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Dean was exhausted, the kind of exhausted that went right through to the bone, and the only thing that kept him from just calling it a night and checking into a motel along the road was the image of his little brother’s smile when he’d open the door and see him standing there after almost a month apart.
The hunt had been one hell of a bitch and Dean was still sure he could smell sulfur. It took him weeks to figure out the hive of demons, recording their comings and goings, and take them down one by one when it was safe to do so. They had outnumbered him greatly and it would have served no one if he had rushed it and gotten himself in trouble. Now that John was gone, he had to be twice as careful, twice as smart, twice as good.
It was selfish of him to wish that Sam could finally come with him and be his partner. Sam probably would jump on the opportunity, too. But he was still too young, in Dean’s opinion. Barely seventeen and too eager for his own good. Smart as a whip but not sure what to do with himself, how to apply himself right. Dean would teach him eventually.
For the time being, it was better that Sam stayed with Bobby and Ellen in the meantime.
It was nearly three in the morning and Dean felt a little bit bad about showing up in the middle of the night, presumably waking up the whole house with his arrival.
He rolled into the driveway as quietly he could and closed the driver-side door as softly as the creaky old car allowed. He waited for nearly a full minute but no lights came on in the house.
He let himself in with his own key and had barely made it through the door when someone grabbed him, whirled him around and pressed him up against the door with an arm across his throat. Knowing instantly who that arm and the tiny pants of effort belonged to, Dean raised his hands in surrender.
“Easy, tiger,” he appeased quietly, cherishing his brother’s gasped, “Dean?” in the dark.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m back. Hiyah, Sammy.”
The last syllable of the nickname got squashed when Sam’s arms flew around his neck and he was hugged tightly.
“Okay, sweetheart, let me breathe.” He gently pushed against his brother’s shoulders, putting some space between them. “Let me look at you.” There was a sliver of light coming from the moon that shone through the kitchen window into the hallway.
Objectively, Sam didn’t look much different. A month didn’t have that much of an influence. But to Dean, somehow he looked harsher, more grown-up. Maybe it was the pale light.
“You’re back?” Sam asked him, “You staying?”
Is the job done? Do you have to leave again soon?
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said, his palms rubbing his brother’s arms, naked in his thin T-shirt. “I’m staying.”