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The drive was quiet, no music or anything to cover the tense atmosphere. Usually Dean would at least throw on some Led Zeppelin or something similar to drown out the awkwardness, but not tonight. It’d feel wrong to do that, both brothers were painfully aware of that.
It’d been nearly two hours since they left that little town in Oregon, leaving behind the only survivors of—whatever the hell happened. Two hours of awful silence.
Finally though, the youngest brother couldn’t take it and took a deep breath before speaking.
“So, Dean,“ he started, still looking straight ahead. Not wanting to look his brother in the eye, and he was at least mostly sure Dean felt the same. “About what you said in the uh, in the clinic.”
“Sam, let’s not do this.” Dean sighed, voice tight. Sam glanced at him, he looked tired, more so than usual. “It’s late, let’s just get to the next town and crash in a motel for the night.”
“Dean, we gotta talk about this. You were just going to sit in that room and die for no reason!”
“I had a damn reason, Sam!” For the first time during their entire drive, Dean looks his brother in the eye. And all Sam can see is fear and pain in those deep green eyes. “I wasn’t just about to leave you in there.”
“But-“
“No, Sam, you’re my brother and I wasn’t going to let you turn into some flesh eating monster and die alone.”
Sam exhales sharply, the silence begins to grow tense again. But with that silence his thoughts become louder.
“Stupid.” He mutters.
“What?” Dean snaps.
“You’re stupid,” The younger brother repeats, more bite in his tone than before. “Thinking that you should just sit there and die with me, it’s- it’s stupid and self-destructive to think shit like that.”
The slight waver in his sibling's voice makes Dean turn to face him again, and this time, he doesn’t yell or fight or anything. Because this time, he can see in the passing street lights the glimmer of tears forming on the younger’s face. Welling up in his eyes before they run down his cheeks. Sam quickly wipes them away with one hand.
“What you said in there, about being tired of all of this, the job, this life. You really meant that?” He questions, voice strained to prevent any more shakiness.
Dean turns back to the road, exhaling slowly before responding.
“Yeah.” That one word feels so heavy in the air, so many things that Sam feared feel like they come true when he says that. Fear that his brother was tired of more than just what they do, but being here in general. Being on this god forsaken planet.
He knows they’ve sacrificed a lot, lost so much ‘cause of this job. Their innocence, their childhoods, their parents. And despite how fearless and unfazed his brother tries to act, how he tries to maintain that carefree, flirty, and joking air about him— he’s scared, and every loss leaves a deep pain, a wound that won’t heal. At least not without dealing with it, which Dean never does.
But despite knowing Dean struggled so much, it still feels all too real to hear his brother, his hero, the guy he’s always looked up to, admit that. And now that he’s heard it, he can’t help but let the tears stream down his face. Sam has always hated crying, since he was little and he sobbed into his older brother’s arms about whatever had happened. No matter how much he despised it though, he always found himself tearing up when something really bad happened.
“Sammy-“
“No, don’t do that.” Sam cuts him off harshly, “I don’t want to hear any of your fucking placations right now.”
Dean’s jaw shuts with a click, his grip on the wheel tightening.
“I hate that you do crap like this, you act like you’re so unafraid of dying. Like your life doesn’t mean anything.” Sam’s voice is full of anger as he spits out all of what he’s been thinking for the past couple hours. “I know that you think you have to pretend nothing affects you, that you have to be strong all the fucking time. But you don’t, and I wish you could see that there are people who care about you and want you to be alive. That I care.”
“I know you do Sammy-“
“Then why- why do you do shit like this? You didn’t have to stay in that room with me, you didn’t have to die. But you sat there and waited to anyway.”
“I couldn’t just leave you there.”
“But you could, that’s the thing. Hell you should’ve!” Sam wipes his face again, then plants his tear soaked hand on his pant leg, holding the denim tightly in his fist. “I just wish you could understand that your life matters more than you think it does. That you’re more than just some soldier dad made to protect me, to sacrifice for me… to die for me.”
Sam’s voice trails off as his words settle between them. Neither speaks again, and it isn’t long before Sam has drifted off to sleep. All the shit they went through today already took a lot out of him, and with all the energy from arguing gone there just isn’t any left in him right now. So he sleeps with his head resting against the window. A familiar sight to Dean.
XxxX
It’s around seven AM when the Impala pulls into a parking spot for some shitty looking motel. Sam peels his eyes open as Dean slips out of the driver's seat.
“Figure we can crash here for a few nights, I’ll go get us a room.” He mutters flatly before shutting the door and walking off. Sam sighs as he watches his brother go.
By the time Dean returns Sam has pulled out two duffel bags from the trunk. Dean unlocks the door and steps aside for his brother to carry said bags inside. Sam sets down the duffels on each bed, Dean's bag on the one closest to a door, a habit from when they were younger. The eldest always staying between his sibling and any possible dangers.
Dean watches from the doorway before stepping inside as well.
“Hey, Sammy.” The younger looks up from fishing something from his bag and Dean makes a gesture for him to come forward.
“What’s up?” He raises a brow in question as he steps toward his brother. Before Dean responds he opens his arms and pulls Sam into an embrace. Sam is stunned for a moment, blinking confusedly before he wraps his arms around the elder and presses his face into his shoulder.
“Thank you.” Dean says, his hand firmly on the back of his brother’s neck and the other on his back. Strong and steady, like he always is. And for a moment, Sam almost feels like a kid again, holding his brother so tightly, wanting to feel safe, comforted in his brother's arms. Because he always felt safest in them, and he always will.
A few tears slip from his eyes and he buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck, muffling his sniffles. His hands grasp the fabric of Dean’s shirt so hard his knuckles are nearly white.
Unfortunately however, their embrace doesn’t last forever. And soon Dean gently pulls away from his younger brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. Sam wipes his eyes and sniffles once more before Dean speaks.
“I’m gonna go for a drive, maybe grab a drink.” He says, his voice is steady. But Sam can tell he’s hurting, no matter how much his brother tries to bury his feelings, his weaknesses, Sam will always see through his bullshit. He’s always been able to.
Dean turns and strides out of the motel room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. Sam stands there and listens, hearing the Impala’s engine roar back to life and pull out of the parking lot.
The youngest Winchester lets out a long sigh, breath still shaky from crying, and turns to go finish unpacking the things he’ll need for the next few nights. He has a feeling his brother won’t be interested in continuing their little talk from that night, but he feels like he at least got through his brother’s tough exterior just the slightest bit. Maybe not a lot, but he’s not going to give up trying to get through to his sibling, to show him he matters. Not ever.