Dean waited for Camille at the end of the day by her locker.
She glanced up at him once as she opened it.
He grinned and then said, "If it's okay with you, could I give you a ride again?"
Seemingly with a lot less hesitation, Camille said, "Sure."
Even smiling in spite of herself.
He clicked on the radio. ~Girl you got me so weak~
He nearly busted out laughing. Camille looked over at him.
"What are you laughing about?"
Dean glanced over quickly. "Nothing I just thought the song was a bit ironic..."
Camille turned her head. "And how is that?"
Dean paused for a second... Is she mad?
"Well I just... It's just... I sometimes feel that way... You know."
Now it Camille's turn to pause.
Not long after they arrived at her house. Camille grabbed her backpack and before she went Dean called out.
"Wait, Camille..."
She turned around, expectantly.
He pulled out his phone.
"Can I have your number."
Camille was quiet for a moment and then took his phone entering in her number.
She looked up at him with a small smile, and then said "See you tomorrow Dean."
He smiled, feeling like he succeeded. "I'll see you Camille."
He turned walking back to his car as she turned and went inside.
.....
TW: Domestic Abuse
Upon arriving home Dean felt like flying, he was in a great mood, and he couldn't wait to go home and tell his mother about it.
He walked in only to hear his mother sobbing and the voice of a man screaming at her.
Dean slowly closed the door and walked through his foyer into view of the kitchen and the living room.
Just as he did he saw his mother get up to run, as his father jerked her back and slapped her across the face.
Dean's good mood was gone. He saw red.
He stalked over grabbing his father by the shirt and pulling him off of her.
"GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!"
His father turned around.
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?!?"
His father threw a punch and connected with this side of Dean's face.
"Drew!"
He stumbled down, and a moment passed, the tension thick, the charge of electricity in the air. Dean touched his cheek and saw blood. That was it. He couldn't deal with this again.
His father turned around starting for his mother again.
Dean got up and ran at his father again, he wrapped his arm around his throat as they crashed down onto the ground.
His father struggled, but Dean held onto him without letting go.
"Get off of me bastard" his father rasped out.
"Okay." Dean agreed, and let him go. But before his father could get up Dean stepped over him and began beating his face.
His fists flew up and flew down, and showed no signs of stopping.
His mother was crying, screaming at Dean.
"Dean stop! Stop! You'll kill him! Stop!"
The crying voice of his mother snapped him out of his trance. He got up off of him, leaving him there, breathing weakly, just like last time.
Dean's knuckles were doused in blood, his own blood ran from the cut on his face, and onto his White T-shirt.
"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH HER AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME!? YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER OR DANIELLA AGAIN AND I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!!"
Dean shouted with all his might.
His mother, the side of her face red and her eyes filled with tears stared at the unfamiliar image of her son.
However seeing her like that made him feel worse, it also made him want to hurt his father even more.
Dean grabbed his jacket and stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
He walked a few blocks to a park he used to play at when he was a kid, it had been shutdown for years.
He sat on the rusted swing, his hood up over his head. He kicked at the mulch beneath him, and tried to fight away the tears that kept blurring his vision.
"Dean?"
He turned. It was his younger sister, Daniella.
She was usually always very quiet, and stayed to herself, Dean wasn't even sure if she had heard any of that, as she always had headphones on to blur out the situation at home.
Dean turned his head away again and wiped his eyes.
Daniella was carrying a small container with her. She sat on the swing beside him.
He sniffled, trying to keep his voice steady.
"What is that?"
She gave him a small smile. "First-aid kit."
She opened it up. "Turn this way."
Dean shifted himself so that he facing her.
She took out an anesthetic wipe and wiped the blood that had ran down his face. Applied some cream and then put a small band-aid over it.
She gave him a wipe to get rid of the blood from his hands. And then sat rocking on the swing wordlessly.
Dean spoke first.
"I'm sorry you had to hear all of that... Or see it, I didn't know you were home yet."
Daniella shook her head, "I should be saying sorry to you... You're the one that had to hurt someone and get hurt in the process... You're the one that has to put your emotional well-being on the line every single time."
"Yeah but I'm older, I'm your brother, and I'm a man now... That's my job, if he won't be the provider and protector of the home, then it's up to me."
Daniella looked solemnly at the ground.
"But you deserved to be a kid too..."
They didn't speak afterwards, just sat on the swings in each other's comfort.
The sun started to set, so they walked home together.