Part 1- Alcohol Is the Cause of All My Problems

"It's that time again boys and girls!" Ryan Seacrest exclaimed over the radio. "Are you a talented singer waiting for your big break?" He paused. "Then American Idol is looking for you. Tryouts begin in Boston at the end of April. Come join the biggest American phenomenon as the tenth season of the best talent show on television kicks off! You can find details of tryout locations and times at . This is Ryan Seacrest signing out."

~//~

Dean was drunk when he made the promise. Two Screwdrivers and four Blue Moons sloshed around in his stomach with a fifth on its way to join them. Sammy had slid into the booth across from him, his own eyes bright with intoxication, and two beautiful girls at his side. They all were giggling, his brother's such a girl, happy little laughs, when Sam said, "Heather and Jenny here think I'm a great singer." Jenny, at least Dean assumed that's what the little gold J around her neck stood for, nodded and sloppily kissed his brother's neck.

"Bragging again?" Dean snorted and swallowed the last of his beer. He searched for Mandy, the cute waitress who seemed to live at the bar. When he caught her eye he lifted his empty bottle and gave it a little shake. She nodded and disappeared behind the throng at the bar. Despite Stanford being such a snooty academic school, the clubs and bars were never empty.

Sam grinned and gave Heather a small push. She slid into Dean's booth and pressed her warm body against his side. He met his brother's eyes, and they shared smiles. "It's not bragging if you really have talent."

"Yeah!" Jenny said, breaking away from Sam's neck. "Your brother can totally sing! He's amazing!"

Mandy arrived with a fresh beer for him. Dean blew her a kiss and said, "Thanks, you're a doll." She rolled her eyes and walked away. He had slept with her once, the first time he had visited this rowdy little bar two years ago. It had been good, but not great. Sammy had been a fresh-faced eighteen year old, excitedly starting his first year of college, and Dean had been his loser brother, tagging along, unable to tear himself away from his only family. They were both two years older, but nothing much had changed. Sam still went to class, got straight A's, and talked everyone into loving him. Dean had found a job working on cars, which admittedly he enjoyed, and spent his free time strumming on his guitar and drinking. This hole-in-the-wall tavern, and its familiar employees, had become a staple in lives of the Winchester boys.

"See, Jenny thinks I'm amazing," Sam crowed. He reached across the table and stole Dean's beer.

"Hey!" Dean tried to snatch it back, but Sam held it out of reach.

"But you want to know something crazy?" Sam directed the question to the girls.

"What?" Jenny asked. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on his brother's face. Heather had fallen asleep, her head resting against the back of the booth with her eyes shut, and her chest rising in steady beats.

Sam leaned forward, like he was about to release confidential information. "My brother can sing even better than I can."

Jenny's eyes flashed towards Dean. He couldn't help but flush. "Really? Wow, can I hear you sing?"

Dean glared. He was going to murder Sam. The youngest Winchester just smirked. "Yeah, sing for us," Heather chimed in. Apparently she wasn't as out as Dean thought. She ran her long pink nails down his arm and over his chest.

Practically growling, Dean said, "Fine." He looked around the room. Everyone was too engrossed in their own conversations, their own worlds, to notice him. So with one final murderous look at his brother, he closed his eyes and sang. He stumbled over the first few words of Styx's Renegade. Then his baritone smoothed, and he sang the chorus of the song. Heather's warm breath wet his neck, and the blaring music of the bar seemed harmonize with his voice.

"Woah," Jenny sighed, looking at Dean longingly when he finished.

"That was so beautiful!" Heather squealed into his ear. Dean winced and looked over the table at his brother. Sam wore a stupid grin. Dean rolled his eyes.

"You should SO try out for American Idol," Jenny said seriously.

Dean couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

"No really!" she exclaimed. She turned to Sam. "You both should. You'd so make the finals. And one of you would have to win!"

"Yeah, and then we could be on your True Hollywood Stories interviews!" Heather added helpfully.

Dean opened his mouth to comment on the doucheiness of American Idol and was halted by the crazy light in his brother's eyes. "No, Sam."

Sam scrunched up his nose and leaned into the table. "But Dean!" he cried out. "Think about it. It's your- it's our dream! Haven't we always said we wanted to be famous musicians? Jesus, you've been playing your guitar and singing rock as long as I can remember."

"Sam, it's American Idol." End of conversation as far as Dean was concerned.

"I know! It could be our path to everything we've ever wanted."

"It's American Idol," he said again. Maybe his brother was too drunk to understand the words.

Then Sam turned on his mournful puppy dog eyes. "Dean." He slid the beer back to his brother and continued, "Dean, you'd never have to work on another car."

"Hey! I like working on cars," Dean exclaimed.

Sam glared at the interruption and continued. "You can sing and make a fortune. Do what you love and provide for yourself." Take care of the family- me, was left unsaid. Dean heard it anyway.

Hesitantly Dean admitted, "It would be nice not struggle for every penny."

Dean took up his beer- now only half full- and chugged down the rest. Heather's warm lips attached themselves to his neck, and Dean stretched back to allow her better access. "So you'll tryout with me for the next season."

"Hmmm? Sure." Heather's mouth had moved to the line of his jaw. It was hard to pay attention to Sam.

"Promise, Dean." Sam's voice cut through the fog of lust.

Dean looked across the table. Both Sam and Jenny were looking at him. "Promise."

Sammy smiled.