(no subject)

[hopeitsworthit]

It's a hot, dry day, like a lot of the last couple weeks have been.

Dean doesn't give a damn. The Impala's still busted, and he's gonna fix her. There ain't no two ways about it.

He's gotta be able to fix something, right?

He slides out from under his girl for a second, stretching the kinks out of his back and wincing a little as sweat gets in his eyes.

Okay, where in hell'd he put that oil rag . . .

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Hey, Dean?"

A swirl of dust stirs around Sam's feet as he heads over.

[hopeitsworthit]

You bet your ass Dean hears Sam's question.

But he doesn't turn to look at him, just keeps, you know--

Doin' what he's doing.

It's probably nothing important, anyway.

[gavemea_45]

Damn it, Dean--

A muscle in his jaw twitches as he grits his teeth, but Sam lets it go.

"Came to tell you that I picked up your mail for you, dude, but if you don't want it..."

[hopeitsworthit]

This time Dean does look up, scowling darkly.

"What the hell do you mean, 'picked up my mail'? Nobody fuckin' knows we're here, and if they did, you've got your goddamn cell phone."

[gavemea_45]

"What I said," Sam shoots back. He holds out a note.

"You talked with Sallie about what happened to her friend?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean takes it, reading it over with one hand on the back of his neck.

Then he looks back at Sam. That scowl ain't going anywhere.

"Yeah, I did. You got a problem with that?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam gives him an exasperated look in return.

"Why would I?"

He shrugs.

"Anyway, she left some stuff for us both. Copies of police reports and the like. I've got it all spread out inside."

[hopeitsworthit]

Something flickers in Dean's expression, and he turns away again.

"Good thinkin', Sammy. I'll be sure to take a look at that later. When I'm done here."

[gavemea_45]

"Uh-huh."

Sarcastically.

Sam doesn't budge.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean will be stubborn to the last.

Which explains why he doesn't turn around again, keeping his hands busy with the oil rag.

Real busy.

[gavemea_45]

He lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Just how long are you planning to keep this up, Dean?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's jaw tightens.

"'Till she's fixed, Sammy."

Duh.

"What, you want me to do somethin' else?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam glares stubbornly back at him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah?"

Dean's eyebrows go up, and it kinda looks like he's smirking.

Only it's a lot more combative.

"You out here to prove somethin', college boy?"

[gavemea_45]

"No, Dean, I'm not," Sam snaps back at him. "But I've had enough of this, okay?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"You've had--"

Dean lets out a harsh breath, turning abruptly back to his car.

"This the part where you shed some emo tears, get in touch with your feelings, and we both have a good round of crying? Because I'm pretty sure you're barkin' up the wrong tree with that one."

[gavemea_45]

He takes two quick steps forward and grabs Dean's shoulder, yanking him back around.

"Look, I don't care how you deal with it, but you're gonna have to deal with it!"

[hopeitsworthit]

"What, like you're dealing with it?"

He almost snarls that in Sam's face, slamming both his hands into his brother's shoulders--

Instead of his face. He's not that far gone yet.

"Oh, wait. We've been over this shit before, Sammy. Sing me something new, wouldja?"

[gavemea_45]

"You want something new? Fine."

He doesn't push back, not this time. Sam keeps both hands at his sides and meets Dean's eyes.

"You're right."

[hopeitsworthit]

Well, fuck.

How the hell's he supposed to field that one?

Dean gives it his damndest, grabbing that oil rag again.

"Ain't I always?"

[gavemea_45]

"Not even close. But this time..."

Sam shrugs awkwardly.

"Me and Dad-- I spent most of my life angry at him. The last time I saw him, I tried to pick a fight. And I'm sorry for that. For all I know, he died thinking I hated him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late."

[hopeitsworthit]

And maybe on any other day--

You've got to save your brother, Dean.

Before Dad died

Because if you don't, if you can't--you'll have to kill him.

--Dean would be relieved to hear that, burdens falling away at the knowledge that finally, after 24 years, Sammy gets it.

But this time? Like Sammy said, those 24 years are a couple too late.

And none of that shit matters now, anyway.

So Dean just keeps on doing his thing, keeping his hands busy, keeping his face averted.

Because if he's not thinking about it, then none of it's true.

[gavemea_45]

"I miss him, man."

Sam's voice is low and choked, but clear all the same.

"I really miss him. And I feel guilty as hell. And no, I'm not all right. Not at all. I know that."

A beat.

"But neither are you. And I know that, too."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean looks back at Sam at that one.

What he wants to say is 'What, you want a gold star for that one?"

It doesn't make it out of his throat.

Maybe because he wouldn't stop there, and he can't--

That ain't in the cards.

Ever.

[gavemea_45]

Come on, Dean, please--

But his brother doesn't say anything, and after a moment, Sam's shoulders slump.

"I'll let you get back to work."

Without waiting for an answer this time, he turns and heads back toward the house.