What You're Missing Round Them Brick Walls
Summary: Sometimes all you need is someone to be there. Dean is sad. Sam doesn't know how to fix it, but he's there for when Dean's ready. Title from the Zeppelin song Bron-yr-aur (okay so the song has nothing to do with the story, but I thought this line from it fit pretty well…)
Disclaimer: I don't own jack. All the cool parts belong to Eric Kripke
A little bit about me you might not have already known: I know and understand the detrimental effects of drunken ice skating.
On to the story!
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Sam found his brother sitting on the hood of the impala, hands clasped across his knees his attention riveted on the pavement in front of him. His posture and expression practically screamed to anyone who knew him (Sam) that something was bothering him. Sam made his way to Dean's side and took a seat next to his brother, his hip, knee and shoulder inches from Dean's. He didn't know what to say. He knew Dean had a problem, he wanted Dean to talk to him, wanted to help him, make it all better the way Dean had for him more times than he could count or would ever want to try. He took a breath, starting a word or phrase only to realize he had no idea what he wanted to say, so he sat there, almost making contact, watching as the sun met the surf and listened as the ocean beat an endless rhythm on the sand. Five, ten minutes went by and Sam was nearly lulled into a trance by the soothing cadence of the scenery only to feel a light bump on his shoulder. He looked over to see his brother's focus was still glued to the asphalt. Dean took a deep breath and as he let it out, it was shuddering and shaky. The first breath was followed by another just as unsteady. Still, Sam was quiet. His brother cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand across his face. If Sam hadn't been attuned to everything his brother was doing he would have missed the whispered "Thanks Sammy," as Dean slid off the hood and headed for the driver's side door. Sam shook his head, a ghost of a smile crossed his face as he climbed off the Impala and made his way back to his brother's side wishing for the thousandth time that day that he could get a glimpse of what went on in his big brother's head, but glad to know that sometimes all he needed to do was be there.
The End.
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AN: That's it. Just something to take my mind off of the fact that I can't figure out the right way to get what's in my head onto my computer screen for the next chapter of Nobody's Fault. Hopefully the writer's block lifts and real life lets up long enough to give me a chance to finish that SOB. Happy Groundhog's Day Eve-Eve.