[2] Hell and Back | d. winchester

1

Sam Winchester's hair covered his face. The light brown strands had fallen from behind his ears and were comfortably gathering in front of his eyes. There was no effort in him to lift his hand and push them away; every time he tried, they fell right back in to place. So instead, the male sat scouring the Internet for the millionth time this week for any case he could get his brother interested in. No matter how many cases he found, no matter where they were or why they should go on them, Dean had refused with a dismissive grunt or a curse and a new beer in his hand out of Bobby's fridge.

"Bobby, what about this one?" The 6 foot male twisted in his chair, his finger pressed against the glass of his computer screen so it changed colour from the pressure, but all the sixty-year-old did when he saw it was shrug.

"You get him on a case and I'll give you fifty bucks." Bobby rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand, shaking his head, "There ain't no force in hell that'll move that boy when he's moping." With a changed attitude, Sam closed his laptop with a small thud, exhaling and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course, they both loved Bobby dearly, but Sam never intended on practically living in his house for just-under a year. The unprecedented death of Stephanie Cale had impacted them more than the death of anyone else they encountered, even John in a way, but by no-means did that justify why they were still here. Sam was aware that no matter what happened in this world, they moved on. That was the rule, wasn't it? And yet, they hadn't. More significantly, Dean hadn't.

Both the Hunter's ears perked when they heard the other male's arrival. The particular groan of the Impala rolling slowly across the gravel on Bobby's drive, the sound echoing from the open window in the lounge. "Jesus." Bobby rolled his eyes, placing down his untouched coffee and pushing himself up from his seat. He walked past the younger Winchester, patting him on the shoulder, choosing to flee the scene.

"Hey Dean, I was thinking-"

"No, Sammy.' Dean walked through the front door almost mechanically. He didn't look up when his brother spoke and he didnt turn to shut the door, just blindly threw out his hand and waited for a thud. He shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall over the sofa, and slumping in to the couch letting his legs land Bobby's coffee table. He was glad Bobby wasn't in sight when he arrived, he'd be smacked hard round the head if he saw his boots resting against the wood.

"But-"

"I said no." Again, Sam had been denied. This time before he had even started what he was going to say. It was getting to the point where Sam couldn't keep considering Dean's feelings. It was becoming ridiculous and all three of them were aware of this fact; Dean had to get over this. She wasn't coming back. Cas hadn't returned since the night Stephanie died and not even Dean still clung to the hope he was saving her. He was an Angel, if he had, she'd be here by now. Whatever had happened, Cas obviously didn't have the decency to reappear once more- in Dean's eyes at least.

"Dean we need to stop this-"

"No, we don't." Sam sighed for the second time in a minute, now scowling at his brother. Eyebrows darkening his large eyes and his throat raspy with his aggravated grunt.

"You need-"

"No I don't." Sam had become so worn out by his brother in these past months that even the fury he felt bubbling somewhere in his chest was growing tiresome; he was running out of ways to salvage him.

"Dean, She's not coming back-" Snap. Dean stood from his seat and in a split second, he had his head away from the hand he was resting against, he was stood and growling at the male now hovering with his laptop.

"This isn't about her. Don't you dare bring her into this-"  Sam placed his laptop to his side and threw his arms out. It was a pathetic attempt to square up to his brother but he didn't have the energy too, where would he even start?