It was getting dark by the time he started back. He pulled out his phone to test the waters. No, he would do this in person.
Sam could hear the music as soon as he opened the door. This wasn't 'brooding Dean' music; this was 'happy Dean' music and he could smell the cooking. Sam walked towards the kitchen very uncertain of what he would find.
At the kitchen door, he called out to his brother. But, with his back turned, the loud music and his bad singing, Dean didn't hear him. Sam approached and tapped Dean on the shoulder.
Dean's elbow came up quick and caught Sam in the chest, knocking him back a step. Dean turned with the knife still in his hand. He dropped it when he saw Sam and lowering the music, he said, "You shouldn't do that." Sam raised his hands and answered, I called out; you didn't hear me." Then he rubbed his chest and said, "I guess we're even now."
Dean started to turn back to his cooking so, Sam spoke up.
"Dean, I'm really not angry at you."
"You sure fooled me."
"Seriously, you always know what to do. You always know what's right. You never hesitate when it comes to me."
"Sammy, is that what you think?"
Sam held up his hand and continued. "Please, Dean. I just feel so inadequate, sometimes. Like you deserve better."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You, inadequate? Did you get drunk again? You have to be the smartest person, the second best hunter. There's nothing wrong with you that a little fun wouldn't cure. Everything is not that serious, Sam. And, I can't believe I'm saying this but, life is good."
Sam didn't know what to think. He'd never heard his brother talk like this. But he had something else he had to say.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. All I saw was Dick Roman explode and then you and Cas disappeared. I thought you were all scattered. How do I start to collect millions of pieces? And from where? I had no one, no help, not even a starting point. You were just gone. I couldn't think beyond the promise to take care of the Impala so, that's what I did. And then I just drove."
Dean had no idea that Sam felt this way. He had to make it right. "So, you didn't save me. You didn't know where I was. Hell, I didn't know where I was. But, I got out." He patted Sam's face and said, "It's ok. We're not doing this any more. You hungry?"
The non sequitur threw Sam off. "Dean, you don't have to do this."
Dean answered. "It's dinner. We have to eat. So, please.." He pointed down the hall.
Sam could smell the aroma and asked. "It does smell good. What is it?"
Smiling and nodding, okay beaming, Dean answered. "Chicken Cacciatore." Sam's face betrayed his disbelief. So, Dean explained. "It's an old hunters' recipe."
Sam asked, "What hunter taught you that?"
Dean rolled his eyes and shaking his head said, "College boy"
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