"I love her, and that's the beginning and end of everything."

― F. Scott Fitzgerald

It was a rainy day in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere and Dean was studying for an AP test. Not his own test, though. It was Sam's. He was twenty damn years old and he had sworn he would never fucking study for anything ever again. Not that he had when he was in school. But Sam had asked for his help and who was he to say no?

"Attear-rear," he read off a note card that lay at the top of a very large stack.

"Atterir. You pronounce it a-ter-ay, Dean. Jesus," Sam sneered.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to help you study for your exam or kick your ass? Cause the second option can be easily arranged, jack-off," Dean threatened. " It's not my fault you chose a damn pansy ass language to study, Sammy. And this shit says attear-rear, I don't care what you say." He squinted at the card in his hand, as if that would change anything.

"Atterir. To attract," Sam recited, rolling his eyes at Dean's insults. "You are so uncultured, Dean. God."

"Yeah, and you're a pretentious asshole." He glanced at the English definition on the back of the card. "Yep, to attract. I bet that's why you take this class, isn't it? To attract the ladies? Well, I tell you what, with the mug you've got you need more going for you than the fact you parlez vous francais." Dean joked, waggling his eyebrows.

"That doesn't even make sense, Dean. You just said "you do you speak French." Just.. how about you shut up and help me study, how about that?" Sam snapped.

"Take the stick out of your ass, kid," Dean said, making a face at Sam. He pulled another card from the stack. "Um… Oo-vra?" he struggled, honestly trying to say it correctly.

"Ouvre. Open." Sam rattled off, ignoring how Dean had butchered pronunciation of yet another word as he riffled through his notes.

"Met-ter? Maybe?" Dean read.

"Mettre, Dean. To put."

"Sammy, this is boring," Dean whined. "You already know Latin, what do you need to know French for, huh?"

Sam ignored the question and motioned for Dean to continue with the flashcards.

"Hey, Dad left us a little more money than normal, what do you say we go to the diner up the street? I'm sure you need like, brain fuel, or what ever if you even want to remember all this crap in the morning," Dean suggested. He picked up the index cards and stuffed him in his pocket and then picked up on of the many binders splayed out over the table. "We'll even take your stuff, we can study there. Let's blow this joint, Sammy."

Sam sighed and threw his notes down dejectedly. "I guess," he replied, rubbing his eyes, "but if I fail this shit, it's on you, asshole." He stood up from the table where he had been studying for the past few hours and walked over to his bed. He rummaged through the duffel bag that sat there and found a hoodie. "Yeah, I'm guess I'm kind of hungry," he continued. "I should probably load up on some coffee, too. It'll probably be a late one with all the stuff I still have to go over. Verb tenses, passé compose, imparfait, interogitif…" he trailed off. As he pulled the jacket over his head he added, "Maybe you could uh.. well.. uh you wanna join me? Keep me up?"

"Ah, Sammy, you don't need me buggin' you," Dean said, moving towards the door to leave, stopping to look back at Sam. That glance back was a mistake because Sam was making that stupid face that made Dean want to say yes to anything. Was the kid really pulling that face on him just because he didn't wanna be his study buddy all night?

"Please? What if I want you bugging me? I mean, I barely see you anymore with school and all," Sam said, shyly admitting in his own way that that he missed his big brother.

Dean leaned against the door and huffed. It was true. Dean was out of school and now Sam went by himself while Dean stayed at the motel researching cases for John and hunting with him on occasion. He didn't like to leave Sam on his own often, though, so he didn't leave for hunts too much. Sure, Sam was sixteen, but he was still… Sammy. He was Dean's responsibility, he couldn't leave him to potentially be hurt by demons and monsters and and… teenage girls. Dean looked at his brother's stupid, pleading eyes and felt his heart clench and even though he really did not want to pull an all nighter for some nerd test he didn't have to take, he sighed and said, "Alright, alright, just stop making that dumb face, you look like a kicked puppy."

Sam's face lit up with a smile, changing drastically as he let out a chuckle. "I know. That's why I make it. I am a master of manipulation. And you really don't like that one," he said triumphantly.

"Yeah, you bet I don't like it," Dean winked at his brother. "It makes you look uglier than you already are. Now get your ass out to the car and let's go," he said, finally opening the door and gesturing out of it. Sam walked out, bumping into Dean forcefully on his way. Dean couldn't help but grin at his brother, although he was a but annoyed about the whole puppy face deal because that little shit knew it would get Dean to do what he wanted. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean was his kid brother's bitch. He was a grown ass twenty year old man and he was his sixteen year old brother's bitch and he hated it.

He watched Sam crouch into the passenger seat of the Impala, all gangly and awkward, as he walked around to the driver's side. Sam still had that shit eating grin across his face as he sat down and started up the car. "Bitch," Dean spat, voice a bit on the harsh side, but his face betrayed the endearment hidden in the insult. He may be Sam's bitch, but he sure wasn't gonna let Sammy think that.

"No way, I'm not your bitch."

"I said you were a bitch, never said you were mine, kiddo." Dean retorted, eyes on the rearview mirror as he backed out. He turned his gaze to Sam, a mischevious gleam in his eyes. "That was all you."

"Shut up." Sam said, his smile wavering for just a second. Dean could have sworn he saw a blush rising in Sam's cheeks, but it was getting dark and the rain made the dusk dimmer than it normally would have been. Sam, feeling Dean's eyes on him, turned towards the window, suddenly fascinated by the raindrops racing each other across the glass.

They arrived at the diner ten minutes later and walked quickly out of the rain and into the restaurant, their feet leaving dirty boot prints on the red and white tiles. The sign at the front said " Seat Yer Self" and that is what they did, finding a booth in the corner away from the other customers. As they waited for a waiter to come to their table, Dean pulled the French flash cards from his pocket. He held them up for Sam to see and asked "You wanna?"

Sam looked at Dean over his menu and made a face of disgust. "Dude, I haven't eaten in, like, six hours, I couldn't care less about French until I get some food. Unless it's French fries. I care about those," he said, tapping the menu.

Dean smirked. The kid was cute, he had to give him that. But it was seriously weird that he didn't want to get back on the horse and study right away. "Ah come on, Sammy, you're always saying that you never have time to study cuz we're always dragging you places and now I am asking you to let me help you and you shoot me down. I don't see you're logic here, man."

"I dunno. I.. Let's just hang out right now, okay, Dean? Shoot the shit like we used to when you were still at school with me. I'll study later, but here.. Let's just hang out. Alright?" Sam replied, seeming a little nervous. And Sam giving up precious study time for Dean? The kid must really, really miss him if he was willing to do that.

Dean smiled and teased, "Slacking off? Maybe you're already spending too much time around me, little brother. Might be picking up on my old school habits."

"Maybe being more like you wouldn't be all that bad, you know. And I.. like you. I wouldn't mind," Sam shrugged, as if Dean hadn't been joking around. The kid took everything too seriously. Sam glanced up at Dean, almost furtively, checking over his face, and then looked away quickly.

Dean, hoping to pull Sam back into the playful banter that they had been having in the motel room, kicked Sam's shin under the table lightly and replied, " You don't just like me, you fucking worship me. And you're right to. I'm the end all be all of awesome."

"I admire your.. high self esteem, Dean," Sam said, smirking.

"Yeah? You think it's too much?" Dean inquired with feigned concern.

For a moment, Sam looked as though he was going to spit back another asshole comment, but his face soften again. "Nah, you've got it right. You're pretty damn great, Dean-o," he admitted and was he blushing again?

"With the blush you've got going on there, I'd think you had a big ol' crush on me, if I didn't know any better, Sammy," Dean jibed.

Sam's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "I.. I don't! What are you saying? Huh? No. Shut up. Stop talking. You're.. You're dumb."

"Woah there, bud, it was just a joke. Chill out, man. Jesus, what's that line? You're a nerd you know it. Uh, "Thou doth protest too much"? Yeah, that's it. You'd think I struck a nerve there, Sammy." Dean said, wondering what the hell was up with his brother.

"I… no.. you… Just.. What? Shut up," Sam replied, quite obviously flustered. Just then, the waitress walked up, a forty something woman with hair helmeted by hairspray and face caked with make up.

"What can I get for you boys?" she asked with a bored voice, barely looking at them.

Dean looked at her quickly, his eyes snapping back to Sam like there were held there with a magnet. Sam, on the other hand, was looking everywhere but Dean. "I'll have a burger, thanks," Dean said, pushing his menu across the table blindly. "Sammy?" he prompted after a moment of silence. Apparently, Sam had forgotten what he wanted.

"I.. uh. I'll just have the same?" he asked more than told the waitress. He smiled weakly at the woman and then averted his gaze back to the table.

" Alright, sweetie, I'll have that right out for you," she called over her shoulder as she walked back towards the counter to give the cook their order. That left Sam and Dean to sit in an awkward silence. Dean cleared his throat. Sam glanced up at him and then became fascinated with his own fingernails.

"So….." Dean began, wishing to end what ever the hell was happening here. If there was something happening. Was there? He coughed. "Dad'll probably be back soon. Maybe the next hunt will be somewhere drier. I've heard about some stuff that looks like it could be our kind of thing in California. Or maybe we can have Dad drop us at Bobby's, we haven't seen him in a while. Hell, too long. I miss Bobby, don't you?" Dean rambled, uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah.. I guess. But that means a new school." Sam sighed heavily, passing a hand over his face. "I don't know why I even try, man."

"Yeah barely had time to make any friends this time, did you? Or meet any chicks," Dean commented, glad Sam had responded with more than a one word response because that meant the weirdness was probably over. Relieved, Dean slouched down in his side of the booth, his knee hitting Sam's in the process. The booth was small and the kid was damn tall, took up more than his fair share of space. Dean didn't mind, though, just let his leg rest on the outside of Sam's. Sam's knee floated, no flew, away from Dean's almost immediately, so far that his outside leg was now sticking out into the aisle. Dean didn't think much of it. Sammy probably just didn't want to feel cramped.

"Nah, I don't need friends, I got you," Sam remarked. "What I meant was why do I even try with the studying and the school work when I know I am just going to move. I can't tell you how many times I have learned about the Battle of the Bulge this year, Dean, I swear where ever we move, the school we pick for me is always behind. It's just.. It's fucking stupid."

Dean smirked. "It ain't stupid, you're gonna be the first college educated hunter this side of the US. And by this side of the US, I mean all of it. Joe College with a minor in demon hunting. That's why you try. You're a genius, man, maybe even better than Bobby. You make us proud. That's why you do it," he said, beaming at his little brother.

"Dad will never go for that and you know it. I can't go to college. I need to stay with you and do what you do. You know he is itching for the day I graduate so we can all go hunting together and cover more ground. The family business, you know the spiel," Sam said, moping. "Anyway," he continued, a teasing tone sneaking into his voice, "what are you going to do without your kid brother to look after, huh?"

"Who said I won't be looking after you? Somebody's gonna have to put you through school. I mean you're a smart kid, you'll get a scholarship, but that doesn't pay for food, clothes, or an apartment. I could get a job in a garage or something." He smiled and continued, "Yeah. That's what we'll do. Never would let you go out there on your own, kiddo. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

Sam fidgeted and returned Dean's smile. "I'd like that. But Dad wouldn't. You know he would never let us get out of the hunt until he finds what got Mom. Maybe he wouldn't even go for that after he kills it. Hell, if he even heard us considering it, you know he would blow his top." He wrinkled his brow and said, in a gruff voice, "Boys! This is the family business. What part of family do you not understand? You two are all I've got and I am all you've got so, best get your asses in gear and your guns in hand. You're a Winchester, this is what Winchesters do.' You've heard that rant as many times as I have. So, let's not get our hearts set on… on something we can't have, Dean," he finished, and his eyes broke away from his hands and locked with Dean's. What he saw in his little brother's eyes was startling. There was a longing there, something deep and sorrowful, something that was breaking Sam, hurting him even as they spoke here. He didn't think Sam was so emotionally invested in the whole going to college deal. Maybe that wasn't it though. Maybe it was something else. And Dean was going to find out what is was and destroy it because Sammy was too young to have that look in his eyes already, God dammit. It was a hopeless look. He couldn't let Sam hurt like that.

"I…" Dean began, not sure what to say to make things better, to make Sam look less like he was just told he could never have the only thing he wanted in life. Maybe it was the school thing. Maybe that was all he wanted. Maybe Dean was overanalyzing. "You know, Pop's still got two and a half years to find this thing before you graduate. He could be done by then." Sam frowned at his brother's observation, doubt written all over his face. "Hey, Sammy. Sam, I'll get you there. No matter what it takes." Dean meant it, too. If Sammy wanted to be Joe College, to be a normal kid, then God dammit, he'd get there. Even if Dean couldn't come with him to look after him. It would kill him to be away from his baby brother, but he'd suffer for Sam's happiness. Shaking the thought of being without Sam from his mind, Dean changed the subject, "Now, we came here to take your mind off school , didn't we? So stop your moping and let's talk about something else. Anything else."

"Just a second, Dean. I'm okay. If I don't go, I'm okay if Dad doesn't let me. I mean, shit, if I hang around Bobby long enough, it will be almost the same thing as getting a college education in religion or folklore or mythology. He throws so much information at us, it must be worth something. But I will be perfectly fine if I just stay with you." He smiled weakly, then quickly added, "And Dad." His face fell, the weird look returning to his eyes.

Fuck, Dean hated that look and, dammit, did he love Sammy. It was moments like this when feeling flooded over him, drowning him with this all abiding love for Sam. It hurt his chest and, Jesus, it hurt ten times worse when Sam was sad. Dean didn't know what to do besides move his leg to touch Sam's again, seeing that he was too far away to punch the kid in the shoulder. "Why the poop face, then?"

"Nothing. Hungry, that's all. And I mean, we've been on kind of a heavy subject, Dean. It's not like my future is all rainbows and unicorns," Sam responded, this time letting his leg rest against Dean's.

"Maybe unicorns," Dean said, lifting his eyebrows.

"No way, man. There is no way in fuck that unicorns are real," Sam laughed, weakly.

"You never know, Sammy, you never know. When we see one, you better believe I am gonna say I told you so," Dean chuckled. "Oh look, grub's here."

The waitress approached the table with two identical plates with hamburgers and fries piled on them. "There you go, handsome," she said, setting one plate in front of Dean. " And one for you too, sweetheart," she sighed while setting the second plate in front of Sam. "Anything else I can get you boys?" she asked, sounding more bored than ever.

"Yeah, we'll have some apple pie when we're done with these," Dean said, flashing her a smile. "Oh and two coffees, please." She nodded and walked away to talk to the other waitresses huddled behind the counter. He picked up the burger in front of him and messily took a bite. "Hey," he spoke through his full mouth, "if we eat this fast enough, maybe we'll be back at the motel in time to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer... That Sarah Michelle Gellar chick is pretty hot."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, too hot for the likes of you," he said, picking up a fry.

"I think you will find she's not hot enough. I'm the hottest piece of ass on God's green earth, don't you doubt it," Dean replied, stuffing his face with a fist full of French fries. And just like that the playful banter between the two boys resumed and lasted for the rest of their dinner.

Around one AM, Dean convinced the kid it was time to go to sleep. He had to be up at five and four hours of sleep would do him better than any amount of studying could do at this point. And Sam looked damned tired, dark circles under his eyes, yawning every five minutes, the whole shebang. He watched as his little brother pull his shirt and jeans off and clumsily crawl into his bed. As soon as Sam was settled, Dean switched off the lights, leaving the room to be illuminated only by the light flashing from the small muted television on the opposite side of the room. He left the television muted for a while longer, just until he was sure Sam had fallen asleep. As he reached for the remote to switch the sound back on, he heard Sam stir behind him quietly.

"Dean?"

"What's up, Sammy?"

"I just wanted to say.. I dunno."
"What, Sammy?"

"Just wanted to say that I love you.. We don't.. We don't say that enough, you know."

"Right back at you, Sammy. Love you, too. Love you more," Dean replied, his heart aching. They didn't say it enough. Normally, they didn't have to. They just knew.

"No. You don't, Dean. You really don't," Sam replied in a drowsy voice. "You can't." And with that, it seemed as though Sam fell immediately into a deep sleep.

You can't. What did he mean, he can't? Sure, he fucking can. Sam didn't know how much he loved him. Dean switched off the TV, having lost interest in the low budget horror flick that had been running. He pulled off his own street clothes and crawled into his own bed, only to lie there for the next hour wondering at what his brother had meant.

At two AM, he checked to make sure the alarm was set to wake Sammy in time for school, then closed his eyes and drifted into sleep himself.

The next morning, Dean awoke to Sam mumbling, "God fucking dammit, shut up, OH FUCK ME," followed by the crash of the alarm clock being knocked to the floor. He groaned and put his arm over his eyes.

"Always so graceful, Sam. Eloquent, too," he said, his voice raspy with sleep.

"I was trying to turn it off before it woke you up," Sam replied quietly.

"It's the thought that counts," Dean huffed, sitting up in bed. "What time is your test at, nerd?"

"Seven thirty," Sam answered, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

"And you need to get up at five o'clock why?" Dean called to him, stretching his arms out to the side.

"Gotta study!" Sam yelled back over the sound of water as he turned on the shower faucet.

"Alright, geek boy. Wake me up when you get out," and he collapsed back into bed, closing his eyes and drifting back into a half-slumber.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was shaking his shoulder. "Dean, hey, go shower. We gotta get food before school."

"This isn't even fair, I don't even go to school, why do I have to wake up for it," Dean said, whining childishly and pulling the blanket up over his head.

"Dean," Sam said, his voice stern, just like their father's was before berating them with yet another lecture.

Dean pushed the blanket back down and opened on eye to look at his brother. The kid wasn't even dressed yet, he was just in his underwear for Christ's sake, and they had two hours until they had to leave. He had plenty of time to sleep in. "You're a shit, you know that?"

"Get up."

"Make me," Dean grunted, and rolled over so his back faced the side of the bed where his brother stood.

The next thing he knew, Sam had tackled him on his mattress and began slapping his head like a bongo drum. "Time to get up, asshat!" he yelled.

"AH STOP! STOP. I'm up, God dammit. I'm up. Jesus H. Christ," he yelled, and Sam stopped hitting his head but remained sitting on top of him. "I said I'm up, you gonna let me out of the bed?" he asked when Sam didn't move.

"Yeah. Just didn't think you were gonna give up that easy I guess," he said, sounding somewhat more disappointed than triumphant. He got up off Dean and sat at the foot of his bed.

"I'm the one that is letting you off easy, bucko. Watch out or you'll get what's coming to you," Dean teased as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Sure, old man," Sam replied. "You just keep telling yourself that, if it helps you sleep at night."

"I'm gonna kick your ass straight into tomorrow, you know that right?" Dean said, turning to face Sam again. Sam smiled and made a "bring it on" gesture with his hand. "You asked for it, kid."

Dean lunged at his brother, knocking him over easily, seeing that he had been sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. He pinned Sam's arms on either side of his head and held him down, his face just inches from his brother's.
"Any last words, fuckface?" he breathed, smirking at how easily he took Sam down. It was almost like.. Sam wanted him to. Like he started the whole thing just to get Dean to-

Dean's train of thought was interrupted by the feeling of Sam's lips crashing into his own. He took in a sharp breath of surprise, unsure of how to react. Do I pull away I'm supposed to pull away what if dad comes home right now do I kiss back do I want to kiss back am I kissing Sam why aren't I moving godammit. His thoughts flew a mile a minute. He didn't pull away. He just froze. Sam broke the kiss after a short moment that felt like a century.

"Shit. Dean. I'm s.. Fuck. Let me up," Sam said shakily after looking over his brother's face. But Dean didn't move. He just sat there, staring at the young man he had pinned under him. "Dean," Sam said again. "Let me up. I'm sorry, Dean."

Finally, Dean broke out of his freeze and said, "What for?"
He felt just as confused as Sam looked about his response. What did he mean what for? Of course he knew what for. His brother just kissed him. On the mouth. And it wasn't like a European, platonic brother kiss. He squinted at his brother's face below him again and noticed his eyes had the same look they had had in them at the dinner last night. Snippets of their conversation flooded back to him.

So, let's not get our hearts set on… on something we can't have, Dean.

Nah, I don't need friends, I got you.

No. You don't, Dean. You really don't. You can't.

And it all made sense. The longing in his eyes wasn't a longing to be normal. It was longing for Dean. Sam just wanted Dean to be with him always, to be his. And that is what Dean wanted to. For Sammy to always be with him. To always be his. He loved Sam. Of course he did.

"What?" Sam asked, bewildered. "W- Dean what?"

Dean look at Sam's eyes one more time and he was decided right there. He never thought about it before, he hadn't let himself, but he knew then he wanted what Sam wanted. This is where they had always been heading.

"You said you loved me, right?"

"Yes. You're my brother, Dean, of course I love you," Sam answered warily, avoiding Dean's eyes.

"And I said I loved you more, right?"

"Yeah, but you don't mean it like I-"

Dean put a finger to Sam's mouth, stopping his speech. He put a hand on either side of Sam's face and whispered, "Hey, look at me." Sam's eyes met with Dean's, hopeful and scared. Slowly, Dean bent down to met Sam's lips in another gentle kiss. And in that moment, he realized their lives could not go back to the way they had been before.

He loved Sam and that was the beginning and end of everything.