"You know what, Sam?" Dean said, throwing his duffle on the bed and turning around to face his brother who had just shut the door to their motel room, "I don't know if I can take this anymore. We've lost everyone that we've ever cared about. I mean, I've been trying to bury my shitty feelings and act like everything is okay, but it's not, man, everything is completely fucked up and I can't handle it anymore. I reached the point where I'm ready to take out the 'ol shotgun from the trunk, put it to my head, and pull," Dean shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands before looking back up at Sam and sitting down on the edge of the bed before continuing, "Our lives have been screwed from the beginning, and even you know that, so don't try to deny it. I mean first it was mom, Jessica, dad, Ash, Jo, Ellen, Pamela, Cas, and now Bobby. I stayed strong for you because that's what I was raised to do; take care of my little pain-in-the-ass brother, but I'm losing it," he choked on his words, and Sam could tell he was having a hard time getting this out in the open, and wasn't too sure if Dean would continue, but his brother cleared his throat and started up again, "and feeling like this, the way that I'm completely vulnerable right now as I pour my fucking heart out to you like a 16 year old girl is making things even worse."
Sam sat down on one of the chairs that belonged to the table and listened. He knew their lives weren't the best, and he knew that Dean had some major pent up feelings, but he didn't know that he felt this way. So he decided to hear Dean out, to let him vent, because he needed it and both of them knew it.
"Why don't we get a choice?" Dean proceeded after waiting for Sam to sit, "Why are we always the ones who have to save everybody and barely get a thank you in return? We end up losing the most in the end anyways. I mean, we've been to Hell and back, and to Heaven more times than we know of. We're fucking superheros and no one knows or cares for that matter," Dean scoffed, "And how do we spend our days? Driving around the continental US, sleeping in crappy motel rooms, and eating greasy takeout food while we kill things people couldn't even imagine. You know what, our lives suck, Sammy, they really, truly do. I just want to have a normal life, one where I can come home to a wife and kids every day after my normal job. One where I don't have to go and hunt down all the things that go bump in the night. I want to have Christmas and Thanksgiving the normal way; I want to have to worry about being late for work or picking the kids up on time. You know who wants our lives? Crazy people. We're crazy people. Hell, I've tried to get out of this life, but it doesn't happen. You have to. Shit always finds its way back to you whether you want it to or not. I swear, if we tried to leave the job now, I'd bet you all the money I have to my name that we'd come back. We'd always come back. And why is that, Sam? Why do we always come running to the rescue every time we see someone in danger? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? Why do you? You were supposed to stay in college and have a life with Jessica, get married and have kids, but I came along and messed that all up because I didn't want to be alone," Dean looked down at the ground and wiped at his face. Tears had started to make their way down his cheeks and drop onto the floor, "I should have never come and got you from Stanford. Because of me, Jessica died and now you're stuck in this nightmare with me. You got out once, but I went along and dragged you back in again. I'm such a shitty brother. I don't deserve anything anymore; I don't even deserve to have a brother like you. Yeah, you've done some pretty dark shit in the past few years, but so have I."
Dean let out a short chuckle, and sniffled.
"I love you, Sammy. A lot more than a brother should. Even after everything each of us has done, you're the one I still want to spend the rest of my life with. However long that may be. And I don't even fucking care about hiding it anymore. I love you, and you need to know that because you're the one thing that is keeping me from killing myself right now. And I can't bear the thought of losing you anymore than I already have in the past. I don't want to live my life in fear that you may die on my watch again because I can't live without you. And yeah, I know you think I'm such a sick perv who loves his brother and that this is like a scene out of some weird ass chick flick. And yeah, you're probably going to walk out that door and never talk to me again, but I don't want to do this anymore because I'm sick of holding this all in. I don't even care, I'm just done, Sammy."
And that's when Dean began to sob, which was something no one ever saw because he was not the type of man to openly cry, but Sam could tell this time was different.
So Sam got up from his chair and went to sit on the edge of the bed next to Dean. He put his arms around his brother as he cried, resting his head on Dean's and pulling him closer.
"It'll be okay, Dean, I know it will," Sam whispered, so quiet, he didn't even know if Dean could hear him, "Everything will be okay."
They sat like this for the rest of the night, Sam holding Dean, until Dean ran out of tears and both of them fell asleep in each other's arms.
Something changed that night. Something that was most definitely for the best.