*Another one-shot with my OC. Takes place after 3x11. Enjoy! Reviews are fantastic and check out my other stories if you liked this one!*
Tapping fills my ears, pulling me out of my slumber. It's soft, consistent clicks that most probably wouldn't notice. Opening my eyes, I'm met with the dark of the room. Dean is on his side on the other bed, his back to me with one arm tucked under the pillow, his jacket draped over his shoulders as his blanket. A soft glow in the front of the small motel room draws my attention and I glance at the clock on the nightstand quickly.
2:40 a.m.
Sighing, I sit up, rubbing my eyes before heading towards the light. Sam is hunched over his laptop while curled up on the couch. His hazel eyes are bloodshot, dark shadows haunting his young face. My chest aches at the sight of him. These boys deserved so much better than what they got.
Wordlessly, I step up behind him, nudging his shoulder. Sam flinches, caught off guard as he stares up at me surprised. His hair is a mess, the sweatshirt he's wearing beaten from years of use. He looks half his age, staring up at me with those big puppy dog eyes.
Silently, I nudge him again and he moves over on the couch. I settle down beside him, glancing at the blaring screen. My throat constricts at the web page for demons. Ever since their last hunt, Sam has been adamantly searching for a way to save Dean from his deal. I don't blame him either.
He watched Dean die over and over again. Every time he tried to stop it, he failed. It fucked him up, big time.
Both of us have had a hard time coming to terms with Dean's actions. Sam's been trying to keep up his mask for Dean. He doesn't want his brother to see how terrified he is to lose him. He doesn't want him to see the desperation, how every day it's getting harder to breathe because it's just another day closer to failure. But the mask can't stay up forever. I know.
"It's late," I murmur, watching his hazel eyes tracing the words on the screen.
"Can't sleep," he answers distractedly.
"This is two nights in a row, Sam." Those wide shoulders shrug, clicking on another tab and delving into another paragraph.
I grab his hand, "How much longer do you think you can do this?"
"For as long as it takes," he snaps quietly, untangling his grip and ignoring me. But I see the tears in his eyes, see the dam breaking slowly.
We forget that being strong for others can hurt us in the process. Dean is scared to go to Hell and Sam is just as afraid. So am I. I'd give anything to trade places with him.
Sam's just trying his best not to make Dean more scared by hiding his pain. He doesn't want his big brother to worry about him.
I reach for the laptop, pulling it from his grasp and set it on the small coffee table, shutting it. Darkness surrounds us and I can hardly make out Sam's features. "Talk to me."
He scoffs, shaking his head, voice low, "About what, Aria? About how Dean's going to Hell and we haven't found a damn way to stop it?"
"How about you tell me about you and not your brother."
Silence fills the room as I watch the faint silhouette of the giant man. A choked gasp escapes the younger brother, his words tight, trying to hold back the sobs, "I can't lose him again, Aria. I just got him back."
I want to reassure, Sam. Tell him that we will work this out and save Dean, but it would just be a false promise. We are both well aware of the fact that we are nowhere close to killing the demon that holds the contract.
Instead, I grab the younger brother and pull him into a hug. He tenses, caught off guard before those longs arms latch around me, hands balling up in my shirt. I hold him as tight as I can, biting my lip to stifle the tears that want to escape. Sam buries his face in my neck, shoulders trembling.
"We'll survive somehow. I don't know how, but we will. All of us. Together."
No matter the outcome, as long as we have each other we can still live. It was a miracle that I didn't give up after my family. The only reason I kept fighting was because of John and Bobby. Without them, I wouldn't be here right now, able to help these boys who have given me life again.
I lost my siblings and gained two others. Sam and Dean are my brothers and I'd do anything for them. And it kills me that I didn't think faster than Dean that night, that I let that hit knock me out. I should have been the one to drive to that crossroads, sell my soul for Sam's life because it was my job to protect these two. John's last fucking order; watch out for my boys.
I fucking failed all three that night. It's like drinking acid, my insides burning with guilt, corroded and rotted. If I died, the boys would be okay. They would. But losing one another? There is not Sam without Dean.
The younger Winchester squeezes me harder, ribs protesting under the force but I suck it up because he's hurting so fucking badly. I comb my fingers through his hair, ignoring the wetness dripping down my collarbone and the sobbing gasps whimpered against my skin.
"Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees
Time can break your heart, have you begging please, begging please
Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure
And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven"
I sing the words softly, my mom's sweet, honey voice filling my mind as I remember her favorite artist. Tears prick my eyes, the words hitting as hard as they did the day it played at their funeral. Because my knees were bent, my heart shattered, the jagged pieces cutting everyone who tried to put it back together. And God did I beg. I pleaded with the sky for months to bring them back, to take me instead and spare their sweet, innocent souls. But the world is cruel, dark place.
I wish I could say that I've found peace, that I can help Sam when Dean goes, but I can't. I'm still trying to cope with that nightmare and I don't think I ever will. All I can do is comfort the younger brother as best as I can, the way that only a sister knows how.
I finish singing, my fingers still carding through Sam's thick locks, his grip not as tight but still unwavering.
He sniffles, his voice raw, "You're a terrible singer."
A snort escapes me, a smile pulling at my lips, "So, I shouldn't compete on American Idol?"
"No, absolutely not." I try to pull out of the embrace, only for Sam to tighten his arms around me.
"Can we-"
"Shh, I'm not going anywhere," I soothe, rubbing his back as those watery hazel eyes look up at me from under his fringe. He nods, tension easing from his large body.
"But I think I've got a more comfortable position."
Sam reluctantly lets me go and I shift, propping my feet up on the table and pulling him down to lie in my lap. Immediately, his arms snake around my waist, his face tucked against my stomach. Nothing is said between us as the minutes pass. I run my hand through his hair, feeling his warm breath through my shirt on my skin.
"I think my Mom would have done this," the words are a gentle breath of his, those red-rimmed eyes fluttering.
I stare into the darkness of the room, fighting the fresh tears pooling in my forest eyes. Sam didn't get what Dean and I had; a Mom's tender embrace or soothing, ever sweet words when you're upset. Even what Dean had, wasn't enough. Mary was torn from him too early, but not like Sam.
He's only had John and Dean, two guys who did everything for the younger. John tried so hard to be the mother and father. So did, Dean. And they both did such an amazing job being everything and more for Sam, but there is nothing like a mother's touch.
"My Mom used to sing me to sleep every night," I admit with a deep longing for those simple times.
"Dean says she would sing."
I grin, "Our Moms would have gotten along, I think."
And I catch the tiny curve of Sam's lips pull upwards before he nestles his face deeper into my gut. My fingers rake through his hair, back and forth, nails scratching at his scalp softly,
"Close your eyes, Sam."
There's no argument, no protest. Just an easy sigh as those giant arms grow limp around me. My eyelids droop, head bobbing before I, too, finally give in.
The sharp scent of coffee pulls me out of my dreamless sleep. Immediately, my muscles protest; neck cramping, back aching, and legs stiff. A groan leaves me before I even open my sleep-heavy eyes.
Sunlight pours in through the curtains, lighting the dimly lit room. Glancing down at my lap, I find Sam still sound asleep. His brows are cinched together, nose wrinkled and I comb my hand through his hair once again, yawning.
"He's finally sleeping."
My gaze shoots across the small space to find Dean. He sits at the table with a cardboard carrier of coffee and a box of donuts. Those emerald eyes are on his little brother, a mixture of relief and worry storming in those hues. Studying the older brother, I notice the same haggard look his father wore, my heart aching. Sometimes I wonder if Dean realizes how alike he is to his old man.
"So," he starts, pulling his gaze off Sam, "You sleep well?" A teasing grin plays on his lips and I flip him off. The older Winchester chuckles, bringing me a cup of coffee.
"Thank you," I murmur, taking a sip of the hot liquid that is like crack to my system, humming in delight.
"Is he okay?" Dean asks, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch with his own coffee. There are hundreds of questions flitting through his mind, all aimed at me. And I'm not really sure how to answer them.
"Shut up," Sam grumbles, those muscled arms tightening around me again as he buries his face once more into my stomach. I snort, pushing lightly on Sam's shoulder.
"Come on, Sammy. If you don't get up, I'm going to use all the hot water." That has Sam bolting upright, nearly knocking my coffee out of my hands as he glares at Dean.
"You're such a jerk."
His freckled face lights up with a wide smirk, "Bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes, padding over to the table to grab his coffee. I stand stretching, and moaning as my joints crack.
"So, you two sit up all night braiding each other's hair?"
"Yeah. Stayed up way past your bedtime, grandpa."
The look of utter offense of Dean's face has both Sam and me cracking up. We're laughing even as Dean flips us off, grabbing his bag and escaping our laughter as he steals the first shower.
I shake my head, settling down in Dean's seat. Sam sits opposite me, opening up the donut box and grabbing a glazed and chocolate one. He hands me the sweeter donut, my lips still pulled into a smile. We eat in silence, sipping our coffee, the hum of the shower filling the room.
"Aria...thanks for last night." Sam clears his throat, shy about how vulnerable he got.
I shrug. What happened last night will stay between me and him. In time, he'll talk to Dean. There won't be any tears or hugging and that's okay because that's what I'm here for. I'm their sin-eater. Their faults, lies, fears, hate; all of that is placed on me to hold until they are ready to admit it to one another.
"That's what's sisters are for."