The first day back at Bobby's and Dean was up early and had the keys in his hand and was just about to leave when he heard Sam's elephant sized clomping from down the stairs. He turned and saw his brother looking a little haggard, obviously just pulled from sleep, and looking a little frantically at his older brother.
"Where are you going Dean?" he asked.
"I have to check in now?" Dean asked bristling a little at the infringement of his freedom.
"I, uh, I, uh just wanted…"
"Don't tell me that you wanted to keep an eye on me, you left me in the middle of the night my first night out of the pit to go get a burger. Don't pretend that you are sweating my safety." Dean said a little miffed at the fact that when he had gotten out of the pit Sam showed only the one single sign that he was pleased to have his brother back from death. In all honesty it made him wonder if Sam had missed him at all.
Sam lowered his eyes, there was no way he could tell Dean that he left to get rid of the demons, because he was scared that they would come after his brother, kill him and take him away again. There was no way he could tell Dean that, no way to tell him that he could pull demons out of their hosts without Dean going postal. Sam decided that he would have to live with the look of hurt in Dean's eyes. Better hurt than death. Hurt could be amended, but as Sam had learned over the course of the last couple of months, death wasn't as reversible as he had once thought.
Dean watched a myriad of emotions play across Sam's face and he softened, he couldn't be mad at Sam. He just got back, just got his brother within his sights again. Sam was standing before him whole, and alive, so what if he hadn't missed him while he was in the pit, so what….Sam was okay. That was why he went to hell, and why he would go again if it meant keeping Sam whole and safe. "I'm going to go get some clothes. Can't wear yours forever." He said indicating the shirt that was hanging almost past his fingers.
Sam had never noticed how small Dean was compared to him. Dean always seemed larger than life. Despite his smaller stature, Sam always looked at him as if he were a giant, but as he stood there in Sam's clothes he realized just how much smaller Dean was. His shoulders were broad and thick, for a man of 6'1, but his chest wasn't nearly as large as Sam's, and he was so much shorter. Sam's brown jacket made Dean look like a child playing in his father's clothes. The button down which Sam had outgrown during the four months Dean had been gone swam on him.
"You don't need to go get clothes." Sam finally said and licked his lips.
"You threw away my duffel." Dean said and tried not to let the hurt of that come through in his voice. Dean had sold his soul because he couldn't live without Sam, but Sam had moved on to the point that he could throw away his clothes, have sex with random girls, and all around function and move on. It bothered him more than he would like to admit. He couldn't look his brother in the eye. "I need clothes."
Sam stood there astonished. Dean thought that he threw away his clothes? How far from the truth that was.
"I kept them. They are all here." Sam said softly.
"Where? I looked everywhere. My duffel isn't in the car, I looked for it. It isn't in our room upstairs. I can't find it. I asked Bobby he didn't know either. It's okay Sam. You moved on, like I asked you to, when I was gone. It's okay." He said again, thinking that it was anything but okay.
"I put it in a closet. I was in a weird state of mind when I left here. I put it in the hall closet. The one Bobby doesn't use often. C'mon." Dean closed the door and turned and followed his brother up the stairs again and into the hall. Sam reached the closet, opened it, stood on his toes to reach the highest shelf and pulled down Dean's green duffle bag, and handed it to his brother. "I kept it here. I thought you'd need your stuff when I got you back. And when I wasn't able to get you back, I just couldn't deal with the idea of throwing your clothes away." He paused, licked his lips and said. "I need a shower. I'll see you downstairs for breakfast." Dean nodded and went into their room to get dressed.
What he was surprised to find was that Sam had been inside his duffel. The clothes were folded in Sam's meticulous manner. His shaving kit had been organized and Dean knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. Sam didn't act like he missed him, but the duffel was evident of the fact that Sam had at least once gone through his personal affects. Dean simply didn't understand his brother. He sighed, took off Sam's oversized shirt and began dressing himself in his clothes.
Sam stood in the shower and willed himself not to sob. His brother was back, home, and safe. He would place the black tee shirt that had most smelled like Dean right after he died, back in Dean's duffle this afternoon. He would never know.