Title: Sometimes a Car Ride is All You Need

Author: Kits
Rating: K
Pairings: None
Disclaimers: None of these characters are mine, for good or for evil.

Special Notes: Looking back, this was written after like, the second episode I saw. Their voices are so rough and stilted it pains me. Still, must post. Must get reviews.

"So Dad let you go hunting by yourself when I left?"

Dean shot a glance at Sam. "Yeah. I told you, man, I'm twenty-six. Where's this place we're going, anyway?"

Sam checked the map again, finding the place he'd marked and reciting from memory. "Small town, Hicksville, USA. In Colorado. Bunch of skiers have gone missing."

"We're looking for the abominable snowman," Dean said, a hint of disdain in his voice. For someone who spent his life hunting for things most people dismissed as fairy tales, Dean had a skeptical side to him that irked Sam.

"You know, there's some people, pretty respected scientists, who think it could exist. You don't have to dismiss it right away."

Dean looked at him. "It's a giant white dog, man."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"I'm not doing this with you," Sam said, shoving the map back into the glove department. "We're not four anymore."

"Whatever."

They drove along in silence for another few miles, then Sam spoke up again.

"Why'd he let you go alone?" At Dean's puzzled glance, he said, "Dad. Why'd he let you go alone?"

"Were you not listening the first two times or something? Twenty-six. Once I hit twenty-four, he said I was old enough to start doing it on my own." There was another pause, then Sam muttered something that Dean could not quite hear above the radio blasting. He turned the volume down. "What?"

"I said," an annoyed Sam said, "that Dad never would have let me go hunting alone, even if I was twenty-six."

"Sure he would."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"You know, I became a lawyer because the arguments were so much more mature," Sam said, tugging on his jacket. Dean turned up the heater, feeling the cold air hit him as well.

"Thought it was just to get away from us," he said, not bothering to hide the sting of bitterness in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah it was," Sam said suddenly, turning towards him in his seat. "Because Dad wouldn't have let me go hunting, but he let you go. And you got to go out alone, but I always had to be with someone."

"You're jealous?" Dean said, eyes widening in incredulity. "You're jealous of me? Dude, Dad spoiled you rotten. Whatever Sammy wanted, Sammy got. Pissed me off, too."

"Oh, because Dad pushed you harder than me? Did you ever think that maybe it was because he thought I couldn't take it? Dammit, Dean, I was always just as good as you fighting and I can shoot better, too."

"Now that is a lie."

"Which part?"

"Shooting better than me."

Sam's laugh had an edge on it that cut through Dean faster than the cold. "Right. Make a joke out of it. Dad didn't think I was good enough."

"Did you ever think that maybe Dad just wanted to protect you?" Dean said, feeling a flare of irritation crawl through him.

"I didn't need it, Dean, any more than you did."

"Let's review for a minute, shall we?" Dean said, then continued without waiting for Sam to answer. "You got some eye problems with the mirror chick, slashed by a hook, and had a seriously close call with the whole shape-shifter thing."

He carefully avoided mentioning that he also had apparently had a demon following him, killing the women he cared about most in his life.

Sam stared out the window moodily, something he had perfected in the past few weeks while spending more time than any person ever should with his sibling. "None of those were my fault. And you were the one who got taken by the Wendigo."

"And who ended up killing its sorry ass?"

"Because it was focused on me," Sam protested.

"Right. Whatever."

"You haven't proved your point. Those all happened recently. Dad did the whole overprotective thing way before any of that. Hell, so did you."

"Why do we always have to have these conversations on steep, narrow, curvy mountain roads? Just answer me that."

"Don't change the subject."

"Fine. I'm your brother, and you were stupid when you were little."

"I was smarter than you," Sam said indignantly.

"Ha," Dean said, carefully navigating around a slick patch on the road. "You always did stupid stuff. Remember the time we were looking for that Spring-Heeled Jack in Las Vegas?"

Sam settled further into his seat, shooting Dean a dark look. "Fuck off. How was I supposed to know it had armor?"

"Oh, I don't know, by listening to Dad when he gave us the run-down on it?"

"Don't even—in Pittsburgh, you were the one who—"

Dean suddenly turned up the radio. "Can't hear you," he shouted, gesturing vaguely to his ears. Sam smiled triumphantly, yelling over the music.

"—the fireworks exploded right next to you!" He quickly turned the music down, ignoring the glare Dean gave him.

"I had a perfectly legitimate excuse. Besides, that's not the point. You were the youngest, and so we have to protect you."

The use of the present tense did not escape Sam's notice. "No, Dean, you don't. I'm plenty old enough to take care of myself. I did fine for two years on my own, and I don't need your help."

Dean sighed. He debated telling Sam about the Latin blessings Dad and him put over Sam's apartment while he was at class or the protective amulets they stashed on the window sill where he wouldn't notice, but decided against it. Chances are it would only make Sam more rebellious.

"Listen, Sam, I got that," Dean said. "Really, I do. But the thing is, you're Dad's youngest, and you were just a baby when Mom died… I don't know, Sammy, we just worried."

He paused, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, continuing with a quiet voice. "You're the only thing I got. So excuse me for being a bit protective."

"Then why did Dad let you go alone on hunting trips?" Sam said, though there was more curiosity in his voice than confrontation. "After I left, you would have been all he had, so why didn't he do the same to you?"

"Because…" Dean trailed off. "Because you were still the baby, to him. I was the kid who saved his ass a few times, so I got to do it. If you had stuck around, I promise he would have seen you had grown up—but he didn't. He just saw you like he did when you left. Those last few years, you were sloppy."

"I wasn't sloppy, I was studying."

"Yeah, well, you nearly got killed more than a few times. So Dad never saw you grow up, because you were still his little Sammy."

They rode along in a comfortable blur for a while, listening to the music, Sam was thinking about what Dean said, and Dean was thinking about how annoying driving on narrow mountain roads really was.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean said, never taking his eyes off of the curve.

"I think that was the most mature argument we've ever had," Sam grinned at him.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, don't expect it to happen again."

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