Goodbye

Summary: Drabble Those two words had hurt him so much, but Dean would never admit it. Nor would he admit that he cried as he drove away.

Warning: About two or three cusswords, tops! Angst as usual and Dean galore.

Spoilers: Vague Scarecrow and maybe Pilot, buth then I've never seen it. Heh...

Notes: Please review. And sorry, but Dean's character has just been calling to me. I promise to do something Sam/Sammy related soon!

That was the hardest thing I've ever had to say, because in a way I've always taken him for gratened, believing that he would always be there helping me and being the geek research boy. Like Robin to Batman. But twice I've had that ideal ripped from my grasp and had to utter those dreaded words. The words that make me want to cry, and would if I was a lesser man.

Not that I'd ever admit that.

The first time was after Dad had that huge blowout fight about Sam's acceptance letter to Standford and Sam's want for the picturesque house in the suburbs with the picket white fence, loving wife and two pint size kids. Those words they exchanged, those words are some I'll never forget.

"What's this?"

Dad had just come back from a long hunt. It was some haunting in Iowa, I think. He'd been tired and drained when Sam came up ro him with the letter that he had recieved the day previous, It had been a letter from a college. Standfort to be exact. And it wasn't a letter of decline. Just the oppposite in fact.

"It's my acceptance letter to Standford, Dad. I got in with a full scholarship and everything!"

Sam had been studying hard all year, hoping to keep his grades up real high. I never really understood why, and never commented on it. Maybe I should have. then maybe this mess would have never occured. But he had worked so hard I kept my mouth shut. I cleaned up after he pulled (or tired to) an all nighter. I cleaned his coffee cups, closed and piled up his books and tucked him in his bed many nights that year.

If only I had known...

"What's the use of even applying? You'll never go. You're a hunter."

At age seven, Dad had started taking Sam out on hunts. He mostly sat in the car until he was twelve, but he was always really good wiwth the books. He would research what was going on and tell us what it was and how to defeat it. Dad was always so proud of Sam for his book smarts. He sometimes commented that he got that from his mother, but would clam up shortly there after. It was the highest praise Dad ever gave either of us. But Sam never noticed.

He was trying too hard to be normal.

"What if I didn't want to be a hunter, Dad? What if I didn't want to fight demons and all the things that go bump in the night. What if I just want a normal life?"

There was no such thing as normal. It was a words used to fool all of us. No one was really 'normal', but Sammy never believed that. He just wanted out of hunting, and being normal was that dream. So he clung to that dream for all he was worth.

What about the rest of us?

"A normal life? Samuel, you were chosen for a different purpose the moment you were born. And that destiny of yours is to become a great hunter and save people."

Shortly after Mom died, Dad began to research everything supernatural: myths, legends, even prophices. He had one interesting one called 'The Caller'. It talked about a man who attracted demons and the like to him and it was his destiny to fight them. Dad immedatly believed it talked of Sam and began to groom him into becoming a hunter for his own good. As for me, I'm not too sure about that.

But I won't ever voice that.

"Dad, there is no such thing as destiny. I don't give a damn about being a hunter. All I want to do is be normal."

Sam had always fought with Dad over 'The Caller', saying that he was not the one the prophcey spoke of and that Dad was losing his mind and himself in the hunt. I agreed, but I stayed to the side silent, forced to watch as my family fell apart. I kept trying to superglue and ducktape our family relaionship back together, but the cracks began to show.

And then, it just broke.

"Samuel, you can't be normal. You don't know how to."

All of our lives, we've been hunters. Until the age of four I was normal, but soon afterwards, I was different. 'A hunter,' Dad told me. A superhero saving people from the creatures of the night. But Sam had never had a chance to be 'normal'. So he strove to be that.

Stubborn pig-headed fool.

"Well, I can learn."

Sammy was always good at learning. He loved to read books of any type. He was also good at watching other around him and adapting to any type of situation. That was another part of him that made him so good at being a hunter, his inate ability to adapt, no matter what.

"Sam, why leave?"

Just the words that I wanted to ask him. After I took that damned letter and tore it to pieces and burned it. After I shook Sam trying to get him to remember why he loved our family so much. After I gathered him up in my arms and just hugged him, hoping that I wouldn't have to keep watching him drifting away from me, so rapidly.

But I just stood there outside the door listening.

"Because I'm so damned tired of this and just want to be normal."

He thought he was tired? He wasn't the one running around killing something at least four times a week. He wasn't the one trying to help his father as he continued down his spiral of revenge that was bound to kill them both. He wasn't the one who had watched his best friend die one week previous, turned by a vampire and then killed by Dean himself.

No, he wasn't tired.

"Normal this, normal that. When will you ever give up?"

Normal had been all that Sam could talk about for the past year. The 'What If's' and 'Maybe's' made me want to sew his mouth shut, but I wasn't that mean of a brother. But there had been some times when I would just walk out of the room when the conversation turned to 'normal'. Again.

Life had never been normal, why dream?

"Never, being normal's been my dream."

Because Sam could and Dad couldn't restrict his dreams, that's why Sam dreamed. That's why Sam worked so hard. That's why Sam tried to make us understand. That's why Sam fought with Dad all the time about the hunt. That's why Sam was different.

That's why Sam left.

"Well, if you want to be normal so bad then leave and never darken this doorstep again. I never ant to see your face again, you hear me."

God, I thought my heart broke then. I hoped against hope that Sam would get rid of his foolish ideals of being normal and just come back and act like he had when he was Sammy, that cheerful kid that always had a smile ready and could make friends with bullies in three minutes flat. The boy I came home to after every hunt. The boy that kept me from the darkness.

But I knew that Sammy was long gone and now I was stuck with this 'Version 2.0' that I wanted to strangled. Or send back, because he was anything, but my brother.

"Always have, sir. And don't worry, there's no reason I would ever come back to this family. God, I hate you all

Those last three words nearly ripped the heart out of my own chest. When Sammy walked into the room, I just watched as he packed his things. He gave no explination or excuse. He just packed and left. As soon as the door slammed shut when he left the house, I whispered those words.

And now, he's walking in the opposite direction, hell bent on going against Dad. Again. I, in that moment, give up. I'm the worst big brother in the world, I can't take care of Sam, and I can never bring Sammy back. Just like with Jeff when he was turned. I was better off a loner, because after four years of being an ice block, I was never hurt again. But in the six months since Dad left and I asked for Sam's help, it's been hell for me. I became reattached so easily, even while knowing that he would rather have me dead than help me because I probably, in some way, killed Jess.

And god, that hurts me so much.

So I say those words as I climb into my car and drive off all the while watching Sam as he begins to walk until I figure out I can't see. At first I don't understand why, but then I rub my eyes and I understand. I've finally, completely and utterly left him behind me, and it hurts. It hurts so bad that I'm crying. But I'll bear it and go on like I did before.

Because I am a hunter.

Because I'm an iceburg.

Because I'm Dean Winchester.

Because I have nothing else.

"Goodbye Sam."