A/N: This is part of a challenge I have given myself that I've decided to call Project Winchester. Basically, I'm going to write a drabble, ficlet, oneshot, chapter-fic, song-fic, tag, or missing scene to every Supernatural episode. This is the first in this little adventure and it's a drabblet to 'Pilot', I hope you like it.
1x01 – Pilot
"Confession"
The Impala is roaring under Sam's body, humming like it's happy to have a passenger back in the seat next to Dean. It comforts Sam in ways that he'd forgotten were possible. He's been in one spot for two years now but he's never felt more at home than he did in that moment, with the Impala's leather surrounding him. It's not enough to make him want to come back to this kind of life, but it's enough to send a sharp pain ricocheting through his chest. He hasn't felt it in a long time now but he'd recognize the feeling anywhere: home sickness. It's weird because they haven't had a home in twenty two years, but home has always been with the Impala and with Dean. And he knows he has definitely missed his big brother.
Dean is next to him, singing along to Metallica and tapping his hands on the steering wheel in time to the drums in the song. He looks more carefree than Sam can remember him being in a time. When Sam left, Dean had been tense and quiet, a ticking time bomb ready to explode with a feather touch. Now Dean looks the way Sam feels, like he's at home and nothing can touch him.
His brother's happiness makes Sam's lips quirk a bit and a nostalgic feeling settling over him as Dean's voice goes out of pitch on a high note. It's moments like these that almost made him stay. He knew leaving Dean behind to live a normal life was going to be tough and he can't even count how many times he picked up the phone and then set it back down, or second guessed his choice about leaving. Just because he wanted normal and he didn't want to hunt doesn't mean he didn't want his brother in his life. Sam frowns as he realizes he never got to tell Dean that.
"You know, your loud thinking is ruining my favorite Metallica song," Dean says, looking over at Sam with a fake annoyed expression.
Sam hadn't even realized Dean had turned down the radio but he recovers quickly, "They're all your favorite songs."
"That's cause it's good music."
"Cassettes. Mullet Rock. What part of that says 'good music' to you?" Sam asks, half smiling.
"All of it." Dean's response is immediate and passionate.
"Right," Sam sarcastically relents, a full on dimpled smile now on his face.
"Well it's better than that emo, sissy stuff you must listen to," Dean teases, a smirk on his face.
Sam just keeps smiling, causing Dean to get an expression on his face that clearly says he's weirded out.
"Dude, what's with the happy face?" Dean asks, his eyes shifting back and forth from Sam to the road.
Sam doesn't reply and Dean catches Sam's smile fade a little into a hesitant, almost regretful expression, "I missed you, ya know?"
The admission is soft, somber. Dean wonders how they went from banter to serious in no time flat, and without warning. Dean's lips press together in irritation. It was Sam's choice to leave and to initiate radio silence. But mostly Dean's irritation is just an attempt to keep his throat from tightening up. Watching Sam leave and letting him go was the hardest thing he had ever done, and he's felt it every day of those two years. Knowing that Sam missed him means more to Dean than he'd like to admit.
Dean smacks on a smile, trying to cover the turmoil inside of him, "What'd I tell you about chick flick moments, Samantha?"
Sam rolls his eyes and smiles, not at all affected by the jab, "Jerk."
"Bitch," is Dean's instantaneous retort.
They go a few minutes in relative silence; Metallica fills in for all the talking they're not doing. Sam didn't expect a reaction any different than the one he got; Dean doesn't do feelings and talking very well. Sam is perfectly content just reading between the lines in his brother's mannerisms, which say all the things Dean can't. That's why he's surprised as hell when Dean speaks a few more minutes later.
"Hey, Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
There's a pause, a guitar rift in Metallica's Ride the Lightening, and then Dean mutters, "Me too."
Sam smiles, trying not to let his shock show too much and settles back into the leather of the seat, lazily enjoying the miles between Stanford and Jericho.