I used to think that I didn't understand my brother and that I never would. In these last few days I learned more then I really wanted. I learned what it was like to be on the receiving end of the one you love leaving you behind. What it felt like to be utterly alone. The first sensation is akin to someone sucker punching you in the gut. You're completely unawares, the air whooshes out of your lungs and then you're left with this pain that finally subsides to a dull ache. The only difference is, the ache? It doesn't go away. It starts slowly at first, a burning sensation starting at your toes, eventually working its way into the pit of your stomach. Leaving you with this feeling of nausea. The kind that won't go away or be dulled down by popping a few pills. No, this is what the old people referred to as your soul aching. Yet, I fought against it, watched Dean leave and then started walking away. To find a father that didn't want to be found and leave a brother behind that loved me beyond measure. Going to a college like Stanford might give you more book smarts but left you pretty empty handed in everything else. In other words, I'm an idiot.
But, I'm stubborn and I like to make my own choices and not have them made for me. As a child it was different, now, I am an adult. Something neither my brother nor my dad seemed to understand. Least I didn't think Dean understood but that phone call? Yeah, in a few short words my brother had managed to tell me not only how proud of me he is but how much he loved me. He also set me free. My eyes were opened at that exact moment but it took three hours of calling my brother and having him not answer the phone to set all my senses in full alert. I shouldn't have left in the first place. I know Dean can handle himself, hell, we both can. We proved that these last few years. Didn't mean that doing it alone was the way to go, because quite simply, no matter how much we may fight and no matter how much we may want to do things differently, we complete each other.
Not in a couples kind of way, but in a soul mate way. I know some people think their soul mate is the person they are suppose to fall in love with at first sight and eventually marry. Not to me, a soul mate is your other half, be it a best friend or a brother. It's the one person in this world that knows you better then you know yourself. That's why Dean knew exactly what to say and what to do in order for me to get back on track. He always has. I meant it when I told him that it's just me and him. That we we're going to see this through together. The fact he tried to push away the chick flick moment with one of his comments didn't bother me like it usually did. Because, I looked deeper this time and seen a vulnerability in my big brother that I hadn't noticed before. Shame on me. As a kid brother, I look up to him. Always have, even now. The height difference is a non issue because for me, Dean has always been bigger then life. He told me that he wished he could've been more like me. It's funny as I look back on the days we spent together, before and after Stanford. I'd always wanted to be more like him.
Dean glanced over at the small alarm clock settled between their two bed's, the bright red glow of it announcing the fact that it was now midnight. He'd awoken maybe about fifteen minutes ago, greeted by the soft sounds of Sam breathing. A smile curving his lips as he thought about how he'd first reacted when he'd sat up from bed quietly watching his baby brother, assuring himself that all was well while watching the rise and fall of Sammy's chest. Then he'd went to relieve his bladder, with every intent of crawling back under those sheets and allowing sleep to reclaim him. But, something had caught his eye, a gentle breeze from the half opened window had wafted into the room stirring the pages of the journal sitting on the table. At first glance he'd thought it was their dads, on closer inspection, this one was newer. And Sam's hand writing inked on the pages. He should've minded his own business but the first few words of this entry had caught his attention, it was dated for today.
Dean didn't even realize at first that the warmth he felt on his cheeks were salty tears, trailing down his tanned skin. Lifting his hand to swipe across his features, his first thought was he needed to shave. The second, even he couldn't comprehend the massive wealth of emotion swelling inside his heart without his knowledge. Being brought to life by the slow sprinkle of moisture from his eyes. It brought a scowl to his features.
"Damnit Sammy, got your chick flick moment after all." The words were uttered softly so as not to disturb his brother from much needed rest.
His green hues flickered back towards the form of his sleeping brother, silently he padded his way towards Sam's bed. A tentative hand reached out and stopped mid-way, his adam's apple nervously convulsing with this raw need burning a whole inside his gut. Finally, he gave in and his hand traced across Sam's forehead smoothing the hair away, making the younger of the two smile even in his sleep. Reminding Dean of a time when they were younger, he'd always been the last one Sam seen before drifting off to sleep. A constant need in the older one to assure himself that all was right with his baby brother. The evil they sought after and chased them be damned, Sammy came first. It was only when Dean was back in his bed that Sam finally opened his eyes, blinking in the darkness to adjust. He'd been awake the moment Dean had started reading the journal and he wasn't angered. It had been left there for a reason, to tell Dean how he felt and for Dean to adjust to it his own way.
"I love you too, Dean" he whispered softly. If his big brother heard him, he couldn't tell. Not until the rustling of sheets and the creaking of bed springs caught his attention, Dean's voice almost startling him.
"Get some rest little brother, I'm here."