He thought out loud, "What are you gonna do, Dean, wallow in it? Did I just say 'wallow'?" He waved his hand in the air, as if to erase the words.
"Screw that. I love my brother and I will protect my family. I'm not apologizing for that. I'll do whatever I have to and if that means cleaning up the mess, after, then bring it. He's mad at me; I'm mad at him. I ain't playing that game no more. And if Sam has a problem with that, it's on him. I'm good. Let the work be the work; I'm gonna be happy. I'm taking this home and family crap and I'm running with it."
Satisfied, he had solved the major problems of the world, again, Dean asked himself, "Now, what's for dinner?"
Sam leaned back against the driver's side door. He had his arms folded across his chest and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked straight ahead focusing on nothing. His senses felt overloaded. He was exhausted. His brother had always done so much for him and never asked, and barely accepted, anything in return.
He wanted Dean to save him; he had to accept that as fact. How could anyone do this job without some kind of backup? Even Dad had friends and he always had Dean. But who does Dean have? Out loud, he said, "He's only got me. How could he ever forgive me? I left him to languish in Purgatory, all that time, while I was happy and safe." Sam rubbed his hand across the roof of the Impala. Then pushing his hands into his pockets, he started walking.
The kitchen was always well stocked. They didn't work the 'nine to five' so meals were unscheduled at best. He found the chicken in the meat freezer and placed it in the sink. The pantry was next. He preferred fresh tomatoes but, they were hard to keep so, canned would do the job. He stopped at the spice rack. Although most were supplies for spells and rituals, this was an assortment worthy of a test kitchen. He picked up basil, oregano, a couple of other things then, grabbed onions and peppers, on the way out. Sam laughed whenever he caught Dean watching the cooking channels but that's how he learned to freeze fresh mushrooms. He pulled out the container and grabbed the wine. After taking inventory, he began the task of preparing the chicken.
It would take a couple of hours but dinner would be great, chicken cacciatore, perfect!
Sam loved to walk. Out here alone, he could think, solve all his problems. Well, it's not working this time, he thought. How was he going to fix this with Dean? He didn't mean half those things he had said. They were brothers; you can't just erase that.
Sam thought that maybe he could just apologize. Dean's a reasonable guy. He had to laugh at that. Then out loud he said, "Plus, I punched him in the mouth; he owes me for that." He kept walking.