Again, this is something I wrote a long time ago, back in June, actually. But I have an hour between classes, so I'm gonna use it to get shit done.

It was about a year after Sam left for Stanford, give or take a couple of months (it was a year, two months, and seven days, just ask Dean). John and Dean had just finished a hunt in Palo Alto, a simple salt and burn, and the only evidence was the faint smell of smoke on their clothes and a two inch long gash on Dean's cheek. They had expected to see a couple people out and about even at 2:47 in the morning, but they didn't expect anyone to pay them the slightest bit of attention. What they also didn't expect was that the youngest Winchester brother would be one of those people to be out there in the streets. John bristled as Sam and a group of his friends exited a restaurant directly across the street from them. Dean froze at the sight of his younger brother. The cut was oozing blood slowly down Dean's face, but he paid it no attention. Sam stiffened across from them, and Dean knew a fight was coming, so Dean tensed his muscles and prepared to jump in between his family members. Dean felt like he couldn't breathe as Sam stalked forward until he and John were face to face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

"Dean and I were just doing our jobs, like we always do!" John spat back. "And I don't think I need your permission to go anywhere."

"Are you finished the job?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you still here?" Sam asked coldly.

"Because you're standing in my way." That's when Dean snapped into his usual stance, standing between his father and his brother, one hand on each of their chests.

"Both of you clam down; Sam, go back to your friends; Dad, let's go back to the motel room," Dean said, in his gentle but firm voice. Sam's angry stance relaxed a little, turning into a worried stance.

"You're hurt," Sam said, looking at his older brother with concern sparking in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Dean said emphatically.

"Dean, come back home with me, I want you to meet some of my friends," Sam said, turning his puppy dog eyes on Dean.

"Sam," Dean started.

"No," john interrupted, "You made your choice Sam. You didn't want this life; you don't get to pick and choose what you want to keep. You don't get to ask for anything back after you left it behind."

"Dean," Sam said, ignoring their father. Dean was torn.

"Come, Dean." John turned around and started walking away, expecting his eldest to follow like always.

"Are you just gonna let him treat you like a dog?" Sam asked. There was no heat behind it, just a little brother looking for his older brother to stand up for himself like he always did for him.

"Dad," Dean called out. John spun around.

"You make your choice, Dean. You walk out now, you never come back. I'll let everyone know," john threatened. Dean looked from his father to his brother. Sam saw the desperation in his brother's green eyes, his want to have both of them and not have to lose either, how his heart was being torn apart with this choice. Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"Go," Sam said gently. "My door is always open to you. I won't make you choose, Dean, you're always welcome to come back to me because I know you always will." Sam saw relief flood Dean's features and hugged his big brother. Sam pressed his face into his brother's short blond hair, smelling the sweat and wind and smoke. He breathed in the scent of home, the scent of leather and gun smoke and fire.

"I'll call you sometime around noon tomorrow," Sam whispered. "Pick up if you can, call me back if you can't. I promise I'll pick up this time."

"Okay," Dean's voice was rough, but quiet and reassuring. They let go and Dean tossed his brother a smirk.

"Proud of you, kid," Dean said, turning and walking back to John. He received a questioning look, but just gave a noncommittal shrug. John accepted this answer, but planned to go after what was said later. They made it back to the motel room, where Dean cleaned and bandaged his cheek. He slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top before he collapsed on his bed, his cell phone under the pillow next to his knife.

Dean woke up at 11:53 to find a note on the table saying that John had found another hunt and Dean was to report to the coordinates that he'd left. Taking a look around, Dean noticed that all of John's stuff was gone. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. This wasn't the first time he'd been left alone, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Dean wondered if his dad would ever just stay with him for longer than a week.

He forgot all about his dad when his cell phone started playing Black Sabbath's Iron Man, 'cause Sammy is a geek and likes old comics, and he grabbed the device, immediately answering the call.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean." Sam was laughing.

"What's up?"

"I'm sorry I shut you out like I did. When Dad and I fight, I get tunnel vision and I couldn't see that you never got the chance to get out. The whole time I've been here, I wanted to call you so bad, but I was afraid he would answer or he would hear and then you'd get in trouble, and I didn't want that. I also wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. Without you, I doubt I'd be here."

"Sammy, I think you would have made it here with or without me."

"No, Dean, I wouldn't have. You've given up so much for me, and I can never repay that. If you ever need a place to stay, I'm here and you're always welcome. "

"I appreciate that Sammy, and I think I might have to start swinging by California a little more often."

"I think I'd like that," Sam chuckled. "Are you busy today? I have someone I'd like you to meet."

"Dad left, he told me to go to these coordinates and report back, so…my schedules all clear after I make a quick call to see if someone else can cover this."

"How does lunch sound?"

"It sounds pretty freaking amazing, I'm starving."

"When aren't you starving?"

"I'll let you know when it happens."

"Right." Sam was grinning, Dean could tell.

"Alright geekboy, I gotta shower and make a call, I'll swing by soon."

"We'll be waiting." The line disconnected. Dean grabbed some clean clothes and sent a quick text to Bobby, asking the man to send someone to the coordinates. As he stepped into the shower, Dean laughed and shook his head.

"It's totally a chick."

FIN