Hello my lovely readers and also my fellow-Supernatural enthusiasts!

I was thinking of making this a one-shot but it was starting to get too cluttered and clumped, so I decided to (hopefully) complete it in two parts.

This story was inspired from a dream I had of a scene depicting a very distressed Dean on the verge of tears with Sam trying to get him to tell him what was the matter. Then, boop! I woke up. I don't like the brothers in pain or suffering so I decided to write this fic about it, hopefully giving it a better end that the abrupt one I had for a dream.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything or anyone related to it; I do own the plot of my story and everything that comes with it :)

And please forgive me if I get any historical details wrong- it's not my strong subject, though it does get me interested every time!

Please please please review! Teddy Dean and Teddy Sam to whoever does so :D
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They were different from the others that had come earlier to stay the night.

The others had fled in sheer terror every time I tried to ask for help. My room soon gained a reputation which often made most patrons avoid it totally. Even though it was in a very convenient spot- adjacent to the diner, close by the parking lot and the best part- my room had windows on two walls instead of one as is the usual case in a highway motel. But what kind of a person in his right mind would want to bunk in a room that already had a permanent tenant?

I was bound to the room ever since I'd died in there on one of the two beds. It was a bad case of influenza.

Three centuries ago, this was not even a motel. It had been my house and the place had been a farm where I was born and grew up. This room was the one I shared with my sister till my passing. Even after that, she had kept it the way I had always wanted. Sadly, she never noticed me watching over her when some illness had afflicted her, or saw me dance in joy when she brought home good news from school. She had always been the brighter one of us. I was the artistic one.

Even though the house changed owners many times, one of my paintings always remained behind. It was the one I had made for my sister and presented it to her on her fourteenth birthday, the last I had celebrated with her. It was a scene of what I believed we looked like when we used to play on our farm as kids. I had committed the scene to memory and had painted my sister and me sitting on the grassy patch in our backyard on a summer day. She loved it.

Though she was younger than me by two years, she'd always taken care of me. I was a sickly child and couldn't go to school as much as I wanted to. My sister always had some interesting stories to tell me and I lived my school life through her retelling of the events that took place there. They had to leave the place when our parents decided to move towns. They sold our farm and our house to the government. My sister wouldn't let me stay by myself so she got my remains cremated and let my ashes be taken by the river that ran by our plot. She knew I loved being near water and tales of mermaids always captured my fascination.

I hope she had a beautiful life.

My room was usually the last choice. Or set up for pranks which usually backfired once I meddled with the idiot jokers' stuffs that were usually set up to get some unsuspecting ones. Most times I got my much needed laugh out of seeing the clowns bid a hasty retreat. Much as I was lonely, I'd never walk in on the nice ones. They were good people who deserved a good night's sleep.

Sometimes, however I'd forget and unintentionally wake them from their blissful slumber. Of course they never heard or noticed my apologies once they took to their heels madly, screaming at the top of their lungs.

And I'd be alone, sometimes for weeks or months before another tenant would come by and I'd resort to huddling in a dark corner of the closet to avoid being caught. Most times it worked.

Tonight it was going to be different. I felt it and was sure of it even though I couldn't explain how. A ghost's premonition perhaps. Sounds far-fetched but I'll settle with it for now.

They came in casually, talking about trivial things and occasionally laughed at some old joke. The bond between the two of them was so pure and deep- it was evident that they were brothers even though they didn't look much alike.

Their eyes however, reflected the same sense of vulnerability and devotion to each other, regardless of the tough unyielding outlook of the older one and the silent stubborn streak of the younger one. That is another thing I can't explain, I just knew it from looking at them. It's a thing I'm born with. Was.

No sooner had they settled in I felt every wisp in my spiritual body halleluiah-ing at finding that I had been right about them. Oh they sure were different.

The weapons they had laid on their bed were pretty impressive. The older one was meticulously cleaning and polishing them while the younger one was doing some tapping on one of those modern boards with letters on them. They came with a window that was always lighted up and sometimes the pictures in them moved.

I was fascinated by this alphabet-board that came with that little window from the first time I had seen one of them. In my excitement to learn about it I had scared the living daylights of the tenant who owned it. In making his escape he had dropped the contraption on the bare floor and had stomped on it in his frenzied rush.

So much for a lesson.

As the younger one- Sam, I heard his name being called by the older one repeatedly- scrunched up his face in concentration trying to ignore his brother's silly quips I felt warmth radiating from my chest. I found the older brother quite endearing to be honest. And he had the name that suited him perfectly just like his brother. Dean.

In spite of being so different just like their looks, their names suited them perfectly. I hovered around the room trying my best not to draw any attention to myself. But like I said earlier, they were different.

And I wasn't fooling anyone.

"Sam, you feel that?" Dean asked as he quickly assembled his gun and looked around the room, his stance as ready and tensed like a tiger about to strike.

"Yeah. It's no mere draft." Sam replied slowly, reaching for a jar housing some fine white grains, and assuming a stark alert stance.

I couldn't help but giggle. I meant them no harm and yet they were poised to fight the weak specter of a sixteen year old girl. I thought I'd fleet around them and get a closer look on their suspicious goofy faces.

But that was not to be. Their previously undecided faces were looking towards me with perfect accuracy. Correction, they were looking at me.

In my foolish juvenile naivety I had made myself faintly visible to them and it filled me with an overwhelming sense of dismay since I was sure that all that was left to happen was them screaming and running about in wild flurry and perhaps clonk their beautiful faces together.

Yes, that has happened before.

I winced slightly, smiling as the silly possibility delighted me.

"She seems harmless…" the younger yet taller one observed.

"And from way back." the older, fragile faced one stated, "She seem… what, 1600-ish to you?"

Dean had an amusing way of talking. But I understood he was not being disrespectful since there was an absence of any hint of superciliousness in his eyes.

"1709 to be precise." I smiled at them, earning a sharp jump from the two, which made me laugh heartily.

They fixed on their warring faces again as one brother aimed the gun at me and the other began to turn the lid on the jar. I was filled with a heavy sense of sadness. I didn't want to scare them away or put up a senseless fight with me. They seemed truly nice. Pity I had to end our tryst.

"Please don't leave. I am sorry." I said quietly before fading out of their mortal view.

They looked around the room bewildered and wary. Sam took out a small hand-held contraption which had tiny bright lights on them. They lit up in various ways as he swept around the room with it, and the sound that emitted from the machine seemed to grow higher in pitch whenever it got close to me.

They said something about getting another room till morning came and coming back to dig up some bones later. It upset me that they were going away so soon, like the others.

At least they didn't seem to intend on breaking the door on their way out like the previous petrified tenants.

Dean suddenly realized that no other rooms were available to rent and Sam moaned about dreading to spend the night in the Impala. What was an Impala, I wondered. Perhaps it was a sheltering too, like a tent?

They decided to stay the night and keep an eye out for the "pretty see-through thing". These were Dean's words- I'd like to point out. Even though they an unusual choice of words, I felt it was a compliment and felt a tiny flutter of joy. Sam went on to add that I looked very young and perhaps I'd have grown to be a very beautiful woman had I had the chance. It made me so happy that I couldn't help myself… I unintentionally made the curtains flutter for a few fleeting moments and the lights dimmed for a bit before they all settled again.

The brothers whipped their heads around, tensing up more than before. I quickly tried to contain my joy. It was a little tiring to keep my excitement bottled up. Being referred to as something beautiful was not something I had experienced in many, many years.

It's not difficult to make a girl happy, if you mean the nice things you say to her- no matter how odd.

They decided to stay the night anyway. I heaved a sigh of relief and quickly gathered myself as I grinned from ear to ear. I was finally going to have some company who wasn't hell bent on running out of the room in their pajamas. It was like having guests. If only I could tend to them and make them feel at home.

I lingered around the farthest corners of the room, staying as much away as possible from their immediate vicinity. It was difficult to withhold myself from reaching out time to time because I wanted to take care of them. Every part of my being was dying to see to their comfort and I was dying of eagerness to help them in their work. But if I was not careful, there was a good chance that I'd scare them, or in their particular case, offend them and make them leave.

I was stuck in a dilemma between staying out of their way and helping them at the same time.

I tried to be subtle when I assisted them in the faintest of tasks- I gently nudged the book Sam was trying to grab while keeping his eyes fixed on the lighted window of the alphabet-board. I stopped Dean's beer bottle from tipping over when he accidently knocked it over with his elbow while watching something on the magical box they seemed to call television in the past. I believe they called it TV now. Funny how language changes over time.

I kept the door from slamming shut while the boys took turns in the bath. It was a windowless room and people were prone to losing consciousness if they stayed in for too long. I was too busy fighting the blush that crept up my cheeks to even dare to throw a careless glance their way, and I would mind it very much if people assumed I was spying on them. Good heavens no.

I gently pulled up the sheets to cover their chests and necks as they slept. I might be immune to diseases now, but I couldn't let the ones vulnerable to the elements of nature fall sick. Dean took a longer time to fall asleep than Sam and it got me thinking that he must have been looking after his brother from a much longer time than a child usually does. It was a heart-melting thought. Even though Dean and I were the older siblings, he reminded me of my younger sister. She was the one who always took care of me because I was sick all the time. In true custom, I should have been the one to be doing all the night-watches and soup-making.

I sat on the chair that Sam had vacated after he stopped his study. It was easier to watch them like this and I could be at their side in a moment's passing if they needed anything. I decided to take the risky plunge of being less on guard since they were sleeping. But if I got too involved in my emotions I ended up turning the room cold and they would both curl up a little, like little boys, in response to the drop in temperature. In spite of finding them adorable like this, I had to contain myself for fear of making them catch a cold.

I was taking great pleasure from having some company around who weren't as scared of me as the ones before for a change. I smiled to myself as some of my old memories came to me.

It wasn't before long that Dean began to sleep-talk. At first it was very cute, but that changed soon. He began to whimper, seemingly in distress and fear.

I didn't know what to do.

I was at his side in an instant, putting a hand on his head to comfort him. To my dismay, he shrank back from my touch even in his unconscious state. I couldn't blame him. My touch was cold after all. I looked on as he began to toss around the bed slightly, scrunching his closed eyes as though enduring great pain or witnessing some unearthly horror.

I was at a loss. What could I do to bring that peaceful look back on his flawless face?

Perhaps Sam could help, I thought as I turned to flit over his bed to wake him up. I didn't have to lift a finger. Sam was already calling out to his brother to wake him up. Not getting the desired response, Sam quickly got out of bed and I did a quick invisible act before his hands reached the lights.

In my time we'd have to get candles or a burning lamp but these days all it took was a flick of a switch. I had learnt to turn invisible in the blinking of an eye to match up to the present world's pace.

As I was mulling over my thoughts Sam had reached Dean and was gently shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him. Dean mumbled something incoherently and his whimpers got louder. I felt the increasing desperation in his sleep-slacked voice as he moaned for something to stop and pleaded to not hurt him anymore.

Sam was clutching on to the collar of Dean's clothing and was shaking him a little harder while whispering frantic, yet soothing words of reassurance.

"Sammy… Sammy, please help me…" Dean was sniveling, a sound that made my eyes well up "… make it stop Sam, please…"

Sam had a look of disbelief in his eyes. I saw that his own eyes were getting glazed over as he gently put his arms around his brother's trembling frame and got his brother's face in the crook of his neck. He held on tightly to his brother as his brother started to sob softly. Dean responded by grabbing hold of the clothing material around his brother's sides and crumpling it in a death grip. Sam seemed to notice and his tears spilled over the delicate eye-lashes, clumping the individual strands together.

He was whispering words of care and reassurance that he was right there and he was not going to let his brother hurt anymore. He was rocking gently and making sure his brother was getting the care he was giving him.

Dean seemed to relax and his whimpering stopped. The younger brother gently released his brother from their hug and tried to put him to bed as quietly as possible without waking him up. He had just placed him back on the pillow when Dean's sleepy eyes cracked open in nearly indiscernible slits and mumbled his brother's name.

"Sam? Is that you?"

Sam's face was immediately covered in shame as though he had broken a rule. He swallowed subtly.

"Yeah Dean?" he backed away from his brother a bit.

"Thank goodness Sammy…" Dean replied pleadingly, making my heart go out to him, "Get me out of here Sam. They are going to start again. I don't- I don't… I can't stand it anymore Sammy!"

Sam was back to comforting his brother as soon as his confusion was replaced by a look of urgency- his brother was still in the grasp of the nightmare.

Dean began to whimper and moan even more as he said the flames were burning his raw flesh. Without a moment's hesitation, Sam ran in to the bathroom and came out with a wash cloth and a small bucket of water.

He spoke soothingly to an agonized Dean, placing the washcloth on his sweaty forehead with the hope that his brother would get some kind of comfort if he felt it against his skin.

If the nightmares could feel real, he was going to kick their intangible asses with real, physical remedies. Nothing was going to get his brother.

I stared and watched in amazement as the older brother fell quiet and began to snore lightly after a few minutes.

Sam had a relieved and grateful look on his haggard face. He returned the washcloth and the bucket to their places and climbed into bed, turning to look at his brother one last time before saying something that shook me to the core.

"You never should have made that deal with the demons, Dean. I wish I could make you forget your time in hell… I didn't deserve to be saved, and you definitely didn't deserve to fall into the fiery pit. "

A look of pure shame and desperation came upon his face.

"I'm sorry big brother."

I waited till they were both blissfully asleep before manifesting in a visible form, taking care not to turn the room too cold. I sat down on the chair and looked at the heart-warming sight before me, feeling the corners of my lips turn up in a soft smile.

I wondered about the nights when my little sister had to stay awake to care for me.

Did I ever make her as worried as Sam was for his brother?

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Please tell me know if this was good or bad *looks up with the pleading air of a puppy-eyed Sam* Should I continue?