Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or any of the songs mentioned in the fic.
*Thanks R.M. for being my editor!*
Dean dropped the dirty plates in the sink, tapping his fingers to the intro of "Eye of the Tiger" quietly playing through the old radio on the motel's kitchen counter.
"Rising up, back on the street. Did my time, took my chances," He sang softly, working on cleaning up after his and Sam's feast of cereal and pie that they had loosely called dinner. It was the best he could with his father off on a hunt. "Went the distance now I'm back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survi-"
The music suddenly cut out and was replace with the droning beeps of an emergency broadcast. Dean paused, looking up as the beeping stopped and the message began.
"This is an emergency broadcast for the Greater Boston area," the robotic sounding voice said. "A tornado warning has been issued by the National Weather Service in effect from 7PM until midnight tonight. Thunderstorms with high enough winds to form tornados are predicted to pass through the area and residents are advised to seek shelter for the duration of the storm. Affected areas include Cambridge, Arlington, Somerville, Everett, Revere, Medford -"
"That's where we are!" Sam said and Dean turned to see him staring at the radio from his seat at the small table. The glass of milk he was supposed to be finishing was forgotten as he turned wide eyed to Dean. "Are we gonna get sucked up in a tornado?"
"Don't be stupid, Sammy," Dean replied, forcing confidence into his voice. Tornadoes never touched down in Massachusetts, right? "They're just making a big deal out of a little rain."
"Oh," Sam said, frowning. He looked down, kicking his feet under the table. "But they said -"
"We aren't getting sucked up by a tornado, believe me," Dean said, interrupting him. He stepped over to the table and ruffled Sam's hair, making the kid pout and swat his hand away. "Finish your milk, Sammy," Dean said and Sam drank the last bit in one gulp.
Taking the glass to the sink, Dean listened to the beeps marking the end of the broadcast. A moment later Survivor came back on and Dean twisted the knob, turning the volume up.
"It's the eye of the tiger. It's the thrill of the fight," Dean sang, loud and blatantly out of tune. "Rising up to the challenge of our rival." He started shaking his hips to the beat and heard a smothered laugh behind him. Dean grinned, knowing he looked stupid, but it was worth it to make Sam forget the storm warning. "And the last known survivorstalks his prey in the night." He grabbed a spoon from the sink and used it as a microphone. "And he's watching us all with the EYE!" Dean spun around with one eyebrow raised to face Sam, pink faced from holding back his laughter. "Of the tiger."
Sam snorted and gave up trying not to laugh. Dean grinned and continued to sing along as he washed the dishes. Sam came up beside him with a dish towel to help with the drying, laughing as Dean did every stupid dance move he could think of. "Eye of the Tiger" ended and Dean turned the radio down to a more reasonable volume as Metallica's "Some Kind of Monster" came on.
"I got the rest of this, Sammy," Dean said, looking down at his little brother. "Why don't you go see if there is anything good on TV?"
"'kay," Sam said. He dropped the dish towel and ran over to the TV. Snatching up the remote, he flopped down on his bed and started flipping through channels. Dean watched him a moment, glad to see Sam totally engrossed in whatever cartoon he'd found instead of thinking about the storm.
Turning back to the sink, Dean couldn't help but glance out the window. It was summer and the sun wouldn't set for another hour or so, but dark clouds rolling in made it look like dusk outside. The flimsy trees by the sidewalk swayed in the wind and their lost leaves blew across the motel's parking lot. He reached out and shut the shades, reminding himself that as long as they stayed inside they'd be safe from the storm.
Focusing on drying the dishes and putting them away, Dean hummed along to the Metallica playing in the background.
This is the cloud that swallows trust
This is the black that uncolors us
This is the face that you hide from
This is the mask that comes undone
Dean put the last plate away and flipped the radio off. Turning, he stared at the door, wishing it would open and his dad would come in tired and bruised, but his presence steady and strong. Dean let himself pretend for a moment longer before shaking his head and turning away. He knew what his father would say. He was too old to be afraid of storms.
Walking over to Sam, Dean kicked off his shoes and sat against the headboard. He nudged Sam in the side with his foot until he shifted over to give Dean space to stretch his legs.
On the screen, Tom ran into a tree trying to catch Jerry and Dean laughed along with Sam as the cat and mouse took off again in their endless chase. Settling back, he relaxed and let the cartoon push his worries away.
…
The first rumble of thunder came from far off, but at the sound, both Winchester boys looked up from the TV screen. Dean sat straighter and Sam, who had been lying on his stomach, rolled onto his side to look at him.
Sam bit his lip and his eyes darted to the window and then back to Dean as another rumble of thunder, louder this time, made his eyes go wide. "Dean," he said, crawling across the bed to sit beside his older brother. "Is that the tornado?"
"No," Dean said firmly. "There isn't going to be a tornado. That's just thunder. And lightning," he added as a flash lit up the curtained window. There was a long pause before the thunder reached them, but when it did, it shook the window and made Sam scoot a bit closer to Dean.
Dean flinched as well, but he tried to hide it by shifting and throwing an arm around Sam's shoulders. "You don't need to be afraid," Dean said to Sam, remembering what his mom used to say during the big storms they would get in Kansas when he was Sam's age. "Thunder is just angels bowling, and lightning," he said as another flash illuminated the window, "Is them celebrating after getting a strike."
Sam looked up at him, eyes big and curious. "Really?"
Dean nodded. "You bet. See, nothing to be scared of."
The thunder followed the lightning and Sam jumped. Dean patted his shoulder gently and Sam looked down, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. "Nothing to be scared of?" He repeated and Dean smiled.
"Right. Just some angels having a bit of fun up in heaven."
Picking up the remote from where it lay on the bed, Dean raised the TV's volume, hoping to mask some of the sounds of the storm. It worked, and they both relaxed again.
Then a warning message came scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
The tornado warning for the Greater Boston area has been lifted. It said. Everyone is still advised to remain inside for the duration of the thunderstorm. Powerlines and trees have been knocked down across the state due to high winds. A reminder that downed lines are still live and should only be approached by trained professionals. Flood warnings are issued for the following low lying areas…
Dean glanced at Sam, hoping his brother wouldn't be able to read the message, but from the look on Sam's face, Dean knew the smart little guy had been able to understand enough. Bumping his shoulder against Sam's, Dean said, "See. What'd I tell you? No tornados."
"Yeah," Sam replied in a small voice.
Another bolt of lightning was followed quickly by a crash of thunder. The storm was getting closer and Dean alternated looking between the warning message on the TV and the window where lightning strikes were getting more frequent.
The rain started, soft at first and then pounding on the roof above them. The sound drowned out the TV, but neither boy was paying enough attention to the cartoon to care.
"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, his head turning to the door like their father might suddenly stroll in wet and cold from the rain.
"Out," Dean said, patting Sam's shoulder again. "You know, work stuff." Dean was always careful to stay away from specifics when the question came up about where their dad went when he left them all alone. He wanted to protect Sammy from the truth about monsters and ghosts, but he also didn't want to lie to him.
Sam's brow only furrowed deeper. "The TV said to stay inside. What if he's outside? What if he's trying to drive back here? What if -"
"Shh, Sammy," Dean said, squeezing Sam's shoulder harder than he meant to. He tried not to think about things like that. "Dad's fine. He's always fine."
Always. Their dad always came back and that was usually enough for Dean, but not tonight. Tonight Dean wanted his dad to be lying on the other bed, telling his boys cartoons would rot their brains.
"But what if -" Sam started to say again, but lightning flashed and the window rattled with thunder. A moment later the TV went dark with a snap and the lamps in the motel room flickered and went out.
Sam gasped and grabbed Dean's arm tight. "Dean!"
"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay," Dean said forcing himself to sound calm despite the clenching in his gut. "The power went out, but it's okay." Sam's grip on his arm didn't relent, but Dean gently pulled away as he stood. "We might as well go to bed now. The storm will pass by morning."
He looked at the dark shadow of the bed that was his brother and heard Sam reply a soft, "Okay."
Dean fumbled around for the dufflebag holding their stuff and found it by the end of the bed by tripping over it. A lightning flash illuminated the room enough for him to dig out Sam's pjs and he tossed them to his little brother, now sitting in the middle of the bed with his knees tucked to his chin.
Finding his own pajama pants and a big t-shirt, Dean started to change. Normally, he and Sam wouldn't change in front of each other, but neither wanted to go into the pitch-black darkness of the windowless bathroom.
Once in his pjs, Sam wordlessly slipped under the covers of his bed, wrapping the sheet tightly around himself. Tugging his shirt over his head, Dean walked over to Sam's side. The brief illumination of another flash of lightning let him see Sam's pale face peeking out of the covers.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean found himself saying again as he ran a hand through his brother's long brown hair. "We're safe here." He wouldn't admit it, but he said it to reassure himself as much as Sam. "Goodnight," Dean said as he smoothed a hand one last time over Sam's hair and turned to the other bed. It would have been his father's if their dad had been there, but for the night, the big, empty bed was Dean's.
"Night, Dean," Sam replied as Dean slid under his own covers. He knew his brother was trying to hide it, but Dean could hear the small tremor in his voice.
Another flash of lightning lit up the dark room and Dean dug his fingers into his pillow at the crash of thunder. He curled onto his side, never letting go of his grip on the pillow, and shut his eyes tight. The sounds seemed to get louder. Every drop of rain on the roof echoed and the smallest rumbles of thunder made the knot in his gut worse. The wind shook the walls like it was trying to blow the motel away and Dean wondered if the news people had been wrong and a tornado was really coming for them.
A hand on his elbow made him jump and turn to see a silhouette in the dark.
"Dean?"
It was Sam. He'd been too caught up in listening to the storm to have heard his little brother get out of bed. Dean sighed, feeling relieved for only a moment before a lightning flash let him see Sam's wide eyes, looking like tears were about to spill any moment. "What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean asked. It was a stupid question. Sam was obviously terrified, but fear wasn't supposed to be a word in a Winchester's vocabulary.
Tugging at the corner of the pillow he had hugged in his arms, Sam asked in a whisper, "Can I sleep with you? I'm...I don't want…"
Dean shifted over to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers up. "Of course, Sammy," he said and Sam quickly slid in next to him. They were used to sharing a bed during the few nights their father was around, but tonight they lay closer than normal. Dean didn't mind at all and closed his eyes, listening to Sam's soft breathing instead of the storm.
He thought he was finally starting to drift off when a crack of thunder made his eyes shoot open. Sam gasped and rolled towards Dean, burying his head in Dean's shoulder. Dean could feel his brother's small frame shaking.
His own heart pounding after the thunder, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam. He felt Sam's shaking lessen and let him press closer.
"Just-just angels, right?" Sam asked and Dean rubbed his back.
"Right, Sammy. Angels."
Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder, but his trembling didn't stop. Dean kept rubbing Sam's back, wishing he could do more to comfort his brother, but the storm outside only seemed to be getting worse.
He would give anything to be back in Kansas with his mom. She used to lie with him during storms long after the thunder had stopped being scary. She knew just what to do to comfort him, but she was gone now and it was his job to comfort Sammy in the only way he knew how.
"Hey Jude," Dean sang softly, knowing his voice wasn't as smooth and pretty as his mom's had been, but he hoped it would be good enough. "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better."
In the darkness, Dean was just able to make out Sam's face turned to watch him. The wind outside wailed and blew the rain hard against the window, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to keep going.
"H-hey Jude, don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it -"
A roar of thunder cut Dean off and he flinched, curling closer around Sam. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the way Sam's hair was tickling his neck until the rumbling ended. Once it stopped, he realized how tightly he is hugging Sam to him and tried to pull away, but a small arm wrapped around him refused to let him go.
Sam started to sing - slow and haltingly at first, but stronger with each line.
"An-and anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, r-refrain
D-don't carry the world upon y-your shoulders
F-for well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder"
Thunder crashed making Sam's arm around Dean tighten, but Dean took up rubbing his back again and sang, coaxing Sam to continue as well.
"H-hey Jude, don't let me down," they sang slowly. "You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better."
The wind whipped rain continued to beat down on the roof, but to Dean it faded into background noise.
"So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do
The movement you need is on your shoulder"
Both were relaxed now. Sam's breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm as his voice faded out and Dean rested his cheek against the top of Sam's head as he whispered the final verse, his voice growing softer with each line.
"Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you'll begin to make it better…"
Dean placed a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead and let his eyes drift shut. A minute later a lightning bolt lit up the sky and thunder rumbled through the room, but neither boy flinched. Both were lost in dreams of sunny skies where a sweet, caring voice sang to her boys.