Dean watched his brother, the brother he had longed to watch and keep an eye on for the last four years, talk to the cops about how the fire started, and Dean realized that his brother could lie just as well as he did before he went to Stanford. He had joked over the weekend that it was like riding a bike, and suddenly wished his brother had forgotten everything about hunting, was able to completely live outside the life. But he couldn't. He had stupidly brought him back into it and what was done was done. Dean absently rubbed the scar on his stomach that was the result of the wound that Jessica had stitched up a couple of months back.
Jessica was bold, courageous, and one of the sweetest people he had ever met, he knew full well why Sam loved her and wanted her to become his wife. Hell, if the situation had been reversed he would have fallen for the pretty blonde. It just seemed so unimaginable that the girl who had been so full of life and love for his brother ended up pinned to the ceiling dripping blood onto his dumfounded, terrified, horrified little brother, and then bursting into flames consuming the blonde hair, the body and then the face, the face that was frozen in a moment of terror just like his brother's had been. Just like their mother's had been.
The thought that Jessica had become their mother froze Dean to the ground. Sammy couldn't end up like his father. No. Dean wouldn't let him become some revenge obsessed man whose only love was for the dead and thoughts about the living were fleeting. Dean licked his lips and went to his brother and touched him on the shoulder. The cop eyed Dean warily, and Dean returned the favor.
"Can I take my brother now? I don't think he can take much more of this." Dean said in his most civil tone. The officer looked at Sam, then to Dean, and then clicked his pen on his notepad and nodded.
"Go ahead. Don't leave town for a while I might need to talk to you again." Sam nodded. The tears streaming down his face a testament to just how destroyed his little brother was on the inside. Dean steered his brother towards the car, and didn't miss the slight hitch in Sam's steps and in his breathing. Sam was repulsed by the car, and all that it meant. He was repulsed by having to join the life, to join in the vagabond lifestyle, and to join his brother and father on the never ending quest to find the thing that killed their mother and now the woman Sam loved more than anything. Sam got into the car. Dean noticed for the first time just how tall Sam had become, how he almost didn't fit inside the car's passenger's side anymore. That Sam was bigger than he was. Sam was more grown up. Sam was worldlier, and he had more in common with their father now. Dean swallowed hard. If Sam had more in common with their father, he would come back, he would come back to the family, but then, wouldn't he, Dean, be ousted and left alone again? He brushed the thought away and looked at his struggling baby brother.
"You need something to eat Sammy?"
"It is Sam!" Sam exploded. "When in the hell are you going to get that through your thick skull?!" Sam's eyes dripped tears, and the anger in them was palpable. Dean swallowed. "I am not a child any more! When are you going to learn that? Can you understand me when I talk? Are you just too stupid to understand me? Is that it?" Dean sat up a little straighter in the car and swallowed hard. Sammy was hurting. That was it. Sam just hurt right now. He didn't mean it. He couldn't have meant it. A small sob escaped Sam's mouth. Dean looked over and watched Sam look out of the window and saw stray tears fall down his brother's face.
"I'm sorry Sam." Dean said softly as Sam cried.