The Bus Stop
The ride to the bus stop was almost silent. There was music playing, but Dean wasn't really listening to it, wasn't really doing much of anything. He was just keeping them on the road. In the end, it was Sam who spoke first. It always was.
"Look, I know you're mad—"
"—I'm not made, Sammy," he interrupted. "I'm not. You want something else? That's fine."
Sam looked away, out into the darkness coasting past the window. Dean flicked the music off.
"If you've got something to say, Sam, say it," he said.
"Don't you ever want something else?"
The words were hesitant at first, but Dean could almost see his brother pick up confidence as he went.
"I mean, is this all you want out of life? Cruisng around, saving people who won't even remember your name once you've skipped down?"
"Yeah. It is what I want. Family business."
"No, see, there's your problem," Sam said with a bitter chuckle, meeting Dean in the eyes again. "That's what Dad always says. Why do you want to do it?"
"What, I can't have the same opinion?"
Sam blew a puff of air out of his nose, and Dean smirked. Even after all these years he still knew exactly which buttons to press.
"I mean it, Dean. Give me an answer."
He'd never considered it. Hunting was the only thing he'd ever thought about doing. There'd never been anything else for him.
"I'm never stuck to one place," he said. "I'm never tied down. Anywhere I want to go, anything I want to do. Different town every night. Making people safe. Who cares if they remember my name, Sammy? It just matters they're alive to forget."
Sam nodded, but Dean could tell it hadn't gone through to him.
"Why don't you want to do it anymore?"
"I'm sick of it, Dean. Do this, Sam. Do that. Don't ask questions. Follow orders. Be a good little soldier. And then, when it's really important, I'm out of the loop. Because you want to protect me. I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. You and Dad haven't realized that."
"You're leaving because you're being treated like a kid? You are a kid, Sammy, you're eighteen years—"
"—It's not just that! I want to be remembered. I want to do something great!"
"This isn't great enough for you?"
"But I want a home, too. Not a car. And I want to stay put. I want to walk into a restaurant and have the waiter bring me my meal without asking because he knows what I'm going to order! Is that too much to ask for?"
Dean smiled ruefully as they pulled into the bus stop.
"No, it's not. C'mon, go get your bag."