Pilot

The truth was there were very few things that Sam would deny his brother. He knew from the second Dean had shown up and asked him to go with him that he would be leaving. But the part of him that had escaped and wanted to leave it all in the past had to fight.

"I can't do this alone."

"Yes, you can."

"Well, I don't want to."

Sam sighed and made his way back to his apartment to pack his bags. One last job.

Sam was sitting on the bed, still staring at the photo in his hand when Dean came out to grab some clean clothes. Dean walked up behind him, towel wrapped around his waist and looked at it.

"Good trip down memory lane?" Dean asked.

Sam scoffed.

"Not exactly. I remember how mad Dad was at me that day. I kept missing the target, wasting ammo."

Dean hummed in response.

"I remember when you finally hit it. Dad took us into town, and grabbed all the fixings so we could make smores over the fire to celebrate. He spent the night on the phone with Bobby gloating over how quick you learned. Guess you were asleep. He was proud of you."

Dean stepped away and towards his duffle bag. Sam frowned trying to figure out how they could have different memories of the same event.

"What did Dad do with you when you hit your first target?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged and threw his brother a grin.

"Just another day at the office Sammy, not worth celebrating."

Sam watched his brother walk back to the bathroom with a sick feeling in his stomach. A picture was forming in his head that he wasn't ready to look too closely at.

Dean had always been Dad's favourite. Perhaps he just didn't remember his own first target practice.

Instead, he checked his voicemail and listened to Jess' soft voice.

The two brothers fell into silence as they drove back towards Palo Alto. Sam didn't know how to talk to his brother now that the hunt was over. They felt like two strangers who had memories of the same history. He had spaced out momentarily, coming back to himself when he felt the car veer off the highway and into a truck stop. Dean pulled off behind the back of the building far into the shadows to give them some privacy. The Impalas door squeaked as it opened, and Dean got it out. He peered back in to look at the younger man.

"Come on Sammy, get out. For a sec."

Sam followed Dean around to the back of the car and stood by the trunk, watching him dig around. Dean turned back towards him with a flashlight pointed at him.

"Alright let's see it."

"Uhhh... see what exactly?"

"The woman in white tried to pull your heart out of your chest, right? I want to check it out."

"Dean-"

"Don't Dean me. You gonna take this like a man or what?"

Sam sighed and removed his jacket feeling goosebumps as the cool air hit him. He grimaced as he lifted his arms out of his shirt to expose his chest.

Dean inspected him from a distance for a moment before reaching down into the first aid kit to grab gauze and alcohol.

"Knock knock." Dean said with a smirk.

Sam laughed softly. This he remembered.

"Who's-" Sam hissed as the alcohol hit the open wounds.

Dean was silent as he cleaned him up, but Sam was struck with a feeling of loss.

When Sam had left, he had been a kid, and he couldn't appreciate that what he was doing may affect Dean. But now, he couldn't help but see Dean differently. Dean seemed lost without his family, and while it wasn't going to stop Sam from going back home, it did make his heart sting momentarily.

Dean held out a zip up hoodie to his brother.

"Put that on over your shirt, hopefully you can at least keep your weirdo injuries from your girl until morning."

Sam took the shirt and understood it for what it was. This time Sam wasn't running, Dean was giving him permission to go.

"Thanks." Sam whispered.

"Don't mention it."

Dean headed back to the car and Sam followed moments later. He waited until they were back on the road to speak again.

"You know Dean... If you want to... come back again and I dunno meet Jess properly someday? I'm sure she would like that."

Sam looked over at his brother almost shyly, but the older Winchester wasn't looking at him. He was looking out through the windshield as the city lights came into focus, a small smirk playing out across his face. It could only be described as longing. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Nah, you got your life Sammy. It's probably better if I keep my distance."

It didn't feel like a rejection, it felt like kindness. But it made Sam feel awful anyway.

Maybe he would start calling Dean again. Try and connect with his brother that way, and then eventually maybe they could start to rebuild.

The smell of smoke permeated the entire motel room, but thankfully due to some left-over pain medication and a dose of Jack Daniels Sam was asleep and not in any condition to notice. That of course left Dean sitting on his own bed staring over at his brother.

In the privacy of the motel room, he let the single tear make its way down his face and made no move to wipe it away.

There were few things he actually wanted for himself. Number one, he wanted to find what killed his mother, two he wanted his family whole, three he wanted his brother and father to understand how important they were to him.

He never wanted this.

He tried to figure out what their next move would be, but he couldn't get passed the mind-numbing feeling of complete hopelessness.

So for now he would do the only thing he had ever known for sure he was good at.

He was going to take care of his little brother.