Sam cleaned Bobby's office, organized files, put receipts in their proper order, organized his computer files and cleaned out old ones, called people who were deficient in their payments to Singer Salvage, and even managed to do research for his upcoming paper while Dean had slept. Bobby had put Sam to work the moment he realized that Sam was going to pace the floor up and down for the entire time in which Dean slept if he didn't have something for him to do. If Sam hadn't opened a text book and began working on school work, Bobby would have had him in his living room alphabetizing books and building the bookshelves for them to sit on.
"When do you think he'll wake up?" Sam asked just as he started tapping his pencil against the text he was supposedly reading.
Bobby looked up from the occult book he was consulting for a friend. "When he's ready. You try being scared out of your wits for a long period of time and we'll see how long you sleep." Bobby said gruffly.
"Done that." Sam mumbled under his breath. Bobby didn't know what he meant by that, and right now, after seeing Dean scared out of his wits and begging, Bobby wasn't ready to shove emotional shit with Sam Winchester's name on it. He would have to wait until they got Dean squared away, because God knew he would high tail it out of here as soon as Bobby let him, or the moment Bobby wasn't paying attention, which ever came first. "Maybe I should go check on him." Sam said closing his book and pushing his chair away from the table.
"And maybe you should walk into a nest of vampires, just because it sounds like a good plan doesn't mean it is boy."
"Vampires are extinct." Sam said matter of fact. Bobby sighed. For a Stanford education one would expect a little more out of the guy.
"Of course they are Sammy." Dean said from the top of the stairs. He started his decent. "You know Sammy, for all of that expensive education you really need to get the analogy."
"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.
"Fine." Dean sat down next to Sam. It was the closest they had been in three years. Sam felt electric, like he just needed to reach out and make the final connection and the circuit would be complete, that everything would be right again. Dean looked to Bobby and the older hunter nodded and left the two boys alone. "Sammy, we need to talk."
"I agree. You go first." Dean nodded, licked his lips and sighed.
"I don't want to see you anymore." Sam's blood ran cold. That was not what he expected Dean to say. He expected 'Come on Sammy, come back and hut with me.' or 'I'd love to meet this girlfriend of yours.' Never did he expect his big brother, his hero, to tell him that he didn't want him around anymore.
"What?"
"I don't' want us to cross paths anymore. I don't want to hear from you, speak to you, or anything."
"But."
"Sam." Sam was caught off guard; he called him Sam, that was serious. "I've been thinking. I think it would be best. I mean, you need to have your life. You've always wanted it and you got it. Yay, go you. Now go out there and keep it. I don't need you. Dad doesn't need you."
"But, with the incubus."
"If I hadn't seen you and yelled, I would have been okay. My defenses were down because I was angry with you. You make me weak Sam. This is the last time I want to see you." Dean stood.
"I thought we were going to talk."
"We did." Dean said casually. "We're done." Sam stood as well. Dean extended a hand and when Sam didn't reply, Dean put his brother's huge hand inside his. "Good luck Sam." Dean strode to the kitchen and patted Bobby on the shoulder said something that Sam assumed were goodbyes, and listened as Bobby gruffly told him that he should be in bed, and then he heard the door snap shut and he felt a tear fall down his face. His brother didn't need him anymore. His brother didn't want him anymore. And this time, there was no miscommunication, no more wrong assumptions, this was fact, cold, hard fact. His brother had said it without even flinching. He fell back into the chair and barely felt Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.
The Impala purred. It sang with healthy rhythm. It's master, however, cried openly as Metallica poured from the speakers. He was almost more hurt than Sam was by his little speech. He didn't want to never see his brother again. But somewhere inside, deep inside, he realized that it would be safer for his brother to be away from him, away from hunting. He'd realized this on his way to hunting the Incubus. He had realized it even more when he had been forced to see all of the scenarios in which Sam could die, while he had been under the influence of the incubus, but when he saw his little brother downstairs, researching, researching something that had nothing to do with ghosts and goblins, it hit him square in the face, that if he encouraged Sam to keep in touch with him, he was sentencing his little brother to a life of misery, and lies that he had to tell in order to explain his delinquent brother. He didn't want that for Sammy. Couldn't have that for Sammy. Had to protect Sammy, even if the cost of that was his own heart.