A/N: Hello All! I present to you my second story! This one's for SAM WINCHESTER *claps for Sam*

Hope you enjoy this one too! Please review, you guys :)

Have fun! :D

Sam tried for the eighth time that night to fall asleep, to slowly pull away from the reality of the world he knew to the abstract and imaginative realm that existed within the veil of chaotic confinement that was his mind.

Forcing himself to fall asleep was never an easy task, mainly when the effects of adrenaline rush from a fight or argument still lingered about his body, keeping him awake till his energy was truly worn out.

But more often than not, it would be his mind recalling a past conversation he had shared with someone that truly kept him awake, eating away at the memory like a wild dog.

Tonight was one of those nights.

No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, his thoughts kept going back to the conversation he had with Dean earlier that night.

It was definitely not expected from either of them, but just crawled its way into the chat they shared when recalling some fun times.

For the both of them, that conversation was slightly more extreme in contrast to a normal one.

Sam and Dean sat at the table drinking beer and chatting nonchalantly about mishaps in their past that rendered either one of them to look like an idiot at the end of it.

Papers and books were strewn across the table, ripped pages of demon tales spread across the left side; books on angels scattered and piled on top of each other on the right side.

They had both started out researching on demon weaknesses as well as information on angels, but the research study soon escalated into an amusing chat on past memories when Dean got an ass-kicking from a female demon- Abbadon- or when Sam actually had a female demon- Meg- inside him, literally.

"I mean I'm just asking, what did it feel like to have a woman perving on your insides?" asked Dean, half-laughing and yet half-choking on his beer.

"Not as bad as you getting your ass served from a demon who was practically dead for a few hundred centuries." Retorted Sam, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at Dean.

He dodged it just as it flew past his ear, giving a cheeky smirk to Sam.

Sam laughed as a funny memory just emerged in his head. "Remember the time you crapped your pants after seeing that cat jump out of the locker?"

"Well in my defence, I did have that damn yellow fever." Dean scoffed. "And I don't recall you acting so tough when you got nut-sacked while we were on that Japanese game show."

"Or you, when you got shot in the back before that, and pulled a Becky when Dr Sexy came towards us."

At that moment, both Sam and Dean laughed at the memory of Dean going into complete fan-girl mode over Dr Sexy and his cowboy boots, as he would usually point out.

Dean took another swig of his beer before relishing this moment he had with Sam. It was rare for this to happen, what with all the problems they were facing before it, but every time it did, Dean always took it as a sign of new beginnings.

If not that, he thought it as a way of their relationship slowly starting to mend, patching up rips and tears in the very fabric of their bond.

He liked it.

And he figured he should at least tell Sam about it.

"Man, I miss this." Hollered Dean, scattering papers off the table in a manner of happiness and energy.

"Miss what?"

Dean brought his gaze to Sam, saw his quizzical expression from his statement a moment ago, and pondered whether telling him was a good idea. He didn't want to sound emotional. That wasn't his style.

But then again, he couldn't help but wonder if Sam felt the same wave of nostalgia that brought his mind back to their simple days when none of them held anything against each other.

"Miss this, Sammy!" he motioned his hands in front of him, directly to where Sam was sitting.

Sam raised his eyebrows in a puzzled manner. "You miss talking with me?" he set his beer down on the table. "Isn't that what we do everyday?"

Dean closed his eyes, partly in half-frustration that Sam didn't understand what he was getting at, and half-exhaustion that he couldn't comprehend what Dean was blatantly saying.

Sam, Dean thought, may be the smarter one of them two, but he was a definite dumbass when it came to hints or messages behind normal statements.

"No, college boy, I'm talking about having a good laugh with you!"

Sam still had the dumb and confused look plastered on his face.

Dean huffed and continued. "When was the last time you and I shared a beer and had a good laugh? When was the last time the two of us felt this comfortable around each other?"

Sam's face expression loosened to an understanding look. This is what Dean was talking about?

He decided to approach the matter carefully. "Dean, we've been 'comfortable' around each other for a long while now. And if we weren't, I think it would make a difference to the conversation we just had."

"No it wouldn't!" said Dean, surprised by Sam's calm reaction. "Sam come on, the conversation we just had had nothing to do with all this leverage between us."

"What leverage?"

"Like you don't know." He gave Sam an incredulous look. "From the start there's been this weight hanging over our heads and it just kept building and building because we chose to ignore it."

Sam remained silent. It was as if the effort to make any sound emit from his throat had been sucked right out of him, rendering him useless to stop Dean from talking.

Dean continued. "And then came Ruby; and the apocalypse; and the trials, and then those winged dick-bags! And I know you said you would leave after solving a few cases, and I get you would do that, but you still stayed which all the more made it worse for me!"

He didn't mean for it to happen, but once Dean started talking it was like he couldn't stop. He couldn't help but say all these things to Sam because he'd been harbouring it inside him for so long, and he couldn't take another damn minute of it!

Sure he was able to ease the swirling mass of an emotional tornado inside him when he told Castiel, but it wasn't enough to stop it completely. Ultimately, he knew he had to tell Sam at one point but didn't know how to address the issue.

But now, with Sam right in front of him, he couldn't stop until it all left his system. Until every fibre of his being was done hiding all that turmoil from him until it was said and done.

And at that moment, it felt pretty damn good.

"And I then I lied to you-"

"Dean, stop." Sam interrupted, finally finding his voice. "Just stop."

Dean did as he said, but only out of incredulity. How is that after everything he said, Sam would take it lightly? But on the other hand, his tone suggested finality in ending his hissy fit.

Sam averted his gaze to his beer for a moment, pondering how he would lay out the context of what he about to say, and then brought his eyes back to the slapped-on-the-face look Dean had, because he sure as hell looked as if he'd been slapped.

"I know. I know about the weight between us. I know how it built up over the years and I know that it's still going on." He took a deep breath and then continued. "I also know I said I would leave, but after we agreed on treating each other like true brothers, I saw no reason for us to go our separate ways when we finally had the opportunity to start over. This was, and still is, our opportunity to patch things up. Try and forgive each other for every wrong thing we did, put it all in the past and move on like some happy endings family movie."

As he was talking, Dean felt inside him a mixture of emotions: relief, curiosity, astonishment and hope.

He was relieved that Sam understood what he was talking about, but all the more curious whether they did have a chance at starting over. How would they even do that? It wasn't as if they could just forget everything that happened in a minute. It would take time for all their wounds to heal, and as much as Dean hated waiting for stuff like this to happen, he ultimately knew it was their only chance to be true brothers again. The ones they were before all hell broke loose- literally- and all that crap was thrown at them, distancing their bond to the final point where they went their separate ways. And twice that happened.

He still couldn't forget when Sam left on his own after he found out that he had killed Amy.

Great. Another thing to add on their 'confess and discuss' list, and it wasn't even dinnertime.

After another attempt at forcing himself to sleep, and switching from one position to another about six times in the process, Sam thought it was much-decided to get up and occupy himself. It was no use staying in bed.

As he tip-toed quietly out of his room and down the hall to the kitchen, he sauntered by Dean's room and gave a furtive glance at his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed. His mouth was agape and his eyes were shut, deep in sleep mode from sheer exhaustion of the day's events.

At least he was getting a good night's rest. How he managed to do it after what happened earlier, Sam didn't know. But he wasn't interested in finding out either. If Dean wasn't restless like he currently was then it hinted just how serious he was to the matter. Or maybe he was serious but was talented enough to sleep like an old man at the same time.

If that was the case, then Sam envied him greatly.

He ambled over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, hoping to tranquilize himself enough to fall asleep, like Dean.

But as he drank he couldn't help but wonder if things would really go back to the way they were just by simply discussing their issues and trying to find solutions to them. What if it didn't work like they thought it would? Or what if it only had half the effect it was intended to have and then rendered them tired and brain-dead to think of something else? And then ultimately it would be pointless and they would never be able to go back to the way things were, ever again.

He may have been exaggerating the possibilities, but it still took a toll on his mind.

Worst-case scenario: one of them would kill the other.

After gulping down two glasses of milk, and gathering that that too was pointless, he thought a good research assignment on the Men of Letters would drain his restlessness with fatigue.

After all, there was nothing more enervating than doing un-wanted research just to tire himself out.

A few minutes later, Sam found himself digging through the Men Of Letters archives, balancing hope to find something interesting and educational to occupy his mind while, at the same time, balancing hope to work his mind to the point of weariness. It wasn't until he found an archive on the Bunker itself that he decided to stick with it and eventually feel drowsy.

But part of his mind knew it would be pointless. If this wouldn't be enough to shake off the thoughts racing through his mind, he didn't know what would.

So as he mindlessly read- or at least tried to read- about the Bunker's history, his thoughts- not for the first time that night- went back to conversation, once again.

It wasn't exactly like he deliberately wanted to recall it over and over, but mainly wanted to understand it the best way his mind could. After they called it a day and turned it for the night, Sam couldn't stop thinking about what they both said; comprehending every word; trying to find meaning toward each sentence.

And he, surprisingly, didn't forget a word either of them said.

The sun was just setting toward the far end off the overstretched land from where the Bunker was located. As the golden rays of sunlight made their last casting over bridges and buildings; shops and houses, the sky began to overturn a colour of indigo, slowly spreading over sheet of golden light in the air.

Sam had returned from a rather long and tireless walk to the city, desperately needing some space after their riveting chat that ended so peachy. Shortly after they made their deal to work everything out between them, Sam- as well as Dean- needed time to think it over. He needed to sort out everything from the start to the last thing either one of them did that left the other to feel angry or betrayed.

And that was Dean lying to him about Gadreel; not that lying wasn't common between them.

Sam walked in and was greeted by the sight of Dean innocently- well not innocent at the moment- watching one of his racy movies of Casa Erotica and heartily grubbing on banana-cream pie.

Of course, he would have settled for cream-pie itself. Any day.

As he walked down the steps, anticipating every second with a stubborn confidence to say what he had to say to Dean, he rubbed his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans, chiding himself for feeling nervous.

Dean noticed him coming and froze with a face expression devoid of any emotion.

"I've been thinking," said Sam. "And maybe talking about it will help us."

Dean's mouth, which was ajar- possibly waiting to close in on a spoonful of pie, that was conveniently in his hand- closed, his mouth a thin line of imperceptible emotion.

The two brothers stared at each other for a full minute; Dean clearly taken back by Sam's unpredictable statement, and Sam, waiting with agonising patience for Dean's response.

Finally, after what seemed like one slow hour, Dean cleared his throat; put his spoon down and paused his movie.

This time, when he looked at Sam, his eyes bared nothing more than the sole look of faded strength, a gaunt expression giving Sam his response.

"Agreed." He said. A one-word response, which to Sam, was the only response needed at the moment.

No explanation; no hesitating; just one word indicating he wanted the same thing.

"So when do we start?" asked Sam, trying to hide his eagerness to open up a new beginning. "Soon?"

"Damn right, we're starting soon?" He said matter-of-factly, not even hesitating to think about it.

Sam was caught by surprise at this. He hadn't really thought about Dean's take on the situation. For all he knew, Dean could've been just as eager, but at the same time, just as desperate to start anew again.

"Really?"

He took a deep breath; clearly about to say something long and rather pertinent. "Sam, I can't sleep another night, knowing I have a little brother just a few feet away probably hating me for everything I've done to him." He averted his eyes to the half-eaten pie on the table. "Or everything he's done to me. I mean, I thought I could handle it; given everything we've been through I figured this would be a piece of cake. But it's not. It's been eating away at me until I just couldn't take it anymore."

Dean brought his pleading eyes back to Sam's. "I need this just as much as you do. That's why I want to do it soon. I can't continue ignoring the elephant in the room and pretending we're living some 'Sunshine and Rainbows' life with each other. Not while there's still so much crap we've got to string out."

Sam nodded, both understandingly and empathetically toward Dean's point. He too couldn't go on that way. "So we start soon. How about a fixed time?"

"How about tomorrow? The faster we start this, the easier it'll be afterwards."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

And with that, he strode to his room, but upon leaving, he looked at his older brother.

"And Dean?" He looked up at Sam, who was smirking impishly. "Porn and pie? Try and control yourself, will you?"

Dean smiled haggardly, a tone of mischievousness tugged on it. "No promises, Sammy."

It took him a few moments to realise that his eyes were aimlessly skimming through the words in front of him, but he wasn't paying attention to anything he was reading.

Sam huffed in annoyance.

Reading himself to sleep was supposed to be the last- and only- antidote he needed, and unfortunately the last one he had, but even that didn't live up to its expectations.

Knowing that sleep would be the farthest thing from his mind for now, he hauled himself off the couch and went upstairs, out the door and simply stood outside, spending his sleepless hours admiring the night-sky instead of wasting efforts to snooze away.

The midnight hours were definitely a beautiful sight from where he stood. From the glowing lights of the city expanse to the faint silhouettes of the mountains far away, Sam couldn't help but stare in pure amazement at the sight in front of him.

He wondered how something so elegant and striking like the scenery in front of him held together for so long. After everything that had happened- the demons escaping from hell; Lilith breaking the sixty-six seals; the apocalypse starting; Lucifer breaking free and the angels falling from heaven- he just couldn't believe that something so alluring and exquisite could last all that.

Even as he looked up to gaze at the night-sky, he marvelled over the millions of starts fabricating the dark expanse like diamonds, only to match a full moon- its circular shape reflecting light around itself to illuminate the darkness to a certain distance. A flashlight.

He preferred this much more than staying inside.

As he continued to gaze down from the star-filled night to the sparkling lights of the city life far ahead, he thought over that last few sentences he shared with Dean earlier that evening.

They had both decided to start working their problems the next day and continue until all the weight; all the leverage between them was ultimately gone. And for the first time in what seemed like years, they could go back to being the Winchester brothers.

At that moment, Sam smiled to himself feeling hope rise up in him and filling every part of his body to the tips of his being. It felt so alien. It had been too long since it happened to him, and to feel it once again made him even happier than he let on.

Ultimately, he knew he wasn't getting any rest tonight. Not when they had a lot going on tomorrow.

Sleepless nights, Sam thought, were a pain in the ass.