Supernatural: Baby, Come On Home
Title: Baby, Come On Home
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13: Sexual Content (between brothers, including wee!cest)
Word Count: 3,114
Author’s Note: On my drabble request post, my wife requested “Dean/Sam. I got a hole in me now. Yeah, I got a scar I can talk about” because she got me hooked on Kris Allen’s version of Bright Lights and I pointed out that it was decidedly Wincesty. I had more to say about it than could be said in a drabble, so here is a fic based on Bright Lights for wutendeskind who also beta’d it. This fic is for tamingthemuse prompt #172 - Irenic. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Dean visits Sam at Stanford and tries to cope with losing his brother.
Sam's apartment is hostile to Dean. He can't decide if that surprises him or if it’s exactly what he expected. On the one hand, Sam was never like this to him. Sure, there'd been hostility-stupid fights that got too violent or didn't get violent enough so that they both stayed pissed for too long-but nothing like this. On the other hand, this is Sam’s life now and it has nothing to do with him, there’s no way Dean was going to feel welcome here.
The entire space is foreign and not quite what he had been anticipating. Then again, what does Dean know about homes? He knows, just glancing into each room, that Sam's managed to make a pretty decent one for himself-it's not grand but it's comfortable and it's all his. Maybe if he had some computer nerd roommate looking smug from his side of the room, it wouldn't feel as wrong that Dean doesn't belong here. But this is all Sam's and Dean had always belonged with Sam.
"Do you like it?" Sam asks impatiently. He’s excited, his eyes have been bright and encouraging since he opened the door and Dean feels even more misplaced next to his lightheartedness.
The truth is: Dean hates it. The kitchen is stocked with health food and he can tell from the pile of dishes in the sink that Sam has real dinners now, doesn't need Dean standing over him and reminding him how to make something as simple as spaghetti. The bathroom is nothing but shaving cream and shampoo, no emergency first aid kits, Sam doesn’t need them. The walls are lined with books that mock him, they’re not even real and they're smarter than he is, Dean shudders to imagine how inadequate he must seem to Sam compared to the people he knows now, the people who also read those books. The whole thing is so separate from Dean that he almost wonders why Sam even invited him to visit. Seeing this hurts, rips open the scar that had barely begun to scab over. Dean knows it wasn't intentional. So he swallows two years of bitterness and he lies.
"It's nice, Sam. Really nice.”
Sam beams as if Dean has just told him he won the lottery. “You really think so? I was kind of worried you wouldn’t like it. No magic fingers and all.”
Dean is annoyed that Sam’s so comfortable, that this isn’t confusing and painful to him as well.
“How can you afford this?"
"I worked my ass off last year, didn't really have anything else to do. The university helps a bit and..." Sam breaks off blushing. "I maybe stopped in a couple of pool halls on my way here."
Dean can't help taking it personally-Sam needed to survive on his own, but he's still ashamed he had to make money the way his brother taught him, the way Dean still has to make it.
Dean nods, lost for conversation. Not knowing how to talk to Sam is not something he ever intended to experience. Sam's quiet, too, at least for a while, but he doesn't take his eyes off Dean. Dean can no longer depend on his ability to read him and he doesn't really trust what he thinks he sees when Sam looks at him. They stand there, quiet and awkward, for a good long time. Dean leans on Sam’s kitchen counter and watches drops race down the side of his beer until Sam breaks the silence.
"Dean...why'd you come?"
"You asked me to."
Sam scuffs his foot a little on the cheap carpet.
"I asked you last year for Christmas. I asked you on my birthday, I asked you on both of your birthdays. I'm thrilled you're here, but why?"
Dean shakes his head a little. He can't say it. Sam nods, he doesn't need to hear it. Dean may not know Sam anymore, but Dean hasn't changed like Sam has, or at least not enough to trick his little brother. Sam still has his number. He reaches out, long fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist and Dean hates what it still does to him.
"Never mind, Dean. It doesn't matter. Thanks for coming. Sometimes I was worried I’d neve-Well, just thanks."
Dean knows Sam didn't have a reason to ask this time, and maybe that's why he came. Maybe he just couldn't stand another three months waiting to see if Sam would still remember to ask him to come for his birthday. Maybe Dean was just overjoyed to be asked not because Sam felt like they should spend a holiday together, but because Sam wanted to see him. It doesn't really matter why he came; the point is he wishes he hadn't.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Frankly, Dean’s just proud nobody's been shot yet. They've been at it for five hours. Five hours of screaming the worst things Dean has ever heard with so much conviction he’s scared they actually believe what they're saying. They don't, of course, and Dean tries to explain that to them, but his peace keeping efforts are met with a Shut up, Dean! if they're acknowledged at all. Dad orders him to stay out of it when he tries to defend Sam. Sam is worse-he just looks at Dean like he’s been betrayed when Dean tries to make him see where Dad is coming from.
Dean himself doesn’t really know where he sides. Sam is right. He deserves a chance, his own life, something normal. Despite that, Dean is still leaning towards siding with Dad. Even if Sam won't really go, even if he's just trying to get a rise out of Dad or make a point, the thought of him leaving is enough to block the logical argument. Of course Sam shouldn’t go after some new life. Of course this is selfish and bratty. Of course he should shut up and listen to Dad's orders. The alternative is not an option Dean can live with.
"I'm going, Dad. I don't need your support."
"Get out, then, Sam. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here."
For a moment, just a moment, Dean thinks it would feel really good to punch his father so hard his hand breaks.
Sam turns his back and walks steadily towards the room they've been sharing in this crap motel for a week now. Dean gets up and follows, closing the door behind him. Sam's throwing things into his duffel too quickly, like he actually intends to finish packing.
"Sam, come on. The longer you carry this on, the more it’s going to be blown out of proportion. He's already taking it too seriously."
"It is serious," Sam responds, but he doesn't turn to look at Dean or pause his packing.
Finally he zips his bag shut, doesn't bother to check and make sure he’s not forgetting anything. He doesn’t have much to forget. He walks up to Dean and places one hand on each side of his face, gives him a soft kiss that's a little too casual for the moment. If Sam really thinks he's about to leave-and Dean’s pretty sure he's at least a little convinced-Dean would have thought his goodbye would call for a little more ceremony than that.
"Dean, hurry up. He's gonna kill me if we don't get out of here soon."
"We?"
Sam pulls away. “You didn’t think I was going to go without you?”
Yeah, Dean definitely did.
“Dean, I’m doing this for us. Do you have any idea how happy we can be? We don’t have to live like this. God, nobody should live like this. We can be together, really together, I’m giving us a home.”
Sam smiles more than Dean has ever seen him smile and for a moment it’s blinding. He walks across the room and grabs Dean’s duffel, starts shoving things into it with the same determination he’d done his own.
“A home, can you imagine? I’m going to be a lawyer, and you can be anything. The first year’s going to be hard, but we’ll make it work, and over the summer we’ll just get in the Impala and drive. We’ve been everywhere and we haven’t seen anything, you know?…”
Sam keeps daydreaming out loud the entire time he’s packing and Dean’s too shocked to stop him, too infatuated with the things Sam’s saying to tell him they won’t ever happen. He just sits and stares at his brother-horrified because Sam is actually serious.
“Come on, Dean, you can tell me. I won’t make fun of you too much, I promise.”
“What?”
Sam looks a little annoyed for a moment when he realizes Dean wasn’t listening to him, but he shrugs and repeats himself.
“I asked what you want to do once we get there. You have to have a job, you know.”
“I have a job, Sammy.”
Sam smiles again. “I know, I know. Taking care of me is your job. I know you’re always going to do that, Dean. But I mean, a real job. You must have something you want to do.”
“Hunting is my job, Sam. We can’t just leave this, leave Dad.”
“Why not?” The last thing Dean wants to do is get Sam riled up at him the way he is with Dad but Sam seems to be making an effort to stay calm with him. “I mean it, Dean, we deserve this.”
Dean realizes that Sam is at least half right. As much as he hates it, he’s always known Sam deserved better than he could give him and Dean owes it to his brother to encourage him, not try to hold him back.
“I can’t go with you, Sam.”
“Yes, you can, you’re just too scared-“
“I’m not going with you. End of story.”
“I can’t live like this anymore, Dean. I’m not joking, I’ll go crazy. So will you. We can still be normal if we try, but I can’t keep on like this.”
Not we, Dean thinks. Dean is permanently ruined, will never be normal, and Sam is never going to get that while Dean is still around.
“I know, Sammy. But I can’t come with you.”
Sam’s face drops as if it’s the first time since he decided to go to school that he’s realized that it might mean losing Dean.
“You don’t mean that. You want this, Dean, I know you do.”
“That’s not the point, Sam.”
“It’s our lives, Dean. What the hell is the point if not living them? Come on, get packing. I don’t want to do this without you.” But I will.
Dean looks away. What is he supposed to say? “I can’t do this without you”, “you’ll manage, kid”, “don’t go then”, “good luck”? There is no way he can be selfish enough to tell Sam to stay, but he’s pretty sure he can’t physically get out the words telling him to leave either.
“I’m going, Dean. I’d rather do it with you, but I can do it alone if I have to.”
Sam storms out of the room, and Dean hears Dad confront him, hears him give Sam the ultimatum that ends up ruining his life for four years. If it doesn’t work out for Sam, Dean wants him to know that he’ll still be there, still need him. They’d been each other’s homes, and Dean wants Sam to come back to him, even if he’ll only come back battered and disillusioned and miserable. But Dad tells Sam not to come back if he walks out the door, and the door slams behind his little brother despite that. Dean waits about ten seconds before running out, past his father and catches Sam.
“Let me drive you to the station, Sam.”
He hopes that Sam hears the real offer. Forget what Dad said. Let me come get you if you hate it.
Sam’s crying, but he shakes Dean off. He’s not angry, not at Dean. Dean thinks he looks disappointed in him and he wants to hide from Sam rather than be looked at like that.
“You know, you’re the one who convinced me I was good enough for this. I was stupid enough to think maybe I was enough to convince you, too.”
“Sammy, let me take you to the station.”
Sam laughs bitterly and gives Dean one last, lingering kiss.
“Take me all the way or let me go, Dean. I’m not half-assing this. If I have to get used to losing you, I have to start right away.”
Dean sees the determination in his brother’s features and knows he’s lost. Even if Sam hates it, he won’t come back. Dean spends two years missing his brother. They talk on the phone without saying anything, and usually Dean thinks he hears Sam on the verge of asking: “Does he still hate me? Can I come back?” Sam doesn’t say he doesn’t like school, he tells Dean about the good things and Dean half-believes he makes up the loneliness in Sam’s voice because not hearing it would kill him.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
A few hours later and it’s almost (almost) like Dean remembered. Sam is still Sam and he opens up to Dean as if they’re still all they have.
“Man, I am trashed,” Sam says after they finish laughing for too long at some totally inane story Dean tells about a recent hunt. They’re not as drunk as they’re acting and they both know it, but the alcohol gives a safe cover for the stupid, overjoyed haze that’s hanging around them.
“Sammy, what’s it like?”
“Being trashed? I think you know about as well as I do.”
“Having…” Dean can’t think of a way to finish the question without sounding ridiculous, so he trails off. “Forget it.”
“It’s scary, Dean. Scary for me, at least, because it’s still so different. It was awful at first, but it’s great sometimes. I mean, I know people, and I…I met a girl a few weeks ago. She’s really great. I think I’m gonna ask her to be my girl, if…”
Sam looks at Dean and Dean hears his offer without Sam having to say a word.
“Two people could be pretty comfortable in here, Dean.”
“Sam.”
“Why are we lying on the floor? I still haven’t shown you the whole place yet.”
Dean tries to suffocate the thoughts. The only room Sam hasn’t shown him is his bedroom, and Dean knows what Sam is trying to do. Sam could leave him, but he wouldn’t be able to leave Sam, not if they started that up again.
“Floor’s great. I’m very comfortable on this floor. I think I’ll just stay here, I’m tired. You can show me the rest tomorrow, alright?”
Sam stumbles up and Dean thinks he sees that let down look again.
Dean wakes up at some ridiculous hour from dreams that are more vivid than they’ve been in years but which have been regular pretty much since Sam was 15. His jeans are too tight and his chest aches in a way that it only ever hasn’t when he was holding on to Sam. He decides they were both better off before he came to see his brother, that he ruined whatever pathetic attempt at healing he had and frustrated Sam’s successful efforts. As quietly as he can, Dean sneaks into Sam’s room, determined to get one glimpse of the bed he’s going to pretend he belongs in for the rest of his life. Something on the nightstand catches his eye.
They don’t have many pictures so Dean had forgotten this one existed. He stares at it for too long, remembers how shocked they’d been when Dad had returned from a hunt suddenly sentimental and had taken them for a day just to be a family, complete with photo ops. Sam has one long arm around Dean’s neck and is waving at Dad behind the camera with the other. Sam’s smile is radiant, he’s hardly 16 and Dean remembers thinking he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen when they got the picture developed. Dean is looking at his brother, worried and uncomfortable, but his lips pull up a little at the corners despite him. He still remembers the paradoxical feeling of having to face his father in that moment, trying to reconcile his guilt and shame with the fact that he’d never been so happy in his life. Half an hour earlier, while Dad had been getting something for them to eat, Sam had pulled him into the men’s room at the restaurant and kissed him for the first time ever. Dean had let him.
He licks his lips remembering it and goes to pick the picture up. Despite his efforts to be quiet, Sam is still a hunter, and a damned good one. Dean feels his brother’s hand close over his as he reaches for the frame.
He turns to face Sam and Sam looks hopeful. “Stay, Dean. I like it here, but I miss you so much, and it never lets up. If you stay, it’ll be perfect.”
Dean thinks of his options. Abandoning Dad and the people he could save, staying around to pervert Sam’s normal life. A part of him knows that Sam is vulnerable enough right now, that all he has to do is kiss his brother, slide into the bed and hold him like he wants to so badly he’s shaking, and then ask him to come back-right now Sam would. But Sam would never forgive him and Dean would never forgive himself.
He shakes off Sam’s hand.
“I’m gonna get an early start back, I think. Just wanted to say goodbye, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” Sam corrects turning back over in bed as if he hadn’t just delivered a slap to his brother’s face. “Have a good ride.”
Dean feels the hand tearing his heart out of chest, but it’s better for Sam this way and the hole has been there before. He’s learned to live with it. If he’s made it worse, he deserves it. He thinks he hears muffled crying as the door closes behind him and he knows his own tears will soon be falling. With every step he takes away from the apartment, Dean becomes more positive that he will never see his brother again. The next time they talk it is months later, Sam tells Dean about his girlfriend and Dean can’t hear any trace of the loneliness any more. He knows Sam has moved on, so he stops calling his brother. After a year of unanswered phone calls, Sam stops calling him, too.
[9]
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13: Sexual Content (between brothers, including wee!cest)
Word Count: 3,114
Author’s Note: On my drabble request post, my wife requested “Dean/Sam. I got a hole in me now. Yeah, I got a scar I can talk about” because she got me hooked on Kris Allen’s version of Bright Lights and I pointed out that it was decidedly Wincesty. I had more to say about it than could be said in a drabble, so here is a fic based on Bright Lights for wutendeskind who also beta’d it. This fic is for tamingthemuse prompt #172 - Irenic. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Dean visits Sam at Stanford and tries to cope with losing his brother.
Sam's apartment is hostile to Dean. He can't decide if that surprises him or if it’s exactly what he expected. On the one hand, Sam was never like this to him. Sure, there'd been hostility-stupid fights that got too violent or didn't get violent enough so that they both stayed pissed for too long-but nothing like this. On the other hand, this is Sam’s life now and it has nothing to do with him, there’s no way Dean was going to feel welcome here.
The entire space is foreign and not quite what he had been anticipating. Then again, what does Dean know about homes? He knows, just glancing into each room, that Sam's managed to make a pretty decent one for himself-it's not grand but it's comfortable and it's all his. Maybe if he had some computer nerd roommate looking smug from his side of the room, it wouldn't feel as wrong that Dean doesn't belong here. But this is all Sam's and Dean had always belonged with Sam.
"Do you like it?" Sam asks impatiently. He’s excited, his eyes have been bright and encouraging since he opened the door and Dean feels even more misplaced next to his lightheartedness.
The truth is: Dean hates it. The kitchen is stocked with health food and he can tell from the pile of dishes in the sink that Sam has real dinners now, doesn't need Dean standing over him and reminding him how to make something as simple as spaghetti. The bathroom is nothing but shaving cream and shampoo, no emergency first aid kits, Sam doesn’t need them. The walls are lined with books that mock him, they’re not even real and they're smarter than he is, Dean shudders to imagine how inadequate he must seem to Sam compared to the people he knows now, the people who also read those books. The whole thing is so separate from Dean that he almost wonders why Sam even invited him to visit. Seeing this hurts, rips open the scar that had barely begun to scab over. Dean knows it wasn't intentional. So he swallows two years of bitterness and he lies.
"It's nice, Sam. Really nice.”
Sam beams as if Dean has just told him he won the lottery. “You really think so? I was kind of worried you wouldn’t like it. No magic fingers and all.”
Dean is annoyed that Sam’s so comfortable, that this isn’t confusing and painful to him as well.
“How can you afford this?"
"I worked my ass off last year, didn't really have anything else to do. The university helps a bit and..." Sam breaks off blushing. "I maybe stopped in a couple of pool halls on my way here."
Dean can't help taking it personally-Sam needed to survive on his own, but he's still ashamed he had to make money the way his brother taught him, the way Dean still has to make it.
Dean nods, lost for conversation. Not knowing how to talk to Sam is not something he ever intended to experience. Sam's quiet, too, at least for a while, but he doesn't take his eyes off Dean. Dean can no longer depend on his ability to read him and he doesn't really trust what he thinks he sees when Sam looks at him. They stand there, quiet and awkward, for a good long time. Dean leans on Sam’s kitchen counter and watches drops race down the side of his beer until Sam breaks the silence.
"Dean...why'd you come?"
"You asked me to."
Sam scuffs his foot a little on the cheap carpet.
"I asked you last year for Christmas. I asked you on my birthday, I asked you on both of your birthdays. I'm thrilled you're here, but why?"
Dean shakes his head a little. He can't say it. Sam nods, he doesn't need to hear it. Dean may not know Sam anymore, but Dean hasn't changed like Sam has, or at least not enough to trick his little brother. Sam still has his number. He reaches out, long fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist and Dean hates what it still does to him.
"Never mind, Dean. It doesn't matter. Thanks for coming. Sometimes I was worried I’d neve-Well, just thanks."
Dean knows Sam didn't have a reason to ask this time, and maybe that's why he came. Maybe he just couldn't stand another three months waiting to see if Sam would still remember to ask him to come for his birthday. Maybe Dean was just overjoyed to be asked not because Sam felt like they should spend a holiday together, but because Sam wanted to see him. It doesn't really matter why he came; the point is he wishes he hadn't.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Frankly, Dean’s just proud nobody's been shot yet. They've been at it for five hours. Five hours of screaming the worst things Dean has ever heard with so much conviction he’s scared they actually believe what they're saying. They don't, of course, and Dean tries to explain that to them, but his peace keeping efforts are met with a Shut up, Dean! if they're acknowledged at all. Dad orders him to stay out of it when he tries to defend Sam. Sam is worse-he just looks at Dean like he’s been betrayed when Dean tries to make him see where Dad is coming from.
Dean himself doesn’t really know where he sides. Sam is right. He deserves a chance, his own life, something normal. Despite that, Dean is still leaning towards siding with Dad. Even if Sam won't really go, even if he's just trying to get a rise out of Dad or make a point, the thought of him leaving is enough to block the logical argument. Of course Sam shouldn’t go after some new life. Of course this is selfish and bratty. Of course he should shut up and listen to Dad's orders. The alternative is not an option Dean can live with.
"I'm going, Dad. I don't need your support."
"Get out, then, Sam. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here."
For a moment, just a moment, Dean thinks it would feel really good to punch his father so hard his hand breaks.
Sam turns his back and walks steadily towards the room they've been sharing in this crap motel for a week now. Dean gets up and follows, closing the door behind him. Sam's throwing things into his duffel too quickly, like he actually intends to finish packing.
"Sam, come on. The longer you carry this on, the more it’s going to be blown out of proportion. He's already taking it too seriously."
"It is serious," Sam responds, but he doesn't turn to look at Dean or pause his packing.
Finally he zips his bag shut, doesn't bother to check and make sure he’s not forgetting anything. He doesn’t have much to forget. He walks up to Dean and places one hand on each side of his face, gives him a soft kiss that's a little too casual for the moment. If Sam really thinks he's about to leave-and Dean’s pretty sure he's at least a little convinced-Dean would have thought his goodbye would call for a little more ceremony than that.
"Dean, hurry up. He's gonna kill me if we don't get out of here soon."
"We?"
Sam pulls away. “You didn’t think I was going to go without you?”
Yeah, Dean definitely did.
“Dean, I’m doing this for us. Do you have any idea how happy we can be? We don’t have to live like this. God, nobody should live like this. We can be together, really together, I’m giving us a home.”
Sam smiles more than Dean has ever seen him smile and for a moment it’s blinding. He walks across the room and grabs Dean’s duffel, starts shoving things into it with the same determination he’d done his own.
“A home, can you imagine? I’m going to be a lawyer, and you can be anything. The first year’s going to be hard, but we’ll make it work, and over the summer we’ll just get in the Impala and drive. We’ve been everywhere and we haven’t seen anything, you know?…”
Sam keeps daydreaming out loud the entire time he’s packing and Dean’s too shocked to stop him, too infatuated with the things Sam’s saying to tell him they won’t ever happen. He just sits and stares at his brother-horrified because Sam is actually serious.
“Come on, Dean, you can tell me. I won’t make fun of you too much, I promise.”
“What?”
Sam looks a little annoyed for a moment when he realizes Dean wasn’t listening to him, but he shrugs and repeats himself.
“I asked what you want to do once we get there. You have to have a job, you know.”
“I have a job, Sammy.”
Sam smiles again. “I know, I know. Taking care of me is your job. I know you’re always going to do that, Dean. But I mean, a real job. You must have something you want to do.”
“Hunting is my job, Sam. We can’t just leave this, leave Dad.”
“Why not?” The last thing Dean wants to do is get Sam riled up at him the way he is with Dad but Sam seems to be making an effort to stay calm with him. “I mean it, Dean, we deserve this.”
Dean realizes that Sam is at least half right. As much as he hates it, he’s always known Sam deserved better than he could give him and Dean owes it to his brother to encourage him, not try to hold him back.
“I can’t go with you, Sam.”
“Yes, you can, you’re just too scared-“
“I’m not going with you. End of story.”
“I can’t live like this anymore, Dean. I’m not joking, I’ll go crazy. So will you. We can still be normal if we try, but I can’t keep on like this.”
Not we, Dean thinks. Dean is permanently ruined, will never be normal, and Sam is never going to get that while Dean is still around.
“I know, Sammy. But I can’t come with you.”
Sam’s face drops as if it’s the first time since he decided to go to school that he’s realized that it might mean losing Dean.
“You don’t mean that. You want this, Dean, I know you do.”
“That’s not the point, Sam.”
“It’s our lives, Dean. What the hell is the point if not living them? Come on, get packing. I don’t want to do this without you.” But I will.
Dean looks away. What is he supposed to say? “I can’t do this without you”, “you’ll manage, kid”, “don’t go then”, “good luck”? There is no way he can be selfish enough to tell Sam to stay, but he’s pretty sure he can’t physically get out the words telling him to leave either.
“I’m going, Dean. I’d rather do it with you, but I can do it alone if I have to.”
Sam storms out of the room, and Dean hears Dad confront him, hears him give Sam the ultimatum that ends up ruining his life for four years. If it doesn’t work out for Sam, Dean wants him to know that he’ll still be there, still need him. They’d been each other’s homes, and Dean wants Sam to come back to him, even if he’ll only come back battered and disillusioned and miserable. But Dad tells Sam not to come back if he walks out the door, and the door slams behind his little brother despite that. Dean waits about ten seconds before running out, past his father and catches Sam.
“Let me drive you to the station, Sam.”
He hopes that Sam hears the real offer. Forget what Dad said. Let me come get you if you hate it.
Sam’s crying, but he shakes Dean off. He’s not angry, not at Dean. Dean thinks he looks disappointed in him and he wants to hide from Sam rather than be looked at like that.
“You know, you’re the one who convinced me I was good enough for this. I was stupid enough to think maybe I was enough to convince you, too.”
“Sammy, let me take you to the station.”
Sam laughs bitterly and gives Dean one last, lingering kiss.
“Take me all the way or let me go, Dean. I’m not half-assing this. If I have to get used to losing you, I have to start right away.”
Dean sees the determination in his brother’s features and knows he’s lost. Even if Sam hates it, he won’t come back. Dean spends two years missing his brother. They talk on the phone without saying anything, and usually Dean thinks he hears Sam on the verge of asking: “Does he still hate me? Can I come back?” Sam doesn’t say he doesn’t like school, he tells Dean about the good things and Dean half-believes he makes up the loneliness in Sam’s voice because not hearing it would kill him.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
A few hours later and it’s almost (almost) like Dean remembered. Sam is still Sam and he opens up to Dean as if they’re still all they have.
“Man, I am trashed,” Sam says after they finish laughing for too long at some totally inane story Dean tells about a recent hunt. They’re not as drunk as they’re acting and they both know it, but the alcohol gives a safe cover for the stupid, overjoyed haze that’s hanging around them.
“Sammy, what’s it like?”
“Being trashed? I think you know about as well as I do.”
“Having…” Dean can’t think of a way to finish the question without sounding ridiculous, so he trails off. “Forget it.”
“It’s scary, Dean. Scary for me, at least, because it’s still so different. It was awful at first, but it’s great sometimes. I mean, I know people, and I…I met a girl a few weeks ago. She’s really great. I think I’m gonna ask her to be my girl, if…”
Sam looks at Dean and Dean hears his offer without Sam having to say a word.
“Two people could be pretty comfortable in here, Dean.”
“Sam.”
“Why are we lying on the floor? I still haven’t shown you the whole place yet.”
Dean tries to suffocate the thoughts. The only room Sam hasn’t shown him is his bedroom, and Dean knows what Sam is trying to do. Sam could leave him, but he wouldn’t be able to leave Sam, not if they started that up again.
“Floor’s great. I’m very comfortable on this floor. I think I’ll just stay here, I’m tired. You can show me the rest tomorrow, alright?”
Sam stumbles up and Dean thinks he sees that let down look again.
Dean wakes up at some ridiculous hour from dreams that are more vivid than they’ve been in years but which have been regular pretty much since Sam was 15. His jeans are too tight and his chest aches in a way that it only ever hasn’t when he was holding on to Sam. He decides they were both better off before he came to see his brother, that he ruined whatever pathetic attempt at healing he had and frustrated Sam’s successful efforts. As quietly as he can, Dean sneaks into Sam’s room, determined to get one glimpse of the bed he’s going to pretend he belongs in for the rest of his life. Something on the nightstand catches his eye.
They don’t have many pictures so Dean had forgotten this one existed. He stares at it for too long, remembers how shocked they’d been when Dad had returned from a hunt suddenly sentimental and had taken them for a day just to be a family, complete with photo ops. Sam has one long arm around Dean’s neck and is waving at Dad behind the camera with the other. Sam’s smile is radiant, he’s hardly 16 and Dean remembers thinking he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen when they got the picture developed. Dean is looking at his brother, worried and uncomfortable, but his lips pull up a little at the corners despite him. He still remembers the paradoxical feeling of having to face his father in that moment, trying to reconcile his guilt and shame with the fact that he’d never been so happy in his life. Half an hour earlier, while Dad had been getting something for them to eat, Sam had pulled him into the men’s room at the restaurant and kissed him for the first time ever. Dean had let him.
He licks his lips remembering it and goes to pick the picture up. Despite his efforts to be quiet, Sam is still a hunter, and a damned good one. Dean feels his brother’s hand close over his as he reaches for the frame.
He turns to face Sam and Sam looks hopeful. “Stay, Dean. I like it here, but I miss you so much, and it never lets up. If you stay, it’ll be perfect.”
Dean thinks of his options. Abandoning Dad and the people he could save, staying around to pervert Sam’s normal life. A part of him knows that Sam is vulnerable enough right now, that all he has to do is kiss his brother, slide into the bed and hold him like he wants to so badly he’s shaking, and then ask him to come back-right now Sam would. But Sam would never forgive him and Dean would never forgive himself.
He shakes off Sam’s hand.
“I’m gonna get an early start back, I think. Just wanted to say goodbye, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” Sam corrects turning back over in bed as if he hadn’t just delivered a slap to his brother’s face. “Have a good ride.”
Dean feels the hand tearing his heart out of chest, but it’s better for Sam this way and the hole has been there before. He’s learned to live with it. If he’s made it worse, he deserves it. He thinks he hears muffled crying as the door closes behind him and he knows his own tears will soon be falling. With every step he takes away from the apartment, Dean becomes more positive that he will never see his brother again. The next time they talk it is months later, Sam tells Dean about his girlfriend and Dean can’t hear any trace of the loneliness any more. He knows Sam has moved on, so he stops calling his brother. After a year of unanswered phone calls, Sam stops calling him, too.
[9]