Title: Midnight ramblings
Summery: Dawn, Dean and the Harvelle's bar at midnight
Disclaimer:characters belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke
Spoilers: Season 5 onwards BTVS season 1 Supernatural
Notes: Dawn is over twenty one
"I shouldn't be here."
Dean turns his head to regard the young woman sitting beside him and can't deny it. Dawn Summers isn't the type of girl to frequent a hunting bar in the middle of nowhere, but Dean's not about to get into that argument again, especially as the beer he's been drinking has made him comfortably numb and he wants to enjoy his buzz without being lectured about equal rights and the girls guide to hunting demons so his only response is a grunt.
"I shouldn't be here," this time it's long and drawn out, as if Dawn wants to hear every syllable in the air before it disappears.
"What the fuck, Summers?"
Dean looks at her again, his buzz officially killed. Her legs are drawn up to her chest, resting against the table in front of them and she's playing with the ripped sticky side of the label on her beer bottle, her words are drawled, but the have a pointedness that Dean can't ignore.
"You heard me," Dawn shoots back, "I'm not stuck on repeat,"
Dean picks the bottle from her hands and waves it in front of her face. "Yeah? A bit more of this and we'll see how much you remember tomorrow."
Dawn scowls at him but it lacks the normal heat and that's when an unsettling feeling begins to stir in Dean's gut and the idea that this is more than drunken rambling crosses his mind.
"You!" She points a finger in Dean's face and he jerks back to avoid being poked in the eye, "you have a job a calling if you like. Me? I failed at mine, had to get my sister to step in at the last minute. And then I screwed that up as well."
She tilts her head back, nausea crossing her features for a moment before easing into an expression that is so haunted that it closes Dean's throat for a moment. Someone that young shouldn't look like that.
"I have to live with the fact that my existence screwed up my sisters life, that it still screws up her life." Dawn sighs, a motion that takes up her whole body and if it had been at any other moment, Dean would have teased her about being melodramatic. As it is Dean has no desire to do so.
"I just want her to be happy," Dawn is leaning on the leather booth now, body turned in as she leans her arms on the back of her seat, she stares searchingly into Dean's face as if he can come up with some magical answer. He wishes he could. He knows Dawn's back story, knows the shit this girl's been through, continues to go through and he wants to make it better, but he can't. He knows there isn't a happy ending for them.
"Maybe looking after you makes her happy," Dean glances sideways at Sam, sees him chatting animatedly with Jo at the bar, sees his brother laugh for the first time in what seems like years.
Dawn snorts inelegantly, "no, looking after me is her job, a sucky non paid job on top of her other crappy non paid job." she frowns suddenly and then grabs the bottle from his hand, reading the label suspiciously.
"I don't like beer it makes you intro....introspective" Dawn says suddenly, she waves her finger again, although this time she is more gentle. "No more thinkin' kay?" she pauses, then says, "What would you be doin' if you weren't...." she makes a stabbing motion with her hand.
The question throws him for a moment. It's one he hasn't heard since school, and he hasn't ever had a truthful answer because he knows what his job is: Protect Sam and kill evil things.
He looks at Dawn, her big blue eyes are wide and guileless and searching. He clears his throat, ready to spew a hundred different jobs, porn star, astronaut, zoologist. Anything to get her to lighten up but he finds that he can't.
"A mechanic." The truth sticks in his throat until he swallows it down where all his other dreams lay useless and abandoned in the face of the cold, hard truth. "I like cars, I think I'd like to have been a mechanic."
She keeps staring, only blinking once, she purses her lips in thought and says softly, "I think you'd be a great mechanic."
Her eyes drift closed slowly, and Dean knows she's almost asleep. He leans over, pressing his lips against her forehead for one long moment.
He finishes the rest of his drink with a smile.