Coda 1x01
Sam slammed the car door as he moved out into the cold night. He turned and came level again with Dean, leaning in through the open car window.
"Maybe I can meet up with you later?" Sam said, shifting slightly.
"Yeah, alright." Dean gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Dean turned, and tried to smile reassuringly at his little brother, like he was supposed to. But he didn't particularly feel like smiling. Having Sam around was better than he had ever imagined. The kid had practically become a man overnight. Dean felt his stomach toss uncomfortably. No thanks to you. Four years was a long time. He wanted to say more to his brother. Things like "I'm sorry", and "I wish things were better between us."
Silence fell, and Sam smiled awkwardly, and turned to leave. Big displays of emotion were not exactly normal for the Winchesters. Saving each other's lives, yes. Little things like a hug here, or "I missed your stupid gigantor face", not so much.
Dean knew he had to say something. Anything. "Sam!"
His brother turned, expectant.
"Y'know, we made a helluva team back there." The question in it, almost too obvious. We should keep doing this. Keep hunting. Let's find Dad together. I don't really want to do this on my own.
Sam nodded slightly. "Yeah." The gentle rebuttal. I'm sorry, Dean, I can't. This is not a life I want. I never wanted it. Please don't ask me to go with you.
Dean returned Sam's nod, and without another word, drove away.
The Winchesters were masters of having conversations without ever speaking the actual words they needed to.
Dean had pulled around the corner of Sam's apartment building, fully intending on heading to Colorado, but something made him pull the Impala into a vacant parking space. He sat in silence for a moment, a sick feeling invading his stomach. Something he couldn't place. He hadn't felt this feeling in a while. He frowned, trying to place it, when it hit him low in the stomach. Sam. The last time he had felt like this was the summer before Sam hit his growth spurt, and some older kids thought it would be funny to jump him as he walked home from school. A quick flash of remorse tore at Dean that it had taken him to realise that this was his innate "Sam's in trouble" sense, but then he hadn't had much use for it in the last couple of years. Dean grabbed his gun, and bolted out of the car.
It took him a couple of minutes at a hard run to get to Sam's apartment. He could hear his brother inside, shouting something. He kicked hard, and the front door gave way.
"Sam!"
A sudden sound of air rushing filled the apartment, and heat blossomed from the walls. Fire. Dean needed to find Sam. He ran through the small home until he found Sam. Lying on a bed, his hands over his face. Jess stuck on the ceiling. Jesus Christ.
"Sam!"
Sam was not moving in any direction Dean needed him to. He crossed the room, pulling his brother up, and manhandling his large frame out the door. Sam fought him weakly, trying to get to Jess, shouting her name.
It wasn't a moment too soon when Dean finally deposited Sam onto the Impala. He watched as the windows finally exploded.
"Let me see." Dean needed to see if Sam was hurt.
Sam didn't say anything. Just sat there as Dean grabbed his hands and turned his face side to side. Satisfied, Dean pulled his brother into a hug.
"Sam, I'm sorry." he said softly.
Sam didn't say anything. Everything's gone none. What's the point? There is nothing for me here.
"Why?" Sam's voice cracked. Dean wasn't sure whether or not it was from the fire itself or Jess.
"I don't know, Sammy."
Sam pulled away. He leaned back against the car, watching as the emergency services tackled the blaze. His face was lit by the blue and red rotating lights of the sirens. Dean didn't say anything, merely stood beside him.
It took nearly 2 hours for the fire to be extinguished. When there was nothing but smoke rising from the broken windows, Dean slowly made his way closer, trying to hear from the police and firefigthers what their working theory was. "Electrical fault" seemed to be working theory at the moment, and Dean exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Turning, he saw Sam standing over the trunk of the Impala, checking a shot gun. Dean joined him, not saying anything. Just watching Sam fiddle with the gun. He didn't say anything as Sam clenched his jaw as a stray tear landed on his nose when he threw the gun back into the trunk, saying almost more to himself than Dean,
"We got work to do."