Good Brothers
K Hanna Korossy
He remembered more now.
When Dean had first mentioned the New York bungalows with the Ping-Pong tables, what he really should have brought up was his disappearing for two months. Sam had immediately recalled Dean vanishing after school one day, their dad telling him he was lost on a hunt but he'd be okay, and Dean being just fine when they'd found him. That was probably why the memory hadn't been more traumatic or stark. But more had come back over those last two days, details he'd long forgotten. Details he'd never told Dean.
"You know Dad came back, like, hours after you disappeared, right?" Because Sam had freaked out and called him, but Dean didn't have to know that.
His brother glanced at him from the driver's seat, face openly curious. "Yeah, you told me then. Or Dad did, I don't know. Good thing, 'cause we had, like, no food in the house. You were a freakin' vacuum cleaner back then, dude."
He rolled his eyes, as was expected of him. "I was, what, eleven? I would've figured something out."
"Uh-huh," Dean said pleasantly, eyes back on the road.
"I was at Bobby's the whole time you were gone."
"I know." Dean's fingers tapped on the wheel to some melody only he heard.
"I was pretty miserable, though."
The fingers stopped. The look he got this time was more cautious. "You loved being at Bobby's."
"When I was there with you, yeah. But by myself, while you were missing on a hunt? It was what I was always afraid of."
"Dad promised I'd be—"
"Dad promised a lot of things that didn't happen."
Dean's lips flattened, but he didn't contradict Sam. The last eight years had done a lot to get them on the same page where Dad was concerned, Dean admitting to his flaws now, Sam seeing how hard he'd tried.
"When my birthday came, the only thing I wanted was you there."
Dean shifted uneasily; this was brushing dangerously close to both his fears about letting Sam down and his discomfort with overt shows of love. "'Course you did. I'm an awesome brother," he finally opted for humor and bluff instead of denial. Just as Sam figured he would.
"You are," Sam agreed with a smile that only grew at Dean's wince.
"Sam—"
"Bobby took me to the toy store, said I could pick out anything for a gift," Sam plowed on.
A beat. "Yeah, and you got that jet, right? I remember how excited you were about it when you guys picked me up."
"I was excited because I got to show it to you. Because you were on that big Top Gun kick then."
Dean started. "That's why you picked…?" After a glance at Sam, he grimaced. "And here I'd hoped you were finally outgrowing books."
Sam snorted. "Moron."
"Bookworm," Dean said automatically, his brow still furrowed.
But as the miles passed, it slowly smoothed out. He stopped chewing his lip. Began humming.
The memories Sonny and the home had brought back were clearly good ones, no matter what Dean and Dad had said to Sam back then. Maybe John had never even known the real truth. But at the time, Dean had made light of the shot at a normal life he'd passed up for his brother, protecting him yet again. Just as Sam, in turn, had rushed to tell him about everything he'd done at Bobby's, what a cool toy he'd gotten, all the good things, while downplaying how afraid and miserable he'd been. Because even then, he'd also known what would make his brother feel better.
The finger-drum solo started up on the steering wheel again.
The same reason Sam told him the truth now.
The End