Title: We Could Be Heroes

Rating: PG

Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean (maybe possibly together if you have slash goggles attached to your face, I dunno), mentions of John.

Prompt: Week 2, prompt 2. Sam/Dean – We'll be a family again.

Spoilers: some vague season 4 or 5 ones, nothing really specific. Maybe a little from the very beginning of the show, and from season 3.

Word count: 1024

Warnings: ANGST, the brothers being brotherly, very wordy descriptions possibly. Also, not canon-compliant in any sense of the word.

Summary: Dean's been traveling the road since the Apocalypse was averted.

Notes: Title is unrelated. I think I may be a little insane. Or just depressed, I dunno. My head hurts, and I wanted to feel like I was doing something. I can't think right now. I guess Supernatural drags out the fledgling writer my sister enables.

Dean's been traveling the road since the Apocalypse was averted. He tells Sam it's itchy feet; he needs to be traveling, he can't settle down, there's still evil to be hunted, there's still purpose out there. Sam doesn't want any more of it. He didn't go back to college after all that happened in between, but he didn't keep going. Somewhere, down in the depths of himself he doesn't mention to anyone, Dean's a little sad that Sam isn't with him anymore. They'll always be brothers; Sam calls every now and again, while Dean visits at the reasonably nice apartment Sam's living in. Both know it's not the same.

"Dean, I know you think hunting is your life's calling, but seriously. You can't keep it up until you're dead."

"That's the point. I hunt until some evil sonofabitch ganks me."

"It's not how it has to be." Usually, the tone in his little brother's voice at those words makes him hang up. There's always a different reason for why, but it keeps either one from talking to the other for weeks at a time. Each time, he fights down the instinct to call his brother back. Each time, he refuses to give in to what he knows he should do.

This time, he thinks, this time I'll call him back. This time, I'll apologize. His finger will always call up the redial menu, he always lets the cursor hover over his brother's new number. And he shuts his phone every time. His thoughts race as he speeds down the backroads. Memories of his baby brother and how he used to protect the kid without fail. It's not too long before he remembers that he hasn't needed to protect Sammy for a long time now.

"Dean, I'm sorry about last week. I know you hate me saying that, even though it's true. I just wanna look out for you like you did for me my whole life, man. Look, it's not like there aren't other hunters out there, why can't you at least take a vacation for a while? I-"

Beeeeeeeeep. End of message.

Messages like this pile up in his phone as time goes on. Dean saves them all. There's something underneath the words that he doesn't want to admit exists, but knows is there. Sam never says it outright, but they've lived too long together to hide much. Dean will always pull a u-turn from where he is and drive back. Will park nearby, walk down the road, up the steps, and knock on his brother's door. He knows when Sam is going to be home, so he's never been left waiting long. They talk, in their usual way, and for the most part make up for whatever they were fighting about.

This time, Sam surprises him. Throws the door open almost violently and stares down at him, a mix of sadness and love in his eyes.

"We could be a family again."

The words, spoken out loud at last, make Dean sigh heavily. "Neither of us have a family anymore. You know we can't go back to the way it was, or the way it should be."

"Why not, Dean? Seriously, why not?" There's anger, regret, loneliness, and probably a hint of that steadfast love wrapped up in his voice. Dean doesn't have an answer to the question. Too much history between them keeps him from saying anything. His baby brother, from the moment his father put him in his arms and told him to run out of their previous life, had all of everything Dean was.

"There's nothing else I can give ya, Sammy. You already have it all."

"It's not about that! Why can't you just... I don't wanna turn on the news one day and find out you've died on a hunt."

"If it ends like that, then..." He shrugged. Long before this moment, Dean was ready to die on the job. Long before Hell, before the witches, before the car crash, and even before the heart attack. It was inevitable that he'd bite off more than he could chew; hell, it's happened more than once already. "You know how it is."

"It doesn't have..." Sam trails off. It's been a long time since he's faced down this sort of perpetual worthlessness loop Dean always finds himself in. "Why do you do this? Why do you have to be so..."

"So what?" Dean knows his voice sounds like he's ready for a fight, like he's about to punch Sam in the face for whatever that sentence is implying. He wants to take it back, but he's too hurt.

"Why do you have to be so ready to break this? Break connections, break yourself, break me."

And Dean doesn't have an answer for that. He wants to say he wishes he could just pretend his life never happened the way it has. That he could act like the world was like how it was when he was captured by the djinni, but he can't. It's been too much, and he's not Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. He broke long ago, Sam's right about that.

"All I had was you, y'know." He almost-whispers. "You broke that. One too many burdens for me to carry, and everything went downhill from there. I'm not gonna stop, pretend that I can live a normal... Normal, safe, pointless life." There's nothing more for him to say, so he walks away. He can hear Sam calling him back, shouting for him to turn around and try to work this out again, but he doesn't obey. He can hear Sam's footsteps as he chases after, which means they're both running at this point. Thing is, Dean doesn't remember what purpose running will serve. Only that the methodical pounding of his feet is almost as soothing as the grumble of his baby's engine.

He's in and out of town before he realizes that he's not looking at the road in front of him. That he's not looking at anything, but remembering that Christmas where he knew they would stick together against all the bad times.