Author's Note: Don't own the boys but I believe it's been universally agreed now that disclaimers are pointless. All mistakes are my own as I'm too eager to post for a beta but I do try to go back and fix them. :)
Chapter One
The Calm After The Storm
It had been a terrible fight, worse than almost any Dean could remember. He hadn't known exactly what approach to take, especially since he'd been as shocked as his father when Sam had announced he had secretly applied for colleges and been accepted to Stanford in their early admission round. It had been a miserably cold day in December, one week before Christmas and they had just finished a hunt when Sam had spilled the beans. Predictably, John Winchester had exploded. After getting over his initial loss of speech, Dean had swung between the instinct to defend his brother and the urge to scream at him for not only wanting to leave but dropping this on him without a warning. He'd honestly believed they were too close for such big secrets. In the end, he'd tried playing the situation down, telling his father that Sam was just going through a rebellious phase and come September he would realise he couldn't really go. As it had turned out, it would have made absolutely no difference what tactics he used - neither one of the other two Winchesters even pretended to be listening to him. It was like he wasn't even there sometimes. This magical disappearing act had become a frequent occurrence lately whenever his father and brother decided to face off. When he and Sammy had been younger at least he could count on the kid coming to him after a fight to complain about the enormous unfairness of life, hunting and John Winchester. Now there was only sulking from Sam and barked orders from John, as if every argument they had with each other was automatically an argument with Dean, even though they never actually let him get a word in edgewise. He'd feared for at least a year that his family was falling apart but he'd managed to somehow delude himself that they were just going through a rough patch. After all, all they had was each other, where would any of them go?
An ivy league school, apparently.
Perhaps he should have known. Perhaps he was a bad brother for not seeing it coming. Sam had always been a smart. Not just the smart one of the family but actually smart. College smart. Real world smart.
Dean tried and failed to feel supportive. Rationally, he could see that asking his brother to sleep in motel rooms and chop heads off with machetes for the rest of his life when he had both the desire and the ability to get a real home and a real job was selfish. The problem was that such thoughts got constantly pushed aside by more insistent ones.
He didn't even tell me, when did he start hiding things from me? Why? What did I do?
He's abandoning us. He's abandoning me alone with Dad, with no buffer, no backup, no buddy… I don't know if I can deal with John Winchester alone - especially a John Winchester who's both pissed at his son and misses him and doesn't have anyone else around to take it out on.
Poor Dad… He always tried harder with Sam, like he was hoping he could have at least one of us as a son and not a trooper. It backfired on him.
And finally, a grudging thought which Dean shoved away violently every time it crawled out of that long-forgotten, barricaded corner of his mind.
Why does he get to do this and not me?
Ridiculous. He could never, would never, dump Dad. He'd never wanted to go to college. He'd dropped out of high school in his final year and only taken his GEDs because Sam had made Dad order him to. This was petty and childish, like wanting another kid's toy even though you knew you didn't need it. He didn't want to go to college. He just didn't want to be left behind.
That moment almost came prematurely on Christmas Day. The tension between the oldest and youngest Winchester had been building for a week and was so palpable that it had given Dean a constant migraine and it finally erupting into what this time truly was the worst fight they'd ever had.
"I have raised a spoiled, selfish brat!" John bellowed. "You don't care that people are dying out there and you sure as hell don't care about me or your brother. You should be grateful…"
"For what?" Sam shouted back. "What should I be grateful for? You leaving us for days on end with barely any food? Forcing us into danger? Preventing us from having any real friendships? Or maybe for Dean always defending you? Embarrassing me in school by acting like a jerk and skipping class all the time? Dumping me in Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie while he chased after girls? I'm not like you! Either one of you! I want a life!"
Dean gaped, feeling a little like he'd been punched in the stomach but he didn't have time to recover because Sam had started stuffing clothes in his duffel and their father's eyes were flashing dangerously and he was starting a sentence Dean was sure he was going to regret...
"Samuel Winchester, if you walk out that door…"
"Dad, no!"
It hadn't even been a conscious movement but Dean had somehow placed himself physically between his two family members, as if hoping to absorb some invisible blow. He gave his father a pleading look.
Dad, please, we're going to lose him. You'll say the words but I'll lose him, too.
John Winchester glared into his son's face for what seemed like a long time before pushing him away and leaving the room. But he didn't finish the sentence. Dean's shoulders sagged. He took a deep breath before turning around to look at Sam who had frozen, duffel in hand. Dean grabbed the bag.
"Gimme that. It's months before the term starts, where are you going to stay in the meantime? Plucky's?"
Sam rolled his eyes but he sat on his bed with a huff and opened his laptop.
Oddly, there were no more fights after that and while Dean was grateful, he also found the quiet unnerving. Sam spent his time reading and typing on his laptop and answering everything with a mildly irritable 'Dean, I'm busy!'. His father became impossible to read and occasionally disappeared on his own with no word about where he was going.
"Wait, are you going on a hunt?" Dean asked hurrying after him into the parking lot the first time it happened. "Dad, you'll need backup!"
"I don't need backup for this."
"Dad, I know you're mad but…"
His father whipped around. "Dean! Get your ass back inside that motel, I told you I don't need you with me! I'm running late."
Dean stopped in his tracks.
Why are you mad at me?
The question was on the tip of his tongue and he almost asked it but instead he muttered a 'yes, sir' and just stood there as the Impala drove away, feeling helpless and worried and insulted.
Of course you need me, you stubborn old douchebag! I can swing with the best of them, I fought back three vampires off that girl last month before you and Sammy could even get there! You fucking need me!
But he didn't. John Winchester had hunted on his own long before his sons had been old enough to join him. Who knew, maybe they were a liability. Maybe he thought that now when he was going to have one less to worry about, he may as well drop the other, too. Maybe Dean had only ever been there as Sammy's babysitter. Either way, it worried him that he didn't know what his Dad was doing.
One particular day in early January John seemed incredibly on edge. He paced the room, made a phone call in the motel parking lot that Dean wasn't able to eavesdrop on and finally took the car and drove off. To Dean's great relief, he came back a couple of hours later. He stopped disappearing after that and Dean hoped whatever it was had gotten resolved, especially since his father was now looking much calmer. Only occasionally he would pick up on a subtle undercurrent of anxiety but however much he tried for the next few months, he couldn't figure out what it was caused by. It was eventually pushed from his mind by Sam's impending departure. It drove him crazy that they were just going through the motions while their last months together were slipping away. Sam had muttered several times that they would still see each other and not to make a big deal out of it but Dean knew that once his brother was at Stanford they would be planets away and not really part of each other's lives anymore. It was nearly incomprehensible after eighteen years of practically living in each other's asses. He really wanted to do something with this time and make sure they parted on good terms instead of this lukewarm friendliness Sam treated him with these days but he never quite figured out how.
And then one morning in April, after he'd given up on talking to his family and spent the night with a pretty ginger barmaid, he'd come back to the motel and been greeted by the most astonishing sight in the world. Sam Winchester, eyes moist and grinning like an idiot, was hugging their father - and almost lifting him off the ground, the damn Sasquatch - like he was ten and John had just given him a puppy. Dean was stunned enough that he actually looked around for a puppy before clearing his throat awkwardly, afraid that he would somehow break whatever weird magic this was.
"Oh, Dean! Um…" Sam let go and stepped back, wiping at his eyes and then chuckling sheepishly.
John, whose back had been to Dean turned around to look at him, too, and though his expression was less goofy than Sam's he looked suspiciously like he was going to break into a grin, too.
"What's going on?" Dean asked.
"Dad is awesome. Gimme your ID, I'm gonna get us some beer." And without further explanation, he pulled Dean's ID out of his pocket, patted him on the shoulder and practically skipped out of the room.
Dean turned his raised eyebrows on his father who patted a chair.
"Sit down, son. It's time we had a little conversation about your future."
