Dean heaved a sigh and slumped down on the sagging mattress of the motel room somewhere in the deep end of Utah. John and he had been hunting the vengeful spirit of a farmer for the past couple of days and to say that they were exhausted would be an understatement. Wholly and completely shattered would be more fitting. So it was only understandable that Dean groaned unnerved when his phone started vibrating on the nightstand next to him.

Without getting back up, he reached for the cell and peeked at the caller ID. Immediately, the frown vanished from his face, and he hurried to straighten up. It had been a while since Sam had last called.

John was out to get them some dinner, so Dean didn't bother to go somewhere more private before answering the phone: "Sam, hey! What's up, man?" Dean couldn't quite hide his excitement. It had been almost a year since Sam had left for Stanford and he could count the calls he had received since then on both hands. He wasn't going to lie – it felt good that Sam, having abandoned the family business, at least hadn't abandoned him completely.

"Hi, uh… am I disturbing you?" Sam's voice sounded uncertain, almost shy, and that was enough to spark worry in Dean's gut. "Not at all", he hurried to reply, "just resting up. Finally killed that spirit we were hunting the past couple of days." Although he had just verbally assured Sam that he wasn't doing anything important, the latter still mumbled an apology. "I just… you are my emergency contact, and I didn't know who else to call."

Dean was up on his feet at once, tempted to grab his jacket and leave the room already. "What happened? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?" For his brother's sake, Dean tried to keep the panic in his tone to a minimum, but it wasn't exactly easy to stay calm, hearing Sam's slightly sped-up breathing through the line. When there was no reply, Dean asked a bit more urgently: "Sam! Did something happen?"

Sam drew in a shuddery breath. "No." He laughed, but it sounded shaky and rather like an attempt to sound cheerier than he felt. "No, it's… I don't even know. I just feel like… something really, really bad is about to happen, you know?" Dean stopped pacing up and down and sat down at the small table. "Bad how?"

When Sam replied, the helplessness in his voice was gaining the upper hand. "I don't know! I just have this feeling… I don't even know where it came from, but I feel like… Dean, what if something is wrong with me?" An idea began to form in Dean's head, and he cursed the fact that he had to do this over the phone. "How do you mean wrong? Do you mean physically? Are you sick?" When Sam didn't reply, he added: "Do you feel sick?"

Judging by the sound of footsteps, Sam had begun pacing now. "I don't know", he said again, and Dean started to feel frustrated. "I guess… I'm just… I just have a bad feeling! It's like a stupid fucking alarm going off in my head and I don't know what it's for or where to turn it off and it's driving me insane!" His voice was drifting from nervous to panicked now and instantly, all of Dean's instincts switched to protection mode.

"Okay, whoa. Hey. Sam, listen to me. I think you're having a panic attack." He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the table. "Talk to me, Sammy, can you do that?"

"Talk about what?" Sam's voice came strangely rushed and breathless and before Dean could even begin to elaborate, Sam gasped: "Dean, I can't breathe properly anymore. I don't… there's no air. I can't breathe. What do I do? I can't breathe anymore, there is…" He interrupted himself, desperately trying to cough the tightness in his throat away.

Dean anxiously gripped the phone, tears of sympathy and helplessness pooling in his eyes. "Sam, just listen to me. I know it seems impossible, believe me, but try and focus on my voice, okay? Can you do that for me? Just stay on the phone and listen, that's all you have to do."

Sam's breath came still too heavy and too fast, but he managed to choke out a reply. "What's happening to me?" Dean closed his eyes and forced calm into his voice. "We'll figure it out. It will be fine; we'll figure it out. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere until we have it figured out." Then, after a short moment of thought: "Hey, Sam, can I ask something of you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I've never been to you stylish apartment and I can't help but wonder… can you describe to me what it looks like?" Taken off-guard, Sam actually sounded confused rather than scared. "What? Why?" Dean noted with relief that Sam's breathing seemed to even out again. "Just curious", he answered. "Are you in the living room now? Do you even have a living room?"

Sam snorted. "Of course we have a living room." Dean got up again, finding it easier to think whilst moving. "Okay, geez. We don't; it's one of these five hundred year old motels again. Anyway, do you have a sofa?" Sam made an agreeing noise and Dean continued to ask: "Which colour?" "I don't know, uh… sandy brown? Is that a thing?"

They continued to play that game for a while. Which colour are the curtains? Which shape has the lamp? What is the floor made of? Can you find five blue things? Eventually, Dean sat down on his bed, playing with a loose thread of the duvet. "Sounds really nice. Are you feeling any better yet?" Sam took a moment to think, which Dean thought of as a good sign.

"Yeah, I guess", Sam finally said. "It's not all… not all jittery and strange anymore." Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "God, Sammy. You really had me worried here for a moment." Before Sam could even begin to think of apologies, he added: "Do you know what all that was about?" Again, Sam needed a moment to consider. "Not really, no. I've been feeling a little off the past few days, but I don't know why. I guess…" He stopped suddenly, as if the thought had left before he could utter it. Dean sensed that there was more to that and pressed gently: "You guess… what?" Sam sighed and Dean could almost see him nibbling at his lower lip. "It's just… there was this whole big thing where the new students can show their family around. Visiting week, the week before the first exams. It's not that big a deal."

The forced light-heartedness was worse than open hurt. Dean frowned and crossed his arms on his chest. "When was that?"

"Last week." After another moment, he hesitantly added: "It's not that I wanted to show you the university that badly, I just… I guess I just miss you." Dean's grip around the phone tightened and he closed his eyes. So that was where they had ended up – chick-flick-moments via telephone. Awesome. "Well, ditto", he replied softly. Then, with a more serious ring to it: "Do you want me to come?"

As expected, Sam immediately started to protest. "Don't be silly, Dad would literally kill you if you only suggested that. Plus, it's a waste of time. And gas! And it's really not that big of a deal; I'm fine. I truly am. I don't even know what this was tonight, but I'm good, I promise. You really don't have to…"

Finally, Dean cut him off. "Well, maybe I want to. Haven't seen you in almost a year – plus, now I really want to check out that sandy brown couch you were telling me about. And I won't believe that there is such thing as light-golden curtains until I've seen them myself." When Sam didn't reply, Dean added: "Dad will have to live with it. What's he supposed to do, kick me out? You and me both know he wouldn't to that. I have a right to visit my brother, Sammy. Especially when I have to make fun of him for missing out on the college party life because he lives in a library." "I don't…" Dean cut him off, grinning. "Oh, so you do party a lot, huh? Bet you haven't even been to the library yet, then?" Sam fought for words. "I – it's exam period, Dean! Students study, that's in the job's description!" Dean laughed and nodded, despite Sam not being able to see him.

"Yeah, sure. Please tell me you at least have a fake ID, so you can buy beer. I won't visit to live on water and energy drinks."

Sam had just returned from his weekly trip to the library, a fresh stack of books in his hands, when there was a knock on the door. His roommate was out with a group of friends, so the tween sighed and got back up from the couch to open.

"Hiya! Gotta say this house is not bad!" Sam blinked and stared, completely flabbergasted. After a second or two, he caught himself and shook his head in disbelief. "Dean? You're – you actually came?!" Dean laughed softly and moved to enter the flat. "Like to think that I'm a man of my word." He gave Sam a once-over, nodding in reluctant approval. "Looking good there, Sammy. May I come in?"

For a split second Sam looked like he wanted to embrace Dean in a hug, but eventually he just stepped aside to let Dean inside. "I can't believe it – did you actually drive all the way from Utah?" Dean grinned over his shoulder whilst checking out the small but neat flat. "Almost nonstop."

Sam followed up closely, directing Dean towards the living room. "And Dad was fine with it?" His older brother slumped down on the sandy brown couch. "Totally fine", he replied cheerily. Sam sat down a bit slower. "He wasn't, was he?" Dean sighed and tilted his head backwards. "He wasn't thrilled, no. But, well…" Suddenly, Dean looked slightly guilty, and Sam immediately caught on to that. "Dean, what did you do? If you got in trouble with Dad now…" Before he could bury himself deeper in a pile of worry, Dean quickly interrupted: "I told him that you had an emergency. Personal stuff. And that it would be good if I could check on you." Sam gasped, shaking his head. "But that's not – I didn't have an emergency!"

"Sure sounded like one to me", Dean replied calmly, and Sam shifted on the sofa. "I'm fine", he mumbled, running one hand through his hair.

Dean pushed his brows together and eyed Sam's features carefully. "Are you though?", he asked and was met with an uncertain glance. "I am", Sam said, emphasising the words a little more than necessary. "I am. Mostly." When Dean didn't stop to look at him with his outright piercing gaze, he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "University is hard, okay? Which is no surprise, obviously, I just never thought…" He interrupted himself before he could say what he had actually thought. But Dean seemed to have seen something in Sam's expression that he hadn't made out over the phone last night. "You just never thought you'd have to do it alone", he stated matter-of-factly.

Sam looked down. "It's selfish", he said bluntly. Dean nodded. "A little, yes." Softer, he added: "But also natural. And, well… Dad's behaviour wasn't exactly a role model of generosity and compassion, either." Sam snorted humourlessly. "Must run in the family." He raised his eyes again. "You didn't have to come. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, I appreciate it a lot, but… you didn't have to go through all that trouble." Dean just looked at him. "You're my brother", he said, as if that clarified everything.

Before they could get swamped up in the moment again, Dean clapped his hands together. "Alrighty. Now, the flat's alright, but I want to see the University. Or is it too embarrassing to show a big brother around?" Sam breathed a laugh and got up. "Depends. Are you going to behave?" Dean winked playfully. "You know me, man!"

On their way to the campus, Dean did a casual background-check on Sam: Was he eating and sleeping enough? (Mostly yes; Dean didn't have to know about the all-nighters he pulled lately) Were the people nice? (Many were, but Sam had actually gone out and socialized so little that he could barely judge that – not, that he would ever admit that to his brother) Did the courses work well for him? (Whole-hearted yes here)

Sam kept the little tour down to the basics; showed the main building, the cafeteria, and the library, plus the flats one could rent directly on campus. Dean acknowledged it all with a stern but approving look. Finally, when they had concluded, he nodded. "Nice place. A little too top-notch if you ask me, but… I think you could've done worse." After a moment of hesitation, he added: "Seriously. Look, I'm not gonna pretend I like that you left. That was a dick move, still. But – I get it, man. This life. Normal as far as you can see, some hot chicks, a nice place to come home to. It suits you."

To his surprise, Sam said nothing. He had been awfully quiet for the past hour or so and Dean began to think that something was still up. He nudged Sam in the side. "Alright, come on. Spit it out; what's bothering you?"

Sam wandered towards one of the benches that surrounded the campus and waited for Dean to sit with him before he replied. "I'm a bad person for leaving, aren't I?" Dean, who had secretly anticipated this conversation sooner or later, took a moment to find the right words. "Not bad. You're just… well, you see, you're a free spirit. No shame in that. And stubborn as hell, which kinda runs in your blood I'd dare say. As I said – I get why Dad is pissed at you and I'm not pretending I like that you're miles away all the time. But I also get why you took the chance when you saw it, to make this life – well, your life. Seize the opportunity and stuff. If I had been in your position – hell, I would've probably done the same."

Sam fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. "But you still despise me for it", he said quietly. Dean sat up straighter. "I don't despise you. Sam, look at me. Come whatever, I will never, ever despise you. Don't think that for one moment, okay?" Sam didn't look utterly convinced. "I dislike myself sometimes", he admitted, as if that made matters better. Before Dean could chime in again, he explained. "Like, I don't regret this. For the most part. I know that this could be the life I've always wanted. And I don't miss the blood or the motel rooms and all the greasy food. But…" He sighed heavily. "But you and Dad – you're my family. You're my home from which I ran away. It's not like I wanted to do that, you know? And… and on nights like last night… like, hell, Dean, that was scary! For a second I thought… I thought… my first thought was: what if this is how I'm dying, and nobody will ever know? I'm trying to say – I miss you. I really fucking miss you."

Dean, who had studied Sam's face carefully during his explanations, nodded softly. "You're homesick", he suggested finally and summarized what Sam hadn't been able to express. The latter nodded shortly. "Yes. Yes, I think that narrows it down."

The two of them fell quiet again. The bench was a little cold and definitely not very comfortable, but neither of them dare to move. It seemed like that fragile moment was all they had needed and the longer they dragged it out the more strength they could pull from it. Finally, Sam dared to speak up. "Are you staying the night?" He couldn't suppress the hopeful undertone and did his best to hide the disappointment when Dean shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, man, but if I don't hit the road again Dad will be honestly pissed." Ina n attempt to brighten the situation, he patted Sam's back. "Hey, now that I know how fancy your place is, I'll stop by more often. And as you know – I'm only one phone call away." He raised his cell for emphasis. Sam nodded shortly. "Me too, you know?"

When the time of Dean's departure had come, they both found themselves awkwardly standing next to the car. This time it was Dean who broke the tension first. "Well, then. Take care, alright? Don't get into any trouble, don't study too much, don't do anything I wouldn't do." Sam crossed his arms on his chest and avoided Dean's eyes. "Yeah. You, uh… you take care too, and drive safe and… and don't get dead, you hear me? Be careful. And when there's trouble…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to. But when Dean made a move to get in his car, he called out again. "Dean, wait!" The latter turned around and Sam shifted awkwardly, taking half a step forwards, seemingly not knowing where to go with his arms.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed but couldn't help the soft smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, for the love of god, come here already." Tough exterior be damned – both brothers allowed themselves to melt into the long overdue hug and neither made any comment on it. And if they hugged for one or two seconds longer than they probably would as per usual – who was there to judge them for it?

A phone call – that they both knew now – was fair and square. But sometimes you just needed the ones you loved a little closer than that. Neither of them found any shame in that.