-Note- Okay, so this story is totally and completely dedicated to the ever wonderful Miss Cinnamon. She's been sick:( And still she manages to beta for me and keep me laughing! She's unbelievable, isn't she ya'll? So send her some love and well wishes! She is an absolute doll and I would be no where without her! -Note-

There’s a lot of things Dean remembers about his life. A lot of things he wishes he’d done differently, or maybe not at all. Like all those times he’s passed up a hug from Sam, or a kind word that could have made all the other angry ones seem trivial.

He also remembers the only thing he’s ever done right-and that’s give Sam what he wants. Although now, he’s beginning to wonder if that’s really the biggest mistake he’s ever made.

Sam and Dean are different - they couldn’t be any more different than they are. Sam’s caring, sympathetic, brilliant, childish, but too damn old for his age sometimes. He also wants more out of life, wants away from the things they’ve grown up with. Away from the hunting, from the darkness. Away from their father.

Dean on the other hand is sarcastic, shut off, flirtatious, serious only about their work or family, and totally surface except for when he’s with Sam. And he doesn’t want anything other than what he’s always known. Doesn’t want anything more than his family and maybe a little extra happiness for the younger brother that has given him that time and again with an honest smile, or a reminder that the world isn’t made of darkness.

Sam and Dad are a different story. They’re so alike Dean can’t understand why they don’t see it. The stubbornness that, yeah, Dean’s guilty of too, but the two of them could break records with. The same anger, same indignant, self-righteous look they can pull off so easily. That can tear Dean apart within a half a second of it.

Dean’s the odd one out and he always has been, but somehow he’s the glue that holds their family together. He’s the only one that fights for them, tries to reason and outweigh the bad with the good. He’s also the only one that ever seems to suffer for it.

For once though he’s stepped out. He’s refused to be put in the middle, the shocked look on both his brother and his father ‘s faces a bitter reminder of the truth. He wants Sam’s happiness, he wants Stanford, even if it is a thousand fucking miles away-maybe more depending on where they are. Sam wants it too, bur doesn’t seem to care that it’s breaking apart their family, or Dean for that matter. But Dad doesn’t want anything else for his boys but this life. Justice for their mother and what? What happens then?

Dean doesn’t ask, never has and he probably never will, despite Sam’s constant insistence on it. If Sam wants to know so damn bad he can ask himself. He’s a big boy after all, applying to college, sneaking off for his testing and whatever else. For Palo Alto and this different, normal existence.

Dean leans back, crosses his arms over his chest and stares back indifferently at the dropped jaws. They wouldn’t listen to anything he has to say now anyway, not unless it’s what they want to hear, and he’ll never be ready for that. Not when it comes to the dissolution of his family.

Sam glares, his eyes reading the same betrayal Dean feels in his heart. Sam thinks he’s being unfair, taking Dad’s side like he always does, at least in Sam’s mind. Dad on the other hand stares suspiciously, as if Dean has some trick up his sleeve and he’s waiting for the other half of his unit to announce the same need.

They’re both wrong, both being unfair and Dean just doesn’t care. He’s standing his ground for once and that means he’s not moving, not unless there’s bloodshed and a good chance of loss of life. Until then he’s sitting back and letting them work it out for themselves. No mediating for Dean today; he’s had his fill.

Sam finally turns his glare on Dad, writing his brother off as a lost cause. It takes Dad a bit longer to return Sam’s glare, but he does it. Sure as Dean’s sitting back and watching things play out like some sick sideshow, Dad’s glaring right back.

It isn’t long before their heated words turn to yelling, sometimes punctuated by frustrated screams. A few times Sam glances over at Dean, waiting for him to say something, do something - anything other than stare silently.

He blinks at Sam as if it’s so easy to stay quiet, all the while biting down hard, holding back the pleas that are heavy on his tongue. He’s gotten good at it over the years, hiding his feelings from Sam, afraid his brother would find that his brotherly feelings had long ago turned into something more. All that practice isn’t doing him any good now though, and he can taste blood from his efforts.

To Dean’s surprise, Dad throws the first punch, catching Sam off guard as he’s returning Dean’s stare. It’s cheap and beneath any Winchester, and it makes Dean’s fists clench involuntarily. He’s never let anyone hit Sam, not even Dad. That’s reserved for Dean alone.

He refuses to move though, knowing if he breaks now he’ll never be able to stop. To resist giving in to his brother and their way of life. Being in the middle, the mediator, the peacemaker, and the God damn broken hearted one. Sam raises a hand to his cheek, the skin a bright red. Dad seems unapologetic and that just makes Dean angrier. The way his brother stares in childlike disbelief that his father’s just hit him-no, sucker punched him. Dad believing he’s done nothing wrong, that Sam’s the only one at fault here.

Dean clenches his jaw and looks away. Sam’s a big boy now, he reminds himself, if Dad’s made the mistake of hitting him, Sam can handle it. Only it doesn’t matter how old Sam gets, that instinct to protect, to comfort is there. Will always be there.

He swears he’ll ignore it, and maybe if Dad hadn’t hit Sam a second time he would have held true to that promise, but as it is, Dad’s gone too far. Sam’s lip is split and bleeding, and for some reason his brother refuses to return the blows.

Dean curses himself, curses Dad, and the whole damn situation, but gets up. Forces himself between the two men, back firmly pressed to Sam’s chest. He’s a head shorter than Sam, but he’s the older brother, and this is going to end because he can’t take much more and he won’t stand for it.

He feels Sam’s hand fall to his hip, fingers digging in, and Dean knows he’s about to be pushed out of the way. He covers Sam’s hand with his own and glances over his shoulder, ignoring the thrill that races through him at their close proximity.

Sam’s eyes are empty, resigned, and he doesn’t want Dean in the middle anymore than he wants to be there. It isn’t fair how easily he can change Dean’s feelings with that look, the realization that Sam’s taking Dad’s punishments because he thinks he deserves it.

Dean gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head and tightens his hand around Sam’s. He’s sorry he picked now to take a stand, to distance himself from the situation, because now is the one time that Sam needed that from him the most.

He walks them backwards without a word, enjoying the way Sam’s body molds to his. Hips perfectly aligned, fingers intertwined. This is how he wants it to always be, the two of them in sync. Understanding without words, only touch.

Dad watches, returns their silence because he‘s yelled and screamed all he can, and doesn’t chase after them as Dean opens the motel door and pushes Sam through, separating their bodies with reluctance. Dean shuts the door behind them, ushers Sam forward and doesn’t say a word until they’re behind the motel and alone.

“Forget it,” Dean says simply. He leans back against the brick wall and looks up at the night sky, remembering all the times they’d done this before. After every bad hunt, every bad day, or every bad fight he’s ever had with Dad.

“I can’t,” Sam yells. He’s still worked up from the fight and Dean’s words are anything but what he’d wanted to hear.

“Sure you can, “Dean sneers, feeling a little irritated by the fact that Sam’s not separating him from Dad, or even trying. “Just pretend like you’re filling out that application for Stanford again. It was pretty easy to forget us then.”

For the second time that night Sam fixes him with a look of betrayal that cuts Dean down to the bone. It isn’t fair that Dean’s feeling guilty when Sam’s the one that’s decided to leave, to disrupt their whole lives. It isn’t fair that he’s the one wanting to apologize and beg for forgiveness when he’s stuck around for every second of Sam’s life-good and bad.

“Look,” he sighs. “Just forget it, Sam.” They’ve never agreed on anything before, why should Dad’s feelings on the matter mean anything now?

“I. Can’t.” Sam says again. “What he said about Mom-”

“Mom?” Dean interrupts. What did Mom have to do with any of this? “What did he say about Mom?”

Sam drops his gaze, realizing his mistake. Dean hadn’t been around for that part of the argument, he’d shown up to find them already going at it, Dad clenching the acceptance letter Sam had made the mistake of leaving in his duffel.

“Sam,” Dean snaps. “What. About. Mom?”

Sam sighs and shakes his head. Dean isn’t going to like it and they both know it. “He just didn’t think that Mom would want me to abandon my family. Same as him, same as you.”

Dean snorts and pushes off the wall. So Dad had really went there, had really sunk so low as to bring up their dead mother in order to keep Sam around. He couldn’t think of a more pathetic tactic than that. “You know that’s not true, Sam. Mom didn’t want this life for us at all,“ he admits aloud for the first and last time in his life. “She wanted college, she wanted marriage, kids-the works. Her being gone doesn’t change any of that.” They’ve all known it, it’s been in the back of their minds at one time or another, now’s just the time for it to be admitted.

Sam seems a little less surprised at Dean’s words than he’d expected. He seems to relax though, the pinched look on his brother’s face subsiding. “Not for me,” he says, shaking his head. “Not just me, Dean. She wanted that for you , too. You know that, don’t you?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. Yeah. Maybe so. “That’s not for me, Sammy. College is you.” College, marriage, kids-that’s all for Sam. Dean’s too wrapped up in this life, in his family to be anything else. That’s something Sam’s never understood; same as Dad’s never understood that college and everything else is Sam.

His brother frowns, his brows drawing together in confusion. “What are you saying?”

Dean shrugs. Words of encouragement and love heavy on his tongue. “Forget it, forget Dad.” It isn’t what Dean wants to say, it isn’t all of what Sam needs to hear, but it’s all Dean has to offer him right now. It’s the only thing he can bring himself to say, his support as solid as it is in his mind, is weak in his heart.

It’s hard to let go of the younger brother he’s cared for all his life-the younger brother he’s fallen in love with.

“Do what you’ve always done, and do what you think’s right.” Simple as that.

Sam’s jaw drops for the hundredth time that night, at a loss for words for probably the first time in his life and Dean grins, a little bit of hope surging through him. There’s nothing different between them and maybe there never will be - Stanford or not. Sam’s still Sam, the same lovable geek he’s always been. Dean’s still the older brother with too much feeling invested in that lovable geek.

“Now be a girl and tell me how much you love me,” Dean smirks.

There’s a lot of things Dean remembers about his life, but what he remembers most is Sam walking away.