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Dean had known this was a bad idea. He’d psyched himself up for this for a whole fifteen minutes in the Impala, and he’d walked up to the door with every intention of knocking on it until he hadn’t. He’d broken in instead.
His first mistake was coming to California. Sam had made it pretty damn clear he was done with them and yet, Dean was here. Right back to the beginning, right back to drawing Sam out of his new life.
He didn’t know why he broke in; it didn’t seem like a particularly smart idea to just sneak up on his fucking ninja of a brother. But right now it wasn’t Sam that he was looking at, it’s this clueless white girl and she’s scared and Dean knows what this looks like, what he looks like but all he can think about is the fact that there’s a girl living with his brother and Dean didn’t know about it.
And then the girl moves a little bit and Dean’s attention is back on her, and he can smell the fear and distrust radiating off her.
“Listen, I know what this looks like, just,” Dean sighs. “Hear me out okay? You know Sam Winchester?”
She nods, her grip around her phone tightening.
“Well I’m his brother, okay? I just need to talk o him. Is he in or something?”
The girl shakes her head, looking at him.
“No. You’re not his brother,” she says, looking at her phone, and if Dean had to guess, he’d say she has 911 dialled and ready to go but that doesn’t bother him right now.
“What do you mean he’s not my brother? Listen I know we don’t have the best relationship, but he is my brother-“
“No, I mean you can’t be his brother. He’s not, you know,” the girl says, uncomfortable. “He’s white.”
And suddenly Dean gets it.
“Oh,” he says, and his voice is robotic. “I’m sorry. I think- I think I’ve made a mistake okay? I think this is the wrong house, I’m sorry, I’ll be gone.”
The girl clearly doesn’t believe him, but he still doesn’t care, and he walks backward out the door till she shuts it in his face. He makes his way to the Impala and doesn’t let himself relax until he’s far enough away — away from Sam, his lies, his life, everything.
It’s only once he’s in the motel room that Dean lets himself think. He knew Sam wanted out, but this wasn’t just wanting out. This was complete and utter separation. This girl, who Sam trusted enough to live with, didn’t know he had a fucking brother. She didn’t even know he wasn’t white, probably because She didn’t shit about his family. That was separation, that was being carved out of Sam’s life.
Now he needs to get away because fuck this. Fuck asking Sam for help if he’s this keen to forget them all and get away. Dean’ll find Dad. He’s done it alone before and he’ll do it again. It’ll be fine. But right now, he has to get the fuck out of here. The girl, whatever her name is, is going to tell Sam, and if Sam hasn’t lost his edge — and despite what it means for Dean, he hopes Sam hasn’t — Sam will be here soon. Dean needs to get out sooner.
He surveys the room. It’ll take him 30 minutes, tops, to clear the room and get out. Dad would’ve had his head for leaving the room a mess, but it’s not exactly like Dean expected to be out of here tonight. Besides, Dad isn’t here right now. Neither is Sam.
Dean takes a swig of his beer and focuses on the room.
25 minutes later Dean’s pleased with his work. It’s passable; there’s no traces that anyone ever bled over the bathroom sink or sewed up their stitches on the toilet. He grabs his bag, trashes his beer and with one last look at the room, slams the door shut behind him.
He walks out to the lot, toward the Impala, and there against the passenger side of the car is Sam’s familiar figure. Dean knows Sam hasn’t seen him yet, but he knows he can’t avoid this. So he walks to the Impala, ignores Sam leaning against it and tosses his bag in the trunk.
“Dean,” Sam says, and Dean continues ignoring him, getting into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut.
Sams just a second behind him, throwing himself into the passenger side seat like he’s going to come with Dean. As if he’d ever leave with Dean.
“What, Sammy?”
“Listen, Dean, I’m sorry, okay?” Sam lifts his hand in an aborted gesture. “It's just. It was just easier not to tell her-“
“Not tell her what, Sammy? Say it.”
“That we’re- whatever, Black okay? I didn’t tell her about Mom. I couldn't do that, man.”
“She didn’t even know I was your brother, Sam.”
“Dean- I couldn’t tell her, you know, without-“
“Without her finding out about us, about Mom. Right,” Dean sighs. “It’s whatever- it’s fine Sammy.”
“Dean-“
“Nah, listen I was just stopping to check in okay? I wrapped up a case near here and I have another one, it’s all good okay? I was just leaving. It’s fine.”
Sam sighed next to him.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll just uh. Leave.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, steadily refusing to make eye contact. It was fine.
Sam walks over to the driver's side door. Dean’s hands flex on the wheel.
“Just call okay Sammy? You have my number.”
“Yeah, I’ll call, Dean. Just what happened in there- you know, Jess she’s a good girl-“
“She’s a little outta your league but yeah. Yeah, she is Sammy,” Dean huffs. And Dean really doesn’t want to do this but suddenly this feels like something he has to get out. “But she was going to call the cops on me Sammy! You know what I look like, Sam. You know what that means. And I know it ain’t your fault but it happened Sam, and you know how this goes down usually.”
“I know and I’m sorry Dean, I am,” Sam says, and Dean sighs.
“It's fine. I’m just- I’m going to leave okay? Just tell Jess or whatever who I am,” Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “Or don’t. Whatever, man.”
Sam smiles a little bit.
“Yeah, Dean. You watch out too.”
Dean huffs, and reverses out of the lot. He’ll be fine. He could do this on his own. He owed Sam that much. The kid had worked himself to the bone to get to Stanford and Dean knows how much that meant. He wasn’t going to drag him back into his life. He owes Sam that much.