A/N: Hey guys :)

Alrighty, so this was originally going to be a one-shot, but once I started writing it turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated, so I've split it up a bit. It shouldn't be too long, just a few chapters, so it should all be up fairly soon :)

This will probably make more sense if you've read my sisfic 'Things that Go Bump in the Night' but I doubt there is a lot in here that will be unreadable without it.

I thought I'd try something different and make this in the 1st person, completely from Lena's point of view. I've never done that before, so if you hate it, let me know :)

Please please please let me know what you think! I'm totally open to constructive criticism and/or ideas/suggestions! I don't mind if you want to PM me instead of a review. The feedback is always so helpful!

OK, I'm going to stop babbling now I promise haha

Please R+R!

Peace!

xoloveJBox


Chapter One.
Flames licked at Sam's apartment, and smoke billowed into the sky. We'd only been in the apartment for a minute-two, at the most- but the smell still clung to my clothes and filled my nose. It wasn't cold, despite the late hour, but a shiver shot down my spine, and I pulled my jacket a little tighter around myself. Dean was next to me- I didn't need to look to know he was there- strong and comforting, and despite the fact that my eldest brother had always been a superhero to me, there was nothing anyone could do to change the scene in front of us.

It never ceased to amaze me the extent to which a tragedy could draw a crowd. The amount of people who had gathered to watch my brother's world literally go up in smoke made my stomach churn. The frivolous interest that they seemed to have while watching the fire-fighters battle the blaze was rivalled with a parade or a fair, and it was almost like they believed it was confetti flying from the window, rather than the last tattered shreds of what had been Sam's life for the past four years.

I couldn't even imagine what was going through Sam's head. We'd left him alone with his thoughts, but after a few more minutes, Dean tapped my shoulder and nodded towards our brother. Sam was rummaging restlessly in the trunk, and I had no idea what he could possibly need from there right at that moment.

We turned away from the burning building, and walked gingerly over to our brother. There were tears in Sam's eyes, but none spilled over his cheeks. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say- if there was anything I could say- so I simply put my hand on his back gently, in the hopes that that it would provide him some comfort. It didn't seem to work as well as I planned, and Sam just ignored me, loading a rifle. Dean apparently was just as clueless as I was, and he just looked helplessly at Sam. Sammy glanced across at Dean, sighed and tossed the gun into the trunk.

"We've got work to do." He told us with a tone that was stronger and steelier than I had imagined he was capable of right there and then. It seemed like that as much co-ordination Sam could muster, because Dean had to usher him into the front seat of the car. I hurried after them, not wanting them to have to wait for me to get in before Dean could speed Sam away.

The radio came on with the engine, but I'm not sure any of us were really hearing it. I wasn't sure where to put my eyes, so I looked out the window. I could hear Sam's breathing quicken and grow ragged, and I knew that things were changing in Sam's headspace, that the events of the night were catching up and hitting him.

Hard.

From a young age, I'd been taught how to read people, and since I spent so much time around them, my brothers were like picture books on the difficulty scale. Knowing when something was going on, when something was about to happen with them was as easy to me as breathing.

So when Sam choked out what sounded like a half-sob, half-yelp, I was ready to react.

Dean, however, had clearly not been anticipated the outburst, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, I felt the car swerve slightly before he righted it. He looked at Sam with wide, surprised eyes, and he was evidently at a complete loss of what to do. Dean had never been good at dealing with feelings- it was something he shared with Dad- and since I was the girl, I was the one who had been allocated the role of dealing with the 'chick-flick moments'. Sam wasn't crying, but he was definitely starting to come apart at the seams.

It probably wasn't the best idea, particularly at the speed Dean was driving, but I clambered over the front seat, being careful not to kick either of my brothers in the head, and slotted myself between them.

"Keep going De," I told him as the car slowed slightly, and Sam continued to lose it "Don't stop."

It took Dean a second to register what I'd said, and then he pressed his foot down again. I pushed one hand into Sam's, and wrapped the other around his shoulder. He sat stiff under my touch, but I held him tightly all the same. Time seemed to drag painfully as Dean squealed into the first motel that was far enough away from the apartment building, but close enough that we were still in town. Dean got out to get a room, and Sam and I silently sat in the car. We didn't speak, we didn't look at each other, we barely moved. We didn't need to, and honestly, it would have surprised me if Sam could remember how to.

Dean came back and drove us around to the room. Nobody said a word as he parked, got out and came around to the other side of the car. I gently pulled my hands away from Sam, but only when I was sure that Dean had got him. Dean slowly eased Sam out of the impala, and I slid out after them.

"You got the bags?" Dean shot quietly at me. I nodded and went to the car's rear, but I took a second to watch my brothers as they went. Sam stumbled slightly, tripping over his own feet, but Dean kept him upright. I noticed that Dean only needed to keep one hand under Sam's elbow and the other lightly on Sam's back to keep his not so little brother on his feet. Dean could do that. The physical stuff, he could do. It had been years since I had seen Dean lead Sam anywhere by his elbow, and even then it had been because Sam was in trouble, or because Sam and Dad were arguing, and Dean wanted to separate them quicker. But there was no authoritive air about the way they slowly made their way to the motel door. There was only support and an attempt, fruitless as it was, at comfort. It almost seemed casual, in a weird kind of way, and I could all but hear Dean murmuring "One step at a time. Nice and easy Sammy."

I shook my head slightly, snapping myself back into the here and now. There were too many things that needed to be done, and the first was to get all the bags inside. I gathered them all up, determined not to have to make a second disruptive trip, and locked the impala behind me.

When I walked in, Dean was sitting Sam on the bed. He suggested that Sam take his jacket off, but Sam just stared blankly at the wall, like he wasn't even aware that Dean was there. In the end, Dean let him be and came over to help me salt the door and all the windows. All we knew for sure was that Jess had died pinned to the ceiling.

Just like Mom.

We certainly weren't taking any chances.

We probably put down more salt than was really necessary, but like I said, we weren't taking chances. When we were done, Dean fished around in his bag for clothes that might fit Sam, so that he could shower and change, but Sam was a considerable amount bigger than his older brother, and nothing was really suitable. I always kept a bottle of water in my bag, and I dug it out quickly. As I padded across to Sam, I unscrewed it, and held it out to my brother.

"Here," I said as gently as I could "Have some of this Sammy."

Sam didn't move. He didn't even act like he'd heard me. I took a deep breath and put the bottle in his hand, closing his fingers tightly around it. The motion seemed to snap Sam out of the trance that he seemed to have sunk into, and he did what I told him with shaky fingers. When he was done, he handed me back the bottle, and I left it on the bedside table for him. The shrieking of a cell phone made all three of us jump, and it took Sam a long minute to realise that it was his. He slowly pulled it out and looked at the small device like he didn't know what it was.

"You want to get it?" I asked gently, and Sam shook his head. I wordlessly took the phone and hung it up, leaving it next to the water bottle. However, no sooner had I set it down did it start vibrating again, and I saw my brother's eyes well up with fresh tears.

"Elena," he whispered helplessly "I can't...Please, make it stop."

Sam was over six foot and built like a bull, but he'd never looked more small and defenceless to me before. I wasn't even sure what to do, but I snatched the phone up anyway. Before I could disconnect a second call, Dean beaconed for me to give him the phone, and in one swift movement it was flying through the air and into Dean's hands, where Dean promptly walked out the door with it.

I guess word spread quickly on college campuses.

"You should get some sleep." I blurted. I needed to be doing something, saying something, to distract the both of us. Sam looked like he was struggling to keep it together, not that I could blame him, but I wanted him to sleep before the whole thing really hit him. We'd already had a long weekend tracking down the woman in white, so I knew that Sam must have been exhausted before he'd even gotten into his apartment. Sam was six years older than me, but we had always done whatever needed to be done to take care of each other, so I didn't even feel vaguely awkward when I crouched down in front of Sam and removed his shoes for him. It was plainly obvious that Sam was in a state of shock, more out of it than in; he didn't fight me, he didn't try to help me, he didn't even give me a bitch-face.

I'd have given anything to see his bitch-face right then.

Next I pulled Sam out of his coat and dumped it on the other bed. I thought about what to do with the rest of his clothes- they smelled like smoke, and I thought it would be best to get them gone and away from him- but even if Sam wasn't alert enough to be embarrassed right then, he would be eventually, and I didn't think he'd appreciate it very much.

"Come on Sammy." I cooed as I pushed him into a lying down position "Go to sleep."

For a second, Sam complied, but then he grabbed my arm and held on tight.

"No no no," he moaned "Lena, don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Don't leave me."

It was then that the crying started. I had been hoping that Sam would be permitted to get some rest before it began, but of course, Winchester luck could never let that happen. His sobs were heart-wrenchingly loud, and they left hid whole body trembling. Tears streamed down his cheeks, dragging streaks of ash and soot that I hadn't even noticed was there down his face. He gripped onto me like I was the only thing keeping his from slipping from the planet, and the only thing I could do was step out of my shoes and climb in next to him. Sam was lying down, but I barely had time to sit before I was pretty much cradling my gentle giant of a brother in my lap.

"It's ok Sam. I got you. I've got you."

For what felt like hours, I repeated the same things over and over. From the ferocity and extent of Sam's sobbing, I dreaded to think of the turmoil that must have been going on inside his head. I resisted the urge to tell Sam what my brothers had always told me when I was upset; 'It'll all be better when you wake up'.

Seriously? Who was I kidding? It certainly wasn't going to be sleep that made all this go away, though I wished harder than ever that it could be that easy.

Dean came in then, halted in the doorway by the sight in front of him. I could feel tears soaking through my shirt, and I shushed and rocked Sam, though it made no difference. I whispered soft assurances into the crown of his head and sealed them with kisses, but Sam was inconsolable, and all three of us knew it. Dean came over, and I felt the bed dip a little as he sat on the other side of Sam. He tentatively put a hand on Sam's arm, as if he wasn't sure that it was the right thing to do, but I suspected that Dean was willing to try anything at that point. I know I was. The cries ripped out of Sam's chest like I imagined the pain was ripped through his insides. It was unbearable to hear, so I could barely imagine what it actually felt like. Sam's life was crumbling around him. He was falling apart, and the only thing Dean and I could do was hold on tight and try and catch all the pieces before they got lost.