Dean shifted in his seat and poured himself another shot, glancing ever so often at Sam's sleeping figure. Dean was tired. He was ready for everything that the Winchester's, as a family, had gone through to be over and done with. Every loose end tied up, every monster and demon slayed, Lucifer forever locked in the Cage, Heaven at peace, and most of all, for Sam to finally settle down and live his apple pie life. Dean wished all of this, and for a moment, his drunk brain even thought it was real. This moment of peace, broken, by Sam's soft moans of discomfort.
'Dammit,' Thought Dean, in a daze. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, chugging the last sips.
Dean remembered his talk with Bobby about how much Sam had grown and how hard they both were on him. Dean considered Sam his son. Yes, Ben had, in all sense and purposes, been his surrogate son, but Sam was really the closest thing Dean had to real son. And like all Father's, Dean had to be hard on him. He had seen and watched as Sam grew from baby to boy to man. Dean had witnessed Sam's growth and was amazed at how much Sam had blossomed. Dean felt from the bottom of his heart, to the tips of his toes, and everything else in between, nothing but a sense of powerful pride for himself, and Sam. The feeling was so strong, Dean could feel the tears collect in small pools and threaten to fall.
With the bottle finally empty, Dean stretch his arms and legs in the chair, painfully sore from so many hours of just thinking. Dean settled again when Sam began to move, scared he had awakened the sleeping moose. Sam calmed down and began to lightly snore, Dean then contemplated another thought. Sam didn't need Dean anymore, he really didn't. The year that Dean was gone to Purgatory had proved just that. Sam was able to handle himself with ease, and had done well in living a life that was normal and (almost)carefree. This made Dean's heart ache. He didn't feel needed anymore, almost like his real job had been completed. Dean's hands fidgeted with the bottle. Maybe this was the closest he would ever get to see his kid grow up, maybe this is what it felt like for normal parents to see their baby walk across the stage for high school graduation, or when they leave the house and never look back. What was that called again? Empty nest syndrome? Dean shook his head, too much of a chic flick name for his current feeling.
Sighing, Dean got up slowly from his seat. Bones creaking as he went. He shed his top layer of clothing, settling into bed and as he began to slip into slumber, pictures of Sam slowly growing up filled his tired head.
