Disclaimer: Not my show, not my boys, all my thoughts. So there.

Author's Note: So this is now the longest chapter so far, but only by 7 words. It's actually one of my favorites. Hope you like it.

Dean's POV - Chapter 4.5

He couldn't take it any longer. All the silence. All the ignored calls and texts. All the stupid clowns reminding Dean of his stupid little brother and how much he missed the gigantic, stubborn ass.

He was supposed to be calling his dad to pick him up so they could figure out their next steps. There were people out there who needed saving and Dad was going to be looking for him to decide their next step. But Dean couldn't think about Dad, endangered townsfolk, none of it. He had to know what was going on with Sam. This was the thought that made him wander down the streets of Reno, looking for just the right thing. And as if on cue, Dean's cell blared its presence. He looked at the caller ID. It was Dad. Hitting ignore, Dean pocketed the phone. He had to hurry or his dad would show up unsummoned and ruin everything. He had to find just the right place…and that was when he spotted the run-down casino, with an overflowing parking lot and no noticeable security.

He walked down the lot as if he were headed to his own vehicle, until he came upon a black Honda Civic that looked like it could be about 15 years old. "Perfect," he said to himself, pulling out the Slim Jim he kept in his jacket pocket since he and Dad only had the one car. They really needed to do something about that.

He quickly popped the lock, looking around casually as he slipped inside and began to work on the wires to start the car. It roared to life easily and Dean found himself headed out of town, turning onto I-80 instead of continuing on to the house like his little voice inside his head warned him he should do.

He kept driving.

Past the homes.

Past the businesses.

Past the dusty lots, deeper into the desert, until it was too late to turn back without an inquisition. May as well see it through.

Dean drove alone with his thoughts and fears about what was ahead of him, the music ever louder as his little inner voice got ever smaller with the taunts about what was behind him. It was a 5-hour drive to Stanford and the music choices sucked. He missed his tunes.

He clicked off the radio and thought of what was ahead. He wouldn't be giving Sam any warning. There would be no calls or texts to alert Sam to his intent. He would face him and find out why Sam was dodging his attempts to stay in touch. Did Sam even realize that when he left Dad, he also left Dean? Sam had been so angry about the way Dad had responded to his college plans that he just took off, taking with him the few possessions he had already packed before confronting their Dad for the last time. He had just walked out, and never looked back.

Sam was always going to go to college. That much was clear. Maybe Sam had thought he could have some kind of reasonable discussion with their dad about his plans. Maybe he thought Dad would cave once he saw how serious Sam was about his future. But Dean knew Sam was serious. Dean was proud of his baby brother and would have thrown him a party if that had been the Winchester way.

The Winchester way was to crap all over what any individual wanted, for the good of the mission. To hell with your reasonable request to attain a higher education that could be of use in future hunts. Who cares if you want to be normal – whatever that meant – and have a place you could actually call home, if only for four years. That was what Dean had heard as a kid, every time his dad refused to respond to his 7-year-old dreams to become a fireman. Then a musician. And a mechanic. Dean had learned a long time ago to bury his dreams where monsters couldn't get at them and tear them apart. He didn't want to feel his dad's angst every time Dean talked about what they used to have with Mom; what he wanted to have again with just the three of them, if only Dad would stick around long enough. Dean had learned the proper robotic responses to his dad's commands while Sam had chosen to run away.

It was time now to see what was so important that Sam couldn't be bothered to let Dean live vicariously through his life anymore. Dean had a full tank of gas and he was too wired to need any rest even after spending way too much time checking out that clown museum that sparked this sudden adventure. Dean hadn't been this amped in weeks.

(~~~)

It was dark when he pulled up to Sam's last-known address. But not too late for the drunken co-eds who milled about the well-lit apartment complex. Dean backed into a space at the back of the lot, the streetlights not quite reaching into the shadows where the Civic easily hid in plain sight. He turned off the engine, sunk down in the seat and waited, wondering if he should get out to see if Sam was home or not. But he was already second-guessing his decision to come in the first place, so it was easier to stay put and berate his need to check in on his brother while warring with his need to let Sam have his space.

His cell phone intruded on his thoughts yet again, registering his dad's impatience. Dean decided once and for all to shut the phone off. He'd deal with Dad later. Or, more likely, Dad would deal with him. But he couldn't think about that now.

Dean folded his arms and sulked in the driver's seat, torn between going back to Dad and ripping himself from the car to hunt down his brother. He beat the steering wheel in frustration before realizing what he was doing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, uh, little car," he apologized. "Didn't mean to hurt you. It's not your fault my dad is an ass and my brother is his clone."

Dean thread his fingers through his short hair. "Damn it!" He hated being so fucking vulnerable, but that was exactly what he was right now. Feeling as helpless as he had when his world burned down 20 years ago.

He grabbed his phone, pushed the 2 and stopped, his thumb hovering over the call button. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. Breathing out, he looked again, glancing up at the figures walking on the sidewalk ahead of him. There were a couple of girls clinging to each other, one obviously stumbling while the other was holding her up, rummaging through her purse, probably for keys, Dean guessed. He hoped she wasn't going to be driving if she was anywhere near as sloshed as her friend.

She dropped the keys and Dean watched as she pumped her fist in agitation. She steadied her friend and started to go down when she was stopped by a guy, who picked them up for her. Dean narrowed his eyes, focusing on the form that was slightly hidden by the stumbling pair who was bending down to retrieve the keys.

The guy stood, clearly towering over the girls, and Dean sat back as the girls stepped back before their hero. The sober girl was talking to the guy. She moved around enough for Dean to see she was smiling – at Sam. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she nodded. Sam smiled in response, pointing at one of the apartments up the stairs. The girls must have been heading that way and Dean watched as Sam took the girl's friend, lifting her easily into his arms as the friend stepped back. She turned to walk up the stairs, looking back occasionally to check on the pair following her.

The girl in Sam's arms nonchalantly wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, but didn't seem to be very aware of more than that. The friend opened the apartment door, and she and Sam stepped inside.

Light suddenly spilled out onto the landing and Dean leaned onto the steering wheel, watching for movements. He didn't wait long. Sam stepped back out, nodding to the friend as she filled the doorway, both hands holding onto the doorjambs. Sam stepped back another step while she pushed slightly out of the door toward him, her head falling flirtatiously to the side. Sam gave her a small wave and nod, and turned to head back to the stairs.

Sam jammed his hands in his pockets, which he sometimes did when he was trying to make himself a little less conspicuous. Dean smirked as he watched the girl watch Sam descend the stairs, then slowly close the door when Sam reached the sidewalk, not looking back.

"Sammy." Dean could feel a wave of relief wash over him. Sam was ok. He looked good. He looked happy even. Dean nodded his quiet acceptance of this and watched longer as Sam continued down the sidewalk. Dean knew he couldn't simply follow him in the stolen car, so he rubbed his neck considering his options. There weren't any. He'd have to follow on foot. "Shit," he hissed and reached for the handle, bracing his hand as he carefully pushed the door open, watching Sam for any signs of awareness to his presence. Sam kept walking. He was at the further end of the complex so it would only be a minute before he was out of the area and onto the street leading out to the town.

Dean climbed out carefully, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the seat. He braced his hand on the door again to carefully shut it this time, then stood straight, looking around the parking lot. No one else was around at the moment. He ducked a bit, sidestepping over to the sidewalk, wishing he'd thought to carry sneakers for times like this. But he was pretty far behind Sam right now so he should be alright.

Dean ducked behind the stairs leading up to 2nd floor apartments. He trained his eyes on Sam again. Sam still had his hands in his pockets, his stride quick like he had somewhere to be. Dean stepped out to follow him as many paces behind as he thought it would take to keep Sam from noticing, which would be tough. He had trained Sam himself to follow undetected, but to also notice when being followed. Dean was pretty sure he'd be able to tell if Sam caught on so he continued, ducking into cover whenever he could. Sam was nearing the end of the lot and the street out into the greater public would make it a little easier for Dean to follow a little more in the open.

Once Sam reached the street, he stopped, shoulders straightening a bit. He turned his head, listening. Dean stepped under another set of stairs as he watched, Sam's profile seeming to tighten a bit as he stood. The light from the streetlight bathed him in an orange glow. Dean saw a couple of college guys behind him now and he stepped further into the shadows, watching them talking and pushing each other animatedly, walking past Dean without noticing him. They reached Sam, who had turned halfway around now, hands coming out of his pockets while he watched the guys approach and pass him without acknowledgement.

Sam seemed to relax a bit. He gave them a quick smile before looking back from where they came, tucking his hair behind his ears. He lingered there a bit, looking further down the parking lot. Twisting his mouth, Sam shook his head as if confirming that his imagination was at work. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, looking both ways before jogging lightly across the street.

Dean stepped quickly to the spot where Sam last stood, but just to the left of the street spotlight. He watched Sam go up to a set of doors, Riley's Pub, and pull the handle. Sam held the door as a couple emerged laughing. He smiled at them, then looked around himself once more before stepping inside.

Dean ran up to the doors, not wanting to lose Sam. He was grateful Sam was going inside such a busy place.

The pub was packed with people standing around talking, sitting at the bar or at the small tables that dotted the center of the floor. Dean stayed back in the doorway, just behind a couple of guys in football jerseys who were loudly debating the last game Stanford had played against some yet unnamed rival. Dean tucked his head slightly trying not to be noticed by anyone. He squinted, looking around for what surely would be the tallest guy in the room, but somehow Sam had managed to vanish. Dean sucked in a breath, wondering if Sam might have noticed him after all. He stepped around the football guys and tucked himself into the little corner created by the short foyer when he had entered the pub. There were a couple of tables there in front of the main window and Dean lightly bumped a girl who was clinking glasses with her friends.

"Sorry," he mumbled, barely looking at her while he pressed himself tighter against the wall. He glanced around the room in search of the familiar mop of hair.

The girl looked annoyed at first as she turned to see who was invading her personal space. Then she smiled. She noticed the taut arms that were crossed, the man looking so seriously into the crowd. "Don't be sorry," she replied, giving Dean her full attention now as she turned her back to her table. "Accidents happen. But maybe this could be a happy accident?"

Dean glanced over at her now. He raised his chin, noticing the mane of dark hair that enveloped a heart-shaped face, brown eyes staring at him in anticipation. He shuddered lightly at the thought of what he'd do with those rose-red lips, then closed his eyes, dismissing the thought.

"Yeah, uh, not tonight sweetheart. Looking for someone." He looked back into the crowd and noticed Sam, who stood smiling at a low table on the side, before he stooped to slide into the booth. The high backs of the bench seats made it impossible for Dean to see who he was smiling at or even much more than the top of Sam's head now.

"If you can't find them, maybe I will do?" The dark-haired girl had reached over to stroke his arm, which pulled Dean out of his trance. He dropped his arms and stood straight again to get closer to Sam.

He glanced back at the flirty girl. "Normally, but tonight I'm looking for him," he said pointing in Sam's direction, not caring if she got the wrong impression. The girl tossed her hair, looking at where he pointed. Sam was already seated, so all she could see was another hulking football player who was standing with some loud guys chugging beers.

She raised her eyebrows watching Dean head in that direction. He didn't hear her as she snorted, "Figures," then went back to her friends.

There was an empty seat right behind Sam and Dean slid in before he noticed the guy already seated on the other side.

"Dude? What the hell?" the shocked guy asked.

"Shhhh," Dean whispered. He noticed the guy was relatively good looking, you know, for a guy. Cropped brown hair, light green eyes. He even looked like he might work out a little. Dean leaned in to share the secret he was making up as he went along. "I saw that girl over there eyeing you, dude," he whispered, looking around conspiratorially. He nodded to the dark-haired girl he'd just left in the corner and the guy's eyes went wide as he jerked around to see whom Dean was referring to.

"Uh, uh, uh, dude! Not so obvious!"

The guy sat back and nodded. "But, uh," he whispered back. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Uh, no, she's a blind date. My buddies set us up…"

"Ohhh, dude," Dean whispered, shaking his head. "You sure you want to go for the mystery behind door number two when there's a sure thing right over there?"

"But she's beautiful, man," the guy responded a little loudly this time, leaning forward, both hands palming the table now.

"Shhh," Dean replied, pressing his own hands downward now to silence the guy.

"Oh, sorry," he whispered back. "Here," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Look." He shoved his phone in front of Dean, who took it to see a picture there. A laughing blonde stared back at him, her arm around the necks of two guys who were also laughing.

"Who are the dudes she's hanging on?"

"That guy on the left is my friend, Joey. He's hooking us up. And that other guy is his brother."

"Uh huh," Dean replied, rolling his eyes as he handed back the phone. "She's doing them."

"What?!" the guy hissed.

"Man, look, I can read women. That look in her eyes says, 'We're getting down tonight.' And your friend is probably looking for someone new to join their party." He thought a moment. "Or she is."

The guy blushed, looking down at the table and fidgeting with his phone. He sucked his teeth. "No way."

"Look," Dean said, looking to move this along now. "That chick over there? She's a sure thing tonight. That chick there?" he continued, pointing to the phone, "She's a sure thing later. You can have them both, Romeo. Go for it!"

The guy sat back, considering Dean's words. Dean clasped his hands waiting, not taking his eyes off the horny college kid. He knew he was quietly convincing him that what he said was true.

The guy nodded and stood, looking back at Dean briefly. Dean shooed him away. The guy shook his hands a bit to loosen up and headed toward the table of the dark-haired girl. Dean leaned over to make sure he went, catching the eye of the girl as she laughed again then noticed him, a quizzical look on her face. Dean wouldn't do more than look her way, watching the guy approach her.

The girl turned as the college guy stepped slightly behind her to draw her away from her table. Dean saw he was tall and definitely looked like he took care of himself, but that shy thing he had going on might kill his whole plan unless he took control of the situation. But Dean smiled. He saw there was no need to worry. The girl was in full control. She smiled flirtatiously at Dean again, who did not smile back, then she glanced at Dean while the guy spoke to her. She seemed to want Dean to see she was giving this guy what she would have given him.

Dean snorted and sat back, tilting his chin at her as if to say she was too easy and that guy could have her. He rolled his eyes, but she was looking full on at the guy now, finally noticing he was a prize all on his own.

Dean was then able to slide further down the bench seat, pressing back hoping to overhear whatever was going on at the table behind him. A waitress in a short black skirt and button-down white blouse, unbuttoned just a tad too far, exposing her green-laced bra, stepped up looking bored. "What'll it be?"

"What?" Dean asked distracted.

"Drink? You can't sit here holding a booth if you're not going to order anything."

"Beer," he replied, annoyed now by the presence of yet another person. "Keep 'em coming. Waiting for someone," he replied as quickly and quietly as he could.

"Uh huh," the bored waitress said, turning on her matching green heels to head back toward the bar.

Dean pressed back again.

"Seriously, Sam?" Dean heard a light female voice. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "I think we should, you know? It's been what? A year now?"

Dean heard the girl chuckle. "Is that before or after you were pining for me?"

"Pining?" Sam squeaked. "I wasn't pining for you."

"Yeah, right, Sam Winchester. You think I didn't see you waiting for me outside my class? When your class wasn't even in that building?"

Dean could imagine the shy smile on his brother's face. He didn't give himself easily to girls. This one was clearly important. He wondered if it was the same blonde he had seen before. Sam said it had been a year. Had to be her, right?

"Yeah, well, I got lost," Sam clearly lied.

The girl's laugh was full of something. Dean could tell just from the sound that she liked Sam back.

"Lost in my eyes," the girl teased.

"And other parts," Sam finished.

There was silence for a bit, just as the waitress had returned with his beer. "Here you go," she said sighing. Dean nodded so Sam wouldn't hear him.

"So yeah," Sam continued. "I think we should move in together."

The girl gave a huff. "That's no small step, Sam. Are you sure? I know you like your space."'

"I like you in my space." Dean rolled his eyes at the cheesy line that he knew was totally Sam being sincere. He could imagine the smile that must have elicited.

"I like you in my space too," the girl said a little lower now. Dean smiled and nodded at the sexy double entendre. He liked this girl.

Sam chuckled and Dean could hear them briefly kiss.

Sam whispered now. "Move in with me, Jess. I'm tired of being alone."

Dean narrowed his eyes. You were never alone, Sam.

There was silence again. "OK," Dean heard. "I will move in with you, Sam." Dean heard some movement. The girl laughed a little and made a sound in her throat. Dean guessed they were hugging. Another brief kiss.

"Really, Jess? That's great!" Sam was clearly happy now. "When?"

"Um, I guess whenever you want, big boy!"

"We have break next week, so maybe then?' Sam asked.

"Uh, gee, I guess so, but Sam," Jess asked, "you don't want to maybe go home? See your family?"

Dean felt the silence this time and it was a long one.

"I'm sorry," he heard Jess whisper. "I...I didn't mean…"

"No," Sam replied quickly. "It's ok, Jess. Really. I just…" Dean waited, straining to hear. "I'm just not on good terms with my family right now."

"Still?" Jess asked. "I thought you were talking to your brother…"

"Yeah, uh, I was. I am. I mean, it's been a little while, but he's, uh, got a lot going on and I have school and you and…"

"Sam Winchester! Don't you dare use me as an excuse!"

"No! No, of course not. I'm just not ready, Jess, ok?"

"Did you and your brother have a fight like you and your dad did?" Jess asked quietly.

"Not exactly," Sam replied. Dean balled his fists. What the hell was Sam saying? They didn't have a fight. They had nothing. One moment Dean was included in his life and the next he wasn't.

"It's just too hard right now, Jess. I can't talk to my brother without my dad coming up and he tries, you know? He tries to be this neutral entity, but I know this is hard on him too, not taking sides. I just…" Sam stalled. Dean's fists loosened as he listened. "I just don't want to keep putting him in the middle or feeling this guilt and anger and all this…this stuff when we talk. I don't know, Jess. Maybe…," Sam exhaled and was quiet again.

"Maybe what, Sam?" Jess asked quietly.

"Maybe it's just better if we don't speak for awhile," Sam whispered. Dean rested his head on the back of the seat, closing his eyes. He let himself feel the stab of those words just a little.

"Dean should just go on with Dad and I'll go on with my life." Sam seemed to shift in the seat. "I have you now, Jess. That's all I need."

Dean breathed out, bringing the beer to his lips for one sip. He slipped quietly from the booth, just as the waitress was coming back. He stopped, fished a $20 from his pocket and laid it on her tray. The waitress' eyes went wide. "Thanks," she said in amazement.

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded, walking quickly to the door and not looking back. He had what he needed. And now he needed to go home.