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“I love you.”
It was enough to make Sam freeze in his tracks. He tried to remember the last time he’d heard those words from Dean. It had to have been years. At least since he’d first gotten to go along on a hunt. Something had changed then. It’s not that Sam had a single doubt that Dean loved him. It showed in everything he did. Every time he ignored his own wounds to make sure Sam was patched up first. Every time he stood up to Dad so that Sam could have something he really wanted, like the chance to go to prom. Every time Dean gave up something he wanted for himself to make sure Sam had what he needed.
Dean loved him. Despite the blowout, despite the ultimatum, Sam even believed that Dad still loved him. The problem was that it wasn’t enough. They loved him, and he loved them, but they were hunters and always would be. Sam needed to get out. He thought Dean understood that when Dean came after him and offered him a ride to Stanford, or at least to the bus stop.
It was enough to make Sam freeze in his tracks, but it wasn’t enough to make him stay. So he didn’t say it back. Not directly. Not in a way that would make this too chick flick.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
For four hours, Sam had been in a daze. The adrenaline was gone, Jess was gone, his escape was gone, his chance at getting out and being safe was gone. Everything was gone.
Everything except Dean. Dean was there, miraculously, when he had no way to explain how he knew to turn around and come back. They’d had a blowout of their own, a year after the blowout with Dad, and what were the chances of Dean walking back into his life out of the blue right when he’d need him?
And yet, despite the blowout, Sam had never doubted that if Dean ever did come back, he’d say those words again. Not right away. Not easily. But the only way Dean wasn’t coming back is if the hunter’s life caught up to him before something brought him back to California. Back to Sam.
Right now, Sam couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle saying the words to Dean, not when the girl they’d come to belong to was still a pile of warm ash. But he wasn’t going to leave Dean wondering if he was alone.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
The last time Sam had said those words to Dean, Sam had been twelve years old. Dean had gotten mad at him for messing up on a hunt, and Sam had apologized a million times. Dean was sixteen, still pissed over a breakup, and too much of a jerk to say it back, to reassure Sam and set his mind at ease. In the ten years since, there were times Dean would have killed to hear Sam say it, died happy to know Sam loved him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t. Sam didn’t have to say it for Dean to know. It was there in every word, every time Sam looked at him. Sam had always been the demonstrative one, the one who showed his emotions and could say things.
But the things Sam had said in the asylum were still ringing in his ears. Sam may love him, but there was a part of Sam that hated him, too. Hated him enough that Sam could pull that trigger. And Dean couldn’t. He’d never quite forgiven himself for not saying it back last time. And although he knew it was ridiculous, it pissed him off even more to know that this is what finally got Sam to say it again. He couldn’t say it back. He couldn’t.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
Dean leaned against the window. He didn’t have the energy to do much more than that. He was dying, Sammy was fighting to save him instead of accepting the inevitable and spending what time he could with Dean. He was all gung-ho about this specialist they were going to. He was absolutely certain that this would work.
Dean wasn’t. Part of him wanted to blow this off, treat it the way they often treated those declarations, but he was too tired to still be mad about the asylum and too tired to carry the regrets from high school anymore. “I love you too, Sammy.”
Sam turned to him in surprise, puppy eyes fully dewed up. “I know you don’t think this will help. It will, I’m sure of it, and when it does I will probably regret saying this… but if it doesn’t, you need to know this. I love you. You’re not just my brother. You’re… you’re everything. When I say I love you…”
Dean stared at Sam. No wonder Sam was fighting so hard. He couldn’t quite believe the admission from Sam that he wasn’t 100% certain this would work, and it shook him to realize just how much it was hurting Sammy to watch Dean die. Dean said the only thing he could think of to say.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
Sam turned from the window. Dean hadn’t said anything since they’d left Nebraska. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Are you… are you okay?”
“Not really. Layla’s still dying, an innocent man’s dead so I could live, and I honestly don’t know how to get to where I’m okay with either of those things.” He glanced over at Sam. “But I’m not mad at you. You didn’t know, and we stopped Sue-Ann. That protester’s alive because of us, and what the hell right does anyone have to say Layla deserves to live more than he does?”
Sam nodded. Really, that was about the best he could ask for. “Okay.”
“Anyway. Driving into Nebraska, wasn’t exactly in a place where I could react to your little bombshell. Now I am.”
Sam nodded. This was not going to be fun, but it was the risk he’d taken. If he’d known someone was gonna die, he wouldn’t have said anything. The guilt over the innocent dead person was enough to deal with. Dean’s rejection was going to hurt, but… “Yeah. Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“Hoping like hell I understood you right, otherwise things are about to get really awkward. Sammy, I stopped caring about what brothers aren’t supposed to feel when you were seventeen. I tried to tell you, the night you left for Stanford, but I couldn’t make myself tell you the whole thing. Tell you what I meant. Just as well, even if you didn’t freak out and run harder because you still cared that it’s not normal to love your brother like that, if you’d stayed to be miserable in the hunting life for me, things wouldn’t have worked out. And then when you came back, there was Jess, and you needed time and space to grieve. But if you’re in love with me the way I’m in love with you, and you’ve had time to deal with Jessica’s death…”
“Yeah. I… since I was seventeen? Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Why didn’t you…”
“One, Dad would’ve killed us. Dunno if he’ll care now or not, but I don’t care anymore. I called him from Lawrence. You called him when I was dying. The hell kind of father doesn’t call back? Two, you were seventeen.”
Sam burst into sarcastic laughter. “What, incest is totally cool with you as long as it’s not underage?”
“Pretty much. Because, see, three: I had a feeling you were gonna take off. If we’d made it to the anniversary with you still there, then I’d have tried something. Obviously, we didn’t.”
“Wow. You know that this is pretty messed up even for us, and we do this, there’s no going back?”
“I know.”
“But if that’s what you want, I’m in.”
“Good. Look, we can take this slow, if that’s what you want. We don’t have to rush anything.”
“Shut up and find a motel.” Dean grinned and pushed a little harder on the gas. “I love you, Dean.”
“I know.”