A/N. So…this is my first Supernatural fanfic and I hope that it turns out half way decent, especially when it comes to keeping Dean and Sam in character as much as possible.

Sam

Briefly, I wonder how many nights I will do this for. Almost as soon as I ask myself the question, I immediately know the answer: one year. It'll be one whole year that I'll spend sleepless nights researching, making silent phone calls outside the motel door, and burying my head so far deep into a book, it might as well be up my nose. Even more so than that, it'll be one more whole year that I will stay up and just stare at my sleeping brother, like he's going to vanish into thin air if I tear my gaze away.

Dean's noticed, of course. Dean always notices. He's noticed how I drag ass in the morning and how black smudges have appeared under my eyes. He's noticed that I've probably lost a few pounds and that the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes any more. So yeah, Dean's noticed, but the most he's said is, "Sammy, you look like shit," because that's all he can say. No chick flick moments, it's a rule.

I smile cynically as I imagine what kind of chick flick moment might spurt up if he ever caught me sitting in the dark, trying my best not to go stir crazy. First he'd probably make fun of me for staring at him, saying something like, "dude, that's just wrong." Then he'd ask me what I was doing, being awake at 3:42 a.m. I'd probably just say something along the lines of, "Nothing, just couldn't sleep."

It's not like I'd be lying.

Then he'd give me that look, the look that just screams 'don't bullshit me, Sammy, I know better than that. I know you better than that.' Then it could go in one of two directions: he could let it go, roll over and go back to sleep, muttering something that doesn't reach my ears. Or he'd push the subject, get into big brother mode and make me tell him why I am so upset. Then the chick flick moment would come.

What's funny is with as much that's wrong with this entire situation, I don't even know what I'd say to him. There's simply too much too say and knowing Dean, he'd never let me get any of it out before backing away. Dean doesn't do emotion very well. I don't really know how I'd word just how angry I am at him for making that deal. Or how terrified I am. I don't know how I'd be able to tell him that he should have left me dead and keep my teeth while I do it. He wouldn't take me telling him that very well because to Dean, me being alive and ok is all that matters. What he doesn't get is that's all that matters to me too, that he is alive and ok.

Dean shifts in his sleep, making some incomprehensible sound before stilling again.

I sigh and rub my hands over my face. This is insane. The logical part of me is saying, 'stop obsessing, get some sleep, you'll figure out how to save him, he'll be fine.' The emotional part of me, the part that just won't shut up, is saying, 'What are you thinking? You can't get out of this, he's going to be gone in a year and it's going to feel like a month. You can't sleep, you don't have the time.'

"Dude, what are you doing?"

I jump a mile in the chair I'm sitting in as Dean's demanding, sleepy voice drifts from his bed.

"I…nothing, go back to sleep."

For once, Dean doesn't argue with me. He tosses a bit before falling back into sleep. I am surprised that he doesn't put up a fight and demand to know what's up with me. Cautiously, I open my laptop again and continue researching cross road demons, and their deals. No one's ever gotten out of one, not yet anyways.

As I glance at the Dean shaped lump in the bed I make a silent vow that he will be the first one to get out of a deal. I fix my eyes back on the screen and ignore the slight urge to go and curl up next to Dean like I used to when I was five and he was nine, like I used to when I was scared.

I scroll through a few more pages and re-read all the things I've read a hundred million times, before I snap the lip closed on the laptop. I sigh in frustration and glance at the bright red digital clock. 4:22.

With hesitance, I stand from the chair, grimacing as multiple joints pop from the movement. I slink to the bed opposite of Dean and fall into it. I stare at the dark lump across the room for one more brief moment before falling into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

'Don't leave me, Dean.'