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Sam didn’t have many constants growing up. Only Dean and a .45, gifted to him by an absent father only there for the bare minimum of Sam’s childhood. In retrospect, it should have struck him as strange that his brother made him feel safer than the .45 ever could. As with all things normal, though, Sam had trouble differentiating between what was off because of the monsters and what was off because of him.
Dean never let Sam down. Even when hurt, he made sure Sam was okay before ever tending to his own wounds. Sam hated him for it sometimes but he loved that part of him even more. He knew that not all siblings get along as well as Sam and Dean. He knew that some siblings hate each other. He had believed, however, that what he had with Dean edged towards a normal healthy relationship with your sibling. He held onto that notion even at Stanford.
Sam had a big fight with their father before leaving but Dean — bypassing any betrayal he felt — took him to the bus station, thrust some money in his hand and saw him off with the promise to call. A promise he kept.
Dean would call him every day at first, worried sick and failing to hide it. Sam had whined and Dean went from once a day to once a week. Sam would wait for Dean’s call every Sunday night with childish glee. He would stay home and wait for Dean to call and tell him about his week and then Sam could grumble about college and how weird the civilians acted sometimes. Sam knew he talked a lot but Dean never stopped him. Dean drank in every word.
His roommate had a busy night life and was never present during those calls. Jess, however, would stay over.
The first time Dean called with Jess there, Sam had spent two hours dropping subtle clues in an attempt to make her leave. She hadn’t picked up on any of them. Sam answered the phone with Jess still in the room.
“I’m not alone,” Sam had said in warning. He had no qualms about ignoring Jess for a few minutes. He had said that so Dean would know and wouldn’t talk openly about the supernatural. Dean had misunderstood.
“Oh, I will leave you to it then,” Dean said. “Have fun, Sammy.”
“Dean, wai—”
But Dean hung up.
Jess didn’t understand why Sam didn’t talk to her for the rest of the evening. Sam knew that it wasn’t Jess’ fault, theoretically. But he couldn’t help but blame her for cutting into their brother-time.
The next Sunday, Sam made sure he was alone as he waited for the phone to ring. He frowned when the clock chimed ten and his brother still hadn’t called. Worried, he dialed Dean’s number and waited.
“Sammy! Hey!”
Sam could hear the glee in Dean’s voice.
“Dude, what the hell? I was getting worried.”
“Oh, you know…” Dean trailed off. “Didn’t want to interrupt your ‘love life’ again.” He chuckled. “So? Jess treating you good?”
“Yeah.”
Sam wanted to tell him that he was never interrupting. That even if Sam was in the middle of sex — which he wouldn’t be because Dean always called at nine and Sam knew that — he would pick up the phone and spend as long as Dean wanted talking with him. Sam, however, was still a Winchester, even if he had left hunting behind, and that meant that he couldn’t find the right words to express his thoughts.
Dean called normally the next week, and the one after that. Sam breathed a sigh of relief every time that Dean called. He needed to hear Dean’s voice at least once a week to function. It was still a step down from hearing it every day but it would have to do. At least until Sam finished college.
Sam had originally meant to leave hunting behind him but as the months and years passed, his certainty had wavered. He was getting the itch. His eyes scanned newspapers for strange deaths and he fought with himself every day to restrain himself.
He moved in with Jess halfway through their third year. Dean congratulated him on a well-maintained relationship and nagged him endlessly about all the tiny details of their new apartment. Sam happily gushed over them.
Dean had the gall to ask who did the cooking.
“...Jess.” Sam didn’t want to admit it but even after all these years, cooking an egg and making a sandwich was the extent of his cooking abilities.
“Obviously.” Dean laughed. “So? How’s her cooking? You getting that homemade sweet deal now?”
“It’s good.” Sam chewed on his bottom lip, hesitating, before he spoke again. “Yours was better though.”
Dean stayed silent for a bit too long.
“Dean?”
“Dude, my cooking was literally: throw everything we have into a pan and make something edible.” He sounded reluctantly happy. “You can’t compare actual meals with that.”
“I grew up with that stuff, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Can’t help what I like.”
“You better not let Jess hear this.” Dean admonished.
“I’m not stupid, Dean.” He rolled his eyes.
Sam was, in fact, that stupid.
He hadn’t planned for it. Not really. But then Jess had made mac'n'cheese and they just happened to have an opened bag of marshmallows and Sam had shredded and added some to his plate without thinking too much about it. Dean always put whatever leftover snack they had inside and Sam loved the sweetness.
He hadn’t noticed Jess staring at him right away. He practically moaned over a forkful of cheese and marshmallows.
“Please tell me you are joking.” Sam had never heard her so exasperated. She almost sounded angry.
“What?” Sam, still not getting what he did wrong, said.
“That looks disgusting.” She huffed. “That’s the weirdest combination I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s great,” Sam said. He didn’t like her talking about his brother’s ‘recipe’ like that.
“Where did your mother even get the idea for that? Gourmet magazine?”
Sam didn’t answer. He asked about next week’s assignment instead.
Sam hadn’t told Jess about his mother being dead nor his father being absent yet. He hadn’t told her about his brother raising him with all the knowledge a five year old could assemble at the time. He didn’t want her to know how not-normal he was. Not yet.
~~~
Things started going downhill from that day.
Jess complained when Sam would take his folded clothing and refold it differently — like Dean used to do, like Dean had taught him to. She grumbled anytime Sam put on a soft-rock station on the radio to do his homework.
She hadn’t complained about the weekly phone calls yet. Jess called Sunday a girls’ night and always went out with her friends. Sam would spend three hours talking to Dean on the phone. Maybe more if Dean could manage to hold his eyes open for that long.
The big hit came on June 10th. With exams on the way, Jess’ girls night got canceled in favor of studying. She was home that Sunday.
The phone rang at precisely nine o’ clock and Sam left Jess in the kitchen — where she was baking a cake — to talk to Dean. He didn’t know how long they had been talking when Jess came to the living room.
“Are you still on the phone?” She sounded annoyed.
Sam quickly checked his watch. It had hardly been forty minutes. He nodded at her and returned his attention to the phone.
Dean said something about a waitress bending him over the counter last week. Sam hung from his every word. Not because he cared about the waitress but because if he closed his eyes and concentrated enough, he could conjure up Dean’s image. He hadn’t seen his brother up close for three whole years. He would take what he could.
Sam was laughing at the description of Dean’s at-best-edible dinner when the phone was forcibly taken from his hand.
Sam faced Jess with a look of betrayal.
Jess’ eyebrows were pulled together and her face looked mildly red. She pressed the end-call button.
“Why would you do that?” Sam tried to take the phone back.
“Look, Sam,” she said seriously. “I understand you are a bit ‘in love’ with your mother but I think you need to get over it sooner than later.”
“My— what?” Sam blinked slowly, any attempt to take the phone back paused for now.
“You were too attached to your mother growing up. That’s normal.” She nodded solemnly. “She probably spoiled you rotten. But you are an adult now. You can’t spend hours talking with your mother on the phone. That’s not healthy.”
Sam could feel the rage building inside him. Not unlike when his father told him that wanting to be normal was wrong.
“My mother has been dead since I was one.” Sam didn’t even bother to restrain his anger. “I’m talking with my brother, who’s been my biggest ally since forever and he’s stuck with our shitty father right now.”
Jess took a tentative step back as Sam reclaimed his phone.
“So if I want to spend some time with my brother and the only way I can do that is through the phone because my father kicked me out, then I think I’m entitled.” He stormed off without even waiting for an answer.
Jess just looked stunned.
Sam couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when Jess had shut the phone off so forcefully. Not when Dean could misunderstand. He had to call him back. Now.
He wasted no time. He grabbed his keys and jacket and went outside without another word, his phone tightly clutched in his hand.
Sam pulled his jacket on and called.
Dean didn’t pick up on the first beat, nor the second. Anxiety settled in Sam’s stomach. If Dean thought Sam had gotten angry with him… Or worse, if he thought something happened to Sam…
He picked up on the fourth beat.
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. His legs almost gave out. “Dean— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hang up. It was an accident—”
“Sam.”
Recognizing it as Dean’s ‘shut up’ Sam, he fell silent and waited.
“I don’t like you hanging up like that.” He sucked in a deep breath. “With the life we— I live, you know how upsetting it is for the phone call to cut out like that. I would at least like some prompting next time. Even if you really have to hang up. You know, like a signal or something. Anything.” Dean’s voice lowered an octave. “I worry.”
“I know,” Sam said. He secretly felt proud of his brother for being honest with him. “Jess suddenly stole my phone and hung up. I didn’t notice her. I’m sorry.”
“Jess stole your phone?”
“She was upset about something.” Sam shrugged. “I was too busy trying to reclaim the phone to pay much attention.”
“Sammy…” Sam could practically see the eyeroll. “That’s your girl right there. You don’t want her getting upset. Go in there and apologize for whatever it is she wants you to—”
“She says we talk too much.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s what you have to say?”
“I mean… we kinda do. She probably wants to spend more time with you.”
“She was baking a cake and she had studying to do after!” Sam yelled. “We never spend time together on Sundays. She has her girls’ night or whatever. Well, Sunday is my brothers’ night so she can suck it.”
“Sam…”
“I enjoy talking to you.” The words rolled out of his mouth without permission. He had never said it out loud. Winchesters didn’t say cheesy things like this. Sam flushed. He hoped Dean would just let it slide this one time. His rage didn’t allow Sam to think straight at the moment.
“I enjoy it too.” The words were soft and spoken in a whisper. Sam heard a whimper tumble out of Dean’s mouth. He didn’t comment on it. Instead he waited, giving Dean the time to find the right words.
After a few minutes, Dean cleared his throat and sniffed.
“I like talking to you, man.” He forcibly made his voice cheerful. “But I don’t want to be the reason you and Jess fight. We could cut our calls short—”
“No.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like a child. He didn’t care. He missed Dean. Even while talking like this, he missed Dean’s warmth, his calloused hand stroking his hair. Dean’s voice was the only thing Sam could get until he got his stupid degree and he wouldn’t let anyone — not even Jess — get between him and Dean’s voice.
“She loves you, Sammy.” Dean reasoned.
“You love me more.” Sam wondered if he had any beer before this conversation. His filter had fallen to the ground and done backflips.
“I— Of course, I do but, Sam—”
“And I like her, a lot.” He added quickly. “But she’s not you. She will never be you.” Oh. Sam wanted her to be Dean. He wanted Dean there so much, he tried to find a replacement. Like he could ever do that. Like Jess could ever replace—
“Whatever you are thinking, stop.” Dean sighed. “I can hear the cogs turning from here. I’m your brother. She’s your girlfriend. You are supposed to enjoy spending time with her more—”
“I don’t need her.” Sam had to say this. He had to make Dean understand. “I have fun with her, sure. I’m happy with her. But I can live without her. I’ve lived twenty years without her and I was fine. I just like her in my life, I don’t need her. Not like I need you .”
Dean fell silent for the longest of time.
Sam looked up at the night sky. He remembered all the times Dean and he would sneak out of whatever crappy motel they stayed at to look at the stars. Dean would act like he could name all the constellations but he didn’t know shit. Sam memorized the right names but he let Dean keep referring to the wrong stars by wrong names. He liked Dean’s version more. It made him laugh every time.
“I will always be there, Sam,” Dean finally said. “I will always be there when you need me, Sammy. Even if we don’t talk. Anytime.” He paused. “Jess isn’t like that. You can’t ask that of her. You need to be more considerate of her. Compromise.”
~~~
Dean didn’t call the next Sunday. Nor did he answer when Sam called. He could tell what Dean was trying to do. He wasn’t trying to cut Sam off, but to prove to him that Sam could manage without Dean.
Sam didn’t appreciate that kind of consideration. Instead of trying to accept it, he yelled at Jess.
“This is your fault!”
“My—” She stumbled. “Sam, do you hear yourself? You sound like I stole your newborn baby.”
“He’s my brother. I should be allowed to talk with him as much as I want. You don’t have a say in that. And it was not your place to hang up the phone!”
“Sam.” She purposely lowered her tone in an attempt to calm him. “I am not saying you can’t talk with him. But staying up until three in the morning talking with your brother isn’t healthy. And it’s happening every week. It’s not like you haven’t talked in years and need to catch up.”
“We’ve been apart for years.” Sam countered, rage still not leaving him.
“You talk every week.”
“We used to talk every hour.”
Jess promptly shuts up. Maybe she sees how upset Sam is. Maybe she sees his hands trembling or his eyes watering.
“I miss him.”
Jess never said anything again. She must have seen something in Sam that even he hadn’t noticed.
Dean called normally next week, saying something about making it an every-other-week call but Sam had threatened to find him and vandalize the Impala if he went through with that. Dean couldn’t argue with that. Maybe Sam had wanted him to argue so Sam had an excuse to go find him.
Jess only broached the subject once after that day. They had spent the day together, taking a break from their studying. They went on a date and ended up under the blankets making love to each other. Sam loved lazing in bed after the act and Jess always obliged him. She liked it too. She brought her palm on his sternum before starting.
“Will you tell me about him?” She said softly.
“About who?”
“Your brother.” Her slender fingers drew lines against his chest. “I know he means a lot to you. I would like to meet him.”
Sam grinned. He would never get tired of talking about Dean. Jess didn’t seem bored at all when Sam spoke for hours about Dean. He expected her to be. He tells her as much.
“It’s just… I actually get to hear about you, too. It’s never just your brother, is it?” She smiled. Her eyes found his in the darkness. “It’s like you molded your place next to him and he pulled you into whatever he did. I can see now why you got so angry.”
“Sometimes, it feels like he’s a part of me and when I’m away… Since I’ve been away, it’s like I’m missing an arm.”
She nodded solemnly.
Sam thought that was the end of it. Then, a week later, she showed up with books on ‘codependency’ and ‘unhealthy relationships’. She even put a shrink’s phone number on the fridge. She was subtle, kind. She didn’t push.
Sam read the books. He didn’t visit the therapist.
Sam found a word for the urgent need he felt to have Dean near. He didn’t like the book. It spoke of codependency like it was a bad thing. Whoever wrote it, had never experienced it.
Sam needed Dean like he needed his heart, pumping blood in his veins. Sam wondered if Dean felt the same way. If so, how much was Sam hurting him by staying at Stanford?
Then, Sam had a long overdue realization; missing Dean was worse than hunting. Even if Sam hated hunting — something he wasn’t so sure about anymore — he hated being away from Dean even more. And if Dean couldn’t leave hunting behind, then Sam just had to follow him.
Dean had given up everything he had to raise Sam. It was high time for Sam to return the favor.