The missing chick flick moments

Pilot

Dean laid down slowly on the motel room bed. Sam was still in the shower. The older Winchester sighed heavily. Sam had been in the shower since about half past ten. He glanced across at the red lights on the radio alarm. 12:02pm. He had better get out soon, they needed their rest.

Sam stood stock still, letting the scalding water run down him. He could think of nothing else. The image of her on the ceiling was burned into his retinas. Like everything he looked at was coloured by that event now, because he couldn't get away from it. From her. From those eyes, the only thing that still seemed alive when she was dying on the ceiling.

It was the little things. It was so soon after the event that it hadn't sunk in. Hadn't sunk in that he had been driving from town to town since last week. Looking for something to hunt. So it was the little things, things he hadn't realised meant so much. Like waking up to find she'd already got his favourite cereal from the store, when he knew he'd ran out and would have to go out for it before he could eat. Now he didn't have breakfast. Didn't have a morning appetite because every time he woke up in the mornings he had to flush the images from his mind. Most he could, but that one picture stayed there, burned into his eyes. God he missed her. Missed her like a limb had been detached, like he couldn't concentrate, couldn't love, couldn't live…She was everything to him. Had been. Now she was a memory, and he was scared. Scared because he didn't have her and he loved her. But almost more scared that he was going to forget her. Like if he didn't recover from that image that was burned on his eyes, he'd forget what she looked like. The one photo he had didn't help. That was one he had in his wallet. All the others had burned up in the fire. But a photo wouldn't help. How could it? How could it expect to capture her magic, her warmth? The feel of her skin on his, the love that was shared between them? Her golden hair that reflected the sun and made her look like an angel, even when it was messy from a night in bed. That's when she looked her most beautiful, when she wasn't trying.

He sobbed, brokenly as the tears finally welled up, and for once he didn't bother to keep them in check. He let them fall, mingling with the water from the shower that was slowly turning cold. She looked so perfect when she didn't try. She looked great when she did, but when she was natural…when she was sleeping. That's when her inner beauty shined through. Sam slid down the side of the shower cubicle, choking aloud, crying like a child who's lost it's mother. And he had. He'd lost that too.

Dean had had enough. He banged on the door and it flew open. Sam had forgotten to lock it. That's when he saw his brother crying in the bottom of the shower.

"Sam?" He asked walking foreword tentatively, "You ok?" Sam sobbed again and turned his face so Dean wouldn't be able to see the redness, so he wouldn't know.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." He croaked, sniffing ridiculously, as if to highlight the falseness of his statement. Dean felt his heart break just a little more as he looked at his broken brother. He opened the shower door, ignoring the water, now cold, that soaked him as he leaned foreword to turn it off. He grabbed a towel from the floor and draped it over his brother,

"Come on, man. You're allowed to be upset. I mean your girlfriend di-"

"Don't say it." Sam interrupted, "Don't." He whispered. Before standing up and wrapping the towel round his waist. He barged past Dean and walked into the bedroom, still sniffing. Dean sighed, then followed him. Sam had sat on the bed and had pulled on his boxers and jeans.

"I'm sorry, Dude. I'm sorry I wasn't more…you know…understanding." Sam looked up at his brother. Then he smiled slightly,

"You hate chick flick moments." Dean smiled back,

"Yeah man, but I know what you're like. You're such a girl that you need one every now and then." Sam smiled,

"Shut up, short ass." Dean pretended to look offended,

"Hey, man, I'm regular height! You're just a freak!" Sam finally rewarded his brothers effort with a light chuckle. One that belied the true nature of his emotional state. Dean moved closer and sat next to his brother who was pulling on a shirt, despite the fact that he was still soaking wet. His hair dripped onto his neck and shoulders continually, making him shiver.

"Sorry, Dean." His brother frowned,

"What are you apologising for?" He shrugged awkwardly,

"For…you know…that you had to see that…" Dean rolled his eyes exasperatedly,

"Man! Come on, you don't need to apologise for that! It's totally normal. I don't think any less of you. In fact, I'm glad you finally let it out. You can't keep that all bottled up for too long, man. You'll crash and burn." Sam froze as he was reminded of that Halloween night when he had asked Jess what he'd do without her and she had answered with that same statement. Well he was pretty sure he would. Pretty sure he'd crash and burn, die a painful death after a pain filled life…if of course, he didn't have his big brother watching out for him. But he did, and he knew…they both knew, that nothing was happening to Sam, as long as Dean was around to look out for him.

Wendigo

(Set just after Sam and Dean have that little convo where Sam says he wants to find the demon and john, and Dean says he can't keep the anger burning over the long haul or it will kill him.)

Dean walked away from his little brother. He couldn't help it. The pain in his eyes…he couldn't handle it at the moment. That was selfish and he knew it. He lived to help Sammy, but this time…he couldn't. He could see it happening before his eyes. He had seen it once before. With his Dad, only he couldn't remember it so well. Couldn't remember the pain it had inflicted on those around him…namely him and Sam. And now it was happening to the youngest Winchester. He was becoming consumed by rage and the need for revenge, the thirst for blood. The Demon's blood. Dean would die himself before he saw his little brother become as driven as their father. Dean loved his Dad. He did, he really did, but there were things about him that almost scared Dean. The admission he'd made on occasions that killing the Demon was all that mattered. That was one of them. And now Sam…he was heading in that same direction…down that rocky path, that led to only one place. Pain….and anger. Well he would stop it. This time he was strong enough. He would stop another Winchester being torn apart by the grief. No more Winchester lives would be lost to the Demon. Whether physically or emotionally. No more, he vowed.

Bloody mary

(an epilogue)

Sam sat down heavily in the motel room, and Dean joined him on the couch.

"You ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sam asked, taking the beer Dean offered him, with a nod of thanks. Dean shrugged,

"Could be something to do with that thing you won't tell me…" he said, swigging from the bottle in his hand. Sam smiled humourlessly. Dean had been trying to get Sam to spill his secret since they had arrived back from dropping off their latest rescue-ee.

"Dean, I'll tell you in my own time, ok?" he muttered,

"Yeah, well I know you man, you'll just let it go, and I won't ever find out." Sam suddenly felt angry, why was Dean so interested anyway,

"Why the hell do you care so much, Dean? What the hell has it actually got to do with you anyway!" he snapped, his voice rising. Dean's face crumpled into an angry frown.

"Because I do care, Sam? You're my brother, I'm worried about you!"

"Well can you not? Ok, I'm fine! Alright? Just…let it go…" he asked ridiculously,

"Man, I'm just looking out for you…" Sam's anger diminished as quickly as it reared it's ugly head,

"Yeah…yeah I know. I just…like I said in the car, man…there are just some things about…Jess…and what happened, that I'm not…ready to share yet…even…even with you, man…" he said, looking his brother in the eye, willing him to understand, to drop it. Willing him to realise that the grief was just too close to talk about.

Dean watched his brother pleading…then nodded slowly. He'd wait, and then he'd be there when Sam needed him.

Skin

(an epilogue)

Dean pulled Sam into the Impala, laying him out on the back seat. Becky had gone home on her own, Dean had told her too, said he had to 'finish up'. She had left Sam, semi conscious on the floor and fled the scene. Some friend, Dean snorted as he slid himself into the front seat. Dean wanted to be out of St Louis…out of this god-damn state by the morning. He'd drive all night, this place had been nothing but god-damn, frickin trouble. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, as Sam groaned.

"You ok?" Sam blinked and sat up, grimacing slightly,

"Yeah. Oh, unless you count the fact that I was your punch bag…" Dean frowned,

"Come on Samantha, strap on a pair. You know it wasn't me…" Dean felt a ripple of nervousness. Sam knew it was the shape shifter, that was obvious. But was he gonna get all awkward 'coz it looked like his brother? Hell, Dean knew he'd be kinda freaked out if he'd seen something looking exactly like Sam try and kill him…

"I'm not an idiot, Dean." Sam croaked, "It was just a bit…you know…weird." Yeah Dean knew, of course he did. How could you not know, when you come bursting into a room, only to see yourself, knocking the stuffing outta your little brother. He could have killed him. He did kill him. God-damn fucking shape shifter. Deserved everything he got and more.

"Yeah. I know." Sam glanced into the mirror and met his brother's eyes.

"I wanna see Becky before we leave."

"Yeah I thought you might," he grinned at his little brother through the mirror, back on familiar territory, "You know, she might just have you. I mean she's not gonna want me coz of the whole shape shifter deal, so you've got a chance. You'll have to work extra hard though, what with your face looking…the way it does…" Sam had a feeling Dean wasn't just talking about the bruises.

"Screw you, jerk off,"

"No, screw her, then you can jerk off."

"You're one sick puppy, Dean." The older Winchester just laughed heartily and drove into the night.