"I've gotta feel you in my bones again, I'm all over you, I'm not over you."
The Spill Canvas
You could've stayed, could've handled going into the family business. You would've done it too, if it hadn't been for Dean. You would've stayed because of Dean, because you were all he had. And he was all you had.
Then you realized you loved him.
Like, love loved him. You thought it was just a phase, at first. You were hitting puberty, and he was hitting his sexual prime. You thought the feelings, the thoughts, the dreams would go away, eventually. But they didn't leave. If anything, they grew more intense, the older you got. And then you realized you couldn't picture yourself with anyone else. Because "anyone else" wouldn't be Dean. And you knew your control would slip sooner or later, and he would hate you, and nothing would matter after that, because what was your life without Dean?
You decided that it might hurt to not see Dean, but it would kill you if he was the one to make that choice. (Because he would, as soon as he knew what you were thinking. He would leave you, or pretend that you didn't exist. And that would break you.)
So you started looking into colleges. Started applying, then getting accepted, and then getting full rides. You started getting choices, for once in your damn life. (You never had a choice with Dean, you know that now.)
You told Dean the night before you were going to tell your dad. He laughed like he didn't believe you, then punched you and rolled to the far side of the bed, no longer facing you. Neither of you slept that night. The next day you had everything ready. You were going to get it over with, but one look at Dean's face and you couldn't let go. Not yet. So you dragged it out, even though it hurt you, and you could see it was hurting Dean too.
Finally, after dinner, you set your bag by the bedroom door so you could grab it and when the shit hit the fan. You were almost through the door, heading to talk to John, when two hands grabbed your jacket, yanked you back into the room, and slammed you up against the wall. You felt him slip a bundle of cash into your jacket pocket. You started to protest, but stopped when he pressed his forehead to yours. His breath fanned over your face, warm and familiar from countless nights sleeping face to face. And then he surprised you completely by tilting his head up to bring his lips to yours. It was the gentlest, and shortest, kiss you'd ever gotten. Just a delicate touch, and then Dean was gone, turning and slamming the door of the bathroom. You thought you heard him say "Sammy" in the most broken voice you had ever heard come out of his mouth, but you couldn't go after him. Not now, not after you realized Dean was just as messed up inside as you were. You knew that if you did go after him, you would never leave.
So you left the room. You broke the news to your dad. Shit hit the fan. You left. You couldn't even look back, afraid you would see Dean looking out the window, and you would run back to finish what he started.
And that was the end of it, you thought.