Honstly, this was written on a whim. Like a couple of other one-shots I've worked on or am currently working on, it was meant to be part of a bigger story that just didn't ahve an actual plot. It's one of the scenes that I liked, so I went with it. Please enjoy it and review if you like it (or don't)
Title: And That Was That
Summary: Turns out the boys' latest hunt wasn't quite finished,and a curse leads Sam to a new understanding of his brother's past. One-shot.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to the Kripkeeper, and he ain't sharing!
And That Was That
It had been a long day. A long, quiet day. Almost too quiet, and that worried Sam. Dean was never that quiet. The only times he'd bothered to even speak that day were to wake Sam up and admit that he remembered everything.
He'd sounded pretty unhappy about that last part.
Sammy couldn't blame him for being unhappy, though. After all, they'd both thought the hunt was over. Who knew witches had so many friends?
Well, they did. Now.
Sam sighed, lacing his fingers together behind his head and closing his eyes as shadows played across the ceiling. Yes, it had been a long day. A long day of researching, of wondering what was going through his brother's head, of calling everyone in his circle and getting no definitive answer to their problem.
At least Dean remembered. If he didn't, if he had no idea where he was or who he was with, it would have been harder. Taking care of a five-year-old wasn't exactly something Sam had much experience in.
He sighed again, willing sleep to come. He needed rest. He needed to recharge. It seemed like he was tackling this whole curse alone, like Dean was spacing off to some other world, lost deep in thought.
Maybe that was part of the curse. It didn't seem likely, but anything was possible. After all, Dean was five.
Sam opened his eyes, glancing over at the other bed, where his brother had curled up into a little ball under the covers, hugging one of his pillows like a real child would hug a teddy bear. Not that Dean would have known how that went. He'd never even had a teddy bear, to Sam's knowledge.
He turned back to the ceiling and closed his eyes again, his mind still racing. This was bad. This was worse than bad. He was starting to feel sorry for the kid his brother had become, had started to think- probably due mostly to the unnatural silence- that he was just a kid, that he needed to be taken care of. No way that would fly with Dean. He was too proud to be fussed over. He could take care of himself.
Sam nodded to himself. Yeah, he would just have to keep reminding himself who that little freckle-faced kid really was. If he didn't, he might just step into an embarrassing trap. Maybe that was the reason for the silence.
The sound of covers rustling reached his ears and he fought the urge to glance back at Dean's bed. To do so would send him right into that trap. So, Sam laid perfectly still, his eyes shut tight, and waited for his brother to settle back in.
Except Dean didn't settle. He got out of bed, took a couple of soft steps, and stopped. Sam could feel hot breath on his face, fast breath, scared breath. Still, he fought the urge to take a look at his brother.
"Sammy?" he heard the boy whisper, maybe the seventh word he'd said all day, "Sam, are you awake?"
He didn't move. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that told him to keep still, maybe curiosity, maybe newfound Big Brother Senses. Whatever it was, he listened to it.
"Sam?" Dean asked again, his voice softer this time, "I had a bad dream. I… I'm scared."
It was getting harder to keep from looking at his brother, but now it was definitely curiosity keeping Sam's eyes shut. He strained to listen as his brother's voice lowered.
"I used to do this all the time," he said, his voice barely more than an exhalation of breath, "at Bobby's, I mean. Dad would have killed me. I dunno why, but it made me feel better. Like I was safe or something."
Sam had to hold his breath to hear the words, and even then they didn't make any sense. As far as he knew, Dean had never had a habit of sleepwalking, but then again, he couldn't remember back to the older man's early childhood, so anything was possible.
Then he felt cold. The covers were pulled slowly off the upper half of his body and a slight pressure was added to the mattress beside him. The covers went back up, covered him up to his shoulders. He waited.
Small fingers wrapped themselves around his arm, pulling it from underneath the pillow and to his side. He felt a warm bundle snuggle up beside him, so close that he could feel the tiny body shaking.
"Please don't wake up," Dean whispered, reaching back to grab his brother's hand and guide it around his body, wrapping Sam's arm around him, making sure his brother was holding him close. "Please don't get mad."
He laid his head down on Sam's chest, and the usually-younger man was suddenly afraid. What if he couldn't control his heartbeat? What if it was fast enough that Dean knew he was awake, that he had heard everything?
Apparently, his heartbeat wasn't a problem, because Dean settled right in, wrapping small arms around him and snuggling even closer.
"Safe," Dean whispered. "Bobby wasn't gonna let anything happen to me, just like I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you. And you're gonna keep me safe, right?"
Sam almost held his breath. He almost answered. That could have been disastrous.
"No. You won't." Dean paused, letting out a little sigh that made him sound so young that Sam actually ached for what they had lost, for that mythical thing called childhood that had burnt up along with their mother. "I wish I didn't remember," Dean finally continued, "that I thought I was just a kid. Then I wouldn't have to worry. You would take care of everything." He paused again, as if contemplating what to say next, as if evaluating whether or not if was a good idea to say what he wanted to. "You would take care of me."
And that was it. A lifetime of having to be the protector, of always being the good son, but never the favored one, of always letting Sam get what he wanted without asking for anything for himself. It was all summed up into that one statement. To Hell with women and beer and hustled pool games. To Hell with hunting. To Hell with being a soldier. All he wanted was to be taken care of, just once. Even when he was cursed, Dean couldn't seem to catch a break.
The way Sam saw it, he had two choices. He could pretend that the night had never happened. He could go to sleep and act like nothing was different. Or he could do something about it. After all, he'd always had someone to run to when the nightmares got to be too much. He'd never wondered who comforted Dean.
Steeling himself for whatever outcome he would face, Sam opened his mouth. "I'll pretend if you will," he whispered. And that was that.
Well, that's that. The end. Hope you enjoyed it. Drop a line!