Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of Supernatural. All credit goes to the CW and Eric Kripke, I'm simply playing with their creation.
A/N: Finally, I wrote a story! Definitely not the greatest story on here, but for a first try, I'll go with it. Hope you enjoy it!
Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. Even the soothing sounds of Metallica emanating from the radio could not drain the tension from his muscles. Ever since the brothers had left Concrete, Washington hours earlier, silence had descended upon the Impala's residents, hardly a word or two of conversation exchanged. Feeling slightly awkward, Dean coughed a little, trying to break the silence. While he was hoping for a response, Dean was disappointed when he cast a sidelong glance at Sam in the passenger seat, who was engaged in one of his new favorite past-times – staring with blank eyes at nothing in particular. Sam's body radiated tension as his thoughts focused inwards.
Dean used to pride himself in being able to read his brother's emotions as if they were written in bold, neon letters across his forehead. But Dean found that since his return from "down under," a wall had formed behind Sam's eyes, one so impenetrable that Dean found himself lost in regards to his brother. In the past few weeks, the only in-depth conversations they had either ended in an argument or the silent treatment. What with Sam's new excorcising-demons-with-the-power-of-his-mind kick and friggin' Ruby back in the picture, both of which were found out about by accident, Dean didn't quite have the luxury of boasting of his Sam-reading abilities any longer.
But wasn't that just the crux of the problem? The man that used to Sammy had changed; so much so that Dean really didn't know who his brother was anymore. When he thought back on the years before Sam had left for Stanford, and even the year after Dean pulled Sam back to the hunt, Sam was his innocent self, the light in Dean's evil-darkened life. His soft, green, puppy-dog eyes warmed the hearts of anyone they met, and his shining personality connected to strangers in a way that never ceased to amaze Dean. His brother was special, the treasure of the Winchester family.
But now, it seemed that the new Sam was hard and cold and, to be honest, more than a little frightening. Sam entered the hunt with a previously unseen vigor, even after Jessica's death. He took risks that he never would have taken before. His words were clipped, his sentences short, and his usual intelligent humor was extremely rare, as if moments of light-heartedness were a thing of the past. Dean tried as hard as he could to bring a smile to Sam's face, oftentimes making a fool out of himself in the process. And yet, Sam remained as stoic as ever. His usual calming effect on those they met on hunts had changed to an air of intimidation. For the first time in Dean's memory, the random people they met turned to him rather than Sam for comfort. Dean remembered their conversation in front of the wishing well at Lucky Chins.
Sam and Dean were investigating the well, searching for any clue as to what was making the town's wishes come true. Not finding anything, the brothers stood up. Dean thought for a moment, then asked Sam while chucking a coin at his brother, "Come on, aren't you a little bit tempted?"
Sam chuckled and handed back the coin, "No. Wouldn't be real, wouldn't trust it."
Dean took it, shaking his head and quirked an eyebrow, "I don't know, that bear seemed pretty real."
"Yeah…"
Dean pressed on, "Come on, if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started... Think about it – you'd be some big, yuppie lawyer with a nice car, white picket fence—"
Sam shook his head, a small smile on his face, "Not what I'd wish for."
Taken aback, Dean responded, "Seriously?"
"It's too late to go back to our old lives, Dean," Sam explained. "I'm not that guy anymore."
Sam was right. He isn't the same guy anymore. And that's the part that absolutely killed Dean. The sweet little brother that Dean had given his soul to save had been replaced by this cold and reserved man, one who Dean found difficulty connecting with anymore.
When did this happen? When did Dean lose the most important person in his life? At first, Dean had thought this was just Sam reeling from having Dean back among the living. But once Dean really thought about it, he recalled being the recipient of this attitude from Sam for a while now.
Dean would never admit it, but he missed the days when it was the three Winchester men, together through thick and thin, complete with John's absentmindedness, Dean's disregard to anything resembling authority (except for John, of course), and Sam's geeky habits. When they always had each other, no matter what came their way. What Dean wouldn't give to return to the good ol' days, when they had their dad, there were no psychic abilities, and no trips to and from hell…
Taking a deep breath, Dean forced his attention to the present. With a jolt, he took notice of his very empty gas tank, with the needle resting solidly on the E mark. Steeling himself against the inevitable, Dean pulled into the nearest truck stop, thinking that the sudden movement would for sure be cause for a reaction. Sam merely turned his head slightly to the right, his eyes showing a slight note of inquisitiveness to his surroundings before reverting back to their usual introspective state.
"Hey, Sam." Sam jolted a bit and shook his head of his reverie, turning to his brother. "Go get us some food, I'm about to starve to death."
"Sure," Sam huskily replied, his voice raspy from not having used it for so long. He opened his door and slipped out of the car. Dean watched him enter the convenience shop, then sighed and went to pump gas into the car.
Ten minutes later Dean found himself sitting in the driver's seat, gas paid for and the car rearing to go, but still no sign of Sam. What's taking him so long? Dean huffed and stepped out of the car again, striding towards the shop. A slight twinkling of bells announced his appearance, and a few heads turned absentmindedly towards the new arrival. Dean's eyes roamed over the store, looking for the distinctive brown mop of hair standing a full head above everyone else. Finally, Dean spotted him at a small spinner-rack of books. Confused, Dean moved towards him. Upon closer inspection, Dean found Sam fully engrossed in a paperback, oblivious to the world around him.
"Whatcha readin', geek-boy?"
Startled, Sam ripped his eyes away from the book, saw of his brother, and grinned goofily. This uncharacteristic reaction reminded Dean of the years before Stanford when Sam would find such happiness in reading, back when things were so much simpler… Don't go down that road again, Winchester. Focus.
Sam said, "Uh… I'm just reading. This book… Never mind. It's nothing." His smile fading, Sam gave the book one a final, wistful look and started to put the book back in the rack. "Sorry, I got side-tracked. I'll get the food."
"No, wait. What book is this?" Dean reached and snatched the book from Sam's hands. "'Odd Thomas' by Dean Koontz?"
Sam looked uncomfortable as he responded, "Yeah, it's this book I read a while back… Forget it; like I said, it's nothing."
"I dunno, Sam. You looked like you'd just found the Holy Grail when I walked in here." Dean smirked and pressed the book into Sam's hands. "Get it, Sam. We're allowed to splurge every once in a while."
"Dean, honestly… It's okay. Let's just get the food and leave."
"Why can't you just get the book?" Dean inquired, wondering why his brother was being so stubborn about a friggin' book.
Sam dodged the question by asking another, "Why do you keep insisting I get the stupid thing? It's not that big of a deal! Besides, we don't—" Sam broke off, looking like down at his shoes as if they were suddenly the most fascinating thing on the planet.
Aha. "We don't what, Sam? Don't have time? Of course, we have time! We don't have another job lined up, and if anyone deserves some down-time, Sammy, it's us." Dean wasn't just talking about the book anymore, and they both knew it.
"Dean…" Sam began, looking around to make sure there weren't any eavesdroppers. Sam's voice dropped to a whisper. "We are on the brink of apocalypse. We can't afford 'down-time,'" Sam finished in a dull, flat voice.
"Sam, listen to me. What will come, will come. We can handle whatever comes our way, so there's no point in obsessing over it. I'm guessing that's what's been going through your head recently, am I right?" Sam opened his mouth in protest, but Dean continued, "You need to learn to live again, Sam! I know the last few months haven't been… easy… But you gotta believe me, Sammy – there are things to live for that don't deal with putting your neck on the line every second of every day. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to just relax for a little while, to be brothers again. It's been too long." Dean looked away, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.
Sam once again turned his gaze downwards, remaining quiet for a few moments. Dean knew that he had pressed his luck with his self-initiated chick-flick moment, but he felt it needed to be said.
Just as Dean was about to give up any hope for a response, Sam took a shaky breath and said in a small voice, "You're right… I just – it's been hard. I've had a lot on my mind recently…" Sam stuffed his hands awkwardly in his pockets and shuffled his feet.
"I know." I'm sorry, Sam.
Sam nodded vigorously in an effort to compose himself. He looked up at Dean, smiled and said, "Give me the book, Dean. I'll get it." I'll try, Dean. I'll try.
Returning the smile, Dean handed his brother the book, and they walked up to the counter to make their purchase, grabbing some food along the way. As they walked out to the Impala, with Sam's new book clutched in his hands, the tension that had surrounded them earlier was diminished.
The two of them took their respective seats in the car. Dean started the Impala, letting the roar of the engine and the chords of Metallica wash over him. Turning to his brother, he saw Sam already hungrily reading his book. A wave of nostalgia overcame him, and Dean felt like he was 18 years old again with his scrawny little brother in the passenger seat, reading another one of his endless novels.
Sam must have felt his brother's gaze because he looked up and met Dean's eyes. His eyes twinkling with a happiness Dean had not seen in God only knows how long, Sam grinned at his brother before returning to his book.
Dean exhaled contentedly and drove out of the truck stop. They weren't back to normal yet. Who knows if they ever would be. But when Dean looked at Sam, at that moment, he didn't see the formidable man that had been hanging around the last few weeks.
He saw his little brother. His Sammy. And for now, that was all he needed.