Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Characters: Sam, Dean

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, that's all Kripke. And whoever else owns the show and the boys. Me? I just like playing in their world a little. =P

SPOILERS: Season 3 ending; Season 4. Dean's time in hell?

WARNINGS: n/a

A/N: Just the beginning. There will be Wincest in later chapters. Don't really have a plan. I'm just winging it. -_-;; Kinda the only way I know how to write.

Summary: Dean dreams of hell and Sammy comforts him. Life goes on.

Chapter One

You want to scream. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. In your head you manage to whimper out a mantra of SammySammySammy. But nothing blocks the pain. You hear a voice – Alistair – whisper in your ear.

"Sammy can't hear you Dean"

The voice changes.

"Dean!"

You suddenly feel violently ill. Shaking, shaking.

"Dean! Wake up man. It's just a nightmare."

Sammy…

…

You open your eyes and there he is, scared and worried. Eyes too bright, too wide. You slap his hands away from your body when all you want to do is gather him up in your arms and never let go. Except you don't feel well, so you push him away and roll out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom. You know Sam can hear your heaving, but he gives you space. You think that it might not be such a good thing after all. But then, there he is, rubbing your back and handing you a wet washcloth and a glass of water. You just know he's dying to ask you about your nightmare. However he doesn't and you find yourself wishing he would. You swipe the cool cloth over your face, revelling in the relief that it brings to your burning brow. You take a sip of water and it rinses the acid taste away.

"Dean." Sam says every so softly as the two of you slouch against the wall. Shoulders slightly touching. "Dean…I know you might not want to talk about it but –"

"No. It's alright." You hear yourself saying. "It was about hell."

Sam kept quiet and stared straight off into space. You put more pressure against his shoulder and he looks at you surprised.

"Dean?" he questions.

You feel like a child. A lost, lonely child. So you decide to act like one. You tilt your head and rest it gently on his shoulder. He makes a small, unidentifiable sound and slides down the wall so that you're more comfortable. Thinking only of your needs.

"I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. In my head I kept calling out for you. Alistair was there. You weren't. Sammy –" You turn your head, your entire body, and press up against him. Your head finds the crook of his neck and you breathe in your brother's scent. "I thought I'd never see you again Sammy."

Your words are muffled by his skin. Soft, clean, nice. Sam's arms are wrapped strongly around you. Holding you tight. Keeping you safe. They tell of hidden strengths. Stronger than you. His arms are a promise. Never to be apart. He will protect you; love you. Oh how ironic the role reversal.

"I'm sorry." Sam states sadly. You let the apology slide because he's warm and you're tired. Your eyes open as he moves, seeming to drag you up. "Come on, we're not going to sleep on the floor."

You let him help you back into bed and you let him crawl in beside you. You curl up next to him, your leg resting between his and your arm thrown across his stomach. He touches your face with reverence, feather-light strokes through your hair. You hear yourself sigh; feel the small shake from his laughter. You ignore his amusement and nuzzle his neck. He gasps; falls still. You think that you're giving him way too much blackmail material. Setting yourself up to be mocked into the next lifetime. The you feel his body relax, his lips imprint on your forehead; hear him whisper, "sleep".

"Stay with me." You mumble back.

He does, so you sleep.

Comments and constructive criticisms welcome. ^_^

- Uinen