Confessions

Sam slid out of the wrong side of the impala; that is to say, the driver's side. It wasn't entirely unusual for him to drive his brother's car, but without him, in the passenger's seat or waiting at whatever crappy motel they were staying at, it was weird. However, this time was different. This time, Dean wasn't waiting for him; he was in hell, and Sam was in agony.

Dean had been gone for over a week, and he was just now going to see Bobby. Thus, he found himself walking up to the familiar doorway of Bobby's home. In a way, it was a home to him too. He and Dean had stayed there enough times in their lives to feel that way. The only places more familiar were the impala and his old dorm. Sam desired to be neither places, though. He had shared his dorm with Jess, and the car with Dean. At the moment, he couldn't stand to be alone, so he placed his fist to the door to knock.

"Bobby," And there it was. As soon as his friend (no, his second father) opened the door, the tears began to flow. He had held them back for so long that it amazed him how easily he lost the ability to do so. But, as one of only two people to have ever seen Sam cry in his adult life, Bobby knew it was best just to let him in and get him a beer.

Sam immediately found his way to the sofa as Bobby offered him an open bottle. He, much to his friend's dismay, chugged the entire thing, and placed the now empty bottle on the floor by his feet.

"Take it easy, son," Bobby was visibly shaken, "or you'll have one hell of a hangover in the morning."

"I can't believe you just said hell." Sam offered a slight smile before taking the other beer out of Bobby's hands and guzzling the amber substance within.

"Goodness Sam, I know this isn't easy, but why are you doing this to yourself?" He set down the second bottle next to the first, and stared down at it. He knew full well what he needed to say, but that didn't make it any easier.

"I loved him, Bobby."

"I loved him, too, but you have to know that there wasn't anything else you could have done." Sam giggled.

"No, Bobby, you don't understand." The tears came again as looked up. "I was in love with him." Bobby stared in disbelief and slight horror before proclaiming that he needed to find some stronger beverages, and leaving. Sam sat waiting, no longer bothering to wipe the tears away. Bobby returned carrying a few bottles of varying colored liquids, and sat down next to Sam.

"Sam," he placed a shot glass and a bottle in front of the distraught man beside him, "how'd this all start?" Sam poured himself a shot.

"Dean."

January

Dean stepped into the cold, ugly motel room to find that Sam was already in bed. The shades were drawn, the lights were off, and his brother was pale and shivering.

"Why'd it get so cold in here? I was only gone for a half hour, tops." He placed dinner (takeout) on the small table, and went to sit on the other bed.

"All the heaters in this building went out. It'll be a good two hours before the electrician can get to ours." Shit.

"Did you ask for a different room?" It was the dead of winter in Ohio, and excessively cold.

"All the other rooms are booked. Apparently, there's a big concert tonight. People are pouring into this town from everywhere."

"Great." Dean kicked off his boots, and strolled lazily to Sam's bed. "That's just great. Scoot over."

"Why?"

"Because your bed's already warm and mine's not. Now scoot." Sam looked at him with a look of shock and 'you've got to be kidding me', but he did it anyways. That is, after Dean put on the puppy dog eyes. He slid in, but found himself on the very edge.

"Can't you move over any more?"

"Seriously, dude, how much room do you think I have? I am on the edge, just like you." Dean grunted. They sat watching Oprah reruns for all of about ten minutes before officially becoming bored out of their own minds.

Something about the cold, mixed with proximity to one another made both men squirm. It was as if neither could get close enough to the other.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean finally belted out of frustration, "Will you please hug me or something? I'm freezing!" Usually, Sam would have given him a nasty comment, but the cold compelled him to comply. He wrapped his lengthy, but built arms around his brother, accepting the warmth as an acceptable trade to the awkwardness that was bound to ensue the next morning.

"Is this any better?" Dean pulled his head away from Sam's shaking body to respond.

"Yeah, don't let go." He resumed the burial of his face into his brother's over shirt.

tbc