Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.

A/N: I want to apologize to all my regular readers. I know I haven't kept up my usual update schedule. Recent world events have kept me exhausted on a semi-permanent basis. Even when I sleep for eight to nine hours a night like I should, I still want a one to two-hour nap in the afternoon. I work in a pharmacy, and my hours are basically at the place where I can go in and work whenever I want for however long I want.

My point is, I'm tired you guys. I'm tired and honestly, I'm scared. Working in a pharmacy, even in the front store part of the pharmacy, puts me at risk for getting this virus every time I work. I'm scared of this. I'm trying to keep up with this and all my school stuff, but it's hard. Just stay patient with me, please.

This here isn't really a story so much as Dean just sitting in Baby and thinking. He's driven Sam to the bus station and is thinking about what led to the massive fight between Sam and John. It came as a result of how much angst I've been feeling lately, so it is not a happy ending type of story. I'm working on a chapter of my story Keep Your Perspective after this, written from Natalie's point of view, and after that, I'm planning out my next chapter of my Kayla story.

Everybody, stay safe and stay healthy. I'm serious. This virus is no joke.

The lump in Dean's throat was growing so big he wondered why it didn't cut off his air supply. Sam had left on the bus to Stanford more than five minutes ago, but Dean couldn't bring himself to leave. The world had stopped, and if Dean started the car, he'd have to face it.

Of course, the longer he sat in the car, not moving, the longer he started to realize some things. Things that might have saved him from the pain that was crushing him now that he would, of course, never acknowledge out loud.

It had all started eight hours earlier. Dean and John had come home from a hunt, one that Sam had skipped out on, claiming that he didn't feel well. Dean hadn't bought the excuse, but he'd let it go. Surprisingly, John had been okay with it. Now Dean wondered if John had okayed Sam staying home in an attempt to smooth the waters. If it was an attempt by John to say to Sam, without actually saying it, thank you for listening, Sammy. Thank you for staying.

"Would it kill you to actually say it, Dad?" Dean asked.

Dean didn't know whether he'd said that out loud or not, but he didn't care. There was no one around to worry about offending. Which Dean seemed more than capable of doing. He had offended Sam by not sticking up for him, and it wasn't the first time. He'd offended John by going after Sam after being ordered not to.

No doubt about it, Dean Winchester was good at making his family absolutely miserable. Rather than go back home, Dean thought about his brother.

Sammy had always been…needy. Dean hated phrasing it that way, but it was true. He'd only been six months old when the family's life was turned upside down, and from that moment forward the entire family revolved around him. The problem came with what exactly it was that Sam needed.

Sam didn't want a lot of stuff. He didn't want toys or a lot of money or fancy clothes. He wanted a life. A life that the rest of the world got to enjoy and he didn't even get a fair chance to sample. Dean almost wished that Sam had cried for all the material stuff. He would have had no problem hustling pool for the money to pay for some of that, even if his father objected. But providing Sam's true dream? That Dean couldn't do.

Deep down, Dean knew that giving Sam some of his dream was doable. Not the entire thing, but giving him some normal, some stability, was possible. As happened so often when he was alone, memories floated on the edge of Dean's brain.

"Dee? When's Daddy gonna be home?"

Dean sighed deeply. "I don't know, Sammy. Stop asking."

"He promised he'd read to me tonight."

Dean frowned. He'd forgotten all about that. It was already ten at night, and Sam's eyes were getting heavy. "I don't think Dad will be back tonight, Sam."

"But he promised!"

Dean was ready to kill whoever had taught Sam the word 'promise'. "Sammy, I know he said he promised. But his work went longer than he thought…"

"I want my Daddy." Sammy sniffed.

"I'll read to you." Dean offered. He really didn't want to, but anything was better than a sad, crying Sammy.

"You always do it. I wan' Daddy, Dee. Call him, make him come back."

Dean had, of course, not tried to get John to come back. He had picked up the phone then and pretended to call John, and for that night, it had been enough to satisfy Sammy. Luckily, John had come back in the night before Sam woke up, and repaid his broken promise by reading to Sam most of the next day.

But the pattern continued, and Sam soon grew out of being fooled by Dean's imaginary phone calls.

"I have a game and practice, Dean!"

"That's too bad, Sammy." Dean said. "You heard Dad. No leaving the house while he's gone and I'm working."

"Wait." Sam stopped and turned to Dean. "You're not coming, either?"

"No, Sammy. Because I have to work."

"So you can go to your job that you love and I can't do something I love for one hour?"

"Sammy, do you really think I'd rather work than be here with you…"

"Yes."

Dean stopped. He knew it was wrong to guilt Sam, but it was the quickest way to get through to him. Dad had to hunt and Dean had to work, and to stay safe, Sam had to be home. "What?"

"You heard me. I said yes. You love that job. You come home smiling and don't shut up about it. You and Dad talk all about his hunts. But the second I want something for myself, I'm the freak in this family."

"Sammy…"

"It's Sam. If you want to prove to me that something I want matters, how about starting with that?"

Sammy hadn't given Dean a chance to respond, just stalked off to his room and slammed the door. Not that Dean really could say anything. He couldn't deny Sam's accusation. He did enjoy his job for once. He made money fixing up cars, and got to learn something that didn't have to do with hunting.

Damn, Dean thought to himself. That was exactly what Sam wanted too.

And so, that night, the vicious cycle had repeated itself. John stayed away when he had promised Sam he'd be there, Sam was moody and angry, John was tired of Sam being moody and angry, and on an on and on ad infinitum. Sam wanted the one thing that Dean couldn't give him and the one thing that John wouldn't. Dean went back to feeling helpless, Sam went back to feeling like no one cared what he wanted, and John went back to being more himself than ever.

For a while, Dean had actually believed things were getting back to...not normal, exactly, but better. He realized now that it was stupid, but he'd hoped they would continue trending that direction. Sam buckled down and trained when he was supposed to. He stopped starting fights with John, though John didn't return the favor. Dean begged his father, pleaded with him, to please be supportive and to encourage Sam more, but John continued to point out what he call out Sam's 'weakest spots' rather than praising him for his strength.

John did improve slowly. He became more understanding when Sam needed a little time to do schoolwork, letting him study for tests and push training back a little. Dean's jaw had dropped one weekend when John allowed Sam to go on a weekend camping trip with his friends, but he'd said nothing. Sam had smiled the entire week, and though Dean wasn't crazy about the idea of his baby brother being away from him with a group of boys he'd barely met, the happiness it seemed to bring to Sam was worth it.

But Dean understood now. Sam was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to leave. He had never relinquished those dreams of college, he'd just stopped bringing them up in an effort to butter his family up to the possibility of him leaving.

Sammy's leaving. The thought blared in his head and refused to leave. Sammy was leaving.

Another thought crossed Dean's mind. Could anything have stopped this?

Dean knew the answer. This could've been stopped if at least some of the pleas Sam made of I never get to do what I want had been met. If his brother and father had paid just a little more attention to Sam, to Sam and not to who the two of them wanted him to be, then maybe, just maybe, Sam might've stayed.

You did it to yourself. It hurt to realize it, but it was true. Because while Sam never got what was important to him, John and Dean did. For John, most of the time, Sam and Dean were safe. For Dean, he had his family together.

It was Sam's turn now.

"I'm sorry, bitch. Be safe."

His heart weighing him down with all the loneliness he knew was coming, Dean finally started the car to head back to his life.