Dear Addiction

Chapter one

"DEAN WINCHESTER!"

"DEAN WINCHESTER"

"IS IT TRUE-"

"OVER HERE"

"WINCHESTER"

Dean pushed through the crowd without a care of who he hurt or what he broke. Even he knew better than to stop and talk. One comment, and suddenly his whole weekend would be filled, cleaning up rumors the paparazzi had made, and listening to Crolwy's screams. "DEAN!" He lifted his arms both carrying large duffle bags, the crowd of paparazzi parted, though they continued to shove microphones and cameras into his face, until he had stumbled into the apartment lobby.

Even once the door was closed, he could still hear the flashing of cameras, and the screaming as people struggled for a better position. "FUCK OFF," Dean screamed. He raised both his hands, attempting to finger the press as he held both his bags.

An eruption of flashes came and before more could come Dean turned away dragging his duffle bags to the elevator. He pressed the button then lent against the wall letting his eyes flutter shut in absolute exhaustion. He could no longer hear them, though he was sure they were still there and would still be there long into the night; hoping to be the lucky one that'd get some sort of story of Dean's sudden move, and if it was involved with his rumored arrest.

He sighed when footsteps grew close. "Can you just fucking leave me alone," Dean snapped, no longer able to handle the constant press. They'd followed him from his until he was far out of LA, and that was what he hoped was the last of them. Apparently 1967 Chevy Impalas don't blend in well. "Do you want an autograph? Or money?" Dean's eyes snapped open, his mouth quickly dropping as he stared at the elder woman in front of him.

"Honestly." The women muttered, giving Dean a glare from under her large floppy hat that must have weighed double her. She shifted her grocery bags to one hand as she used her other to unlock her mailbox. After grabbing her mail she gave Dean another glare.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "It's been a long day."

"I can tell." Dean pushed himself off the wall, instead standing so all his weight lent on his right leg. He watched the women in interest as she shifted through her mail throwing each one into the garbage can after she had pulled off the stamp. Which she would then tuck into the pocket of her oversized purple dress. "It's going to be much longer if you keep waiting for the elevator."

"Yah I get it, exercise is important and all," Dean said rolling his eyes. "But I promise you lady, a few flight of stairs aint going t'save me from my heart attack."

"I don't know what your yambling on about but the elevators broken dumbass"

"Oh" Dean looked at the closed doors he must have been standing next to for almost ten minutes, the button no longer glowing like it should. "Uh thanks, maybe i'll see you around."

The women didn't respond instead turning away and walking back down the hallway, but not without giving Dean one last glare.

Dean watched the women until she'd disappeared through one of the apartment doors, before he turned to the staircase entrance. "Fucking New York," Dean muttered as he walked up the first flight of stairs. "Fucking angry grandmas, fucking broken elevators," the string of curse words continued up another three flights of stairs, down a hallway, and finishing with a 'fucking stairs', just as Sam opened the door.

A grin spread across Dean's face as his brother appeared in the doorway. He had grown even more, at least a few inches, his hair seeming to be trying to keep up as it reached his shoulder, and across his lower face a thick beard grew. Dean had lent in for a hug though the moment his gaze landed on the beard he lent away. "What the hell-" Dean dropped one of his bags using his free hand to reach for it though Sam swatted his hand away. "-Is that?"