Disclaimer: I do not own, though I want to.
A/N: Please don't hold any of my grammar/spelling mistakes against me. I tried.
Dear Sam,
I miss you, dude. dad is so quiet now, and not his usual quiet either. He doesn't hunt anymore, and he just sits at home all the time, watching infomercials with his eyes looking right through the screen. he only talks to me when I ask her a direct question, and even then he can't bare to look at me.
I can't wait to see you again. Dad says you're never coming back, that you don't care about us but I know that you do. I know you will come back.
Please write back soon,
Dean
Dear Sam,
It's been four months since my last number, where have you been? I checked the mailbox everyday for a month but then dad started laughing at me so I would only check when he wasn't there. I feel like such a fucking wuss and the damn time. I know you're probably busy with your big goals and shit but writing or calling your brother shouldn't be that hard, especially since we've been in the same place since you left. I just want word, Sam, that's all. Just tell me how you are kiddo, okay?
Please write soon,
Dean
Dear Sam,
It's been a fucking year, man, this shit is getting ridiculous. Where the fuck are you? Dad left seven months ago and hasn't been back, he said looking at me was 'too fucking hard' 'cause all he saw anymore were the two people he had lost. You need to fucking write me, Sam, I'm going crazy. If you're not careful I'm gonna come up to Stanford and embarrass you in front of all your college buddies. Is that what you're afraid of Sam? Do you just want to cut me off because I'm too fucking pathetic for your new little life? Well, fuck you, Sammy, you don't get to make those choices.
Now pick up a fucking pen and write me,
Dean
Dear Sam,
A year and a half now. Even Bobby says you're not coming back and that I need to 'get a hold of myself' and move on. I just want a letter, Sam. It doesn't even have to be a full one just a 'hi, big brother' or a 'I'm alright'. When you left I was under the impression that it was dad you were ditching, not me. Not us. Is that what all this is about? Because of what I said before you left? 'cause we can just forget all of that. I was kind of drunk. None of it matters. Just fucking write me, Sammy. Give me a little slack here.
Please,
Dean
To: RobertSinger email . com
From: SWinchester otheremail . com
Subject: Dean.
Hey, Bobby, I'm writing this to you on a library computer in a little town right outside of California. I know you're going to be pissed, but I needed to lay everything out in the open and ask you to do something very important. I can't do this anymore, Bobby. I'm lying. To everyone. All the time, and it's just getting to fucking hard. At first, it was okay, I just put myself into denial and the fact that nothing could ever come of it kind of satisfied me. I was gonna leave the 'family business' and go to Stanford and be a lawyer and be all respectable as fucking hell. And then dad flipped his lid, which I expected, and Dean was mad but understanding through his fog of betrayal. He knew that this was me, what I had to do. And then he fucking switched all the tables on me, Bobby. Coming home drunk and telling me that he loved me but 'no, no not in that way. Not in the good brother way. Nooo. So much fucking more than that', and I couldn't hide in my excuses anymore. If he felt that way, like I know he feels that way, then I could fuck up everything because I can't fucking say no. Dean doesn't believe in God, Bobby, but he does believe in Hell, and so do I. We'd go there, we'd both go there and I can't fucking take my chances. A few years at Stanford, a lifetime of staying away from Dean wouldn't be enough, because I know me and I know I can't stay away from him of my own will. So I'm watching out for him like he always watched out for me. I'm ending it, Bobby.
I know you're mad, fucking pissed, and I know I'm an idiot in your book now, and I bet you're just the tiniest bit revolted, even though you love Dean and I in everyway you know how to. This is what I have to do, what I'm going to do. I need you to tell Dean I'm at college, as planned, tell Dad too if you want, doesn't much matter to me, but make sure he doesn't tell Dean. Just tell Dean I'm at college, and then when the time is up, tell him that I'm in some obscure town living my life with a wife and some kids and that I want nothing to do with him. That I'm too fucking good for him. I want him to hate me, Bobby, loathe me, it's the only way he'll be safe.
I love you Bobby, in that emotional, sticky, chick-flicky, father-son way that makes you cringe.
Be safe, old man,
Sam
Dear Sam,
Fuck you.
Dean
Author's Note: Bet you didn't see that coming! At least, I hope you didn't. This is my first SPN fanfic, maybe my last, I don't know, but I've been watching the show so it was fresh in my head. I hope you all liked it. Please review, tell me what you think!
-Lucy