Chapter 14

Dean grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge and walked out onto the porch of the old house. Taking a long swig, he sat down on the steps, enjoying the brew and the decent afternoon breeze. With a feeling of anticipation, he pulled out his cell phone and leaned back against the steps as he quick dialed the familiar number and waited for it to ring.

It was answered on the third one. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sammy."

"Dean."

It was always so good to hear his voice – it was like a shot of happiness or well being. It told him his brother was alive, that he was still out there, safe. These calls were like lifelines, letting him know things still had a shot of going back to what they'd been. It was all he had to hold onto after that awful day two years ago.

"So how's school? Worked yourself up to talk to any hot chicks yet?" If he had, Dean wondered if his brother would mind sending him some pics. He took another swig of beer, grinning at the thought.

"It's going fine. Passed my last set of classes for the semester okay."

"What you're telling me is you got all straight A's -- again."

There was a hesitation on the other end. Dean never understood that. If he was the one getting straight A's all the time, he'd be hollering to the skies about it.

"I guess."

Dean couldn't help laughing. "You're such a geek." He drank another swallow of beer.

"Am…not…" Sam didn't sound all that sure. That was new.

"Dad and me, we just got back from Missouri this morning. We had to chase down some –"

"Stop."

Even over the cell phone, Dean could tell something wasn't right. He sat up straight on the steps, setting the beer down on the porch. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Look…I can't. I can't do this anymore." His voice was hesitant and low.

"Do what, dude?"

Sam was quiet for several seconds. The longer the silence went the more Dean knew he wasn't going to like this.

"I can't have you calling me, badgering me to come back all the time. I can't have you telling me all about the hunts, and the killings, about Dad. I left all that behind me, okay? I don't want to be part of that world anymore."

Dean shoved the phone against his ear until it hurt. Why was his brother saying these things?

"I never wanted to be a part of it. You were born to be part of that life, you're a natural -- I'm not. And I have a chance now, Dean, a chance to make something of myself, to help people in a different way." He heard his brother take a deep breath. "One that doesn't require hunting, killing, living in fear all the time." A heavy pause; like weights being dropped on Dean's shoulders.

"I need for you to let me do this."

His chest grew painfully tight. This was wrong. This almost sounded like a… "Then what the hell would you like me to talk to you about when I call? I didn't think you liked hearing about my conquests. And you hate the movies and shows I like." Anger bubbled up out of nowhere even as it was swallowed by fear. "I suppose you could just text me a list of do's and don't's."

"Don't make this any harder, Dean, please." He could hear his brother's pain coming through the phone, but he didn't get it. Why was Sammy doing this? Where was this coming from? "Try to understand. I've never stood on own two feet. Never. You've always been there to catch me, mother me, protect me, and Dad just smothered me. I've no idea if I can survive out here alone. I, I need to do this. On my own. You have to let me. Please, don't call me anymore. I'll, I'll call you when I'm ready."

There was a hot knife twisting in his gut. "When you're ready? And when will that be, you bastard?" Dean heard the casing on the phone crack he was gripping it so hard. "You've already been gone for two years. Two years! How long does standing on your own take? Or will I have to wait till me and Dad are both dead for you to ever be ready?"

"Dean, I'm begging you! I have to find a way to fit in." His brother sounded desperate. None of this was right. Everything had been going well for him at Stanford, hadn't it? "I have to put my old life behind me. It's the only way I can do this. I just need some time… I have to figure this all out. I don't want to hurt you, Dean. I really don't. I'm sorry. Please, please try to understand.

"Good bye." Click.

"Sam? Sammy?"

There was only dead air.

Dean hit redial. The phone rang and rang but no one picked up. It wouldn't even go to voice mail.

With a raging scream, he pitched the phone away from him as hard as he could.

The pain, which he'd forcibly held back since the day Sammy left them, washed through him like a fever. The deed was done.

Dean fell to his knees, barely able to breathe. His brother finally cut him away like a diseased limb on a tree. Sammy didn't need him anymore. His brother didn't want to have anything to do with him. A low moan escaped his lips, even as he folded over, his forehead scrapping on the dry ground.

Dean wasn't sure if he could survive without him.