter boomed with satisfaction. “I’ve probably got about fifty, give or take, all handmade by Chandler ‘imself—“ Cautious and gentle, I tapped my index finger on Dean’s shoulder. His head snapped around like I had startled him, but he brushed it off with a puffy breath and soft chuckles. “Hey, Blondie,” he greeted me with very little attention. His gaze was back to Cas before he had even finished his sentence.

“Muscles,” I interjected meekly, wringing my hands together and squeezing my shoulders in tight, making myself just about as small and timid as I felt inside.

“Cas, you’re a fuckin’ godsend, I swear,” Dean laughed over my voice, practically drowning out my attempt to get his attention. Though my eyebrows were furrowed deep, I could feel my eyes widening in shock. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. I had never seen Dean act like this, and he had certainly never shrugged me off before. Clutching the fabric of my shirt, I tried to fight off the tightness in my throat.

“Muscles,” I squeaked, just a little louder now, but my chin trembled. “Babe, I really need to talk to you—“

“Just a second, Blondie,” Dean cut me off, holding a finger up to me as though he wanted to simply put me on pause, so he could just continue on with this frivolous conversation about fine italian suits and how much money he had to his name. The topic was just as nauseating as the pain stiffening my stomach and my bones. “The men are talking.”

“Okay,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around myself as my gaze dropped to the floor.

“Man, I think she’s—“ Cas began to comment just as I turned away, head hung low and shoulders sinking forward.

As I made my way back toward my office, I heard Dean assure him, “Nah, she’s fine.”

When the steel panel closed behind me, I could no longer hear their conversation. Confident that the walls were soundproofed both ways, I let out a small whimper and sat on my small, stiff, twin-sized bed before exploding into tears. It was only minutes before I heard a rush of air from the entrance to the room. Just as the panel began to slide up, I quickly wiped my eyes on the sleeves of my cardigan and leaned back against the wall.

“Hey, Mumbles,” I sniffed, forcing a smiling and looking at my friend as he approached. “You and Landon had that walk, huh?” I tried to make small talk, anything to keep the focus off of me. I knew how Avery reacted when I was upset, and I wasn’t in the mood to be ripping Dean off of anybody, especially not my best friend. “How’d that go?”

Avery walked right past me and sat beside me on the mattress, flopping down and making the springs bounce a little. He didn’t say a word, but he did reach into his pocket. Out with his hand came a gold chain coiled around his fist and weaved between his knuckles. Attached was an oval-shaped pendant. I couldn’t contain my gasp when he dropped it in my open hands. “Mumbles,” I muttered. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s yours,” he grumbled, shifting to lean back against the wall. He shifted his shoulders and sank a little more comfortably.

“How did you get it?” I asked him as I examined it, even popping open the pendant to see the empty frames within.

A tiny smirk graced Avery’s lips when he chuckled, “Landon ‘ad a change of heart.”

I nodded and thanked him, now content to sit and play with the only thing of my mother’s I had been left (at least to my knowledge, that is). Everything was quiet and okay, which was nice, since the rest of the day had been muddied with noise and tension. I was growing to enjoy the silence Avery and I often shared, much more than I used to.

The sound of the door sliding open alerted me, and in the opening stood Dean, who practically had to duck through the doorway. “What’d you need, Blondie?” he asked, though hesitance was clear in the way his fingers lingered and fumbled against the doorframe. “Sorry about earlier. Cas and I were having a real important conversation.”

I gave him a tight nod, puckering my lips. Real important, alright. Suits, money, and bullshit. That’s all it was. “I didn’t need anything,” I lied. “Problem solved. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” Dean sighed with a short, strained sort of breath. His gaze fell to my right for just a moment as he combed his fingers through his hair and looked back at me. “So, I’m ready to go home if you are…”

I chewed the inside of my bottom lip, considering my options. A large part of me didn’t know if I wanted to go home with Dean. I wasn’t exactly happy about the way he had been behaving. Glancing to my right, I saw Avery looking at me with what many would have seen as his usual stoic expression. I saw concern flickering in his eyes. Nodding a little, I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay. I turned back to Dean and nodded again, this time with slight reluctance. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “We can go.”

It was late when we got back and finally settled in bed, just how most nights when. Dean slipped under the covers beside me, beginning to snake an arm around me and leaning in to kiss my cheek, but I squirmed away from him and turned my head toward the door, so I couldn’t see the look on his face. I knew the mix of shock and disappointment would have been enough to keep me from bringing this up. I didn’t want to argue, and I didn’t have any intention to, but if I didn’t say it now, the anger was just going to lie dormant and grow until it consumed me. It would be worse then, I knew, so I did my best not to falter when he inevitably questioned me.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” I kept my eyes on the wall. I tried not to even imagine his face.

Sighing, I replied, “Dean, I don’t like what you did back there.”

“What?” he stammered. His tongue seemed to fumble like he didn’t understand what I meant. I didn’t understand how that was possible. After all, he had been the one spewing such pompous nonsense out of his big mouth.

“That was disgusting,” I murmured. I turned to him, eyes so full and watering that they could have flooded the room if they poured over. “It’s rubbish, all of it. Why do you even care so much? Why do you think other people care so much about that shit?”

“Blondie,” Dean said softly, reaching for me, but I shrugged away from him again, closing my eyes and letting a few tears roll down my cheeks.

“Stop it!” I sobbed. Tears streamed when I looked back to him. “Those things don’t make you special, Dean. They make you sound petty and vain just like everybody else, but you aren’t like those people. Maybe I’m the only one who knows that, but I wish you wouldn’t hide it behind all that bullshit.” I shook my head and hung it low as I sputtered out a few more tears. “Dean, you’re so special to me, but it hurts when you act like that, like you don’t even know me.”

“I never said I didn’t—“ he tried to protest, but I scoffed loudly and looked at him in disbelief.

“Babe, you held your finger to my face like what I had to say wasn’t even important,” I argued. My bottom lip began to quiver, and my heart swelled and throbbed in my chest. “You were acting like…” I closed my eyes and took a breath. I shook my head again, no longer wanting to finish my sentence.

“Who, Blondie?” Dean persisted, inching closer, but I couldn’t look him in the face.

“Like my father,” I muttered. I didn’t look over to see if this had offended him or not. I was being honest. I kept telling myself that over and over again, trying to convince my own conscience that this was the right thing to do. If Dean didn’t like it, I suppose that was his problem. Besides, being honest was much better than lying for the rest of my life. If Avery had taught me anything, it was that sometimes the people that made me happy weren’t always the best people for me. The thought that Dean wasn’t good for me left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I needed to be fair to myself.

“Blondie, no,” Dean protested softly. “No, babe, no, I—“ He cupped my face in his hands and made me look at him, look him straight in those electric blue eyes of his, glowing with frantic energy. “I’m nothing like him, I swear,” he pleaded, wiping away a few tears while I closed my eyes. He quickly kissed both of my eyelids and pressed his forehead to mine. “Please,” he begged. “Blondie, I would never ever hurt you like he did.”

“I know.” My voice was soft and choked as I reached forward and pressed my fingertips to his bare chest. I shook my head a little, but he simply held my face close to his all the while. “But I can’t Dean, I can’t,” I whimpered. “Everything I’ve ever known has been so unpredictable, and I’ve been so scared my whole life.”

“You don’t have to be,” he told me, barely above a whisper. His voice sounded choked, even shaken. When my eyes blinked open, his eyes looked wet too. My hand pressed to his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage.

“I can’t be,” I corrected, sniffling. “Dean, I can’t live like that anymore. It’s suffocating.” I dropped my gaze and sputtered another sob. “It’s toxic.”

“Babe, you can’t—“ he pleaded again. “Please, Blondie.”

“Promise me,” I sputtered, looking him straight in the eye with a gaze so intense I could’ve burned through his skull. “Promise me this is over, Dean.”

“I promise,” he agreed hurriedly, nodding and moving his hands to take my hands in his, squeezing them tightly in his. “I swear a thousand times over, to the end of earth, I’m finished.” Before I could even give him a full nod, he grabbed me in a desperate cling and squeezed me against him. “I love you,” he told me. “I’m so sorry.”

I believed him wholeheartedly. I never had a reason not to believe him, anyway, at least not until the arrival of the Americans. Suddenly, I saw a side of Dean that I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams, or perhaps in my most vivid nightmares. Regardless, I took his word for it. Dean had always kept his promises before, and even though uneasiness crept around my mind, I was content to stay in his arms and believe everything he said. It pained me to think otherwise.