"Dean, I'm scared. I miss you. Why did they have to split us up?" the small voice on the other end of the phone broke Dean's heart, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to hold his baby brother close to him and make everything (at least seem) better.
"I know, bud, hey it's going to be ok, ya hear me? I'll…I'll find some way to get you back, don't you worry, Sammy." His voice broke, and his sweaty hands gripped the red spiral corded phone in the clean foyer, his knees shaking from stress and utter exhaustion. The heavy smell of cinnamon spice was pungent as it wafted in from the main hallway, making his nose twitch and a headache began to brew in his temples. He could hear the TV was still on – some lousy, late night sit com no doubt – and his new foster parents were no doubt curled up on the love seat like a couple of sods from a teenage romance novel. They were a nice couple in their mid-twenties, new at fostering, wanted kids but couldn't have any for obvious reasons – a semi unusual occurrence for Dean. Typically, he had to deal with two old crows who were having nest issues and couldn't stand the house not having kids of all ages running around screaming their fool heads off. Frankly, Dean would never understand why that kind of household would be a desirable one, but "to each their own", as one of his past teachers had said many a times when describing art work in his history class.
"Deeeaann, why can't I see you now? Why can't you go to the big mean social people and say you wanna be with me?" Sammy's whining and crying dragged him out of his dazed thoughts and caused him to smile sadly and cup the bottom of the receiver. He imagined Sam's eyes were puffy, red and glistening with tears, his bottom lip puckered out and his little brows furrowed in frustration. His cheeks were probably red from all the crying and he was sure there was probably also a streak of snot making its way down to his upper lip. The image was painted so painfully well in his mind that he could feel that tingling sensation in the back of his throat working its way up to his eyes. He pulled in his chapped bottom lip, his teeth sinking into the rough surface and slowly biting down harder until the physical pain masked the emotional, and he swallowed it down, determined not to get so soft when Sam clearly needed him.
"It's not that easy, buddy. There's a lot to go through to do that and I don't think I have the power – I'm so sorry, Sammy. I really do wanna be with you, you know that, but we…have to be apart for right now. It's just like a little vacation from each other, yeah? Nothing permanent. I'll be seeing you sooner than you can say 'new foster parents', OK?" Dean heard the TV click off and his blood froze when the noisy growls of yawns came from the other room. Even though Stevie and Corrin were pretty lenient about bed time and just about anything else, they did have a small rule that the phone was off limits after 10pm. Dean had inwardly shaken his head at himself when he'd seen the time as he'd dialed in Sam's new foster home number, it having been well after 10:30pm. They had one simple, small rule, and he couldn't even stand to follow that. He was sure he wouldn't last long in this one.
"I know, but Dean- ", Sam was interrupted by another gruff voice, his foster father no doubt, calmly ordering him to get off the phone and "go to bed, for God's sake!". Sam sniffled and obeyed, saying goodbye to Dean in the quickest, smallest voice that Dean knew to be his tired and afraid voice.
The line went dead before he could get his own goodbye in, whispering it afterwards anyways in a slow drawn breath. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he nearly jumped three feet into the air, his heart thrumming erratically.
"Dean, hon, why are you up so late on the phone? Didn't we say it wasn't to be used after 10?" Corrin's smooth voice came from behind him and he gulped.
"I was just talking to my little brother. He really misses me. Why did they split us apart?" he turned then, his watery eyes wide and pleading for answers. They looked down at him with pitying expressions, and Stevie knelt to just below his eye level.
"I don't know, sweetie, it was just what the social services people thought would be best. Maybe they saw how codependent you two are and figured it would be best to separate you to ensure stronger attitudes. For us it was just because we're so inexperienced and we weren't sure we could handle taking care of two kids." She tried to explain, and Dean knew she meant well, but it still stung a little. He'd been in the foster care loop for 6 years now since his parents had died in the weird house fire and he knew that no matter what house they ended up at, it was always Dean who took care of Sam – not some fruity people filled with good intentions. None of them knew Sam as well as Dean did.
But now that Sam was two towns over with some new unknown people, and Dean was nowhere near to take care of him, he wasn't sure how they could both survive. Those bad social people (not all of them were bad, but since their original social person retired last month and was replaced by a much meaner one, Dean was thinking otherwise) had been right to think they were so codependent, but wouldn't that have been a sign to not separate them? He couldn't understand why they would think that would be a great idea, and he knew he couldn't let it stand for long – he was going to get back to Sam somehow.
When he didn't say anything back to Stevie's explanation, instead simply staring vacantly off to the right at a tall mirror, she stood back up and Corrin helped guide him down the hallway and up the stairs to his new bedroom. He'd been quite pleased with it, to his foster parent's surprise, because it was the only time they'd seen him even close to being somewhat happy. It was a rather normal sized room, except instead of a ceiling there were large pane windows that formed a slight arch over the room. It had especially blown his mind when they'd showed it to him at night (soon after he'd first arrived) since they lived in the outer circle of a city with tall, lit up skyscrapers. If he squinted hard enough he could even see some stars since they weren't too clouded by the city lights. The rest of the room was fairly simple, the walls being a rich periwinkle with cartoonish drawings of planets and stars, the full bed on a platform with two long stairs against a wall which had cut in shelves and sections of smalls drawers. The door jutted out somewhat from a wall that was slanted at a 70 or so degree angle, one side having indents for steps up to the flat roof where they kept a small garden - there was even a pull out couch in the wall on the other side of the jutted out door. It had definitely taken his thoughts off of Sam for about an hour and a half, though really all the while he was thinking – Sam would love this.
Stevie ushered him to his bed and pulled back the crisp, clean covers, giving him a faint smile as he climbed in. His new Ghostbusters pajamas were also something that made him grin – he wasn't really sure why, but just the idea of guys running around snatching ghosts and making a business and even a way of life from just baffled his mind. It was just a fictional movie, but sometimes he had to wonder if there really were ghosts and monsters out there in the dark. Of course when he was with Sam he never thought too much about it considering he didn't want to scare his little brother, but since he was seemingly on his own if only for a couple of days (if he could help it), there was more time to think about things he'd been more or less too busy to think about before.
Corrin and Stevie wished him a good night from the open doorway and turned off the lights before closing the door behind them with a soft click. Dean laid back and stared up through the windows at the vast world around him, watching as a helicopter slowly buzzed by, little lights flashing on its belly and tail. He wished he could hitch a ride and see Sam. Surely the pilots wouldn't mind a small detour, Sam's town wasn't really that far away, plus helicopters could travel much farther and quicker than cars stuck on the ground could. Better yet, he wished he could fly. He wished Sam could fly too – then they could go far, far away from people and live in a cave or on a mountain like old hermits, free to do whatever they wanted, whenever.
Dean smiled at the idea and felt his eyes aching to close, and he allowed them to with a heavy yawn. He was asleep in minutes, a grin still hanging on his lips. He knew would think of a plan to get them back together and away from all the bad social service people – no matter what it took.