Dean woke up in the middle of the night to find Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him.
"Sam? What's going on?"
"I love you."
Dean reached up and switched on the light. Sam winced in the sudden brightness.
"Are you drunk?"
"No." Sam said immediately. "Yes. Maybe. I think I took too many painkillers. I have a headache and I took three of the blue tablets you have in the plastic bag in your duffel."
"A headache?" Dean sat up."What'd you have a dream? A premonition?"
"No. No I didn't. It's a tension headache I think. It's going up the back of my neck."
"And you took three tablets?"
"I want it to go away."
"Well if three Fiorcet doesn't take it away, nothing will." Dean swung his feet out of bed, maneuvering so he was sitting next to Sam. "C'mon, let's get you back to bed. That's the best thing for a headache. And a Fiorcet overdose."
"I love you."
"So you said." Dean said. Sammy could be a sweet drunk.
"I just - if anything ever happened - again - I didn't want you to die thinking I hated you."
"Sam..." Was that what this was about? "Dad didn't think you hated him."
"You said. You said it. Back at the - when the - with the - the - clown. The killer clown. You said - you said it."
"Okay, I don't remember. What did I say?"
"You said - you said the last thing I did was pick a fight with Dad." And the look on Sam's face and the catch in his voice was heartbreaking and a bit woozily overdramatic.
"Sammy -."
"And I thought - we fight all the time too. I didn't want you to think - if anything happened -."
"Sammy - listen to me. Dad didn't think you hated him. Think about it. What was the real last thing you did before he died?"
"You said it - I picked a fight with him."
"No. You asked him if he was okay and then you went to get him some coffee. You wouldn't have done either of those if you hated him."
"I didn't hate him." Sam said. It sounded like he'd been saying it a lot to himself.
"I know you didn't. Dad knew you didn't. C'mon, back to bed. Get some rest and don't worry about it anymore. Okay? Dad knew you loved him. He knows you love him. Okay?" Dean waited for Sam to nod. "Okay. C'mon - beddie-bye time for little Sammys."
He pulled Sam to his feet and propelled him the yard or less to the other motel bed, then pushed him to sit down.
"Dean?"
"Lay down Sammy. Three Fiorcet is gonna take you down like an elevator if you don't lay down."
"Dean?"
"What?"
"Dad loved me, didn't he?"
"Of course he did. You know he did." Dean pulled the blankets out of the way and pushed Sam back toward his pillows. "You shoulda seen the look on his face whenever he talked to anybody about you Sammy. Dad loved you."
Sam nodded, he seemed to be satisfied with that answer. He was practically flat on the mattress when he pushed himself back up.
"Dean?"
Dean took a deep breath. "What?" He wanted Sam to go to sleep so he could go back to sleep. Sam reached up and awkwardly put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Dad loves you too."
"You think so, hunh?"
"I do. He did, I know. He did. I used to watch him, when he'd show you how to do something. Shoot a gun or – or – use a new weapon. Or when you'd fix the car together."
Dean shook his head and started to turn away. Sam grabbed him and turned him back.
"Whenever I wanted to learn to do something, he'd tell me, 'Watch Dean and you'll learn how to do it right.' I'd watch him watch you and I could see it. He loved you."
"Okay Sammy." Dean said. "Dad loved me."
"Dad loves you Dean."
"Okay. Now go to sleep."
"I love you too."
Dean smiled, and made plans to hide the Fiorcet. Sammy could be such a sweet drunk.
"I know you do. Now - go back to sleep."
Sam started to lie down then sat up again and gave Dean a fast hug around his waist.
"Goodnight Dean."
"Goodnight. Sammy." Dean patted his shoulder and ran a hand through Sam's hair. "Go to sleep."
"Mmm hmmm."
Sam lay down and Dean pulled the blankets up and sat on the edge of the bed a few minutes until he was sure Sam was sound asleep. Then he laid his hand on Sam's cheek.
"I love you too Sammy."
The End