between Sam and Dean in Mr. McGregor’s living room, fidgeting just a bit. Dean
put his hand on your knee in a futile attempt to stop it from bouncing up and
down while you questioned the man. “So…you were friends with Dirk?” Mr.
McGregor asked. You averted your gaze to the floor, letting Sam do the talking
sir.” Sam answered. “In high school.”
don’t recall Dirk having many friends at Truman.” Mr. McGregor leaned back in
his chair and looked at the three of you with slight shock on his face.
did…” Dean looked at you and cleared his throat, “uh…when did Dirk pass?”
was 18.” Mr. McGregor said, voice breaking. “First there was the drinking, then
drugs, and then too many drugs…and then he just slipped through my fingers.” He
choked back tears. “It was my fault. I should have seen it coming, you know?
Dirk…he had his troubles.”
kind of troubles?” You questioned, finally finding your voice.