06. Driver Picks the Music, Shot-gun Shuts his Cake-hole ― 1.01 (Pilot)
"I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection…" Sam advised abrasively as he rifled through Dean's music box that had been harshly jammed in the glove box without mercy.
It didn't really matter to him in the big scale of things, not really. He was only going with Dean to find their father and then he was coming straight back home to Jess and his Stanford college life. He was taking this small little detour for Dean's sake mostly, not his dad's. Dean had barged right back into his life and given him the guilt-trip from hell before he'd agree to accompany him, but Sam had always been weak to Dean's requests, probably because his big brother had been more like his guardian and protector. More so than his ever-absent father at least.
"Why?" Dean bristled, glancing over at him as his hands paused in their preparation to start up the engine.
"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes," Sam illuminated jokingly as he picked up a number of cassettes and read the labels on the sides. "And, two: Black Sabbath, Motor Head, Metallica―?"
Very quickly, Dean yanked the Metallica tape out of Sam's hand defensively.
"―It's the greatest hits of the mullet rock." Sam continued, goading. A little smirk appearing on his face.
"Well," Dean interjected before Sam could continue criticising his music taste, "house rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shot-gun shuts his cake-hole."
Dean tossed the Metallica cassette back into the box in Sam's hands and turned the key to the ignition, AC/DC's 'Back in Black' immediately blasting through the speakers and drowning out Sam's next sentence: "You know Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam!"
"Sorry, I can't hear you," Dean announced, this time wearing a smug little grin. "The music's too loud."
Sam didn't really have much opportunity to reply as Dean pulled out of the gas station at near break-neck speeds and dangerously swerved them onto the side road that led back to the main highway. Not that he wanted to. In Sam's mind, Dean was still that irritating nineteen-year-old that he hadn't been able to get away from when he had been younger. Sure, he owed Dean a lot, but that didn't mean that Dean wasn't just as annoying as he always had been.
Cruising down the highway, the AC/DC cassette still blaring so loud that there was no way either of them would be heard if they attempted to talk, Sam was stared pensively out the window as Dean's words echoed in his mind. Maybe it had just been the earlier conversation, or just being with his brother, or perhaps it was the familiar smell of the Impala's leather seats, but Sam caught himself thinking about his father.
How many times had dad said those words? 'Driver picks the music, shot-gun shuts his cake-hole.' He was willing to bet that that was where Dean had picked up most of his sayings and mannerisms. Sam found it almost… sad that Dean was nothing more than a poor replica of their father. Dean had had the potential to be so much more, he still did! Sam had gone off to college, why the hell couldn't Dean? Not that he'd bring it up with the older. Dean was already far too defensive about the family business, already far too jaded and unable to trust anyone who wasn't family.
But still, Sam worried about his big brother. Their dad might've been an A-class ass-hole for raising them in this life but that didn't mean Dean had to follow him all the way to the end. Dean didn't have to waste his life like this. In Sam's eyes, Dean had basically given up all hope of an apple-pie life and that made him feel like a failure as a little brother. He was the only constant support that Dean had ever really had, but he'd quit the family business and let them go; let Dean down. Because Sam knew that Dean didn't see the same potential in him that Sam did. Dean didn't know that he didn't have to be the driver or even the shot-gun, to Sam, he just had to be Dean and that was all that really mattered.