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Back in the bunker, Dean made sure to keep his headphones on at all times. He ate with them on, slept with them on, drank with them on. If he could have gotten away with it, he might have worn shades indoors as well. He didn't want to see, didn't want to hear, didn't want to know.
Okay, he got it. He'd tricked his brother into possession by an Angel. Bad bad thing to do. The worst. Especially when the Angel up and killed Kevin. It was the latest name on his list of deaths he was responsible for. He accepted his penance.
But Sam...
Sam was exploiting it.
It was like he was taking thirty-some years of resentment at his brother always being right and flinging them back at Dean, hammering and hammering that this one time, Dean had done wrong.
Fuck Dean's intentions.
Fuck the fact that he was saving Sam's life.
All Sam wanted to see is that for once, Dean was in the wrong, Sam was the righteous one.
and he was milking it.
The snide remarks.
The side eyes.
The smirks.
The sneers.
The silent treatment...
It was getting ridiculous.
Dean grabbed his keys. Fuck this noise. If Sam wanted to sulk, fine. Dean had better things to do than sit around and be target practice. He'd done his penance. He was done.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked as he walked past the library, duffel slung over his shoulder.
Dean shrugged without looking back at him, "Out." he said.
"Out where?"
Sound of a chair scraping back. Was Sam gonna follow him?
"Not hunting," he said quickening his step.
"Okay, then where?" Sam's insistent voice came from much nearer.
Dean stopped turned to face him, inclining his head bitchily, "I thought we didn't care about each other's lives anymore. So if I wanna go out I need permission now?"
Sam shrugged, "I should know where you are in case a job comes up." he said taking a step closer.
"I'll keep my phone on," Dean said dismissively as he reached for the garage door.
"Dean!"
That voice. Always stopped him cold. He didn't want to but his feet were already turning.
"What?" he asked.
"Where are you going?"
Dean considered him tiredly, "Why do you care?" he asked.
Sam just looked at him.
Dean sighed.
"Fine. I'm going out. For a drive. I don't know how long I'll be. Happy?"
"Not really."
"Well tough."
"I'm coming with."
"That would negate the purpose of going for this drive."
"Which would be what?"
"To get away from you!"
"Oh I see, so you're running away again?"
Dean took a step closer to Sam, eyes narrowed dangerously, "I'm just tired of this shit Sammy. Piss or get off the pot."
Sam reared back, "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm tired of your snarking and sniping and meanness. I got enough negative energy in my life, Sam, I don't need you adding to it."
Sam clenched his jaw in that way that said he was pissed as hell and not ready to concede anything.
"So, if we're quite finished with this discussion..." Dean said turning away to reach for the garage door.
Sam made a sound behind him but didn't say another word. Dean opened the garage door, stepped through it and slammed it behind him. He stood just behind the door.
Waiting.
Hoping.
He didn't even know what he was hoping for. Maybe for Sam to come through the door and say, 'hey Dean sorry, can we try again?' Or anything really. At this point, Dean was ready to take anything.
The door stayed shut.