"Be Careful"

"Sam, that's enough! You're not going, end of discussion!" John yelled. Sam stood across from him with his duffle bag in his hands. Dean stood a few feet away, a crumpled sheet of paper in his numb hands. He read it over and over, trying to make out what it was saying. Sam was admitted to Stanford? He was leaving? And these people dared calling it good news?!

He looked up at his brother, hurt in his eyes. "Sam, why didn't you tell me?" he asked, not caring about the argument that had been going on since Sam had claimed he was leaving.

But Sam ignored him and kept yelling at his father. "Oh yes, I'm going! You can't control me anymore, Dad! I'm leaving whether you like it or not!"

"Like hell, you are!" John shouted, grabbing Sam by the collar. Dean snapped out of his haze and threw himself at them, trying desperately to separate them.

He never saw the punch coming, but it caught him square in the jaw, making him stumble back and fall to the floor. He sat there, too shocked to react. Sam had never meant to hit him, he was just trying to break free. Dean knew it, and it wasn't what hurt him. What actually stunned him was the fact that none of them seemed to even acknowledge the punch. They were still standing face to face like nothing happened.

"I'm warning you, Sam!" John yelled, "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" Sam looked back at him, anger and malice in his eyes.

"Don't worry," he growled, "I didn't intend to." He said before grabbing his duffle and slamming the door behind him. John stood there, staring at the door his youngest had dared to close on him. How could he do something like that? Didn't he know there was evil outside? If he was away, who could protect him?

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Dean stand up and run toward the door, but he felt too numb to try to hold him back. He ran a hand through his hair and went to sit on the couch, head in his hands.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, as he ran after his brother. "Sam, wait!"

But Sam was as stubborn as his father, and he just kept walking, not bothering to turn around to face his brother. Dean left him no choice, though. He caught up with Sam, grabbed his arm and forced him to spin around. "Listen to me, Sam…"

"No!" Sam said, breaking from Dean's grip, "Whatever you're gonna say won't change my mind, okay? I'm leaving, Dean. For good."

Sam didn't miss the sad look in his sibling, but he was too proud to acknowledge it. Dean looked down for a second, trying to loosen the knot in his throat. "I'm not here to ask you to stay, Sam." He said softly. He raised his moistened eyes to look at Sam. "I'm offering you a ride to Stanford." Taken aback, Sam stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Dean gave him one of his trademark smirks. "Come on dude, I'm not the big bad wolf. It's just a ride." Sam smiled a little at that, and finally he nodded.

None of them talked during the ride. What was there left to say? Everything that needed to be explained had been yelled out in a cheap motel room. So they let Metallica and AC/DC talk for them. Sam had never experienced one of Dean's silences before. John would have recognized the symptoms, but Sam couldn't.

"Thanks for the ride." Sam muttered as they arrived in front of the large building that was the University of Stanford. He quickly got out of the car and slammed the door.

"Wait!" Dean called as he got out too. He fished something out of his pocket and shoved it in Sam's hand. Sam looked down to see an envelope. He peeked in it and gaped at his brother.

"But Dean…" he stammered as he looked back down at the bills that filled the envelope. Dean silenced him with a raised hand.

"Five grand" he said. "That should do." He smiled sadly at his brother, wondering where the years had gone. It seemed like it was yesterday that Sam had said his name for the first time. Now there he was, ready to start a new life, leaving his family behind.

"Where did you get all that money?" Sam asked.

"Pool." Dean replied matter-of-factly. "I saved it for the rainy days. And it's a freaking shower today if you ask me."

Sam shrugged. "Thanks." He said, shoving the envelope in his pocket. His anger hadn't completely vanished, and he still wanted to get away from anything and anyone that reminded him of his father. "I'll call you." He muttered as he swiftly took off, not bothering to say goodbye.

"Sure Dean said, knowing for a fact that Sam was lying. "Be careful." He called, not sure Sam actually heard him. He watched as his brother disappeared into the night, wondering not for the first time what he had done wrong.

"Why are you alone?" John asked as Dean stepped back in the room. Dean looked at him and shrugged. John sighed. "Damn kid never learns." He muttered before taking another sip of his beer. He looked at Dean and frowned. "How's your jaw?" he asked. Dean shrugged again. John felt something grip at his heart, but he was unable to know what it was. "Let me see." He asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he allowed his dad to look at the red spot on his cheek, wincing as he lightly poked as it. "You're gonna have a hell of a bruise in the morning." Dean smiled slightly and started to walk toward the bathroom. But John grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay. Dean looked back at him, confusion in his eyes.

"I know what you're doing." John said. Dean froze for a second then sadly shook his head. He knew his father would guess, but he was so not ready for another shouting spree. "You're not four anymore, Dean!" John yelled, shaking his eldest as his anger chose an innocent victim to take everything out on. "Say something, damn it!" John yelled again before giving Dean a strong shove, making him hit his hip on the counter. Dean winced in pain, but didn't say a word.

After two years of silence, only interrupted by "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" at the right places, Dean woke up one day to find the bed next to his empty. He searched the room for a note and found it on the table. Coordinates with an order to check it out were scribbled hastily on the small sheet of paper. No "be careful", no "I'll be back soon", not even a "Goodbye".

Dean scrambled the paper and threw it in the trashcan. He tried to call his father but only got his voicemail. He hung up and dialed Sam's number. Voicemail again. Just like the last time he'd called. Not only Sam never called, but he never picked up the phone or returned the calls either.

Alone in another crappy motel room, his father on a hunt somewhere and his brother in some school far away, Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He sat down and cried until he had no tears left.

A lot of people have imagined the day Sam left for Stanford, this is my version! Hope you liked it.

The third and last chapter is for tomorrow.

nerwende