"No! N-No!"
Sam may have only been 6 years old but his nightmares could be just as intense, if not more, than that of any adult…
The motel room was dimly lit by a small lamp precariously balanced upon its broken base; its nicotine- colored light illuminating Sam's small frame thrashing about in the bed. John looked at the green and yellow, daisy shaped clock on the wall and seeing it was only 10:30 he wasn't too surprised Sam had already begun to dream.
Dean was already in a deep state of sleep yet he awoke instantly upon hearing his brother's pathetic sounding pleas. Propping himself upon his elbow, Dean quickly scanned the darkened room for anything or anyone who could be harming Sam.
Finding nothing other than his father sitting at the only table in the room, Dean realized Sam was just having another one of his horrible, unexplained dreams. With outstretched arms Dean drug his brother across the sheets, bringing Sam's trembling body flush against his chest.
While brushing away the sweat-laden locks of hair from Sam's forehead Dean began whispering, "Shhh Sammy shhh. It's ok. You're with me and Dad and we're all ok. You're just dreaming." Usually these simple phrases calmed Sam down but tonight the words of comfort weren't working.
Dean had always been able to calm his brother down, but not this time. This time Sam wasn't controllable. Sam had begun kicking so hard that his feet were becoming tangled in the sheets and his hands splayed across the bed as if he was frantically searching for something.
Panicked Dean said, "Dad? Dad. Sam won't stop. What do I do?" Sitting down his cold cup of coffee John crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to his boys.
"Let go of him Dean. I've got him." John calmly stated.
Doing as he was ordered, Dean let go, then scooted back towards his side of the bed. Resting his head upon his pillow he watched his father scoop Sam up off the bed, bringing his trembling little body to rest in the cradle John's arms had created.
Watching in amazement, Dean witnessed John beginning to slowly caressess away Sam's sweat soaked chestnut colored locks of hair away from Sam's head. John held his youngest in his arms and began rocking gently back and forth while quietly humming. Dean had never seen his father act like this before.
John never showed a tender of himself to either him or Sam that Dean could remember.
He was amazed at how gingerly John was treating Sam. It was like his father knew exactly what was wrong and what it would take to fix it. He was treating Sam as if he were more than just a boy; like Sam was a fragile, porcelain doll that would break with the slightest rough touch.
And although John was humming just above a whisper, his deep, steady voice became a comfort even to Dean. Sam's yelling and his thrashing halted almost instantly the second he curled up in his father's arms. Knowing his brother would be fine now, Dean felt safe enough to close his own eyes. He fell asleep listening to his father hum an oddly familiar tune although he couldn't place where he'd heard it before.
'..hey jude..'
But it didn't really matter what song it was, his brother was safe, no longer dreaming and to Dean that was all that mattered.