((
This was written for the anthology Seasons: a Supernatural Fan Fiction Anthology and can be found in the Winter section of the book. Be sure to check out @spnshortstories and the rest of the anthology here! Cheers, and enjoy the story! ))
It is late, and heavy droplets of rain splatter across the windshield of the darkened car, creating a cascade of water to obscure the outside world from view.
Dean Winchester, sitting in that dark and silent 1967 Chevy Impala, doesn’t need to see much. Just one thing, one silhouette, and then he can leave.
Over two years have passed since that fateful night when his younger brother had stormed out that door, renouncing their father and forsaking Dean. Leaving them alone to figure things out without him, taking an integral part of their lives with him as he left, his harsh words fading away with the slamming of the door.
It feels like just yesterday.
The loneliness was not so bad at first. Dean threw himself fully into learning to hunt with John, concentrating on every drop of information with a singular determination no one else could match. All that work, all that determination resulted in him going off on his own to hunt not long after Sam had left them.
That might be what made it so hard. He wasn’t ready to hunt on his own, not really. It had nothing to do with being prepared. It had everything to do with the long nights and silent car rides that he drowns out with classic rock from his father’s old cassette collection, inherited along with the car.
Through the deepness of the night, Dean can see two figures running along the sidewalk, one with a large jacket held overhead to block the rain from them both. The smaller figure had golden curls, catching the few flickering streetlights and reflecting the light back in flashes. The second…
That figure, Dean didn’t need to see clearly to know who it was. He’d know those broad shoulders and long legs anywhere.
He lets out a sigh at the sight of his younger brother running towards the apartment he has for while he’s in Palo Alto. Clearly, Sam is doing well for himself, and even as Dean watches, opens the door for the girl and lets her rush inside before following himself.
Sammy is safe.
Dean might be alone, and he might not know what the future holds, but his younger brother has a life. One that might take him further and further from his family, but where he also has the chance to thrive.
Two years was a long time, and it would only grow longer, so long as he knew that Sam was making a life for himself, it would become easier to bear. Still hard, but the threat of looming danger didn’t hang over Sam the way it did for Dean.
To the side, a guitar riff cuts through the steady pounding of the rain outside. Dean glances down, spotting the number that appeared on his phone, and answered promptly.
A little over five minutes later, the headlights of the Impala flare to life, illuminating the gloomy parking lot. To the side of Sam’s apartment, the classic car goes unnoticed by the younger Winchester as the engine roared to life, blending into the background of thunder and lightning and constant pounding rain, one of the scant twenty days a year that the California city would see a drop of precipitation. Chosen carefully by Dean to help hide his brief trip to see if his brother was okay.
Even deeper in the night shadows, parked by a dumpster to avoid the young hunter’s notice, a massive black truck lay in wait. The man sitting inside lowers his phone down, watching his son heed his order seconds after receiving it.
If he told Dean to go into that apartment and pull Sam out, take him on the road, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
John knows this, but something holds him back from sending that fateful message. Despite everything, in spite of the way he’d told Sam to never come back, he still wants to see him again. Talk it out, explain why things had to be the way they were.
Yet he never can, and there was no going back for them.
Instead he sends Dean off on a hunt for a vengeful spirit. A simple salt and burn to keep him out of trouble. Sam will remain in Palo Alto, unaware that his family was so close that night, and he will carry on this path he’s chosen away from them
Once more, John wishes that Dean had taken the initiative to confront Sam on his own. There was always a chance they could be reunited through him.
He waits for another ten minutes to be sure that Dean was gone and Sam wasn’t looking, then turned the key in the ignition. The truck roars to life with a reverberation that could put the Impala to shame, headlights as bright as spotlights turning on and lighting up the parking lot.
John leaves his youngest son behind in the secure knowledge that nothing would be able to reach him there so long as they kept a close watch between hunts.
FIN
Brothers Apart 