Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish that I owned Dean and Sam, I don't. Many thanks to Eric Kripke for creating such wonderful characters.
Every Breath You Take
By: Vanessa Sgroi
"Dean!" Sam Winchester bolted straight up in bed, lungs heaving and sweat running in rivulets down his face.
Torn from slumber by his brother's tortured yell, Dean rolled over, instantly alert, and flipped on the light. When no creepy crawly spirit or other monster greeted him, he relaxed—but only marginally.
Turning his attention to Sam, he realized his brother was clutching his head and rocking back and forth.
"No! Dean!" Again the anguished cry exploded past Sam's lips.
Dean threw back the green-gray covers and rushed to Sam's side. He grabbed the younger man's shoulders and gave him a little shake.
"Sammy? Sam, c'mon, what's goin' on—another vision?"
Sam's eyes opened and he quit rocking. Still breathing as if he'd just run a marathon, he gasped, "Dean? You okay?"
"Well, I was . . . until you decided midnight was a good time to start yelling at the top of your lungs," the elder Winchester's concerned expression belied his joking tone.
"Lift up your shirt."
"What?"
"Lift up your shirt."
"Now Sammy, I know you're envious of my ultra-fine physique, but this is . . ."
"Dean . . ." growled Sam.
"Okay, okay. No need to get nasty." Dean lifted up the frayed gray t-shirt he'd worn to bed until it pooled around his neck, revealing his bare stomach and chest. "There. Satisfied?"
"Turn around."
Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Dean did as his brother instructed before pulling his shirt back down.
"So . . . you wanna tell me what this is all about?"
TBC . . .
