There's been some trouble on the site with this chapter, so I deleted and re-uploaded. Sorry if you got another notification and got your hopes up.

September 6, 2001

Dean pushed the Impala's door open, the resulting creak surely loud enough to wake everyone in the house. Great. Just what he needed – another freakin' lecture.

As he levered himself out of the car, he caught a good whiff of himself. Man, he needed a shower, and it couldn't wait until morning. He reeked of sex and the perfume that... Darla? Starla? ...that what's-her-name had worn. Or bathed in, from the smell of it.

He made his way up the porch steps and was fumbling with his keys when a voice from the darkness startled him.

"It's after midnight. Where have you been?" Sam was just a vague shape swaying gently on the porch swing. He didn't sound pissed – he sounded disappointed, which was worse.

Dean shrugged and opened the door. "Out."

Sam rose from the swing and followed him inside, blinking and shading his eyes when Dean switched on the light in the entryway. "Seriously? What happened to us hanging out tonight?"

"That was tonight? Sorry, man," Dean breezed over to hang up his keys and leather jacket, then crossed into the kitchen to get a beer.

Sam followed him like a hound. "Of course it was tonight, Dean. I'm leaving in the morning."

Dean froze for an instant, then shrugged and twisted off the cap. Tipping his head back, he took a deep pull from the bottle.

Sniffing cautiously at the air, Sam wrinkled his nose. "Jeez, Dean, you smell like a whorehouse. What is up with you?" His expression went from disgusted to concerned. "You know we're all worried about you, right?"

"And I keep telling you, Sammy, there's no need to be. I'm totally fine."

"For the last damn time, it's Sam. And you coulda fooled me. The insane hours you're working? The drinking and sleeping around? I know you've been having a hard time ever since Cassie, but come on, man. Talk to me."

Throwing his arms wide, Dean snapped, "What? What is there to talk about? I work as much as I need to work to keep things going. And my drinking habits and sex life are none of your damn business."

Sam shook his head with a frustrated sigh. "Well, what about tonight then? This was my last night in Sioux Falls. Can you at least tell me why you bailed on me?"

"I didn't bail, Sam. I just...forgot."

"Right." The wounded look on Sam's face made guilt squirm unpleasantly in Dean's gut.

"Look, I had a long day at work, and I stopped for a beer after to unwind. So I got distracted. Sue me."

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "Why don't you come with me? Take a few days off and drive with me to California. Just you and me."

"I can't, Sam. You know that. I haven't hired anybody yet, and I can't afford to stay closed for that long. And I'm backed up on my restoration work already."

"So you're just going to pretend I'm going down the street for coffee instead of moving halfway across the country?"

Dean banged his beer down on the counter. "Dammit, Sam, I'm not pretending anything – I know perfectly damn well where you're going. So it's far away, so what? You're a big boy now. It's not like you need me for anything anymore."

"Of course I need you, asshole." Sam looked him up and down like he was an alien. "You're my brother."

Guilt flooded in, drowning the indifference Dean had been trying so hard to cultivate. "No, you don't," he insisted. "Besides, you'll have Gabriel with you."

"That's not the same, Dean," Sam said, giving him those stupid, sad puppy dog eyes of his. "You think because Gabriel's around I won't miss you? Don't be an idiot."

"Yeah, you say that, but you're gonna have a whole new life out there. You'll have classes and friends, maybe meet a girl. You'll be way too busy to think about...home," Dean grumbled. "So just let it go, would you?"

Sam shook his head, hurt evident in his face. "You're such a dumbass sometimes," he said before turning and disappearing up the stairs.

Dean watched until Sam was out of sight, then drained his beer. "Shit," he muttered.

He tossed his empty into the bin. If he didn't get into the shower in about two seconds flat, he was going to puke. But as he turned to head upstairs, he nearly ran into Bobby standing in the doorway in his flannel pajamas.

"Dude," he griped. "Ninja much?"

"The hell is wrong with you, boy?" Bobby growled.

Repressing the urge to roll his eyes, Dean sighed. "Sorry if I woke you. I'm just headed upstairs, so I shouldn't bother you anymore."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "I ain't talking about that, you numbskull. You oughta be ashamed of yourself, treating your brother that way."

"Excuse me?" Dean drew back at the unexpected rebuke.

"I know you, son. And I know Sam moving away is killing you." Bobby took a step closer and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "But don't you take it out on him like that. It's gonna be tough for him, too, being away from home. If you act like you don't care, then it'll be that much tougher on him."

"You don't underst-"

"The hell I don't," Bobby barked. "Now get up there and make it right before I put a boot in your ass."

Dean's face flushed. "Yes, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me. Just get up there, jackass. And take a shower. You smell like a hooker's butt." Bobby turned on his heel and stomped back to his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

His cheeks still burning, Dean climbed the stairs, dreading what awaited him at the top. Dammit, this was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid these last few months.

When he reached Sam's room, he steeled himself and knocked softly on the door. "Sam?"

After a long pause, Sam answered curtly, "What do you want?"

Dean pushed open the door and edged into the room. "Um. I thought maybe we could go to breakfast together in the morning. Before you go?"

Sam looked at him warily. "Why?"

"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath. "I've been acting like a jerk, and I'm sorry. It's going to suck around here with you gone, but I've been trying to convince myself I don't care. But I do care. I'm gonna miss the shit out of you, Sam."

With tears welling in his eyes, Sam gave him a wavering half smile. "Yeah, okay. Breakfast sounds good."

Dean nodded and turned to leave, but Sam stopped him.

"Hey, Dean?"

He paused in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. And...I don't mind if sometimes you call me Sammy."