Coming to an understanding

Daniel did help, giving Dean a job as head of security for one of his companies, and clearing Dean’s name from the murder rap within two weeks. Daniel Foster was a self-made man and CEO of a multinational company. He had explained to Dean that this wasn’t a handout. He needed a hunter mentality to help run security.

Dean was doubtful at first. Daniel had set him up at the corporate apartments, but he left his duffle bag packed and ready to go just in case. In a month, he had a few friends, mainly Dan and some co-workers, and he liked the job. He wasn’t sitting behind a desk from 9 to 5. He was a troubleshooter and sometime mercenary when needed.

Dean didn’t share the news with Sam. He called two months after sending Sam his first paycheck. Sam had told him he had gotten accepted with a scholarship into Stanford Law.

“Hey, did you get the money?” Dean made the call from the private plane he was taking to Seattle. He had told Daniel about his fear of flying, and Daniel had guaranteed that the problem was that he had flown coach. Dean was hoping that was true. “How are things going?” Dean said when Sam didn’t reply right away.

“Dean, yeah, man, I got the money- you don’t have to send it though. I mean, how?” Sam replied.

“Dude, don’t worry about it. I just want you to concentrate on school.” The flight attendant smiled at him, and gestured that it was time for take off. “Maybe we can plan to get together soon?”

“Yeah, sure,” came the slow answer. “I’m busy the next few weekends, but maybe before school gets started.”

Dean fumbled with the seatbelt, before clicking it into place. “Sure, yeah, man-I’m busy too.” And the phone call ended with no plans for the future.

Sam was busy until Thanksgiving. In the meantime, Dean had purchased a ranch, but again didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with his brother. Phone calls were dependant on Dean calling Sam, never Sam calling Dean, and with Dean making sure that all was going well in Sam’s world. In these times Dean remembered that Sam was still his responsibility and that his heart would never harden.

Thanksgiving had been strained, with Dean driving up to Stanford with a fancy meal in tow, only to leave 6 hours later. At Christmas time, Dean called to invite Sam to Boston. Work had required him to look at the security system of Daniel’s new acquisition. Sam had already made plans to go skiing at Whistler with his friends. “Merry Fucking Christmas,” Dean said to the cell phone after closing the thing.