"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Dean demanded, clenching a piece of paper tightly in his hand. Sam turned around on the couch and felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach with dread.
"Uh, Dean, man, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice soft, as he stood slowly. "I, uh, didn't mean for you to find out this way."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he shook the letter. "What, you were going to tell me five minutes before you walked out the door? You're leaving on Tuesday, Sam. Doesn't give you much time to tell me." He stared down at the piece of paper, before deliberately opening his hand and letting it fall to the floor. Sam shook slightly with adrenaline as Dean stalked over to their fridge, yanked the door open, and pulled a beer out.
"It's a little bit early for that, isn't it?" Sam said, quiet accusation in his voice as Dean opened the bottle and took a long gulp. Dean set his jaw and took another long pull, his eyes daring Sam to say something. "You're turning into Dad."
The corners of Dean's mouth turned up into a dangerous smile. "What did you say?" His voice was low and husky.
Sam looked away and wet his lips nervously, before locking gazes again with Dean. "I said you're an alcoholic, Dean, just like Dad was. And we both know how well that turned out." Dean took a menacing step forward, his jaw tightening further, as Sam held his ground. "You need help, man." Sam shook his head. "I can't...I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. I won't. I have a chance, a chance to make something of myself. I'm not letting you ruin that for me, not like Dad ruined it for you."
The bottle was put down on a nearby table – couldn't risk anything happening to the beer - and Sam was up against the wall before he'd even realised that Dean was going to lose it. "Don't...you don't talk about Dad that way." Sam could smell the beer on Dean's breath and see the unshed tears in his eyes as he pinned him in place. "He didn't ruin anything for me. I don't have brains like you do, Sam; I was always going to be stuck in some dead end job. So don't you dare go blaming that on him. He did the best he could."
"What, the 'best he could' includes crawling so far into a bottle that he ran through a red light, killed himself and left a twenty-eight year old so brain damaged that he'll never wake up? I don't think Geoff Moran's fiancée would agree with you."
Dean gripped Sam's shirt tighter, shoving him back harder against the wall.
"He left you to look after me, Dean. You were nineteen – you shouldn't have had to figure all that out. Dad should have been there. It wasn't fair."
Dean laughed. "Life isn't fair, Sammy. I realised that when I saw our house in flames." He suddenly released Sam and stepped back. "Go, if you want to. Get your fancy education; stop me from ruining your life. And when life kicks you in the face, don't come crying to me." He turned away, walked over to his beer and picked it up.
Sam moved forward a hesitant step. "Dean –"
"Just get the hell out, Sam."
Sam rubbed a hand over his face and walked to the door. Who the hell was knocking at this hour was anyone's guess. The knock came again. "Hang on. Geez, we get the idea." He wrenched open the door to find whoever was knocking – a guy – walking away. "You knocked?" Sam called.
The guy stopped and turned around and Sam almost fell. "Dean?"
Dean smirked. "You miss me?"
"Dean, what are you doing here?" He put a hand on the doorframe for support. Of all the things to happen on Halloween, having his brother knock on his door was not one he expected. "How did you find me?"
"One question at a time, little brother. Can I come in, so we don't annoy your neighbours, or are you going to continue to be rude to your brother?"
Sam blinked rapidly. "Come in; come in, I guess."
Dean pushed past him through the doorway and Sam immediately noticed something different. "You don't smell like alcohol." Sam shut the door. "Or smoke."
Dean nodded, his expression suddenly serious. "Sober for one hundred and thirty five days."
"Wow, Dean." Sam swallowed heavily. "Just, wow."
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and jiggled a little in place. "I made my little brother speechless, huh? Got to be a first." He gave Sam a shy smile.
"Sam, everything okay?"
Dean turned as Jess came out of their bedroom.
"Jess," Sam said, "this is my brother, Dean."
Dean pointed in Jess' direction, an eyebrow raised. "This is your girlfriend? Darling, you're way too good for my little brother."
"And from all I hear, you're not good enough." Jess walked over to stand by Sam, lending him her silent support.
"Jess, it's okay."
Dean smiled sadly. "No, Sam, it's not. Your girlfriend's right. Look, I should never have come. Just...have a nice rest of your life."
Sam put a hand out to stop Dean as he tried to walk past. "I want you to stay. Please, Dean."
Dean looked up at him, before nodding. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too, man."
"Sorry enough to share your Lucky Charms?" Dean leered at Jess before smiling broadly at Sam.
Sam smiled back. "Not that sorry. If you stop hitting on my girlfriend, I'll let you sleep on my couch – that's the best offer you'll get."
"Deal...jerk."
"Bitch."