"So, how bout we get some of that beer?" Dean's being gentle now. He didn't mean to upset Sam by yelling out the news. But, Sam wasn't letting him get a word in.
"Yeah," Sam says. Only he's pretty sure he didn't say it. He's pretty sure he can't talk if his whole face is numb.
The next few moves are on auto-pilot. "No bars." Sam says. Dean doesn't really want to be surrounded by a bunch of drunk college kids anyways so he agrees. They go to a twenty-four hour liquor store and pick up two six packs of some Mexican beer and a fifth of dark spiced rum. Sam's just following him the whole time. Like he did when he was little and afraid and now Dean's starting to get worried. They go back to Sam's apartment. "Jess..." Sam says quietly insisting that they don't go in. So they go back outside and the sit on the hood of Dean's baby. Sam stretches out his limbs on the old black car and just stares into nothing. And it's not like Dean really wants to have a heart-to-heart. But, it's not like he can leave his baby brother all catatonic either. He opens the rum first and takes a swig. Liquid courage.He thinks smiling to himself. He hands the bottle to Sam.
"Here, it'll make everything suck less." Sam grabs the bottle and drinks without thinking. Trying very hard not to have the deja vu of this exact moment from when he was thirteen.
Dean hands him a paper cup of an amber liquid. Nervously looking at the bathroom door. Counting the seconds it takes the drunk man inside to take a leak. "Here, I think you'll be alight tonight. But, just in case... It'll make everything suck less." Sam drank then automatically too. Body and mind to conditioned between the fear of his father and the love of his brother to do anything but obey Dean's every command. Sam coughs and sputters as the rum burns his throat bringing him back to reality. Dean laughs at him hollowly. And hands him an open beer with one hand taking away the rum with another. They wait in silence each hoping the other will say something first.
"So, how did he die?" Sam gives in. "Angry husband catch him with their wife? Or did the law finally catch up with him?"
"Liver cirrhosis." Dean says slowly peeling the label off of his beer.
"That's fitting." Now it's Sam's turn to laugh. "When's the funeral?"
"No service. Bobby said we were probably the only people who really knew what Dad was really like. Well, us and the people he scammed. But, I don't really see them pouring out a shot for him." He drops the label to the ground beneath him. "He was already cremated. Hell, I wasn't even gonna bother you but Bobby said I had to ask and see if you wanted any of his ashes."
"You still talk to Uncle Bobby?" Sam doesn't answer the question he wasn't asked.
"Yeah, he's the one who got me the mechanics job. I'm in butt-fuck nowhere New Mexico. Rebuilding classics though. Just like my baby." Dean pats the Impala lightly.
"You're really done scamming?" Sam asks shifting on the hood to catch a better view of the man in front of him.
"Yeah, I was done when I left Dad four years ago." Sam settles back into his old position. And contemplates the meaning of that sentence. Dean always said he didn't stay to protect Sam. But, he left just after Sam did. Sam feels the horrible weight on his shoulders return. Dean glances back at him. Like he know what Sam's thinking. "I left cause he put me in the hospital. And Bobby came up there and forced me to leave. I stuck around so long for a lot of reasons Sam."
"What'd he do to you?" Sam asks the weight not alleviating any time soon.
"Used the pipe on me... again." Dean's talking so quietly Sam has to strain to hear him. He closes his eyes and tries to think about anything other than the last time Dad used to pipe on Dean. Sam quickly downs the beer he's holding and Dean silently hands Sam the rum and another open beer. They're quiet for a long time. The silence is less uncomfortable this time and more stoic.
"So, how you doin up here Collegeboy?" Dean tries for a lighter subject. Sam smiles at the new direction. 'Diversion' Jess would say and quote her psych textbooks. But, hell sometimes you need a diversion.
"I'm doing real good. I got Jess, and friends, and a job as a teaching assistant, and I work at a food truck." Dean snorts at that. "I got a 175 on my LSATS."
"Is that like good or something?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, or something." Sam's smirk fades a little remembering Dean didn't even graduate high school. But, he talks about his possible full ride to law school.
And they talk like that for a while. Catching up on everything. Sam talks about how Jess is a psych major and is always annoying her friends by diagnosing them with things. Dean talks about the T-Bird he rebuilt two weeks ago that was so beautiful you almost didn't want to drive it. Almost.Dean fills him in on Bobby and how everyone in New Mexico has been to Roswell. Which is stupid. "Sam, if aliens were gonna land here. Why the hell would they go to Roswell? Do you know what's in Roswell? Dirt." Dean even talks about this Lisa chick he's been seeing on and off for a while. They laugh at their dumb jokes and drink. Four beers and a third of the rum later for Sam and six beers and the rest of the rum later for Dean. They're both feeling a little drunk. Sam more than Dean proving that Dean's experience with alcohol has made him handle more than Sam's larger mass.
"You drunk yet?" Sam asks. He goes from smiling to frowning to smiling again.
"A little, I think I can handle my liquor better than you." Dean smiles to himself as Sam's face tries to figure out what emotion he wants to portray.
"You always drink this much?" It's more of a statement than a question. So Dean doesn't feel the need to answer. "That's no good Deano. Alcoholism runs in the family." Dean shakes his head and grunts in response Sam attempts to sit up. He grabs Dean shoulder half out of comfort half out of not wanting to face plant on the parking lot. They sit there for a few. "Have you gotten any help Dean?" Sam says it quiet. Trying real hard not to slur his words.
"Well, Dad had some money saved up that we used. And Bobby chipped in a hundred bucks. So it was maybe $240 for the rest of the cremation." Dean is a little drunk right now cause he can't quite remember the last thing they were talking about. "Don't worry geekboy. I'm not asking for any of your money. I assume it all goes towards pencils or something."
"No, no." Sam can't help but smile. "I mean have you talked to anybody about Dad?"
"Like the cops? No, I guess maybe I should. Just so they know not to look for him anymore. But, I gotta remember to do it in a state that I don't have a warrant in." Dean turns to Sam grabs him by the elbow to help him off the car.
"No, Dean like a professional. You know to help you deal with everything that happened. When we were kids." Dean stops he looks like he's so angry he could hit Sam. He settles for gripping Sam's forearm much too tightly.
"I'm not nuts Sam. I don't need a shrink. I already told you I had a lot of different reasons for staying so long. I'm not screwed up you know. I didn't enjoy it." The venom in Dean's voice forces Sam to back up a bit. Well, as much as he can with Dean's death-grip on his elbow.
"No, no, no, no. Dean that's not what I meant. Hell, I see a shrink." Sam's drunken mind is racing between soothing his brother and showering himself in dredged up guilt.
"Sam, you'recoockoo for cocopuffs?" Dean laughs. Sam laughs a little too.
"You should try it. I'm a lot better now." Sam insists it. Staring off into the night instead of at his brother. 'Better?' Dean mumbles. But, it's not a real question so Sam doesn't answer.
"I'm all good Sam. Don't need a straight jacket or nothin." Dean says. Lightly letting up on his grip of his brothers arm. But, not letting it go. Because, he's pretty sure Sam would fall over.
"Well, how long are you here for? Cause my next appointment is Wednesday and maybe you could come and talk about Dad's death with me." Sam is trying for puppy dog eyes. But, this drunk he thinks it might come off as hitting on Dean. Doesn't matter. Because, Dean isn't looking at him anyways.
"Don't know. I only really drove out here yesterday. And work said to take off as much time as I want..." Dean finally meets his brother's gaze. And he hates himself for it. He knew that he was going to give him that look. Dean feels himself caving. Sucker. "Alright. I'll go. But, we only talk about you and yourshit."
"Thanks Deano." Sam gives him a giant bear hug. Which damn near knocks them both off balance. "You stayin on my futon tonight?" Dean grumbles something about being the oldest and deserving a real bed. But, he lets it go as he basically has to push Sam up the stairs to his apartment.