It was two hours into the long drive from Kansas to California. Time for feelings.
"So Dean," Sam started. Two hours of blaring classic rock was long enough to wait before getting down to business. "You're almost 40-"
"Woah, Sam," he interrupted, "words hurt."
Sam chuckled at his brother's sensitivity about his age and shook his head. "You're old enough to know," he started again, "what unprotected sex leads to. So what gives?"
Dean glared at him, determined not to give in to him. "Are we really gonna have 'the talk'?"
Sam wasn't that easily swayed. "Apparently we have to."
Dean shook his head in annoyance, then paused to consider how he should word his reasoning, because if Sam was willing to go through the inevitable difficult times ahead, he guessed he owed him a bit of an explanation. "She was... she was the first time I'd had sex since I was a-" he stopped. The first time since Lynn Marie. Since he'd been a demon. It was still a soft spot for the both of them. "Since the Mark of Cain," he said instead. "And then with not knowing what the Darkness was or why I felt so connected to her, I was kinda, I don't know," he shrugged, "stressed out. I needed some release. And she said she had it covered, and I honestly just needed to take my mind off things, clothes came off, and here we are." He watched Sam carefully, trying to gauge his reaction and feeling guilty for dragging Sam into this.
"Here we are," he repeated, staring out the window. "But what are we gonna do? We can't keep them."
Dean took offense to that. "Why not? They're my kids."
"You don't know that for sure," Sam reminded. "And do you really want them to go through what we went through growing up?"
"They don't have to, you know," he reasoned, his voice serious. "We could, you know, stop."
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "We've tried that before, Dean. It never works out."
"Yeah, but now we have the perfect reason to. Well, I do. You don't have to," he suggested.
"Dude, you're an idiot," Sam replied, putting his hand forward to stop the retort that Dean was about to give. "You should know by now that I'll stick with you through thick and thin."
"Until you hit another dog," he half-teased.
"Dude, shut up, I'm serious." That was another sore spot between them, and Dean just had to be the asshole and bring it up. "We just escaped from maximum security prison. We are on the highest of shit lists with the whole damn country, not to mention the British Men of Letters. That's totally unfair to those kids. And since when have you been so eager to retire?"
"Since Mom, Sam," Dean snapped. "You don't think I've already thought of all the crap you've just said? You don't think I'm worried that I'm going to screw those kids up for life?"
"Dean..."
"No, Sam. We'll figure it out like we always do. But I can't..." he sighed. "I can't stand the thought of my kids out there without me to protect them. I just can't."
And with that, Sam knew that was the end of that conversation. He exhaled loudly, frustrated at his brother's hard-headedness and strong sense of duty to his family. "If they're yours," he added as the final thought, and he could've sworn he saw a look of hurt in Dean's eyes, as though the possibility of the two newborns belonging to someone else would take a greater toll on him than having to raise them in their constantly difficult situation.
They passed the following half hour in complete silence, not even bothering with the radio as they were lost in their thoughts.
"How do we tell Mom?" Dean finally said. God, the punches just kept rolling for the poor woman. One moment she was at home with her husband and young boys, the next, her husband was dead and her kids grown up and hunting, and now a few months later she's a grandmother.
Sam sighed. He'd been thinking the same thing. "I have no idea, man."
"I just..." Dean struggled. "I just want her to be happy, you know? I mean, she gave her life trying to protect us from what our entire lives ended up being based upon. I don't wanna drag her back into our lives if she's not ready." There was a pain settling in Dean's eyes that Sam knew stemmed from abandonment issues with their father and the need for acceptance from their mother.
"Well, we're retiring, right? Maybe this will be a good thing."
"Maybe..." They sat in silence awhile longer. "She's a lot like you, you know?" Dean said, glancing over at his brother with a smile.
Sam gave a little laugh. "She likes George Thoroughgood and pie, how is she not like you?"
"She runs when she's scared," he said, not intending it as an insult, but he saw Sam's face fall anyway. He looked back at the road as he continued, "It's how you both deal when things get too out of control. You with Stanford and Purgatory, and Mom with coming back. And I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I just need you to be prepared in case it happens again, because if anyone know where she's coming from, it's you."
"Huh," Sam said quietly as he considered. "I never thought of it that way. But I was wrong every time I did that, you said so yourse-"
"Well, maybe I was wrong," he interrupted. "Look, whatever happens, I know you have my back. And Mom just needs some time to adjust. So no matter what happens, we gotta stick through this together, 'cause I can't raise two kids on my own, man. I had trouble enough with you."
Sam smiled at his brother's lack of confidence. "I'd say you did a pretty good job, considering."
Dean cocked a thousand-watt smile. "Damn right I did."
The chick-flick moment was over for now as Dean turned the radio back on, singing along in an off-tune, intentionally annoying voice to Mississippi Kid and he sped up way past the speed limit through the dark countryside of Kansas.
