"Cheers to putting this bloody burg in the rearview mirror!"
Maybe Dean’s just having post-graduation blues, but Bela Talbot’s voice seems extra annoying tonight. She’s perched on what used to be Dean’s usual table during Chemistry, holding her beer high in the air and soaking in the cheers from the other seniors. Dean scowls slightly before joining in on the chorus of ‘fuck yeah!’ and taking a drink from his beer. Ash brought a lot of Pabst, and it’s sort of terrible.
Having a party on graduation night was Charlie’s idea, but breaking into the school to throw the party in the lab was all Dean. He said it was to leave a mark on the school, but really Dean just wants to leave an impression on his friends. They’re all moving on to bigger and better things. Charlie and Ash are both headed for MIT, Jo is off to Berkeley, Garth is going to Kansas State, Victor is on his way to the University of Nebraska, and Benny is enlisting in the army at the beginning of next month. They all have plans for what to do with their lives, except for Jo who claims she’s sure she’ll settle on a major by the end of her first year, but even she is at least going to college.
Dean, on the other hand, isn’t. He didn’t even apply to any schools. He didn’t fail anything, and he won’t be repeating his senior year like Alastair, but he doesn’t have any higher education in his future. His parents have promised they’re not angry that he isn’t going to college, and Dean is set to work at his father’s store once one of the workers moves out of Lawrence later this summer, but he still feels like he’s letting them down. He feels like he’s letting himself down. His mom has tried to be encouraging, telling him that if he really wants to go to college he can always apply and start a year later, but Dean has always felt like if he doesn’t start college right out of school like the others, it’s probably not going to happen. Sam told Dean that he just thinks he has to go to college because that’s what society tells him is the next step, but Sam is a freshman that fully intends to go to Stanford in a few years, so the statement didn’t have the impact Sam probably intended.
So here Dean is, leaving his mark in the form of a party he’s actively hoping no one outside the attendees finds out about because they could probably get in a lot of trouble. He expected this to be a lot more fun, but his dark mood is ruining it for him. Charlie and Jo both shoot him a few concerned looks before he quietly slinks out of the room. There’s no need to start bumming out his friends too.
He walks slowly down the hall for a couple of minutes before it starts getting too dark to go on. They only switched on the lights for part of the school, and it’s just plain creepy all empty and dark like this. He starts to head in another direction when he hears the sound of voices arguing in the gym, and then a scream. When no one comes running out of the lab, Dean assumes no one else heard the scream and rushes in on his own.
At first he doesn’t see anyone. The gym is one of the rooms with the lights on, but there doesn’t look to be anyone inside. He hears another scream, this time muffled, and looks in the direction of the bleachers. The source of the scream turns out to be Tessa Graves, one of the few ex-girlfriends of Dean’s that’s never thrown a drink in his face. Her eyes are open wide, and the hand covering her mouth belongs to Alastair Moorehouse, Dean’s least favorite person on the fucking planet. Dean’s knuckles are still raw from the last time they were alone in a room together. Dean doesn’t even know why Alastair is at the school. He sure as fuck wasn’t invited because for one, he didn’t graduate, and more importantly, Dean fucking hates him.
"Alastair," Dean growls, "what the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
"Piss off, Winchester," Alastair hisses back, and God, his voice makes Dean want to scrub a layer of skin off his entire body. Dean of course ignores the order, stomping up the ancient battered bleachers to the top and physically pulling Alastair away from Tessa.
"Tessa, are you okay?" Dean asks, glaring at Alastair. Tessa just nods with tearful and angry eyes. "Okay, head back to party, alright? Just go straight there. Alastair and I are going to talk."
While Tessa runs down the bleachers and out of the gym, Dean turns to face Alastair.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing, Alastair?" Dean yells. Instead of answering, Alastair rushes forward, throwing a punch that Dean easily catches. He twists Alastair’s arm behind his back and forces him to kneel awkwardly on the creaky metal. "Haven’t you learned your fucking lesson about putting your hands about where they don’t belong?"
Alastair glares. "You’re telling me what to do, Winchester?" Alastair asks. Dean rolls his eyes.
"Oh for fuck’s sake, not this shit about people telling you what to do again. You sound like a whiny bitch."
Alastair smirks. "Don’t forget who was the bitch not too long ago, Dean."
"Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass again, Moorehouse," Dean says, twisting Alastair’s arm for emphasis. He garners a small amount of satisfaction at the pained yelp he hears before releasing him.
Dean turns to leave, spotting Tessa’s purse nearby. He reaches to pick it up, and hears the metal of the bleachers creak ominously. Before he can turn, hands are shoving at him, and Alastair is hissing something angrily, and Dean is falling, falling, he’s going to break his neck and die.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but all Dean can think is fuck, fuck, fuck over and over again as he goes down in what feels like slow motion. He doesn’t feel anything when he lands. He isn’t aware of anything, everything just stops.
Death isn’t anything like he thought it would be.