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In the past – 1988
When Sam’s born Dean thinks for a second that no one will see him anymore. Sam is so tiny, so cute and so new that Dean fears he’ll be mom’s and dad’s whole focus. He’s wrong, of course, but that doesn’t mean his four-year-old mind thinks that far ahead.
But then Sam is nothing like Dean imagined. He’s quiet most of the time, tears up when Dad tries to hold him for longer than five minutes and actually cries a little when Mom turns him so that he can’t see Dean.
It takes a month or two before Dean realizes that Sam’s only ever really looking at him. He tells Mom about it, smiles all wide and happy when she says it’s true and doesn’t know why she looks sad about it.
Dean thinks it’s great.
Sam’s fussing a lot, only calms down when Dean crawls into the crib with him and then latches tiny fingers onto Dean’s pyjamas when he’s close enough. It doesn’t take long for Dean to solely concentrate on Sam as well, so much so that Dad has to drag him away screaming and kicking when Sammy has a doctor’s appointment or when he needs to go himself. Kindergarten feels like a whole different world and Dean hates it. There’s no Sammy.
Dean hates being away from his brother, hates when he can’t see how Sam’s doing or hear what he’s blubbering about. Mom gives up putting him back to bed after Dean’s managed to crawl in with Sammy three times in one night. Both of them sleep better when they are close.
After the fire, after Mom is gone, Sammy is the only reason why Dean doesn’t hide crying. He feels lost and lonely without Mom and Dad being so strange. So Sam is the one thing that Dean likes during these days and months afterwards.
Sam is his to take care of, especially now that Dad can’t really do it. Sam is Dean’s little brother and he’ll do everything, anything really, to keep him safe and well.
It never really changes.
Sam does change though. He grows up, doesn’t need Dean as much anymore and Dean learns that he might be the only one of them having created a whole life around just one person.
Sam’s five when they have to pretend not to know each other for the first time.
Dad’s stupid plan. It’s one of the first times Dean’s ever thought about objecting Dad and he almost did. But Dad just bundled them up and put them in the car without Dean really having the chance to say anything.
“If anybody asks, you don’t know Sam,” is what Dad says, looking into the review mirror for a second, eyes intent and Dean would say cold but then flinches a little when Dad blinks and there’s worry.
“I know you don’t like it, kiddo. But... this case is complicated. And if someone finds out, it’s better they take Sammy and don’t connect him to us.” Dad frowns and then just looks back at the street in front of them.
Later, Dean will always remember thinking that no one will take Sammy away from him and if they dared, he’d fight them. Even then he knows that chances are if someone found out they’d take Sammy anyway, no matter if Sam’s connected to them or not. They’d take Dean then as well and maybe let them be together.
The sun’s already up when they reach the town Dad’s been doing research in for the last few days and Dean knows where he’s taking them. Sam loves the playground near the little park and Dean knows it’s safe. No loose boards or bare nails, no glass in the sandbox or any kind of animals.
Dad drops him off there, tells Sammy to be good and that they’ll be back in no time. Dean almost doesn’t leave, has to look away from Sam’s desperate eyes and lets himself be dragged towards the point where Dad wants him to hide out.
“He’ll be fine, Dean.” Dad doesn’t sound as convinced as Dean knows he should. Maybe Dad isn’t liking this any more than Dean. By the time Dean’s crouched behind an oak tree not far from the sandbox, it’s clouded over and a slight drizzled has started up.
He can’t help but peer around the tree trunk to watch Sammy there. He’s still doing what Dad told him, still scoops out the area and watches for anything that might be suspicious. Dad never told him what’s going on but Dean thinks he has to do with children. It makes him shiver, thinking about Sam being in danger. And more than once Dean just wants to jump up, run over and keep Sam close.
It’s not like they could have left him in the motel room but Dean doesn’t like the feeling that Sam might be bait and that Dad’s really risking that. He doesn’t like it one bit.
After the fourth time Dad catches him looking at Sam, Dean tells himself to stop being stupid and man up. He manages ten minutes without so much as a cursory glance towards his brother.
The next time Dean dares to really look again, Sam’s sitting in the sandbox, head hanging, sniffling low and dejected. Little fingers digging into the sand but not really doing anything with it.
Dean can see Sam shivering slightly even though his jacket is new and warm. It’s probably more the fact that he can’t see Dean or Dad. Sam tries to act all grown up and Dean feels his heart ache a little at seeing how his little brother fails. But Sam’s only five and Dean wants to bundle him up and let him have the hot chocolate he’s been asking for since yesterday.
Dean kind of instinctively knows that this level of protectiveness isn’t normal but then their lives aren’t normal either. He knows that he doesn’t have to like every plan his dad comes up with, especially not one that leaves Sammy all alone and unprotected in the middle of an empty playground. After the Shtriga, Dean had sworn to himself to never let Sam out of his sight again and he won’t, no matter what.
His nose twitches, feels cold and the rain drops are starting to get bigger, heavier. Dean hopes they won’t have to be there much longer.
Dad’s gone for a minute and Dean tries not to panic. He’s trained better than that, keeps his eyes on the streets around the park, then back to Sammy. Then he sees Dad in the corner of his eye when he turns his head just right. The sigh of relief is barely audible and Dean sags against the tree trunk a little.
He hates feeling like this. Helplessness is something he’s never learned how to deal with and it makes him feel like he can’t protect Sam properly. It’s not a feeling he likes very much. Pushing his hands into the jacket pockets, Dean tries to warm his fingers up a little. They connect with one of Sam’s candy wrappers and Dean grins. There’s still one candy left and he knows he’ll give it to Sam as soon as this is over.
He takes another look around. The streets are almost empty, it’s too early in the day for a lot of people and Dean wonders what those who do come by think about Sam, playing alone on an empty playground with seemingly no adult around.
It’s just for a second – as long as it takes to wipe rain water out of his eyes - that Dean’s not looking. Just a second and suddenly Sam’s not alone anymore. Two boys, taller than Sammy, obviously older, are standing over him in the sandbox. Dean growls. He’s not supposed to leave his position, has to signal Dad when he sees something, but he can’t just sit there and watch.
Dean knows what’s going to happen next, has seen the look on those boys faces way too often already. And Sam’s there alone with no one to protect him. Sam’s sniffles seem louder now, Dean doesn’t have to strain to hear them. With the first sob and the sound of Sammy hitting the sand, Dean’s up and running, not thinking about Dad’s stupid plan anymore.
It’s reckless, he knows but Sam’s more important now. For a second he sees Dad at the other side of the playground but Dad’s not even watching it, is occupied with a guy across the street. Dean huffs, feeling strange and maybe a little angry at Dad.
It takes less than five seconds and he’s right next to Sammy.
Sammy, who’s now lying in the sand, wide-eyed and tears streaking down his face. One of the bigger boys has shoved him, and grabbed the miniature Impala Sammy loves so much. Dean’s nicked it from a gas station three states over because he could see how much Sam had wanted it.
It’s like a fuse, seeing Sammy like this and the toy not with its right owner.
“Give it back,” Dean says, trying to sound calm and grown up, like Dad when he wants to be menacing. Being like Dad always helps in situations like this. Dean hates that he can’t help Sammy up but facing the danger is more important now.
The two boys blink against the rain, look surprised but don’t make a move to hand the toy car back to Sam. Dean takes a step closer, draws up his height and hopes they’ll be impressed. One of the boys giggles a bit, clearly not sure how to handle this situation and Dean silently crows in triumph.
“Why are you helping this baby?” The one holding the toy asks, sneers even and Dean hears Sammy shuffling a little, getting up from the wet sand. A second later, small hands grab the hem of Dean’s jacket and hold on.
His little brother is trying to be brave but uses the lesson Dad taught him over and over again - hide behind Dean if possible. Dean almost smiles when he feels Sammy’s hand now clutching the back of his jacket, can imagine him peeking out around Dean and glaring at the boys. Dean’s pretty sure Sammy is trying hard not to throw a fit and draw attention, but that car means a lot to his little brother .
“He’s not a baby. Give the car back now… Please.” Dean’s using politeness the way Dad does when he wants to intimidate people – sure it’ll probably be lost on the boys but it’s worth a try. One of them, the one not holding the toy, takes a step back, tries to take cues from his friend about what to do now.
“What? He your baby brother or something? Got nothing better to do than baby-sit? Loser.”
Dean opens his mouth, is about to say that ‘yes, Sammy is and he’ll do everything to get the car back for his little brother’ when Sam surprises the hell out of everyone. He slips out from behind Dean, takes a brave step towards the boys and holds his hand out, like he does when Dean’s rummaging in the Lucky Charms box for the treat.
“He’s my best friend. That is my car. Could I have it back, please?” Sam’s trying to match Dean’s tone of politeness but fails spectacularly, he sounds so sincere that Dean actually grins a little. His brother is kinda awesome even if he can be a little pain in the ass sometimes.
Sammy’s still standing there, in the rain, holding out his hand and trying to be brave, sniffles and tears forgotten. Dean’s proud of him. The two boys look at each other and for a moment Dean thinks he might have to fight them for the toy. Then the Impala is dropped into the wet sand.
Sammy scrambles for it when he sees the two bullies retreating, grabs it and is back behind Dean in under a second. That’s all Sammy can muster up in braveness and Dean thinks it’s enough for one day.
“Okay… okay. Play with the baby, man. Your choice.”
“Yes. My choice, my best friend.” Dean says, loud and clear. He looks at the boys and waits until they are long gone before he turns to Sam.
“You okay, Sammy? Hurt? Did they hit you?” Dean’s letting his hands roam and then hover over Sam’s shoulders, trying to figure out if his brother really is okay. Then Sam nods, slow and sure.
“Am fine, Dean.”
Sam’s looking at him now, still wide-eyed but with a huge smile on his face. The black toy car clutched in his small hands and floppy brown hair clinging wetly to his skin. Sammy looks like a little innocent puppy just then. A happy puppy.
Dean hugs him close for a second and then settles down on the wooden bench right next to the sandbox, a little under another tree, still with leaves on. It’ll shield them from the rain a little.
They stay there and wait for Dad to get them. It takes another hour and Sammy wheedles Dean into playing with him.
So they sit, play with the Impala and build sand forts and castles. It’s been a while since Dean forgot everything around him while playing. Dad doesn’t say a single word when he picks them up and has to shout three times before they finally hear him. For some reason Dad doesn’t look angry when Dean dares to glance at him, just sad.
Dean never asks if Dad solved the case but they're leaving town the same evening.
Later, in the backseat, on the highway miles away from the playground, Sam lies curled up against Dean. The cup that once was filled with hot chocolate is abandoned on the far side of the seat. Dad had relented once he’d seen Sammy’s wet hair and blue lips. And Dad hadn’t commented on Dean crawling into the backseat just after Sam, too occupied with whoever he was on the phone with.
Sam’s playing with the miniature Impala now, making low vroom noises and letting it drive up and down Dean’s thigh. Dean feels good about how he handled the situation earlier, proud even that he could dissolve it without fists and scaring Sammy. He still hopes so very hard Dad hadn’t seen him leaving his position. But Dad hasn’t said a single word, only frowned at Sam’s happy little smile earlier and then had smiled as well.
The landscape sort of just wooshes by; Dean isn’t really seeing it through the twilight but he still looks out the window. When he feels a tug at his shirt, it’s hard to look away from the hypnotizing way of the world outside.
“Dean?” Sam almost whispers and it always sets Dean on edge. It’s either that he’s afraid of something, has done something he knows he isn’t supposed to do or doesn’t feel safe to say things out loud.
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean looks down at his brother, smiles slightly when he sees Sam looking back, cheeks rosy and eyes about to droop shut. Sam’s been awake for way too long today.
“I like you as a best friend. Better than brothers. Best friends… you cho… choose those.” He says it with a little nod of his head and Dean’s heart aches again. Because Sam’s right, you can’t choose family but Dean’s always thought that family is the most important thing. Sam, though, Sam thinks a best friend is the greatest thing on earth, he’s never had one and now Dean gave that to him.
Dean will do hell to take it away again. Let Sam pretend not to be brothers for a while. It can’t hurt and Dean is, after all, his best friend.
So Dean just pulls Sam a little closer, arm wrapped around small shoulders, and nods. “Yeah, Sammy. Best friends are cool. I’ll be yours if you want me to.”
“’Course,” is mumbled through a yawn and Sam’s head sags against Dean’s shoulder. Fast asleep , his little brother snuggles even closer. Dean lets him. Sam’s his best friend as well.
Right then Dean’s sure that it will always stay like that.
The spring of 1997
They are somewhere in Colorado - Dean has stopped bothering with learning all the town’s names, only ever glances at the current school books with a library stamp if he needs to know. They’ve been here for months now and it seems like Sam will be able to close out the school year here.
It’s more about school these days, about papers and homework and finding friends. Dean’s never seen anything good in getting attached to places that are only temporary but Sam has always looked for something constant. For years, Dean thought that was him. The constant in Sam’s life. But those days seem to be over.
And Dean’s not sure he likes it.
Sam’s now part of some hunts, when they need a good cover story or can’t leave him alone for weeks on end. Dad always makes sure that Sam stays out of the action but trains him just as hard as Dean.
There have been several occasions where they had to pretend not to know each other, not to be related, not to be best friends. Sometimes it’s hard to stay in the role, sometimes it’s the easiest thing Dean has done. Pretending – especially when he knows Sam doesn’t even want to be there, be part of the hunt – is one way to still think things are okay.
Sam hates it, doesn’t want to be anybody else but himself. Even more so lately. And it’s not just about teenage hormones. There more Dean thinks about it, tries to figure out the person Sam’s becoming, the more he gets lost. Almost as lost as Sam sometimes seems to be.
Some days, Dean isn’t even sure they are best friends anymore. They’ll always be brothers, none of them can change that. But friends, that’s a whole different sphere and Dean feels like he’s losing contact to it.
They used to talk, used to tell secrets, confide in the other and it would all stay between them. Now, Sam tries to hide, tries to keep Dean out, not pushing him away exactly but still keeping a certain distance.
Sam is this mysterious being now. One Dean can’t read as easily as he used to.
Things between Dad and Sam have been rocky lately, Dean caught between the lines and never sure what to say anymore. Words are said, things done and it ends up in arguments, fights even, more often than not. Sometimes Dean’s glad he can flee to school to get away from it all. And Dean doesn’t even like school that much.
Monroe High School would have been like any other High School Dean had attended if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a combined school. Junior High and High School in one, meaning Dean sees Sam every day.
They pass each other in the hallways and see each other during lunch. The way Sam is ignoring Dean though, no one has really figured out they are brothers. No one seems to have a clue that they are related, no one finds it strange that two new guys have the same name. Pretending is easy here – like a scam that isn’t really one - they don’t have the same social circles and Dean’s sometimes thinks it’s his fault.
Sam is trying to be independent, trying to do things on his own. It’s the way Dean – and Dad – have raised him. But Sam is pushing and Dean barely has a chance to keep standing.
It’s been going on for as long as they’ve been here, maybe started the second day of school, after Dean refused to drive Sam because the little shit had been bitchy and grumpy as hell. Sam has been walking to school ever since and Dean tries not to freak out too much over it.
Dean is kind of popular, which might have something to do with the car and the fact that he seems to have very liberal parents. No one has to know that Dad’s not there much and that Dean has to look after his baby brother. His popularity might also be connected to his job at Joe’s Dinner and drinks for half the price if Joe’s in a good mood and lets Dean tend the counter.
Sam, though, is living in a completely different world, does Drama Club and study groups, has friends that are barely allowed to stay out after dark, which isn’t very long seeing as it’s still spring. Even though Sam has managed to get into advanced courses, spending time with High School kids, he keeps to his own age group.
Sometimes, when Dean’s all too aware that he’s wrapped up in a life that isn’t his own and has never learned how to stay away, Dean pretends to be less attached. Tries to and always, always fails. Just the thought of it, having a life without Sam’s constant presence makes Dean a little queasy. He’s not sure what it means, why he can’t stand to think about Sam being gone – like when he talks about college and Dean has to hold back so that he won’t snap at Sam.
Dean adds those feelings to the long list of things on the freak-column of the equation.
Most of the time though, they are busy with school life, Sam with his friends and Dean doing what he does best, chasing skirt and annoying the hell out of the local jocks. It’s fun and less likely to land him in a hospital or anywhere near a prison cell. Okay, so Dean’s kinda bored here and hates that Dad’s not taking him along.
On a Friday in late April, Dean finally manages to get Belinda Matthews to agree to a date. He isn’t really sure why he wanted that so badly but he’s been bored out of his mind with Dad gone and Sammy being a prissy teenager.
Belinda is not the sharpest tool around but she makes him laugh, mostly in a good way. He can overlook the instances where he wants to roll his eyes and ask how someone so pretty can be that stupid.
She’s a walking, talking cliché. Cheerleader, in the in-crowd, hot on gossip and always, always touching up her make-up. Dean usually doesn’t go for that kind of shallow but she’s pretty and Dean’s been really, really bored. Also, trying not to think about the things on his mind that have no right to be there.
They’ve been hanging out under the bleachers for a few weeks, him, Belinda and some of their mutual friends, skipping classes and generally behaving like the idiotic High School kids that they are. Dean knows better than this but for once in his life he doesn’t really care. He feels good like this.
There might be pot involved some of the days, wandering hands and soft lips on warm skin – everyone would feel good about that.
Sam only ever scowls at him, never saying a word. Dean can see that something is brewing inside his little brother and knows it will explode out of him one day.
On that Friday, Sam doesn’t seem to be able to hold back any longer. Dean has been waiting for it and gets comfortable on the couch when Sam stops pretending to be doing his homework and openly stares at Dean.
The TV is running but Dean has no idea what’s on, has only had one bottle of beer and waits for Belinda to show up. There’s still time, a little over an hour and Sam has already announced he’ll be at a friend’s place later on. Right now though, Sam seems to be working up to something, he’s turned half in his chair, body angled towards Dean but eyes still on his notebook.
His attention is on Dean though, fully and completely.
It’s the first time in weeks and Dean suddenly realizes how much he’s missed it. He feels a little off-kilter, has to take a deep breath before he can muster up the courage to engage in a staring match.
Sam has grown a lot these last few months. Only now, Dean notices it. He looks less like a child, more and more like the man he will be one day. Defined cheekbones, free of the baby fat they used to hold for so long, longer limbs that seem to be unable to hold still.
His jeans show a little calf and Dean swallows. The pants will be too short very soon and the t-shirt doesn’t look any better. Looking worn but soft, it hangs from Sam’s shoulders but clings just in the right places. Dean doesn’t want to look and still has his eyes clued to the soft dip of hips where the shirt is riding up.
Dean has a feeling that one day Sam will tower over him, he’s already taller than Dean was at that age.
He stomps hard on those thoughts, very hard, doesn’t even dare to imagine just one little glimpse of how Sam would look like, taller, broader, stronger, towering over him. It’s not the place and not the time… and it will never be.
Dean only allows himself to be that sick in the darkness of his own mind. It will never come out, won’t be allowed to, not if Dean can prevent it.
Sam sighs, looks resigned and goes back to doodling in his notebook. He looks older than he is and Dean knows it’s partly his fault. He would have done everything to leave Sam out of the family business. There was no way around it though.
His little brother looks irritated and Dean wants to know what his problem is, what the problem has been for months now. Because this is not new. Sam’s been distant for a while now and Dean knows it’s not just about the one refused ride. There’s more to it.
Sam’s voice makes him jump a little, not much but Dean feels embarrassed nonetheless.
“I don’t get you.”
And that makes it so much clearer… not. Dean frowns, looks at Sam and shrugs. He’s got nothing.
“I mean, I know you aren’t dumb and you usually don’t act it. But this time kinda takes the cake.” Sam’s mumbling, not really speaking up and it’s Dean’s first clue that Sam’s embarrassed for some reason. The second clue is the slight blush staining his brother’s cheeks.
It’s not as adorable as Dean thinks but his brain won’t shut up about it.
“What exactly are you talking about here, Sammy?” Because really, Dean has no idea.
“It’s Sam.”
And yes, that isn’t new either, doesn’t mean Dean has to hear it. It’s Sammy and it will always be, no matter how big and tall his brother will be in the future. It’s Dean’s right as a big brother to use childhood nicknames until the end of time. So he just shrugs when Sam glares, and grins.
Sam’s fiddling with the pencil now, not really doing anything with it. The rotating motions remind Dean of how Sam handles knives and how that always makes Dean swallow and look away.
“I don’t get why you hang out with her. She’s just plain dumb. Have you heard what she said about history, how it’s over and done with and that there is no need to talk about it? God, Dean, even you and your insatiable libido can do better than that.” Sam’s on a roll, huffy and bitchy like Dean hasn’t seen him in a while.
His stomach rolls a little at the thought that he might not have imagined all those annoyed – jealous – looks Sam has been sending him whenever Belinda was anywhere close. Dean’s not beyond hoping it’s jealousy and then feels sick all over again.
“It’s not her brains I want, if you know what I mean.” Dean can’t help it, he smirks and almost laughs out loud when the bitchface of epic re-appears tenfold. It’s just so easy to rile Sam up these days.
“You’re a pig,” Sam huffs again, all the little brother Dean knows and loves to annoy.
He misses this Sammy.
Sometimes it’s like this part of his brother is gone.
But then there are evenings curled up together on the old ratty couch, watching shitty horror movies and mocking the hell out of urban legends. There is Sam, sleepy in the morning, trusting Dean to pack his lunch and get him going. There’s Sam being so engrossed in homework that he forgets everything else. And then, then there is this Sam, the one that’s a pain in the ass and getting on Dean’s nerves.
All those Sams are better than the distant one Dean’s been dealing with lately.
“Really, just a pig.”
Dean blinks against the setting sun low in the sky, sometimes the lack of curtains is annoying, and shrugs. What can he say to that? It’s not like he doesn’t know what Sam thinks of him and his conquests. If Sam knew that Dean’s actually the least promiscuous guy around, well, he wouldn’t believe it anyway.
“Just let me have my fun, dude. It’s Friday and I actually want to go out. You should, too. And don’t give me that look, I know it’s a study group and not just a friend you’re going to later. Homework can wait for a day or two.”
Dean knows it’s the wrong thing to say. For as long as Sam has been going to school, homework was always done before the weekend. Dean knows this. Sam knows that Dean knows it. It’s still one of the few things Sam really gets bitchy about.
Not so much this time. It throws Dean a little, thinks there is more missing between them than he actually thought. It makes his chest constrict a little, like something is going on and he’s completely missing it.
Sam looks at him, eyes more a tilted line, color almost invisible.
“She’s just not the right one for you.” It’s said so low that Dean almost doesn’t hear all of it.
For a second he doesn’t know what to say, fumbles for words and just barely refrains from asking if Sam knows who is then.
But he doesn’t.
It’s not something that should ever be a topic between them because for some reason Dean just knows Sam would answer truthfully. And he’s just not ready for that kind of conversation. Not when he’s desperately trying not to even think about it.
Dean’s not as oblivious or caught up in his own dark mind as Sam thinks him to be. Of course he’s caught the looks, the way Sam sometimes can’t get himself out of the daze. But then there is the distance, the way Sam’s pulling out of Dean’s reach. And Dean just has no clue what it all means. But he sees it nonetheless.
There’s no way he’ll let them be this fucked up, let them ruin their lives before Sam’s has even really started. It’s his responsibility and Dean will make sure it stays this way. This is on him and he’ll do everything to let Sam have a ‘normal’ life. It’s enough when one of them is fucked beyond salvation.
“It’s just a fun night out, Sammy. I’m not gonna propose.” Dean turns back towards the TV, chucks the last of his beer and waits for Sam to say more. It never comes and when Dean looks back towards the kitchen table, Sam’s busy gathering his things.
It leaves Dean floundering, speechless for a moment even. He’d been prepared for a fight the way Sam had been building up to it. And now, nothing. It’s like the spotlight has been taken off of Dean and Dean’s left behind cold and lost.
“You’ll have the house for yourself tonight. Have fun.” Sam says before he vanishes into his room and suddenly Dean’s not sure that this evening will be anything close to fun. He’s not feeling it right now.
Sam doesn’t come out of his room for the rest of the evening and then Belinda is there. Dean gets into the mood fast after that, forgets Sam for a while and tries to enjoy her hands on his thigh.
Her lips are on his neck, hands wandering and Dean actually enjoys it. He knows they won’t take it any further, there is a party to attend later and Dean actually plans on getting so drunk that not even Belinda and her awesome boobs will make him get it up.
Belinda’s about to settle against his side to suck a good and nice hickey into his skin when the front door bangs open. Dean jumps, curses himself for getting so lost in thoughts that he didn’t even hear someone approaching the house. Anyone coming close could be heard on the gravel and Dean always, always listened to the outside world. Only Sam has Dean so wrapped around these days that Dean’s slacking off when it comes to vigilance.
Sam’s there, standing in the door, looking flushed and sort of embarrassed. It’s then that Dean realizes the wind going outside and how Sam’s turned the wrong way, as if he was about to leave and not come in.
Dean blinks, notices how Sam’s not looking at either of them, is shuffling his feet awkwardly and tries to hide his blushing face from Dean.
“Sammy?” It’s all Dean can say right then. There is nothing else on his mind and that actually says a lot about his state of mind. He has a hot girl plastered all over him and all he can think is ‘Sammy’. It’s kinda sad and really pathetic.
Belinda moves, digs her knee just this close to his crotch and Dean suppresses a hiss. This is so not comfortable. Arms slide out from under a warm body and Dean manages to extract himself long enough to actually really look at Sam.
His little brother looks like the world just ended and Dean has no idea why. Sure, he doesn’t like Belinda all that much but that’s not really a reason to look like Sam does, all pale and somewhat horrified. Sam looks like he saw a ghost and that’s not a good look on someone who should be used to seeing ghosts.
“Sorry… just the wind and… I… sorry,” Sam mumbles, but Dean can hear him loud and clear. Belinda huffs next to him, straightens her shirt which somehow had been pushed up so much that her bra is visible.
“Who is he?” She sneers with disdain and Dean wants to smack her. It’s the first time in his life that he actually wants to do that to a girl and he flinches a little. It’s just the way she’s looking at Sam that sets him on edge.
“Sam,” Dean says, as if it explains everything and for him, it does. For Sam, it does as well. There’s a slight smile curving up red bitten lips and Dean wants to get up and hug him close. The urge to do just that is so sudden, so violently there that Dean shivers.
Belinda takes it the wrong way. She looks almost disgusted, like Sam’s something at the sole of her designer shoes (which are cheap imitations, even Dean can tell that), blinks her long eyelashes and turns up her nose.
“Dean… what? Oh come on, don’t tell me you have to watch your little brother tonight. That’s so uncool. I know. I have to do it too, every other weekend. Makes me feel like such a loser,” Belinda says and Dean cringes at the high pitched quality of her voice.
Sam’s just standing there, unmoving. And Dean just looks. Sam has changed, looks more like he wants to go out now than he did before. Dark shirt tight around skinny shoulders, plastered against a smooth chest, jeans hanging low on narrow hips. Dean’s never seen his brother like that, not in this kind of clothes.
There’s something in the air, something that might snap now, something that has been there for a while. Dean’s not thinking about it. He moves again, further away from Belinda, ready to defend his coolness and how Sam’s not that bad as a little brother, is searching for the right words, doesn’t want to hurt Sam.
Only, Sam’s faster.
“I’m not his brother. He’s just helping me out… With school. Forgot my book.” With that, Sam grabs one of Dean’s auto-shop handbooks that’s lying on the rickety side table and shrugs. “Sorry. Uh… see ya next week.”
The door closes with a slight snick, not loud but Dean feels like Sam slammed it shut. Dean blinks, suddenly not in the mood to deal with his own confused feelings but still a little grateful for Sam’s little lie.
Sam did it to save Dean’s reputation, to save Dean’s evening. Sam usually doesn’t care about any of that but tonight he did.
Dean’s not in the mood for Belinda anymore, wonders how he ever could be. But he won’t say a word because Sam did something there for him and Dean can still see the sad, dejected look on Sam’s face and knows, just knows, that there is so much more behind it.
It’s like Sam meant what he said, that Dean’s not his brother. Only, Dean can’t figure out if Sam meant it in the way that he wishes Dean was something different to him or if he wants Dean out of his life.
It’s all so very fucked and Dean has no idea how to even deal with it all.
The evening turns into a disaster after Sam’s gone. Dean’s so on edge that Belinda gets all snippy when he doesn’t return her advances. He’s so not in the mood and she finally, finally realizes it. After some choice words, she actually flounces out of the house and slams the door. It has less of an impact than the almost silent way Sam left.
The four beers left in the fridge are Dean’s. So is the bourbon that Dean hides under his bed. Feels like the right occasion for it now.
He’s on the way to being really drunk when he stumbles into Sam’s room and face-plants on the neatly made bed. It actually hurt when Sam said those words, said he wasn’t Dean’s brother.
But at the same time Dean wished it was true. That thought alone is enough for the tears to slip out and, for the first time in years, Dean doesn’t even try to hold them back. No one’s there to see him anyway.
He sobs into the pillow, takes in the smell of cheap lemon shampoo and soap and Sam. Dean wants his brother back, his best friend. He also wants to be closer to Sam than any convention would allow and he doesn’t know what to do about it anymore.
Dean doesn’t know how long he lies there and breathes in. It smells like Sam, like home, like the life he used to know for so long. His fingers slide over soft fabric, glide along the edges of the lumpy mattress and finally find their way under the pillow.
There’s something hard with edges and made out of metal. Dean first thinks it’s a knife and has the mind to be proud of Sam but then something feels wrong. He grabs onto the thing and pulls it from under the pillow.
Shiny and black, small, four tiny wheels. Dean blinks, he can barely see in the dim light of the TV that’s coming in through the open door. He hasn’t seen the toy in years, thought it got lost along the way, left behind in one of the many places they stayed. But here it is.
The sight of it makes his chest hurt so much that he curls up on the bed and has to take deep breaths. The toy car is a reminder of what they don’t seem to have anymore. It screams ‘best friends forever’ and Dean can’t really fathom why it makes him ache that much.
He must have fallen asleep with the toy clutched in his hand because the next thing he knows, Sam’s there. He’s kneeling next to the bed, hand on Dean’s shoulder and a funny look on his face. Dean notices through the open door that the TV is off and only the bedside lamp is providing any kind of light. It tints Sam in some kind of halo, making Dean reach out and tug the loose, soft strands of hair out of Sam’s face.
There’s a soft noise, like a sigh, Dean’s not sure who made it. But he feels it vibrating through his body, settling something that has been on edge for way too long. Sam lets him touch, moves onto the bed after a while so that they are plastered together, lying on their sides, looking with tired eyes – gritty and crusted in Dean’s case – but not saying a single word.
The Impala is clutched between them, still in Dean’s hand but with Sam’s over it now.
“You’ll always be my brother, Dean. Always. And I want it that way. But… but maybe some day…” Sam’s doesn’t finish, doesn’t have to. He looks lost there for a while and Dean’s fascinated by the shadows the dim light casts on his brother’s skin. Right then, there is no need for any more words.
They understand each other just fine without any and Dean’s so glad to realize that they haven’t lost this between them. He falls asleep with the knowledge that Sam’s still here, that Sam’s his brother and his best friend and that they’ll work it out.
For now, Dean’s sure it will stay like that for a while longer. He’ll pretend that things won’t change.
PART II
