A/N: Hey there! This is my first time writing SPN fan fiction, and I'd love to hear what you think. Let me know if I should continue this!
Oh, this takes place in season 8, and it's AU.
All that stood between him and Sammy was a great chasm. Of course. It could never be that easy, could it? He'd just hacked and slashed his way through a legion of monsters - demons, vampires, werewolves, hell, even zombies - and he still had to figure out a way to get over the chasm so that he could save his little brother from Alastair. He looked down, teetering dangerously close to the edge as he desperately tried to come up with a solution. He almost regretted it. From the depths, something rose - a Balrog. His day simply could not get any better. Except… Was that bacon? How could he possibly smell bacon there? Oh, of course. He'd almost forgotten about that diner in the corner, near the edge of the chasm. Great burgers. But… When had it become daytime? He could have sworn -
A loud crash woke him up almost immediately. Eyes darting around, a hand gripping his knife, Dean carefully scanned the room, only relaxing once his brain slowed down enough for him to realize that he was in the bunker - in his room, he made sure to point out, a cheerful note still contained in the thought - which was basically impenetrable. Sam was probably up to something, maybe still working through the Men of Letters' files. He had nothing to worry about.
Leaning back on his bed once again, the knife now back in its place by his bed, Dean closed his eyes, still in awe that a mattress could be so comfortable. He felt like he could just lay there for the rest of his life, never budge, never move a muscle. He loved his room, he loved his bed. He almost felt as if that moment couldn't (realistically) get any better. He was comfortable, cozy, well-rested, nothing hurt, it was great. But he was wrong. The smell of bacon hit him once again, and his stomach growled appreciatively, something he knew was a warning that he should get off his ass and go down to the kitchen if he didn't want to have to deal with a much more annoying kind of growling. Bacon, that could make that moment better. Begrudgingly, he obeyed his stomach's wishes, pushing himself off his bed and slowly making his way towards the door.
But wait - what? He stopped on his tracks as his brain started to process the information more coherently, the sleep fog slowly clearing from his mind. Someone was cooking bacon in the bunker. It obviously wasn't him, which only left Sammy. Was Sam actually cooking? And bacon, of all things? Something was very wrong. Oh, no. He'd said the previous night that he might go into the nearest city to get some exercise. Had he crashed his baby? That would explain it.
Hurriedly, Dean made his way to the kitchen, his mouth watering more and more at the smell of one of his favorite foods, but he ignored it for the time being. There would be plenty of time for eating once he established that his baby was fine. "Morning, Sam." He greeted his brother as he entered the room, almost forgetting all about his suspicions at the sight of Sam hunched over the stove, making breakfast. This was a whole new kind of weird.
"Morning, Dean. You're just in time - go ahead, dig in." Sam poured the bacon into a big dish and carried it to the living room, barely even looking at his brother in his haste to get everything done. Something was definitely wrong, and Dean was starting to think that it had nothing to do with his car.
He slowly followed his brother, watching his every movement very carefully, trying to figure out what could possibly have inspired this breakfast-cooking. "Uhm… Sammy?" He called, testing his ground. When his brother simply glanced back at him, an innocent look on his puppy-dog eyes, he continued. "Is everything okay?"
If it'd been anyone but Dean analyzing his reaction, they would have seen nothing wrong and possibly dropped it, dismissing it as Sam just having woken up on the right side of his bed. But it was Dean, and he knew his brother better than anyone else, so he noticed how he averted his eyes for only a split of a second, he noticed how his muscles tense up ever so slightly, and most of all, he caught the small moment of hesitation before he spoke. "Yes, of course, Dean. Can't I do something nice for my brother every once in a while?"
No, Dean thought, giving Sam a good once over, trying to see if he could catch any hints of whatever he was hiding, his thoughts rushing through his brain so quickly he felt like he'd pressed the fast-forward button. No, Sammy couldn't do something nice like that out of blue because it just wasn't him, so it had to mean that something was wrong, and they'd just gotten some downtime and Dean was loving it and damn it, he didn't want anything to ruin it.
"If something happened to my baby when you took her to town today, Sammy, so help me…" He didn't have to finish his threat, he was sure that Sam already knew what would happen to him if Dean found even as much as a scratch on the Impala's paint job.
A small chuckle escaped Sam's lips, but Dean could still feel some tension coming from his brother. "Relax, Dean. The Impala is fine."
Part of him felt like he should continue questioning his brother, but he wanted to believe him, he really did, so he decided to just let it go for the moment. Maybe he was just doing something nice, maybe Dean was imagining all those signs that raised giant red flags in his mind. Maybe everything was alright for once. Besides, he thought, the bacon was calling to him. "She'd better be." He gave his little brother a warning look and sat down at the table, eyeing the dishes hungrily.
The rest of the day was spent in a state of constant suspicion for Dean, who was always analyzing his little brother, reading into every action. And Sam didn't get any less weird, either, though his niceties were certainly better disguised. If the breakfast incident hadn't put Dean on high alert, he would most probably have never noticed that anything was truly off - it was little things, like not pestering him about loud music, making a bit less of a face at Dean's favorite magazines, insisting a little less on having Dean do some research himself. It was all having almost the opposite effect of what he imagined Sam was going for - it wasn't that he wasn't enjoying it, he was, but it was also driving him up the walls. Something was wrong, that much was obvious.
It was only when Sam insisted on cooking burgers for dinner that Dean finally cracked. "Okay, Sammy, that's it. What the hell is up with you? You're making breakfast, putting up with every single thing that usually drives you insane! You're scaring me, man."
There was a heavy moment of silence between the two brothers, and Dean knew that he'd won, that Sam was going to crack. "Dean…" His brother started, seeming to have a hard time getting the words out. With every passing second, Dean grew tenser, the anxiety threatening to take over and make Sam spill the beans faster. "Dean, the big show is over. I figured… Maybe we could try to lead normal lives." Dean opened his mouth to interrupt Sam, but his brother motioned for him to keep quiet. "No, just… Just hear me out, okay?" A small nod indicated that Sam could continue. "We've been waiting for Kevin to translate something useful from that tablet for months. I think it's pretty clear that it's just not going to happen. So sent in an application for college, and I just got a reply today. That's why I needed the Impala this morning, I couldn't give them the address of the bunker. I… I got in. I'm going to college, Dean."
