April 8, 2007

A year with nothing between them but phone calls had seemed like a long time. Both brothers had felt the loss, so when Dean had suggested driving out to the middle of nowhere to split a six-pack Sam had readily agreed.

It was a clear night. The stars shone bright in the dark blanket of the sky with no artificial light around that would dampen them. The whole universe laid itself out on display for just the two of them and invited them to find their places within it. Perched on the hood of the car they let themselves get lost in the sight and their individual thoughts. There was so much to say, but in those first moments, to share the silence was easier.

"So, things are good? At home, I mean?" Sam was the first to disturb the comfort of the shared stillness.

"Uh yeah, pretty good." Dean didn't sound quite convincing. "I mean, Bren and me, we were never going to be the Cunninghams, but we're working it out. I'm home nights." He glanced away, "Most nights," he amended. "The ones I don't spend with Charlene."

Sam didn't bother to try and hide his disappointment. "Really, Dean? Are you kidding me?"

Dean's face broke into an impish grin, "Yeah, I am." he laughed. You're so easy, Sammy. I couldn't resist. Charlene is a trashed out '76 Charger I picked up at auction for pocket change. Been rebuilding her at the garage. Once I get her cherry, she's gonna sell for some serious folding money."

Sam didn't realize he was staring until snapped, "What!"

"Nothing," Sam chuckled, "It's just, wow, you're actually thinking about the future, like with a plan and everything."

"I am." Dean scratched at the label off his beer peeling the corner up. "I've been thinking, since I stumbled on Charlene, there's a lot of old classics out there, just need the right guy to help them get their groove back. Could be a real money maker." He looked up from toying with the loose corner of the label, "What do you think?"

"We are still talking about cars, right?" Sam took the opportunity to even the score.

"That's funny, Sam. You should drop out of law school and go on tour." They were finding their footing after the shaky start.

"I think it's great, Dean. You should go for it."

Dean nodded, "That's what Brenda said too. Hey, you know, I never did thank you for smacking some sense into me last year."

Sam gave him a playful shove, "Forget about it. That's my job, right? Looking after my dumb ass big brother." He dodged Dean's half hearted swat. "So things are good. You've got a plan for the future. You think you might propose again?"

Dean didn't answer right away. He scratched at the loose label for a bit. "I don't know." he finally said. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. I just don't know if it's such a good idea to go poking at something when it's working." He drained the last of his beer and hopped off the hood. "You want another one?"

Sam glanced at the half full bottle in his hand, "I'm good."

Dean dug into the car and returned with two bottles and reclaimed his seat. "Brought you one anyway. Whenever you're ready, lightweight." He set one bottle down on the hood near Sam. The other hissed as he cracked it. "Damn," he made a face after the first swallow. "It's getting warm. Should have got ice."

"Should have." Sam agreed.

"How about you, you doing good?"

"Yes," Sam assured him. "I mean, law school's a lot tougher than undergrad, but I'm handling it."

"I wasn't asking about your grades, Sam." Dean didn't bother trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Are you taking care of yourself?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "God, you're as bad as Mom. You know that?"

Dean thought about that for a second and gave a curt nod, "Worse if you wanna get right down to it. Now quit avoiding the question. You still having those weird dreams?"

"No," Sam lied without hesitation. He regretted having told his brother about the frequent bloody nightmares at all. Talking about them made them seem even more real, made it harder to pretend that they weren't happening, or didn't mean anything. He decided he was content to ignore them as much as he could. "No, you were right. Just my brain trying to tell my body when I was overdoing it." He took a long drink, hoping that would keep his expression from betraying him.

"See, I knew without me there you were going to drive yourself right into an early grave." Sam thought Dean was joking, but couldn't be entirely sure.

"Relax, Dean," he replied, overdoing the soothing tone in hoping he could derail the subject if he could push Dean's buttons a bit, "I've got a doctor onsite. Remember Brady?"

Dean thought for a minute, "Blonde, skinny, kinda stuffy, bigger nerd than you?"

"That's him. We're rooming together off campus. He's top of his class, pre-med, so you can stop worrying. I've got my own inhouse medical staff."

"Well that's great, Sammy." Dean let his voice go gooey. "I'm glad you finally found somebody." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and leaned in. "Are you thinking about proposing?"

"Shut up, jerk." Sam shrugged Dean's hand away.

"Bitch." Dean countered on reflex. "Oh, sorry, am I still allowed to call you that? Brady won't get jealous?"

"Dean enough!" Sometimes Dean could be like a dog with a bone, didn't know when to let things drop. "Pretty much everybody else we knew has graduated and left. We're both getting too old for dorm life, so we split expenses on an apartment. That's it."

Based on Sam's reaction, something was clearly up. Dean put two and two together and arrived at entirely the wrong answer. "You know Sam, it wouldn't be any big deal to me if you were..."

"I'm not, so drop it!" Sam cut him off.

Sometimes Dean just needed a house to fall on him. "Touchy," he grumbled, "Still, it would explain why you haven't been out with anyone since Becky."

And there it was. Sam didn't respond. Instead, he gulped down the rest of his beer a grabbed the one Dean had brought.

"You know, I had a feeling about the two of you." Dean carried on, seemingly oblivious.

"Yeah, so did I." Sam muttered glumly, pitching the bottle cap off into the darkness. "Could we not talk about it?"

"Sure," Dean said, finally catching up with what had caused Sam to go all moody. They sat for a bit, watching the sky in silence. Dean knew that despite Sam's protests, he needed to talk, but he also knew that Sam would when he was ready, so he just waited it out, ready to be there whenever his brother decided the time was right. Girl trouble was familiar ground, and it was kind of comfortable to be back on the map.

"She came back to school this year, you know." Sam finally said, almost absently. "But she's different. What happened to Zach, it just broke her. She doesn't let herself feel anything anymore. It's like she's afraid too."

This was not shaping up into the fun filled night that Dean had envisioned. "That sucks on eleven, man. I really liked her. Liked Zach, to. He was a good guy. Is he still..."

"At the hospital?" Sam finished for him. "Yeah, checked himself in for an extended stay. I don't blame him. Getting arrested on a murder you didn't commit, that would send most people right over the edge, losing Emily on top of it..." He didn't bother to complete the thought. "You know, he was the one that found her, still tied up, bloody." Sam shuddered and shook his head, "Losing somebody you love like that, so suddenly, that violently, I can't even imagine what that would do to me."

"Here's to hoping that neither of us ever has to find out." he bumped bottles with Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed and they drank to the impromptu toast.

"Could have been worse though. Didn't you say his lawyer was talking about a plea bargain?" Dean figured Sam was better off brooding about Zach than Becky.

"That was the first one, from when Becky was in over her head trying to handle everything alone. Once their folks got back in country their dad hired a high powered legal pit bull. He got an independent investigator to do a whole slew of forensic tests. The case fell apart when the ropes didn't show any trace of Zach's DNA. Pretty much proved that he couldn't have been the one that tied her up."

"Guy got lucky."

"No, his lawyer was good." Sam corrected his brother. "That's what I want to do someday. People get caught up in things they can't control, in a system they don't understand. They need to be saved because they can't save themselves. I want to be the guy that can help."

Dean was glad to see Sam coming out of his funk, "Yeah well, I think you're gonna be great at it. You always did love to argue. Go get your Atticus Finch on."

Sam fixed him with a surprised stare.

"What?" Dean demanded, "I read."

"Brenda's still got a thing for black and white classics, doesn't she?" Sam asked, trying to pretend naivety.

"Shut up," Dean snapped, even though he happy to put the depressing crap behind them. Left to his own devices, Sam always seemed to dig himself into a dark place. Dean had always seen it as his role to drag him back out before he got lost in it. He abruptly changed the subject in an effort to head off a U-turn back into the darkness. "So I've been thinking about your birthday..."

"I thought we weren't going to poke at things that were working." Sam interrupted.

"Let me finish, smart guy. I was thinking about a family trip this time.''

"You're, going to get on a plane?" Sam asked, sounding like he didn't believe it.

"What? God, no, what gave you that idea?"

"Well, you can't be thinking about driving." Sam reasoned. "That's a two day drive pushing it. With Brenda making you keep it under light speed, and a kid that'll be bored to death five minutes after you're out of the driveway, you'd be lucky to make it in three."

"See? You love to argue. Johny, Little John, damn that's gonna be hard to get used to, he'd love it. You know that kid thinks the world of you." Dean wasn't going to let this go easily. After five years worth of screwing this up, he liked the idea of doing it right at least once.

"Dean, you can't expect a kid that age to keep himself entertained in the Impala's backseat while you drive half-way across the country. Besides, Brenda would never let you take him out of school for that long. You're talking about a week in travel time alone. Sam loved the idea, and hated to be a wet blanket, but he just didn't see how it was doable. "Now, if you were willing to fly..."

"Not happening." Dean's tone made it clear the point was not negotiable. Sulking, he made quick work of most of his second beer. He brightened as an idea struck him, "Ok forget your birthday. What about summer? Bren and the kid can fly out, and I'll hit the road a few days before. Johny, damn it, Little John doesn't have to make the drive and I don't have to fly or drive the speed limit. Everybody's happy."

Sam considered the plan. "My class load would be lighter in summer session. That could work. As long as Brenda's all right with it."

"Don't see why she wouldn't be."

'Yeah well, talk to her anyway. Assuming she's fine with whatever dumb thing you get in your head is what always leads to your ass getting kicked to the curb."

"Nah, she hasn't kicked my ass further than the couch for over a year." Sam gave his brother "that" look. "I'll talk to her, but I'm telling you, she'll love the idea."

"I hope so. You could finally see something besides the strip clubs and dive bars. In fact, there's a spot that overlooks the botanical gardens, perfect place for a proposal."

Dean gritted his teeth, "Sam," he warned.

"I could babysit."

"Sam, I swear to god..."

"Just think about it."

Dean turned, ready to explode, but before he did a thought hit him, "Mom put you up to this, didn't she?" Sam's guilty look was the only answer he got, and the only one he needed. "Ok," he conceded, "Tell her I'm thinking about it."

"Are you really thinking about it, " Sam prodded, "Or are you just trying to get Mom to drop it for a while?"

"Jeez, are you ever going to be a good lawyer. I said I'd think about it and I'll think about it. Now drop it, before Mom finds out about your boyfriend Brady."

"You wouldn't." Sam meant for it to sound more like a challenge and less like a plea than it came out.

"Try me," Dean replied tipping his bottle to his lips.