It was one of those rare days where in the course of the afternoon, Dean got tired of listening to the same cassette tapes and turned on the radio.
Eve of Destruction blared at them from the speakers. Dean's hand hesitated on the dial. Paused, considered. Let it play.
Sam looked over at him. This had been a John Winchester favorite, one that he didn't have on cassette.
Dean's eyes were contemplative.
"Do you still think of Dad?" Sam asked.
Dean paused, stole a sideways glance at his brother, the strong lines of his jaw tightening. "Do you? " He asked.
Sam shrugged. "Yeah...yeah I do...From time to time."
Dean nodded tightly.
"That's doesn't answer my question. Do you think about him?"
Dean was silent. Then quietly, his hands tightening on the wheel. "Every damn day."
Sam couldn't hide his shock. "Really?"
"That surprises you? "
"Yeah. You never mention him."
"Not much to say."
Sam kept studying Dean through his long hair. He brushed it back with a nervous gesture. "I didn't know. I...don't that often."
"I loved him more."
Sam's knee-jerk reaction was to protest, but then he realized that his brother's sentiment was probably true. The thought made his throat close.
"I just understood him in a way that you never did, S'mmy." A beat of silence as if his brother were considering which chinks in his armor to reveal. Then finally, "I wish I hadn't."
"What?" Sam wrinkled his nose in disbelief. " Why?"
"Because then it wouldn't hurt so much."
Dean turned his eyes to the road and changed the station.