Pastor Jim's coffee suffers from a serious lack of sugar but Dean can't bring himself to care. Just as he can't bring himself to wake his brother, still sleeping on the backseat of the car. It's been years since Sam fitted there and he has to be uncomfortable. Dean doesn't care.

He drinks his coffee absently, sitting on the couch. He doesn't even know who this house belongs to. Some hunter, friend of Caleb's, keeps it open as a safe house for other hunters looking for shelter. Only rule is to keep it clean and stocked. Dean never meant to spend more than a night. He definitely never meant to burn his father in the backyard.

This is so fucked up.

But he doesn't care.

All the hurt and the pain of the past few days, since his father collapsed on that hospital hallway… its all gone now. All the anger Dean felt just mere hours ago… gone. He's just empty and tired and dry.

Pastor Jim asks if he wants something to eat and he knows that he should eat something. Last "meal" he had was a bag of Doritos almost 24 hours before, on the road from Palo Alto. But he doesn't feel hungry.

Pastor Jim asks how he's holding up and he knows he should feel something. But he doesn't feel anything. So he shrugs. "'m fine."

He's fine.

He supposes he is, actually. Feeling nothing sure beats what he knows he's supposed to be feeling right now.

His father is dead.

His family is gone.

His worst nightmare has come true and he's all alone now.

What's he supposed to do?

Hunt?

What's the fucking point?

The evil things out there always win. They always do. It doesn't matter how many people he saves, he can't save them all. He couldn't even save his own family. What sort of hunter is he? Evil things took everything that mattered to him and he couldn't lift a finger to stop it.

They burned his mother and took his father - his father, his amazing father, the biggest fucking hero in the whole world, John Winchester, invincible - without even a fight. If they could break John Winchester, Dean is surely no match.

What's the point?

Sam was right. This whole time, Sam was right. This is fucking pointless.

Not that Dean can do anything about it, really. Because, seriously, what's he supposed to do if he's not hunting? Get a job, a normal life, a picket fence?

Right.

Sam's the one for the normal life. Dean was broken for the start. He's a lost cause.

So, no hunting. No normal life.

Seriously, what was his dad thinking? Does this look like a life worth living? Is this life worth his father's? It isn't. It's so fucking isn't.

His father knew nothing about him, apparently. Dean would much rather be dead than alone.

Which… by the way, is exactly the line of thinking that got him in this mess with Sam.

Dean's not shooting himself anymore. He promised Sam. He never broke a promise to his brother and he's not starting now. And Dean knows that Sam will blame himself if Dean goes through with it. He won't do it.

He'll just… sit on this couch and drink coffee and… whatever.

What was it that Angelina Jolie said in that movie where she was crazy? 'Razors are painful, rivers are damp… blah blah, blah, nooses give, you might as well live'.

That's Dean Winchester for you. All options suck, he might as well live.

After a long while, Sam gets inside. Kid looks like hell. Dean should be pissed at him, he knows. But he's not. Sam is just Sam. It's Dean's own fault to hope that Sam's image of their father would one day improve. Sam never respected their father. He never wanted this life.

It's probably Dean's fault too.

All the years he tried to shelter the kid, tried to make his childhood last longer, tried to protect him from the knowing, from the training, from the life they had to lead. Maybe Dean protected him too much and Sam never realized he had a responsibility. Maybe Dean wanted to take care of Sam so bad he never gave his father the chance to be a real father. Maybe if Dean had stepped back a little, his father and Sam could have had a closer relationship and this whole mess would have been avoided.

Yeah, it's Dean's own fault.

Sam gives him a long look and asks if he's okay. He repeats the automatic "'m fine" he gave Pastor Jim and fishes his cell phone from his pocket, looking for something to focus on.

48 missed calls. Two from Pastor Jim, one from Bobby, all from the day before. A couple from other hunters, who probably already knew about his father. Over 40 from a number he doesn't know.

Weird.

Whatever, it's not like he gives a fuck.

What emergency could he possibly care about now?

He flips the small TV on, just to have something to stare at and puts his legs up on a cushion. He lays there. For hours.

After awhile, Sam makes lunch… or dinner, probably, since it's starting to get dark outside. They slept most of the day. His brother brings him a plate and he just shrugs his denial, but Sam sits tiredly on a chair next to him and just breathes. "Dude, please…"

Dean takes the plate, just to stop Sam from talking.

It works.

They eat in silence, then Sam takes their plates to the sink.

He comes back, sits back on the chair and just watches the TV with him. Dean keeps expecting him to open that big mouth.

Pastor Jim is nowhere to be seen. Probably went out and Dean missed it.

"So… you're just not going to talk to me ever again?"

And there it is.

That's right, Dean wants to answer. He just shuts his eyes. He does not want to talk.

"Dean, please…", and that pleading five-year-old-Sammy is so not going to work today… tonight.

"Sam, just… leave me alone."

"I won't", Sam answers a little too readily and little stronger than Dean expected it, so he turns his head quizzically.

Sam takes a deep breath.

"I won't leave you."

Dean lets a small throaty laugh at that. "Right."

"I mean it", his brother is staring at him and he's no longer five-year-old-Sammy, he's fourteen-year-old-my-name-is-Sam-take-me-seriously.

"Okay." Dean is so not in the mood for his brother's emo moments.

"I mean it, Dean. This… this changes everything. I won't leave you alone", Sam pauses, Dean just stares at the TV.

"I don't know what you want to do, but I'm doing it with you. Wherever you go, I go.".

Right.

How many times have Dean hoped and prayed to hear this little speech again? He lost count.

Means nothing now.

"You're not going back to college?", he asks, not turning away from the screen, but looking at his brother from the corner of his eye.

Sam blinks, looks away, looks back, swallows.

"No."

Right.

"Why, Sam? Because dad died and now…", Dean tries, but Sam cuts him, sharply. "Because you are my brother, Dean, and I won't leave you alone".

And, there. Remember all that nothing Dean was feeling? Gone.

He's pissed.

He turns to face Sam.

"Oh, right. Now, now, I'm your brother. Now, dad's dead, so I'm family again. Right, good to know, Sam".

His brother is staring at him wide-eyed. "You were always my family, Dean, just what the hell makes you think…"

Dean's not listening. "God, you are so selfish."

That shuts him up. "What?"

Dean puts his head on his hands, elbows on his knees and he's just…letting it all out. Fuck it.

"All these years I had to hear you bitch and moan and complain about our life and our father and how we moved around and how we didn't have a home and, fuck, Sam… did you even ever thought about how you were making me feel?", Dean lifts his head to stare at his brother. Sam's silent.

"I mean… all I ever did my whole entire fucking miserable life was to try to give you a home. To give you a taste of normalcy. Fuck… I worked two jobs no matter what ass-end town in the middle of nowhere we were in, so you wouldn't have to. I watched all you frigging stupid plays and soccer games and drove you around every fucking where and all I ever heard was you bitching about how dad wasn't around, how dad didn't make it to the play or the game or whatever the fuck…", Dean's voice is raising and raising and he knows he's pushing all the buttons he swore never to push but… now he's family?

"… and NOW I'm family? NOW you won't leave me? All I wanted my entire life was for the three of us to be a family, for you two to get along, for you…", Dean's panting. "And now… now dad's dead and now you want to… to…".

Dean has to stand. He has to leave. He has to…. he takes a deep breath. Looks at his brother.

"Now? Now I don't care. I don't want it. It's too little, Sam… and it's too late".

He stands there for a minute. Sam slowly bents his head down, nodding.

Dean should storm out, he should want to break something. But he let it all out and now he's back at calm and numb and to his blessed nothing.

So he just whispers. "I'll drive you back to Palo Alto in the morning."

Then Dean sits back in the couch, pulls his legs up and goes back to staring at the TV.

Sam just sits there.