Dean paced the kitchen floor, clenching his right fist around a white towel. Sam sat at the table with his head between his hands. Rain had been coming down hard all day and was only said to get worse that night. Dean thought it fitting. He spoke the first words between the both of them in the past hour.
"So, are you okay?" he asked. Sam looked up. It was obvious he had been crying.
"What kind of question is that?" Sam sneered.
"I don't know what to say in all this."
"You don't have to say anything."
"Is there something I can do?"
"You've done enough."
After that, it was quiet for a long time again. Dean started to go through the old pictures on his phone. Him and his brother looked so happy a year ago. He wondered how something like this could've happened. Sam's head was resting on the wooden tabletop and his hands were tangled in his hair. All Dean wanted was to help his little brother, but he wouldn't accept any help at this point.
"I just want to leave, Dean."
"Why would you want to leave?"
"I hate it here."
"But we all love you."
"You sure as hell don't show it."
"I'm sorry, but that wasn't fair at all. I had to stop you."
"Stopping me was not fair."
"Going through with it would have been selfish."
"I was taking charge of my life."
"You don't get to decide what you do with your life anymore, brother. That was crossing the line."
"I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Then stop acting like one, Sammy!"
Sam stood from the table and walked to a cupboard above the kitchen sink. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He slammed them down on the table."
"Pour me a drink, brother."
"No."
"Why not?"
"You know perfectly well."
"You don't have to drink it yourself. Just pour one for me. Or can't you be mature about it?"
"Shut up!" Dean slammed a fist down on the table.
"You know why I want to go."
"Yes. I do."
"When you saw me..."
"I just reacted. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
"It hurt. It's gonna leave a mark."
"Yeah, so is that knife."
The room felt tense again. Thunder could be barely heard over the sound of the water smacking against the roof and windows. It was coming down in sheets now.
"We've both got problems, Sam. Everyone does."
"Everyone deals with them differently."
"But you crossed the line."
"It wasn't crossing the line when you almost did it yourself over a fucking bottle."
"That was different."
"It was not. We are more similar than you would like to believe."
"Except I don't want to go."
"You only think that. If I had gone, you would have come right along with me."
