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Wayword Sons	By : Looking_Glass Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I claim ownership to Dean and Castiel. I am not, in any way, profiting off of this. Any similarity to real people or situations, while awesome, is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
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It was an unseasonably hot April day in Kansas, and the dusty road outside of town lay undisturbed in the still air. Dean Winchester found himself thanking his father for having the foresight to install two industrial fans in the little shop where he now stood stooped under the hood of a rusted Oldsmobile. The fans were just pushing the warm air around, but at least there was some circulation.

An old, corded phone on the wall started ringing, and Dean lifted his shirt to wipe his face, hoping Bobby would pick it up. “Get that, would ya,” a gruff voice called from the back of the shop. “Got my hands full over here.”
Dean sighed, thinking, like I don’t, but he knew better than to say that out loud. He stood, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans, and picked up the receiver. “Winchester Automotive.”

“Hello,” a rough man’s voice responded. “The air conditioning seems to have stopped working in my Prius. Can you repair hybrids?” Dean groaned inwardly, instantly annoyed. First of all, he hated his skills being doubted by anyone (he could fix any car with one while the other hand unhooked a bra, thank you very much,) and secondly, what kind of a man drove a Prius?
“I don’t see why not,” he replied.
“I’ve called several other places and they refused to even look at the car. I would appreciate anything you could do.”

Dean hated the way this guy talked- choosing every word carefully as if he were lining them up neatly in preparation for them leaving his lips. What a douche, he decided. “Alright, why don’t you just bring it by and I’ll take a look at it.”
“I can bring it tomorrow. How is 12:00 p.m.?”
“Yeah,” Dean replied, cringing at the way the guy refused to abbreviate anything. “That’s fine. Just ask for Dean.”
“Thank you, Dean,” the man said, and hung up the phone. Dean made a note in the appointment log that said, “Noon tomorrow- Prius douchebag.”

He turned back around to the Oldsmobile and got back to work. Dean inherited his knack for auto repair from his father, whose definition of manliness meant that you could fix a car, clean a deer, and sweep a good woman off of her feet. Dean had tried his whole life to please his father, working hard to make him proud. He had dropped out of high school to come help out at the shop and support the family, which basically meant making enough money to rent dingy old motel rooms and keep food on the table for him and his little brother, Sammy.

The kid was a thorn in his side most of the time, but Dean loved him more than anything. Their mother had died in a house fire, just six months after giving birth to Sam; so protecting the baby became the most important thing in their father's life. Dean officially became little Sammy’s protector after that. He had never minded it much, but the kid was nineteen now and didn’t feel like he needed Dean anymore. In fact, he had taken the opportunity to get out and go to college as soon as he turned eighteen.
Sam was never like their father- preferring to stay indoors and read- so Dean wasn’t exactly surprised that he balked at the opportunity to join Dean at the shop. What he hadn’t expected was the awful fight that Sam got into with their father before he left. John Winchester accused him of abandoning the family. Sam retorted that John abandoned the family eighteen years ago when he mentally checked out and turned to alcohol and hunting, leaving Dean to feed, clothe, and help Sam his whole life. John had bristled at that, hovering somewhere between fury and horrible guilt, and finally declared that if Sam left, he might as well never come back. Dean hadn’t heard from Sam since school began in August.

He hadn’t heard from his dad in months, either. After Sam left, John went on an extended hunting trip somewhere. It wasn’t unusual for their dad to disappear for weeks on end and come back hauling a deer and a few turkeys back for the boys and Bobby. John Winchester’s best friend, Bobby Singer, had basically become a second father to Dean and Sam in the past few years as John became more and more distant. It was basically only Dean and Bobby at the shop these days. Dean didn’t really mind that, either. He liked having the old grouch around.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean called, “you ever worked on a Prius?”

“Hell, no,” Bobby barked. He appeared from behind a lifted truck. “Trust me kid, you don’t want to get your hands on one of those. It’s a nightmare.” Dean cursed under his breath, realizing he may have gotten himself into something he wasn’t prepared for. “Why?” Bobby asked.
“Some ass-hat called up with a Prius. Said the A/C wasn’t working. How different can it be from a normal car, though?” Bobby just shook his head and went back to work. How hard can it be? Dean thought, stubbornly.

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At 6:00, Dean said good night to Bobby and started up the ‘67 Impala that he’d inherited from his dad. He started to drive home, but decided halfway there that he didn’t feel like being there alone. He steered down the road to Willie’s Bar, which was an old, grubby hole-in-the-wall place, but they had cheap beer and hot waitresses. The bartender, a curvaceous blonde in black mini-shorts, un-capped and passed a beer to Dean before he even sat down. “Monica,” Dean inclined his head to her and took a sip.

“Dean,” she smiled, leaning over the bar. “How’s business?” Dean knew she didn’t care about his business, so he just replied, “business is busy. What time do you get off tonight?”
She smirked at him and said, “Nine.” Monica had invited Dean over to her place a handful of times. She was definitely attractive, in a conventional sense, with her perfectly flat-ironed blonde hair and generous proportions. Dean guessed that she used about a pound and a half of makeup to make her face look that way, which he didn’t really care for. He’d always been one for the natural look. In fact, if he were ever honest with himself, he knew he was more attracted to stark features than the typical tanned blonde that he slept with. But girls like that didn’t frequent little towns like Lawrence, and they didn’t generally go for blue-collar guys like Dean Winchester. Girls like Monica were easy to find and easy to get close to.

At 9:00, Dean waited outside, leaning against the Impala. Monica sauntered out a few minutes later, her purse slung over her shoulder like a traveling pack. He followed her little Camry back to her apartment and allowed her to lead him inside, pulling the front of his shirt like a lead. He turned her around and roughly pulled off her shirt, and she began working on his buttons.

Sex was easy for Dean. It was as natural to him as breathing, and he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more. Monica was easy to be with. She didn’t want anything too freaky, but she didn’t just lie there, either. They were both out of breath when it was over. Monica lay on Dean’s chest, running her hand absentmindedly over the muscles of his abdomen. Dean wanted to leave, but he waited patiently for her to fall asleep before slipping on his jeans and shirt and heading quietly for the door.

Sex was easy for Dean. Connecting with people wasn’t so simple.

This is my first ever non-original fan fiction, so I hope I'm doing this right. Also, I've only ever read one other Destiel fiction, so if someone else has a similar concept, I apologize. It seemed like the most plausible AU I could think of, so I went for it. Let me know what you guys think so far!
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Wayword Sons