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Sam woke up suddenly to the sound of something glass clinking. Even though he wasn’t hunting anymore he still woke at the drop of a hat. The parties in nearby rooms and whatever the fuck his upstairs neighbors did banging around at 3 am kept his nights restless, but it did give him extra time to work on homework.
However his roommate was supposed to be out all night at his girlfriend’s room and the sound was very close. Sam opened his eyes slowly, keeping his breath steady. There wasn’t any light on except what came from outside, so all he could see was a silhouette that raised what looked like a beer bottle and took a slug from it.
Sam rolled out of bed silently, grabbing a knife he had hidden under his bed from his RA. He crept backward, toward the light switch by his desk. He steadied himself, raided his knife, and flicked the switch.
Dean grinned at him from the table and set down his beer. “Hi Sammy!”
“Jesus Christ Dean,” Sam swore and lowered the knife, “what the fuck are you doing here?”
“What can’t I check on my little brother,” Dean said.
“No, Dean, you can’t,” Sam retorted, “you’re going to drag me into some stupid hunt aren’t you? And I’m sure you’re here because Dad knows I wouldn’t obey him like you. Well tell Dad I’m not interested.”
“Jesus calm down,” Dean snorted. He fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to Sam, who caught it reflexively. “Be nicer to your older brother who’s bringing you a gift.”
Sam looked down and found car keys in his hand. No, the keys to the Impala.
“Dean, why are you giving me this,” Sam asked slowly. Dean took a swig of beer to avoid answering the question. Sam took a few more steps forward toward his brother. “Dean, I don't really need or want a car. Parking is expensive on campus anyway.”
“I think you should have it,” Dean said mildly, instead of rising to the bait like Dad might. Sam grabbed Dean’s arm to make Dean look at him.
Correction. Sam tried to grab Dean’s arm and when he did his hand went right through, leaving it feeling vaguely cold. Dean looked down at it and sipped at his beer. Sam, because what he just saw was not true and was in fact impossible, tried again and again his hand never made contact.
“What- no,” Sam said and sat down heavily at the table. “Dean what…?”
“I think I needed to get the Impala to you,” Dean mused, “though to be honest I don’t remember much of the drive. I did call Bobby though, so he should do a proper hunter’s funeral in the next day, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“What-” Sam tried again, then focused to force the words out, “what was it? What were you hunting?”
“Don’t you go blaming Dad,” Dean scolded, “he’ll have enough on his plate without you two going at it again.”
“Where was Dad,” Sam demanded, a little stronger. Despite what Dean- Dean’s ghost- was saying, the anger he felt bubbling up was something he could understand. It tethered him back down to Earth while the rest of him was still spinning with dead dead my brother is dead Dean is dead and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
Dean shrugged. “Missouri last I heard. I called but he didn’t pick up.”
“How could he-”
“You haven't picked up for months,” Dean said. If Sam closed his ears and squinted that tone of voice could almost sound not mad at him.
That was... true. He had been so mad at Dean for so long for taking Dad's side and never breaking step and rebel with Sam. Two against one, Sam had thought, and Dad would have changed his mind. Or maybe he wouldn't have, now that Sam thought about it. Sam had just made himself busy and by the time he thought he might not be mad anymore Dean had stopped calling him. Sam had just called Dean once, a year ago, when the towers were attacked and Sam had had a panic attack that Dean and Dad were in New York because that would be just their luck.
Sam felt the water swelling up in his eyes and ducked his head to try and wipe it away subtly. Dean, of course, noticed and scooted in.
“Oh Sammy, I’m sorry I don’t blame you at all,” Dean said, and the worst part was that Sam knew it was true. Of course Dean wouldn’t blame Sam even if he died. Even though he died.
“I’m sorry you asshole,” Sam snapped back, “Jesus I should have been there and maybe you would have made it.”
“Or maybe not,” Dean said.
“What was it,” Sam asked again. He needed to know because he needed to get rid of it. The demon that killed their Mom was still kicking, but, in truth, Sam never knew her. That could be Dad’s quest and this, this thing that killed his older brother, could be Sam’s.
“It’s not that important,” Dean hedged.
“It is,” Sam insisted.
Dean hesitated and looked like he was thinking about opening his mouth. Sam’s phone rang and Dean shut up quickly.
“You should get that,” Dean said with a nod. Sam wanted to yell that nothing was more important right now. Finally he scrambled for it and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sam,” Bobby’s voice said, “sorry ta’ be calling in the middle of the night.”
“It’s fine,” Sam answered quickly, “what is it Bobby?”
Bobby hesitated so Sam pushed forward.
“It’s Dean isn’t it? What happened Bobby, what did it?”
“Son,” Bobby sighed, “it wasn’t anything ta’ hunt. Just your brother.”
“What,” Sam said faintly.
“Dean killed himself Sam,” Bobby said gently, “I’m so sorry.”
Sam wheeled around to look at his brother but found nothing there.
“Dean,” Sam called, hoping he was still around. Without putting on his shoes he bolted outside and scanned the parking lot until he found it: the Impala. Sam ran over, nearly threw the door open, and scrambled inside. “Dean,” he called again, more desperate this time.
His brother wasn’t in the car and wasn’t there to answer questions. Sam had so many questions and just one. Why.
“Sam,” Bobby’s voice said distantly from the phone, “don’t go doing anything stupid you hear?”
“Did he leave a note,” Sam found himself asking.
“Not that I’ve found,” Bobby said.
Sam hung up then because there was nothing else Bobby could say that would mean anything. One of Dean’s jackets was in the backseat so Sam grabbed it desperately and wrapped himself in it because maybe for a second Dean would still be there when he opened his eyes.