Another crappy motel room. I had forgotten -maybe consciously- how much I hated the nomadic lifestyle we Winchesters adopted until I was abruptly thrust back into it, bouncing from place to place, motel room to crappy motel room. This week, we found ourselves in a tiny, backwoods town in Michigan, and it was pouring on us. Just getting from the Impala to the room left both me and Dean soaking, and Dean, as usual, got the first shower.
I shiver and pull the ratty comforter closer to me, tiredly browsing the limited channels the old TV has to offer. It's hard being alone, even for so short a time. When I'm alone, I have time to think, and I inevitably think about one thing. Jess.
It's hard to believe that she's gone. It's been a solid month and I still only sleep on the right side of the mattress, still wake up expecting her to be next to me, hair around her head like a halo, smiling a little in her sleep. Instead, I usually wake up to a cold bed, or the few times I've been forced to share with Dean, his messy form, always on his stomach, drool dripping from his open mouth and snores rumbling.
If you told me a month ago that I would be back on the road with only my big brother for company, I would have laughed in your face. Not that I don't like being around Dean; he's my brother, my best friend, and I missed him. But Jess and I were in love. We were already talking about marriage –I hid the ring in my underwear drawer- and children and buying a house together. There are a lot of things to consider before you get married, and it had been exciting to think about with her. To have her take my last name. To have a joint checking account.
My own guilt mixes with an inexplicable desire to blame Dean for all of this. I know, logically, that it's not his fault anymore than it is mine, but he showed up after two years, no warning, no phone call, and within a week my girlfriend was killed. I know better than to think it was coincidence.
"Sammy. Sam, hey," Dean's low voice says, and I look up, blinking. Dean raises his eyebrows, lifts one shoulder towards the bathroom. "Shower's yours." I nod morosely but make no move to stand up, and Dean comes over and sits next to me. He's in his T-shirt and boxers, clearly ready for bed.
"Listen little brother, you've got to snap out of this," he says quietly, and I glare at him. "You're gonna get yourself hurt or killed if you can't focus," he continues, and I sigh. What the hell does he want me to do?
"I know you aren't sleeping, Sam," Dean says, voice low. "I know this is hard, but Sam-"
"Dean." I interrupt him and he looks at me, a hint of surprise evident on his features.
I run my tongue over my teeth and clench my jaw for a second, raising an eyebrow and half-smirking.
"What do you know about it, Dean?" I ask finally, rubbing my hands over my thighs subconsciously. Judging by Dean's stance, he recognized my pissy signs and is steeling himself for my reaction. I feel a flash of guilt that he can read me so well because I've behaved poorly so often, but it's quickly overshadowed.
"I know that it hurts to have someone you love taken away from you, Sam," Dean says, and I snort in derision.
"Yeah? Really Dean? 'Cause you haven't been in love since I can remember. There have been one night stands, but the great Dean Winchester can't let anyone in past his defenses, can he? And do you really think Mom compares to Jess, Dean? You were four when she died, Dean. Four. Jess and I had been together for a year and a half! I was going to ask her to marry me, to start a family with me! So don't you tell me that you 'know it hurts.' Because you don't know." I stand up, chest heaving, simultaneously surprised and ashamed at myself. I've been feeling the words coming for awhile now, have felt the emotions starting to pressure me to come out, but I've been able to keep them suppressed. Until now.
Dean looks at me, his expression unreadable, before standing and once again gesturing towards the bathroom.
"Dean, look-" I begin, but he shakes his head, looking away.
"Don't start, Sam. We're both tired. Just get in the damn shower." He climbs into his bed and clicks off the lamp next to it, clearly done with the conversation. I guiltily head for the bathroom, upset at myself for losing it so badly. Dean was just trying to help.
xxxx
Something drips on my forehead. It takes a few seconds for me to realize what's going on, then my eyes snap open as another drop hits my face. I scream, trying to scramble off the bed and getting tangled in the sheets, dropping painfully to the floor. I'm still crying, mumbling incoherently when I feel strong arms wrap around my chest, lift me to an awkward sitting position.
Dean. It has to be. Even after the things I said to him before…He'll always be my big brother. I turn and unashamedly let my head rest between his neck and shoulder, tears streaming down my face. Dean hefts me to my feet and leads me to his bed, muttering something about damn leaky roofs as he gently lowers me onto the bed. I'm clinging to him, and normally wouldn't dare to show this much emotion, but the lingering terror of being awakened that way again is overwhelming and I refuse to let go.
So we sit there. It reminds me of when we were kids, and Dean was always the only person who could calm me down after a nightmare, telling me stories or humming hard rock in my ear.
"Sammy?" He says suddenly, and I look up at him.
"I always wanted to be an uncle," he whispers, and I realize that he's crying too. It never occurred to me that Dean just wanted me to be happy, and if that meant me living a 'normal' life, than he was okay with that. It never occurred to me that he would be sad about Jess's death because I am. And it sure as hell never occurred to me that Dean wanted some semblance of normalcy in his life as well, wanted something as simple as being an uncle.
"Would've been fun to have a bunch of mini Sasquatches running around, you know? And you would've had some hot kids, Sammy." I cry harder, scrunching my face into his shirt, and we're still like that when we fall asleep.
xxxx
A/N: Thanks especially to Marinawings and Tisha Wyman for reviews…thanks for sticking with me, guys!
