"Hey, Sam come over here a second," Dean called his brother, staring at the papers with a clenched jaw.
"Did you get anything on that wraith?" Sam jumped up from the table where he was doing the homework and walked over to his brother. Dean looked up at him, betrayal flashing in his eyes.
"So when where you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what, Dean?" Sam asked with a confused look on his face. The older brother thrust the papers in Sam's hands and rubbed his forehead, hiding his slightly watery eyes.
"Did you ever plan on telling me? Or where you just going to leave me like you did when you ran off to Flagstaff for kicks?" Sam looked away, the overwhelming guilt and shame making his eyes water slightly as well. He hadn't wanted Dean to find out yet, not like this. Not when it was still a secret and it seemed like he was betraying him.
"I'm sorry. For everything, Dean." Sam apologised quietly, voice breaking and lips quivering, then whispered, "Please don't hate me." Dean inhaled sharply and stood up, facing away from Sam.
"Dammit Sam!" He yelled after a few moments of silence, slamming his fist next to the sink. "We're a family and this is a family business and we're going to do our damn jobs or so help me! We can't just quit!"
"Well maybe we don't have to live like this, Dean. Maybe we don't need the cheap motels, the repetitive diner food and the constant fact that any day could be our last! Dean we deserve better. We deserve normal." Sam pleaded, walking closer to his brother.
"Don't give me that crap, Sam - we can't just take a breather. Hunting isn't a job, it's our lives and you know it! We can't go around dreaming about the apple pie life while we're ganking some sons of bitches." Dean told his brother, vaguely recalling a similar conversation he had had with his father a while back. Safe to say that he never broached that particular subject again.
"There are loads of other hunters out there why can't they do the job instead?! We're still teenagers, we're not supposed to know about all the shit that goes down in the world. For god's sake I knew how to fire a .45 when I was seven! You aren't supposed to know that crap when you're a kid - we were supposed to play ball and worry about homework, not worry about icing some demons and the monster under the bed."
"Well you know what Sam, none of us want to do this crap! But we have to because if we don't, that means dead people. Dead, innocent people. And we can save those people, because personally, even if my life isn't worth anything I can still save some people and go down swinging."
"No Dean!" Sam yelled, "Your life iis/i worth something!" The older brother scoffed, glancing at Sam.
"I don't need the chick-flick moments Sam," Dean replied with a bitter smile. "Besides, this isn't about me. This is about you, abandoning us! Abandoning me," Dean pointed an accusatory finger at Sam, his eyes fierce with anger.
"You're starting to talk like Dad," Sam whispered incredulously and Dean snapped his head up, staring at him. "Dammit Dean you're supposed to be the one I can actually talk to without yelling at! You can't just be Dad's Mini-Me!"
"You know what Sam? I'm frigging tired of you being so damn selfish. I'm not Dad, okay? I'm your brother and I'm telling you that this," Dean pointed at the applications, "This is not good."
"Of course it's good Dean it's what we should be doing instead of running around training to be some kind of Superman! Dean we could all go together and you could go to college as well, we could get a normal life," Sam pleaded, trying to get Dean to look at him.
"No Sam. I'm not walking out on Dad. I'm not walking out on hunting. And I'm not walking out on Mom. Mom..." Dean's voice caught slightly and he swallowed,
"She ain't here any more and the best we can do is find the bastard who... who..." Dean sighed and sat down, slumped in the chair.
"But Mom would have wanted us to be happy Dean - she wouldn't have wanted us to live this crappy life trying to get revenge." Sam told Dean softly.
"And how the hell do you know what she would have wanted Sam?" Dean shouted, standing up again and shoving the chair aside. "If it weren't for pictures you wouldn't even know what she frigging looked like! So don't you give me that crap, Sam. You didn't know her." Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as a tear rolled down his cheek. What Dean said was true. And it hurt so god-damn bad. It hurt so frigging bad that he couldn't remember what his mother's eyes were like, what her hair smelled like, how it felt to be kissed goodnight by her, how it felt to be cradled in her arms, safe from the world.
"I'm going out." Sam's voice wobbled and he snatched his coat, slamming the door on his way out. Dean stared at the door for a long while after that, just thinking. Thinking about his mother, thinking about hunting - but most of all, thinking about Sammy. Dear Sam telling him that he could go to college. He couldn't. There isn't exactly a course for ganking wendigos. Besides, he'd never even get in.
Dean grabbed the letters and was about to crush and rip them to shreds when he suddenly noticed Sam's school books from the corner of his eye. He looked through his work: his little brother was getting straight A's. Dean smiled softly and gently placed the applications back on the desk in a neat pile.
Dean was already far gone, but Sam was on the right track and he deserved it. He deserved better. He deserved normal. Dean may have given him shit for it but he wanted Sam to go to college and parties and eventually have a family of his own, living in a suburban house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog. Dean wanted Sam to have it all so damn bad.
AN: This is my first weechester fic so any feedback would be great c: Cover is from S4Ep4 'Metamorphosis' and the credit for the idea is on my profile.