Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. That honour belongs to Kripke and Co.
A/N: The verses appearing in this story, and the title, come from the song Wish You Well by Bernard Fanning.
Wish You Well
Welcome swallows dip and swing
Take their cue from the slightest thing
Rolling fog into my room
Why did you give up on me so soon?
Dean sat in the Impala and stared unseeing at the view in front of him. The crappy neighbourhood his father had chosen to rent a unit in wasn't really all that exciting but Dean probably could have been parked next to Mount Everest or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and he wouldn't have noticed.
Sam, his Sammy, was leaving him.
It wasn't as though he hadn't realised that Sammy would probably leave eventually, what with his dreams of college and undisguised longing for normalcy. But the envelope from Stanford that he'd pulled from the mailbox that day, the one addressed to Sam and more than likely containing a letter of acceptance, had made the situation real where before it had been something that might happen in a distant future. It could no longer be ignored, filed away in the back of Dean's head to worry about later.
Dean wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. On the one hand he was proud of Sam for getting into college. It was hard proof of what Dean already knew, that the kid was smart. On the other hand he really didn't want Sam to leave. How was he supposed to protect his brother if they were so far apart? Moreover, how was he supposed to live without Sam? They had rarely ever been apart at all and were closer to each other than either of them was to their father. If Dean was honest, Sam was his world and had been ever since the fire when at the age of four he'd carried his baby brother from their burning home.
Yes, Dean was far from ready to let Sam go. But as he sat, staring into space and consumed with hurt, he knew what he would do. He would do what he always did and give Sam what he needed. If Sam wanted to he would leave for Stanford with Dean's blessing and his heart. Dean would stay behind and put his game face on, locking his grief behind the finest emotional walls available.
The sky was darkening. Dean left the car and headed towards the house. If he wanted to talk rationally with Sam about this it would have to be before their father came home. Dean had no doubt that World War Three would erupt the moment their dad found out about Sam's plans. It was no secret that Dad wanted both his sons to join him in the hunting game. He would not take kindly to the idea of Sam going to college, of that Dean was certain, and knowing that his brother and his father were probably the two most stubborn people on the planet he would be surprised if either of them backed down on the issue within the next century. It would be another pointless, futile round of piggy in the middle with Dean as the piggy, trying to stop an argument that couldn't be stopped. But he would try. Dean always tried.
***
Restless future burning bright
The past is holding on so tight
Never heard the warning bell
And I just want to wish you well
I just want to wish you well
"Sammy?" Dean stood in the doorway to the room they shared, watching as Sam hurriedly shoved a piece of paper under his pillow.
"How many times do I have to tell you that it's Sam?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that you'll always be Sammy to me?"
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gave the lie to his show of irritation.
"Whatever. You were going to say something?"
"You got in to Stanford didn't you?" Dean asked as he moved into the room and sat down beside his brother.
Sam's cheeks coloured slightly. "How did you know?"
"Dude, I brought in the mail today if you remember. I saw where that envelope was from and there would have to be something wrong with them if they didn't let you in. Are you going to go?"
Dean couldn't help hoping that Sam would say no, even though he knew what the answer would be.
"I am." Sam replied softly, watching Dean's face intently.
To Dean it seemed like an eternity that they sat in silence with Sam scrutinizing his face, but it was probably only a couple of minutes.
"You're not pissed at me?" Sam asked in a slightly shocked tone of voice.
"No Sammy, I'm not pissed at you. Actually, I'm proud of you. Not everyone gets into Stanford. Congratulations Sasquatch." It was an effort to keep his game face on, but as far as Dean could tell he was succeeding thus far.
"Let me get this straight. You're going to just let me go? You're not going to make any attempt to stop me? I thought you were as hell bent on me being a hunter as Dad is."
"Sammy, I don't really want you to leave. But I know this is what you want and I couldn't stop you anyway. So yeah, I'm letting you go." And it hurts like hell, Dean added silently.
Sam was silent for a long moment, staring at the worn bedspread.
"Thanks." He looked up at Dean with eyes that were a just a bit too bright, as though they were filled with unshed tears.
Dean could just see the scene degenerating into a massive chick flick moment.
"Come on, it's not everyday my little brother gets into Stanford. This calls for a drink." It didn't matter that Sam was underage, he'd had a fake ID since he was sixteen, his height and well muscled physique helping to fool most of the bartenders they came across.
***
They were on their way out when John came home. He wanted to know what was happening and when Sam told him he went mad. The yelling probably could have been heard in Australia and nothing Dean did could get them to stop.
Finally Dean retreated to his room to wait it out, telling himself that they would have to stop eventually but not really believing it. At this rate he'd be lucky if they didn't kill each other.
Dean was wondering what he'd look like with a long grey beard when he heard his father shout the terrible words.
"If you want to leave that's fine! But if you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!"
Why did you have to say that? Dean's heart was breaking, knowing that his stubborn brother would probably choose that moment to start following orders. He could only watch helplessly as Sam stormed into the bedroom and started furiously shoving his possessions into a duffle bag.
"You're not leaving now are you?" Come on Sammy, first semester doesn't start for weeks. Stay with me a bit longer, please.
"You heard the man, Dean."
"Since when do you listen to Dad?"
"I can't stay with him Dean, and I don't understand how you can." He paused for a moment in his packing and sighed. "I'm not angry at you Dean. I'll call you when I get there, let you know where to find me."
Sam threw one last piece of clothing into his bag, grabbed his toothbrush from the bathroom and left, pausing only to throw a poisonous glare at his father. The sound of the front door slamming echoed in Dean's mind with an awful finality. His eyes filled with tears and he closed the bedroom door so that John wouldn't see him cry. No matter what Sam said, Dean couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd been ditched.
I just want to wish you well
I just want to wish you well
Why did you give up on me so soon?
I just want to wish you well