Dean and Sam sat across from each other at a table in the bunker's library. Cas had gone to his room. The angel had been strangely quiet the whole ride home. When they had made it back to the bunker, he had hugged Dean, squeezed Sam's shoulder and left them alone. Dean knew he would need to talk to Cas about not telling him his plan and then trying to leave without saying goodbye. But it could wait until tomorrow. He wasn't sure he could handle another chick-flick moment tonight and he had a feeling that was exactly how his conversation with Cas would go down.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam said.
Dean looked up at his little brother. Sam's eyes were still a little red from crying outside of that hospital. His pleading words were still echoing in Dean's head. Why don't you believe in us too? Dean cleared his throat. "Mmm?"
"What you said before," Sam began, voice soft, "about Dad sending you away when we were kids. I, uh, I never knew that."
Dean frowned. Sam wasn't looking at him. He was just twirling the glass of whiskey in front of him. "What?" Dean asked.
"I never knew Dad sent you away," Sam said. He looked up at Dean. "I thought… I guess I thought… well, I didn't know. You were just gone and I –" Sam looked down again, swallowing hard.
Dean could feel his heart shattering again. Damnit, Sam. So much for no more chick-flick moments tonight. "Sam," Dean said, voice shaking a little. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He was practically forcing Sam to hold his eye contact by getting closer to him. "You thought I just left you? When you were just a kid? You thought I would leave you alone with Dad by choice?" Dean's voice was raising gradually but he couldn't seem to stop it. "Sammy, c'mon." He searched Sam's gaze, trying to read his thoughts. Sam was blinking rapidly. Dean didn't think he could take it if Sam cried again. "Sam?"
"I don't know, Dean. You… you never told me anything. I thought you just needed to get away. I never blamed you." Sam leaned back, pushed his chair back from the table. "Sometimes I wanted to leave too."
Now Dean understood the significance of what Sam was saying. Sam had thought Dean's whole plan to stop Michael was just another opportunity to escape. Sam thought Dean was just leaving him. Like he always had. Dean stood. He turned his back to Sam and scrubbed a hand down his face. The last few days had left him completely drained. Sam had been laying on the puppy dog eyes real heavy lately. And now he was confronting Dean with the worst thing he could imagine. Sam thought that Dean wanted to leave him. He thought Dean had chosen to leave him. Everything in their crazy, screwed-up lives and Dean had tried so hard to do just one thing. Look out for Sam. He had made Sam a promise when they were kids, "I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. Ever." And in that cemetery. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you." But Dean had somehow failed. All of these years and Sam still thought –
Dean turned around and faced Sam. His little brother was staring at the floor, his jaw working the way it did when he was trying to hold back tears. "Sam."
Sam looked up at Dean.
"Sammy, don't you know I would rather die than leave you?"
And then Sam broke down. A sob escaped his throat and he hid has face behind his hands. Dean walked over to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of his chair. He wrapped his arms around his brother and felt Sam tuck his face in against his shoulder. It occurred to Dean that he and Sam had hugged an awful lot recently. But as his brother shook against him - scrunching himself down to fit against Dean despite the height difference – Dean couldn't bring himself to care.