Wonderwall

I once had considered the Winchester’s as an extended family, even after John had taken the boys cross country in result of their mother’s tragic death. I can still remember the times when Dean and I would play cops and robbers; I was always the cop and he the robber. We would run around the various motel lots for hours whilst my father and John caught up on the time they spent apart. We would explore the grounds of whichever vicinity they were cooped up in until the sky became dark and filled with stars, of which we would gaze at and make up our own constellations. We had taught Sammy all the things we could possibly teach him at our level of knowledge and had been so proud whenever he succeeded in our lessons. It was hard at times, but even with the inconsistency of our visits and the struggle of continuing contact, we somehow managed to keep our friendship going.

As we grew older and life had continued to run through its unpredictable course, things had begun to change between Dean and I. It had started when I was fifteen and had realized my feelings for him were much more serious than I had anticipated them to be. There was something so mesmerizing about watching him be; the way his green eyes would gleam every time he bit into his favorite food or the way he would nervously chuckle every time he told a lie. I stole glances of him every chance I could and I tried my hardest to remember all of his small habits, so that when we were apart I could piece together my memories to ease the distance. He was so much more different than the people I had been surrounded by back home; he was genuine and I found myself depending on his presence whenever I had needed solace. He was, for a while, the only good thing that I had in my life. But, like all good things do, our love came to an end.

The last memory I had of Dean was when my father and I had met up with the Winchesters in Colorado at a rundown resort near the highway. Dean and I had decided to go for a walk through the motel complex, as we usually did, while John and my father talked. I can remember looking up into the sky, taking in the blank canvas of blue that hung above us. Dean was telling me a funny story, of which the content I forgot, and our fingers were lightly intertwined. We hadn’t gotten very far on our walk when I had heard screaming from behind us. I turned around, curiosity getting the best of me, to find my father running out of their room, fuming with anger. Most of his words were inaudible due to the distance, but I had managed to hear the words ‘WE’RE NEVER COMING NEAR THESE DAMN WINCHESTERS AGAIN!”. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I looked at Dean helplessly, hoping that somehow he could rack his clever brain for a solution. Instead, he took me in his arms and held on for dear life.

‘Don’t worry! Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll find you, alright? I’ll find you and take you away and everything will be fine.’ Dean rambled promises into my ear until my father sped up next to us, beeping the horn wildly.

I let go and sunk into the passenger side of the car, watching the side mirrors until Dean had completely vanished from view.

After that, I had lost all contact with the Winchesters. I had spent countless hours of my life sitting next to the phone, waiting for the day when Dean would finally muster up the courage to honor his promise. Waiting for the day that would never come. I had even tried searching for them myself, but had found no valuable information on them. So one can imagine the amount of confusion I had when Dean left a casual message on my home phone, 8 years later, requesting that I meet him at the local Pub. I replayed the message at least fifteen times for clarification to assure myself I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. After practically memorizing the voicemail and contemplating on whether or not to call back, I had accepted his offer.

I arrived at the bar at a quarter to three, as instructed, and had taken a seat at the far end of the room, making it easy for me to scope out all the people that entered. I had ordered a sprite, since it was too early to drink, and waited patiently for him to arrive. I was nervous, to say the least, and I could feel by stomach twisting with the anticipation of finally getting to see. Dean had arrived about fifteen minutes late, which hadn’t shocked me a bit. I wouldn’t have recognized him, though, if I hadn’t of seen a black impala roar into the bar parking lot through the windows in front of me. He was taller, leaner, and more handsome than I could’ve ever remembered.

I waved him over when he had finally entered through the front doors and he sat down across from me, ordering a scotch.

‘You look great, Iris,’ he smiled sheepishly at me, baring his perfect white teeth.

‘Thanks.’ I sighed, trying to keep my breathing as normal as possible, ‘You don’t look to bad yourself.’

He chuckled, a lopsided grin forming on his face, ‘How have you been?’

‘Fine, I guess. You?’ I kept my gaze on the table as I nervously bit into my lip. I could feel him staring at me, which had caused me to squirm anxiously in my seat.

‘I’m fine, just fine,’ he paused for a second, as if considering his next move, ‘You really do look great.’

‘Why did you call me?’ I changed the subject hurriedly, hoping he would leave the topic of my appearance alone.

Dean’s eyes softened for a second and his face grew serious, ‘I need your help Iris.”

I nearly spit out my drink as I heard his reply, ‘You what?’

‘I need your help,’ He repeated himself, this time more reserved and shy.

‘I haven’t seen you in what, 8 years? And you just show up out of the blue asking for help? How did you even get my number anyways?’ I could feel my skin become hot and it became difficult to maintain my composure. I had already figured he had forgotten about the things he had said to me the last day we spoke, which was causing me to get much more worked up than I had prepared myself for. I tried keeping my voice as quiet as possible, though, hoping not to cause a scene.

“I found it in my Dad’s journal along with the coordinates to your city,’ Dean paused cautiously, ‘Almost as if he was leading us to you.’

‘For what? What would you possibly need from me?’ I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance as I spoke.

Dean softened his voice and sighed, ‘My father’s missing, Iris, and all he’s left behind for Sammy and I was his journal. When I saw your number I knew, I just knew that it was meant for me to see.’

‘What do you mean by missing, Dean?’

‘I mean, he hasn’t come home in a few days and I haven’t heard a word from him.’

‘Doesn’t he travel for his job? Maybe he got sidetracked and forgot to call? He is a grown man, you know,’ I looked up from the floor to meet Dean’s eyes. He looked troubled, scared; an emotion that Dean rarely ever showed.

‘His…our job is more dangerous than you think.’ He looked down at his hands, playing with the silver ring on his finger; one of the nervous I habits I had recognized from back when he was younger.

‘What do you mean dangerous?’ I could feel myself becoming more and more curious as Dean continued to speak.

‘You can’t freak out when I tell you, okay?’ He looked up pleadingly, his green eyes soft with desperation.

‘What are you a hit man or something?’ I raised my eyebrows at him, hoping for dear life that Dean was just exaggerating.

‘Not exactly,’ Dean took a breath before continuing, moving his eyes to make contact with mine ‘We kill monsters.’

I let out a laugh, ‘No, seriously. What do you do?’

Dean’s eyes had so sign of humor and he held his strong gaze, not saying a word.

‘Oh my god.’ My eyes widened and I could feel myself inching towards the door. My reaction was always to run from a problem; never to fight. ‘You really are crazy.’

‘No, I’m not. Iris, please. You have to believe me. I’m desperate. I, We really need your help. Please.’ Dean clutched my wrist as I got up from the booth. ‘Please.’

I looked down at Dean and into the green eyes I had once been so madly in love with. It was in that moment when I finally recognized the 17 year old him; his freckles, his facial expressions, the way his lips were pursed out when he was frustrated. Everything became so prevalent to me, and perhaps it was mere shock that had caused me to act so ignorantly, but for whatever reason, call it what you will, I had agreed to go with him.