"Dean?" Sam asked, putting his hand on the shoulder of his older brother. The air was saturated with wisps of smoke and the scent of whisky, which clung to Dean's leather jacket. "I think it's time to go home, it's getting late, and-"

Dean turned around, the skin around his eyes puffy and red, his lips dry.

"You've been crying, haven't you?" Sam said, his eyebrows and breath raised in concern as Dean stumbled off the bar stool and landed off balance on his bruised elbows.

"Go'home Sammy," Dean said, his words slurring together as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

"I'm not leaving you here like this," Sam sighed, pulling Dean off the floor, "Come on," he said quietly, "You'll be okay. You need some sleep though, let's go."

Dean squinted, his bloodshot eyes burning under the lights, and stood up. Wobbling on his feet and gripping the edge of the counter. Sam steadied him and led him out into the cool night air.

The moon hung resplendent in the caliginous sky, the stars blurred streetlights in the distance. The road was empty, and puddles of oil held spectrums in their blood, even in the dark.

The doors of the Impala echoed in the quiet air, nothing but a brisk wind and a few wary crickets.

"It's okay to cry, Dean. I know you miss Dad," Sam said as he began to pull out of the parking lot.

"I wasn't cry-"

"It's okay Dean."

Dean clenched his fists and stared out the window, watching the world go speeding past. "Sometimes I forget he's gone," he whispered, laying back in the seat, "Sometimes I try to call him and the damn phone in the glove box rings."

"I know," Sam looked over sympathetically, "Sometimes I forget too."

"Sometimes I just think maybe, maybe," Dean dragged his palms across his eyes, "Maybe it was a bad dream, all of it, that if I drink enough I'll wake up and Mom'll be there, Dad'll be there, and you, Sammy- you'll be happy."

"It's alright Dean. You know what? I am happy," Sam clenched his jaw, eyes watering, "Look, we're both alive, we're here, saving people. That's what we know, that's how we live."

"But it isn't what you wanted- you had a plan, damn it, go off'to college, marry your girl, that was your life, and I wanted you to have that."

"I don't need that, Dean, I've got you. My big brother. We've got each other. And that's a hell of a lot more than plenty of people could say."

"Yeah? You don't regret coming back- hunting?"

"No. I don't regret it. Sure, I hate that Yellow Eyes ruined our lives, I hate that Mom's dead, Dad's dead. But we've saved a lot of people," Sam took a deep breath, "and I have that to be proud of. Dean, we help people. I could never regret that."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. We're going to be okay. We've got family. We've got us," Sam smiled, looking over at Dean, who had closed his eyes, snuggling up to the seat. Yes. Everything was going to be okay.