The last, orange rays of sun tried to disperse the coming darkness and the fog. The street, which Sam walked on, was as empty and quiet and the houses around were small, old and gray. He just came back from the library where he had spent the whole day. He didn't want to participate in the hunt so he offered to look for useful information about the hunted monsters. The City Library was small and poorly stocked so he didn't find out anything that they hadn't already known. Just in case, he took a couple of books that could be useful but he didn't have time to read them before closing the library. He carried them in a black backpack, which had to weigh a good few pounds too much as it had already started to hurt his back. He consoled himself with the thought that the motel was only ten minutes away. He stared at the pavement in front of him and went on watching the gray paving and protruding from time to time tufts of grass in a dark green color. Finally, around the corner came a glowing red neon sign with big lettes "Molly's Motel". Sam went through pistachio corridors and stopped before the gray doors of room 215. He would like to turn on his heel and walk away, to leave it all behind. The constant moving, this sick lifestyle, this eternal anxiety that this time someone might not come back. He felt that the participation in the hunting or even living in a motel was some kind of an agreement, which he hadn't agreed to. Despite this, he had to wait. Guilt, however, grew from day to day.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key. He put it in the lock and then turned with a quiet click. He opened a room looking just like the rest of the motel - cheap, cheesy and in turquoise-yellow stains. Inside were three beds, gray carpeting and a small white bathroom. Standard. Sam sighed in relief throwing a backpack on the couch. He sat on it for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to relax. He listened to the silence, and then began to observe the dust dancing in the last rays of sun coming through a dirty window. He felt hungry so with the intention to look for something in the fridge, he went to a small kitchen with a dining area. He was surprised to see Dean in the kitchen. He should have been hunting with their dad and yet was sitting at a four-person table covered with a tablecloth in blue flowers and stared blankly at a piece of paper.
'Hey! I didn't know you're home. I thought you were still looking for the ghouls' hideout…' began Sam. Dean didn't answer. Didn't even blinked.
'Dean? Are you okay? Dean! 'Sam tried to get to his brother, but he sat still staring at the piece of paper reading the same text over and over again.
'What's this stupid piece of paper?' The younger of the brothers snatched it out from the older brother's hands. His eyes quickly looked through the text. Stanford. Studies. Admitted. These words circled in his mind. He's free. He can run away. He can go to the university. He can start studying. If he succeeds, he will be a lawyer. He will have a normal life. Heartbroken voice of Dean snatched him from his thoughts.
'Have you ever planned to tell me?' he asked with tears in his eyes. His voice was full of sadness and anger. 'Are you going to leave us? Just like that? Why didn't you tell me? What were you thinking? '
Questions were asked faster and were more and more desperate. Sam didn't answer. He didn't know where he should look. He couldn't look into Dean's green eyes, but when he looked at the ground, he could feel his reproachful gaze. It wasn't meant to look like that. That was not the plan.
'Have you thought about us? About me? About Dad? About how we will handle life without you? Family is all we have. ' His voice began to fade.
'Sammy. Do not leave me. 'He whispered.
'I'm sorry Dean' he whispered in reply. 'For everything. Don't hate me, please '
Sam looked into his emerald green eyes that sparkled even more than usual. Dean didn't know what to think. He knew that Sam and their father were arguing about almost everything. He knew that Sammy wanted a normal life. He knew. But he naively believed that Sam would stay with them. He never imagined that he could leave so suddenly, so early. Without telling anyone. They had nothing but themselves. Family was the only thing that counted. He didn't believe that his younger brother wanted to leave him alone. He couldn't believe it.
'Dean?' he asked pleadingly.
'When ... When are you going to...' he couldn't finish. Sam sighed.
'I do not know. As soon as possible' He said slowly, gently. 'Will you tell dad?'
Silence fell upon them.
'No' finally decided Dean and his voice was full of sadness. 'I won't tell him. But I won't help you.'
Sam nodded with relief. Sun made ends of his hair look like gold.
'Thank you.' he whispered.
Dean got up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his brother alone. He went into the bathroom and stripped off his dirty, from mud and blood after hunting, clothes. Damn ghouls. He quickly stepped into the shower and stood there as heavy, hot drops bathed his body and took with them his salty tears. He wiped his face with his hand. Nothing will be as before. Nothing will be the same. Dad would be furious. He preferred not to think of what Dad would do, when he found out. There will be no 'we' anymore. Sam was leaving. This little boy, whom he saved from the fire, which he took care when dad wasn't there, the one he had always been watching out for; his brother, who was always the most important person in his life. And now Sammy wanted to leave him and he couldn't do anything because he knew that's what this little boy wanted. This is the only way to make Sam happy even if it was just for a while. This was what he dreamed of. He stepped out of the shower and dressed in loose, clean clothes. When he came out of the bathroom, the sun went down already and the room was plunged into darkness. He shuddered when he felt cold air on his hot skin. He had heard that his brother was doing something in the kitchen. He laid in bed and covered himself with the blanket, as if it was a shield against all his problems. Staring at the wall he lay with his back to the door but he couldn't sleep. Finally, his body relaxed and listening to the sounds of Sam bustling, he fell asleep.
The silence woke him up. He was listening, waiting for some sound but everything was silent as if in anticipation. After a moment, he heard only the quiet creak and the sound of the door closing. He turned. The next bed was empty. Sam's things disappeared. Only on a small bedside table was a little piece of paper, with a single sentence. I'm sorry.