High Quality Filler

Who: Dean and Caleb
Where: Street of Marquette
When: After the funeral

Caleb had waited after the funeral proper by the gates, kind of hoping to catch Dean. He hadn't been able to yet, and he still wanted to, even though there was a chance it would be unwelcome. If it was, he could fuck off, and talk to him again in class. If not, then maybe it'd be okay to talk to the guy for a while. See how he was if nothing else. So, he'd waited, and eventually, he caught sight of Dean walking towards the gate. Pushing off of it, he eyed the guy who clearly hadn't seen him yet. "Hey. Dean." he said, to catch his attention.

He hadn't wanted to leave her grave, he'd stayed for the longest time, but eventually something had got through that he couldn't stay there forever. He couldn't have even said whether Joshua had left before him, or whether the guy had still been sitting there when he finally got up. He didn't remember much between his talk with Joshua and hearing his name called at the gates. But he heard his name and looked around, seeing the guy from art class there. "Hey," he said, numbly.

"...you alright?" Caleb asked, walking closer, still sort of feeling out the situation. If he got the fuck off vibe, he'd leave, but not before then. Not that he knew what he was going to do here. Because really...he wasn't the world's best conversationalist in the first place and he sucked at the friends thing. Or so the fact that he didn't manage to hold onto many told him.

Dean gave the guy a Look for that, but didn't comment. Several particularly sarcastic and biting replies came to mind, but he guy had done nothing to deserve them except show concern. So instead he just shrugged and carried on walking.

Caleb fell in step with him, not saying anything for a few moments. "If you want me to leave, I can, I just figured...I know you and she were friends. And I don't know you that well or anything, but..." But what? He knew what it was like to be alone in a strange town and not have anyone to back you up after something like this? That if something like that had happened to Leija, he'd be in the same boat? ...almost exactly, actually. Which was chilling on a really weird level.

Dean didn't answer, but he didn't tell the guy to fuck off either. His suit was too hot, and the tie felt constricting around his throat and the world - the silence had gone away again. Like there was some kind of shroud over the cemetery to make it quiet. Possibly shroud was the wrong word. No, Dean decided - shroud was exactly the right word. On too many levels.

No answer. Well, that was alright, Caleb hadn't actually been expecting one, so hey. He was quiet some more, letting it stretch out a little, and figured at least he hadn't been told to fuck off yet. "Wish I would have known her better. I knew her friend, more. Journey. Though he's...who knows, now." Actually, he wondered if Journey had been told. That just seemed fucked up if he didn't.

Dean walked on a little further before he actually replied. "I was thinking of trying to get in touch with him," he said, looking at Caleb out of the corner of his eye. "I know that she's got his email address and I set up skype for them to talk. But I don't know her passwords." He could go round to her house, he knew. There was at least a chance she had them saved, or on auto-login, but... But that would mean going round to her house. And it felt a little like he was invading her privacy. Though he knew she would have wanted Journey to know.

Caleb winced a touch. "Do you think they'd be on her computer?" he asked. "I know her parents were saying something about people being allowed to go there..." Not that he would, he hadn't known her well enough to go take anything from the girl's room. And he couldn't decide if he thought it was nice, or creepy that they were allowing that. Which made him wonder what his brothers would have done with his shit if he'd actually managed to kill himself. Stop it.

Again, it was a few moments before he answered. "Possibly." one word, but he wasn't the most eloquent of people at the best of times and this didn't fall into that category. He didn't touch upon the fact that people could go round. He knew about that already, but he hadn't intended to go. Thia's stuff was Thia's stuff. He already had something she'd given him, he didn't need to go and take anything she'd wanted to keep. Maybe it didn't make sense to anyone else, but it made sense to Dean.
"You going to check? Or leave it?" Caleb asked. He honestly didn't know what he'd do if he were in Dean's shoes on that one. And while he could imagine accompanying Dean to a task like that, he didn't know what he'd do if the situation were reversed. He didn't know if he'd be able to go into someone who'd been that important to him's room. It would probably just be this huge, painful reminder of how they didn't exist there anymore. Salt in the wound and all that.

"Dunno," Dean admitted, finally caving and loosening the tie and flipping open the top button of his shirt. For a moment it felt like he was back at school in England, where jacket, shirt and tie were all part of the daily school uniform. of course there he hadn't just been to the funeral of his best friend. It just brought it all back in again. Was it always going to be like this? Where the most random things could remind him of what he'd lost?

Internally, Caleb sighed. He really sort of sucked at this. Why had he thought for even a minute he should try this in the first place? What had posessed him, exactly? "If you do, and don't want to go alone..." he trailed that off so he didn't necessarily have to put the words 'I'll go with you' on the end of it. Of course, he didn't know where the lines were drawn. Where 'being supportive of someone who might be a friend someday' ended and 'weird and creepy' kicked in.

Dean walked for a bit longer, before sitting down on a nearby wall. There weren't many people around, hardly any, in fact. Just the odd car passing by. "It's not that," he admitted, looking up at Caleb. "It's... It feels wrong, going through her stuff. It's private. It's... hers. And, more than that - going through her emails, it'd be... But then I know she'd want him to know. And I know that if I was him, I'd want to know. But..." He wasn't sure which argument won out.

Caleb stopped with Dean, and looked down at the guy, honestly feeling for him there. It was a shitty choice, really. "You wouldn't necessarily have to go through anything...you'd just need the one piece of information. Enough to send an email, or something. Or...did she have his number? Could you snag her phone and just...reply?" Not that he thought that was a good idea. Who wanted to be told their friend was dead over a text? But then there wasn't much choice, either. He did remember how Journey was though, and how attached at the brain he and Lullaby had been. Not that he was going to tell Dean that. As far as Caleb was concerned, that fell under the realm of 'shit he didn't need to know'.

Dean raised an eyebrow, silently echoing Caleb's thoughts about letting someone know by text. No, he couldn't, in fact, do that. He wasn't that cruel. "Maybe her parents have already told him," Dean shrugged. It was possible - apparently they'd been friends forever. Maybe they'd had his number and called him and let him know and Dean was worrying over nothing.

"Yeah, maybe. I'm sure they will, if they haven't." he added. Because Caleb could see that even the thought of this was kind of fucking with Dean's head, so if he wanted to take the pressure off--which to be honest probably wasn't fair to be on him anyways, just because he wasn't an asshole and thought about others--shouldn't have been his anyhow. "So...I'm sure you're in the clear, man."

It was clear from Dean's expression that he really wanted to believe that, that he wanted for it to be the case, but he couldn't quite let go of the responsibility for it. It was eating at him, slowly, but he still wasn't sure that he could face her room. Or her parents. "...Yeah," he agreed, finally. "Maybe." He wanted to ask the guy what he'd do, but did it matter? they weren't the same person and he hadn't just lost someone. Not like Dean had - and Dean knew there was someone there, someone he cared about but couldn't have. It's be shitty and unfair to make him put himself in this situation, even for a second.

"I know they were close, family friends and everything too, so yeah. I'm sure he knows." Caleb reiterated, throwing in a little more there for the convincing aspect, even if he wasn't sounding like he was pushing it too hard. He wanted to tell Dean that it wasn't really all on him, but couldn't think of a way to say it that didn't sound even more like he was trying to give the guy an out for something stupidly uncomfortable. Might have the opposite effect if he did.

"She was so upset about him going," Dean told Caleb quietly. "Like this big hole in her life. Just... gone." He shrugged. "I was just filler. Not that I ever minded - I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself or anything. But I wasn't under any illusions either. She needed someone and I was just there. Helping to fill that hole that he left behind." Convenient. there was that word again. And again, he brushed it away. That wasn't fair - it wasn't fair to him and it certainly wasn't fair to her. They'd been friends, Journey-shaped hole or not, they'd been honest friends. Dean was just aware of the fact that he'd walked into her life at the exact time when she needed someone to fill a certain role. Possibly, he realised, 'lucky' would be a better word. Yeah, he much preferred that one.

Watching Dean for a moment, Caleb weighed what to say. And, in the end, he wound up saying the first thing that occurred to him. "You're wearing a necklace that's far better than any of the ones she gave out to anyone else, man." he said, voice a touch quiet, but not overly so. "It even kinda looks a little like the one she gave him. I'd say that means you weren't filler." He said it like he believed it, and in that moment, he did. It seemed like sound logic to him, anyways, because the glimpse he'd gotten of Dean's necklace, it had been an expensive one.

Dean considered this, then smiled a little. "I was filler - just particularly good quality, value for money filler," he said, with a touch of amusement, feeling a little better for it. "Filler doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know. I know that, if he hadn't left, I would have just been another guy she knew. Because the role of 'guy best friend' would already have been taken. There would have been no room for me. But he left and I stepped into his place. And when I'm not thinking about how much his leaving upset her? I'm always grateful for him going. Even now," he added, the smile fading as he looked down, away from Caleb's face.

Caleb supposed that was something. He didn't argue with him. He'd known Lullaby infinitely better than Caleb did, that that was even knowing her for less time. "I'm sure she was glad you were there." he said instead. If what Dean was saying was true, then...yeah. Either way, it was a good thing, right? If one didn't count the mind numbing pain of it all.

Dean looked up again and nodded slightly. "Thanks," he offered, because what else could he say? Yeah, he'd been there - but she was still dead, still cold and alone in the ground. Nothing was ever going to change that. And now he was the one with the huge gaping hole in his life. Except there was no ocean dividing them, no chance that she'd come back for college, no telephone calls or internet chats. She was just gone and nothing could bring her back. "Sorry - I'm..."

"Don't even worry." Caleb told Dean immediately. "You just lost someone that meant a lot to you. It's going to be a while. So just...yeah. Don't apologize." Really, he thought Dean was probably holding up better than he would have. But then, as far as he knew Dean didn't have suicidal tendencies hiding beneath the surface, either. So that was a plus.

I keep waiting to cry, he thought, but he wasn't going to admit that. Some people would probably think that he shouldn't, that men didn't cry. Dean's own opinion was that the jury was out on that one, but he was still waiting for tears. Sometimes they felt like they were almost there, but they hadn't come yet. He wondered if they ever would do, or whether he'd just feel this numbness from now on, like something inside was broken. "I dream of her," he said instead - which was probably another thing he shouldn't have admitted, he realised.

For someone like Caleb, that wasn't so strange. "Yeah?" he asked. And come on, that was to be expected, now wasn't it? Completely. With as much as she was probably on his mind right now, yeah. "Good dreams?" he asked. It occurred to him that in some other life, that could have had a very different connotation to it. Of course, in that circumstance, he probably wouldn't ever have asked.

Dean frowned a little. "Yeah - or, well, they are now. Maybe that's a good sign? I had a couple of nightmares, but last night or so - yeah, good dreams," he admitted, one corner of his mouth upturning into a thoughtful kind of half-smile. The last couple of days, he'd woken up feeling actually good about things - at least for those few minutes before reality came crashing back in again. Right now, life was actually better when he was sleeping.

Caleb noted the half smile. Yes, that was definitely a good sign. "Good." he commented. "It's something." he added, wishing he had more he could say that would be helpful, or something. "Hey, I know we're not exactly best friends or anything, but...I'm around. If you, need anything or anything. I can't really pretend to know what you 're going through, but I've been through some fucked up patches in my life too, so..." Actually, just did. Tried to kill myself, it was great. Really. He knew what rock bottom looked like, anyhow.

No - my best friend's dead, Dean thought and actually almost said. But even he knew that that was unfair. And so far the guy had seemed alright. "Thanks," he said instead. "'Preciate it." Wasn't sure whether he'd take him up on it though. He knew he should, but there was a reason that he didn't have too many friends. He'd lost the knack of making them sometime around the point he hit puberty. It sucked, especially when all the ones you'd made before then were an ocean away. He needed to make more of an effort. "I do, really - but, kinda, right now? I need some... time my myself," he said, a little hesitantly, the effort going into not making it sound like he was telling the guy to fuck off.

"Understood." Caleb said, catching what Dean was on about, and he nodded. "I'll see you around, then." he said, starting to walk away so he didn't have to sit through an awkward one of his goodbyes that he never knew how to do. "Later." he added as a closing point, heading off, to give Dean that all important Alone Time. He'd probably need a lot of it.

Good, by the looks of it, the effort had succeeded. That was something, at least. "Later," he agreed, half raising his hand. He didn't get up, not yet. He'd sit for a while, then maybe walk down to the lake shore. Eventually he'd call Sophie. Or maybe he'd just walk home. It was a long way, but one foot in front of the other would get him there.