For Christmas they went to Bobby's. Dean hoped that Sam would be there, but in a phone call the week before, Sam told him that he'd been invited to spend the holiday with his roommate's family in San Diego. He understood, kind of, Sam was still pretty upset that their dad hadn't bothered to talk to him, hadn't bothered to visit. It made sense, Dean figured, to try to prevent another fight by staying gone. It would have been nice to see the kid though. He knew it was all about their dad, he knew that if Sam didn't believe what John told him, that he wasn't allowed back, if his dad would suck it up and say sorry, Sam would be sitting next to him at Christmas dinner. The more he thought about it, the angry he got at his father, but at the same time he knew that anger wasn't going to get his brother back. So he started to let the anger roll of in a false façade of cockiness. He'd make everyone around him think he was fine, even if he was broken inside.
Dean hadn't really spoken to Bobby since before Sam left for school. He doubted that his dad had mentioned the fight to him, so Dean was expecting a colorful holiday. But at least he'd be with most of his family. He'd call Sam Christmas afternoon and have a nice long talk with him, since his brother didn't have finals of papers to write they'd have time to just talk like they used to. That was the part the Dean missed the most, just having someone to talk to, someone that understood. He'd tried to talk to his dad like he did to Sam, but John wasn't as receptive to Dean's whining about trivial things. He couldn't talk to Dad about Batman comics or the weird book about wizards that Sam had left behind that Dean could stand to leave in that empty house in New Jersey. The generational gap was huge between him and his dad. As much as Dean wanted to be just like him, hunt like him, be strong like him, there would always be that huge part of him that needed someone riding shotgun to make fun of.
Bobby wasn't too happy about John's attitude toward his younger son. Christmas dinner was an interesting affair of angry glares. John wasn't speaking to Bobby, so Bobby wasn't talking to John, which left Dean in the uncomfortable middle of two of the people he cared the most about. Maybe it wasn't so different than every other Christmas after all.
"This is a really good roast, Bobby," Dean said. He made sure to swallow before commenting, something he usually forgot, just to try to make thing less awkward. "Whatever you do to this meat, magic I'm tellin' ya."
"Something my momma taught me," Bobby answered. "I'll show ya if you want before ya take off."
"Yeah," Dean smiled. "I'd love that."
"When are we gonna eat a roast, Dean?" John sighed.
"When Sam comes back," Dean replied. "You know how much Sam hates greasy diner food. I can put together a nice little family dinner. You both usually like what I can come up with. It'll be nice, when Sam gets back. He'll like a nice home cooked meal. We don't really get them that often, you know, with the job and stuff. He gets kinda annoyed of not eating 'real food' or whatever."
"Must be doing real great eating at a school cafeteria," John said dropping his fork with a clang. "Hopefully it's up to his high standards. Lord knows nothing I did was ever good enough."
"John," Bobby said in a warning tone.
There were times in Dean's life that he believed that Bobby was the only one that could really control his dad's tempter; the only one that John couldn't control and threaten. Dean wasn't sure if it was because Bobby was older, or because John respected him, but Dean appreciated it immensely.
That night Dean lay on the bed in the room he used to share with Sam after hanging up the phone; John still didn't know about the phone, so Dean figured it best to keep it out of earshot. He opened the book he'd picked up off the floor of the abandoned house in New Jersey, which at one point had belonged to the Little Rock Public Library and started to read. He was less than a paragraph in when the yelling started.
To Dean, when his dad and Bobby had yelling matches, it felt like his parents fighting. He didn't remember much about before the fire, but he knew it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like John made it out to be, he remembered a few fights, a little bit of yelling, but nothing like this. But he figured that in some households it was loud like this.
"Do you not see what you're doing to those boys?" Bobby's voice echoed up the stairs. "No just Sammy, but do you not see how broken Dean is?"
"He's fine," John replied. "He just misses his brother, he'll get over it."
"Get over it," Bobby laughed. "The only friend Dean's had his whole life is Sam. He might have put on a happy face and tried to convince you that he was a well-adjusted kid, but damn it John, that poor kid's walking about in a fog."
"He's fine," John argued. "He's been good at the job, had my back out there. He's sharp."
"Have you talked to him?" Bobby asked. "Sam? Have you even bothered to reach out?"
"Sam knows he's welcome here," John answered. "He knows we'd be here. He knew he could come here if he wanted to apologize."
"Apologize for what?" Bobby yelled. "For being a smart kid that went to college?"
"For walkin' out," John clarified.
"You know what, John," Bobby said. "I've watched out for those boys since they were little. Treated 'em like they were my own, but if you can't see what you're doing, how much you're hurting those boys, I don't want you in my house."
"You kicking me out Bob?" John said seriously.
"I think I am," Bobby replied. "Get out of my house."
Dean gathered his things quickly. He knew that he'd have to pick sides, knew that he'd always pick his dad's. Family was the most important thing, if this year had taught him anything, it was that family was the most important thing there was.
"Dean!" John called up the stairs. "Let's get movin',"
"Yes, sir," Dean called back. He shouldered his duffle bag and headed down the stairs.
There was a moment, about halfway down the stairs when he realized he was almost twenty-three years old and still taking orders from his father. There was a moment when he wanted to jump in the Impala and drive to California and get that apartment that Sam was taking about. But he knew he couldn't, he couldn't walk away. His dad needed him; his mom's memory needed him to find whatever it was that killed her. This was his life, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He looked up to Bobby as he walked by, nodded a little bit before looking at the floor and following his dad out the door. It didn't seem like even close to enough, not for this man who always knew what was best for him and his little brother, but that was all time allowed.
John and Dean split up after shortly after leaving Bobby's. Dean wanted to ride down the west coast, not so subtly hinting that he wanted to visit his brother, whereas John found a series of mysterious deaths down the Appalachian Trail that looked like their kind of thing. The decided to split the difference and meet in Independence, Missouri on March 15th re-group and move forward. It just felt right to get a little bit of a break from each other, after what happened at Bobby's they both needed time to just be alone and clear their heads.
The Stanford library was huge and freakishly quiet. Dean had been in a lot of libraries almost all of them had some kind of noise: kids yelling in the kid section, people talking about the news in the periodicals, something. Here though, absolute silence. There were a lot of people in there for a Friday, he expected it from his brother, this was the first place he thought to look for him, but all these other little nerds. Sammy had definitely picked the right place for him.
Sam was sitting with his head bent over a book at a large square table in the middle of the study room. He snuck up behind the boy and placed his hand next to Sam's leaning in really close and whispering into his ear.
"You look so sexy when you get all bookworm like that."
Sam jumped and turned, clearly he hadn't been expecting to see his big brother standing there, sly smile across his face.
"Dean," Sam breathed. His chair fell backward as he stood "What are you doing here?"
Dean let the duffle bag he was carrying and pulled his brother tight against his chest, hoping he'd never have to let go.
"Let me look at ya," Dean said when he felt Sam start to loosen his grip. He grabbed Sam shoulders and took him in. "You're taller. And you don't eat enough. You're too skinny, it's gross."
Sam chuckled. "I eat just fine, mom, thanks."
"Go for a walk?" Dean suggested. He surveyed the room; most of the people were staring at them.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. He gathered up he books and lead Dean out. They started to walk across campus and as they talked.
"So, what are you doin' here?" Sam asked. "Got a job nearby?"
"No," Dean shook his head. "After Christmas Dad and I decided to split up for a bit, so I came over here, he went east. I haven't really found anything yet, might be something in Santa Fe but… you know… you're more important."
"So, Dad's not with you?" Sam sounded so disappointed it hurt.
"You know how he is, Sammy," Dean shrugged as Sam let him into his dorm hall. "Hard headed and all that. I don't think he'd throw the phone if you dropped a line, but you know he's not gonna dial the numbers."
"I guess," Sam shrugged. "It's just all so stupid, you know. He's the adult, really. He should be the one to take the first step."
Dean remained silent as they climbed four sets of stairs. He didn't want to pick a fight; he just wanted to make sure Sam was okay, adjusting. This visit wasn't about their dad.
"I got you something," Dean said unzipping the duffle he had over his shoulder.
"You didn't have to do that," Sam shook his head as he opened the door to his room.
"You'll like it," Dean nodded. "It's something you don't got."
"Dean," Sam sighed as he turned around. Dean thrust two picture frames at him.
"The pictures from your graduation came out real good," Dean nodded. "I figured you might want one. Me and you, you know, and one of Mom and Dad. I know you and Dad aren't on the best terms but we don't got one of just Mom, and I couldn't find one of just you and her, but I figured that you might like them. Pretend you got some kind of normal home life."
Sam stared at the two frames Dean presented him with weighed them in his hands.
"Thanks," he nodded, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
"Merry Christmas kiddo," Dean punched Sam in the shoulder pretty hard. "Let's not make this a chick flick moment."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. He set the frames up on his bookshelf.
When his brother turned his back, Dean took him the room. Two very different personalities lived here. Sam's side was neat, clean, like he was used to living in tiny places his whole life. His roommate's half was messy, clothes everywhere, posters on the walls of band Dean could tell he'd never even consider liking in a million years.
"You doing alright here, Sammy," Dean asked. "This guy treatin' you alright?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "We get along really well, actually. He used to make fun of me a little because I don't have a lot stuff, but I just told him not everyone grows up with a silver spoon, and we've gotten along well ever sense. I went up to his parents for Christmas; I think I told you that."
"I remember," Dean answered. "Missed you at Bobby's, but I get it."
"How long are you staying?" Sam asked. "Not to, like, kick you out or nothing, we have policy in the building."
"I was hoping to crash on your floor or a night," Dean replied. "If that's cool, maybe the weekend? I mean if you don't want me here."
"Dean," Sam laughed. "I can't really believe you're here, but I don't want you to leave. You gotta sleeping bag or something in your car? Let me just call my roommate and tell him that I got someone staying with us."
"Yeah, I do," Dean nodded. Sam handed Dean the key to the room and he set off to get the rest of his stuff from the car.
Sam convinced Dean to go to a little part his friends were having.
"I know it's not really your speed or anything," Sam shrugged. We're just gonna hang out and talk and stuff. Might be some beer, but I'm not sure. No one's getting, like trashed or anything though."
"There'll be girls there right?" Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Any place with girls is my kinda thing."
"Just don't embarrass me in front of my friends, please?" Sam sighed. "I live here."
"I know Sammy. I can behave myself," Dean nodded. "You want me to pick up a sixer? We can split it, or share with your friends or what you want."
"Just don't drink the whole thing," Sam said. "We're really not party kids. I mean it, okay?"
"I have self-control Sammy," Dean replied. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that."
"Alright," Sam nodded. "Yeah okay, we can stop at the mini mart on the way to party. But please don't call me 'Sammy.' I know you don't mean it to sound condescending, but really it feels like it."
"As you wish," Dean smirked. "I won't. You are Sam tonight. I promise. I'm not going to embarrass you. I am capable of control myself."
They ended up in a friend's off campus apartment. Dean stood against the wall, surveying. He'd been around groups of Sam's weird nerd friends enough to know that most of their conversations would go way over his head, and he didn't want to embarrass his brother by showing off his basic knowledge of nothing. There were a couple of very pretty girls hanging around, but Dean wasn't going to turn on his normal charm. He knew girls like that were only interested in girls like him when they were looking to slum it. It wasn't like he could take one of Sam's friends back to Sam's room and hook up in a sleeping bag on the floor either. So he just stood against the wall, one hand in his pocket, one wrapped around a beer and observed. Dean felt very out of place here. This was Sam's world, one that he could never fit in. He wasn't the intellectual like his little brother was, he never could be.
He watched Sam laugh and tell jokes, he looked happy. Dean hadn't seen Sam look that happy since before he found out monsters were real. He'd been too busy making sure that everyone was okay, worrying that something bad was going to happen. Here, Dean observed, Sam was the carefree kid he always wanted his little brother to be. Maybe Sam didn't need Dean anymore. He'd found his happiness, and if the little apartment they were in was any induction, Dean wasn't a part of that.
The whole time Dean stood along the edges of the crowd no one spoke to him. Sam introduced him to almost everyone, they said hi, but they looked at him with this expression that made Dean feel like he wasn't good enough to be there. He wanted to be a part of this, he wanted it so badly. He didn't want his brother to be alone with these people that just came across as snobby, rich kids to him. He wanted his brother to have someone in his corner, someone who understood how they grew up. But Sammy seemed to fit right in.
Dean slipped out while Sam and is friends were having a conversation he didn't understand about social classes in the college life. Sam seemed really involved. He kept trying to insert that he'd grown up with basically nothing and was still on same playing field as everyone else in the world. Dean wanted to express his opinion, but when one of the kids said that people usually become what their parents are, he stepped away. He was probably the worst example for this conversation topic. Dean wasn't unintelligent he could hold a conversation with college educated person just fine. He and Cassie got along well, had deep conversations about pretty much anything. But there was something about these people, the people Sam had chosen to befriend, that made Dean feel very inadequate and just stupid.
Dean set off across campus, picked the lock to Sam's dorm room and grabbed his things. He was in the Impala and almost a hundred miles away before Sammy called him. Dean was an afterthought now. He brother didn't need him anymore. His dad was right. Dean needed Sam so much more than Sam needed Dean.
AN: Okay, so I think it's canon that Dean never actually talked to Sam while he was at school. But there was a line that said Dean hadn't talked to Sam in 2 years when he showed up at Stanford in the pilot. So I took the liberty to have Dean experiences Sam's new life first hand. I just felt that Dean wouldn't just cut off all contact with Sam because John said so. As much as Dean's a "Yes, Sir, No, Sir" type of solider when it goes to their dad, Sam means too much to Dean to just let him go without making sure he was okay.