Dean laughed, taking another sip of his beer and nodding. "I swear, man. She was all over me."

The guy sitting in the chair to Dean's left (Sean or Shane or something like that, Dean couldn't quite remember and didn't really care) shook his head in disbelief. "Damn, Winchester. Only been in town a month and the hottest chick here's already on your ass."

Dean shrugged, flashing a cocky smile. "Can't help the charm, man."

Another of the additional three jocks in the room (Chase, Dean actually managed to recall) raised his red, plastic cup into the air. "I'll drink to that."

Dean began to respond, but was stopped short when he caught sight of his younger brother standing in his doorway. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes were red, his face streaked with tears, and he was visibly shaking. He said nothing, and didn't move a muscle.

Dean stood and crossed the room to him, placing a hand on his arm and asking in a low, soft voice, "Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam still didn't speak, but his expression said it all. He was terrified.

"Nightmare?" Dean prompted.

Sam nodded. "Bad," he whispered. "God, Dean, it was so... real..." He stopped, a small sob escaping his chest.

"Okay," Dean murmured. "You're okay. I'm right here."

Sam clung to the front of Dean's shirt, his hand balling into a fist around the fabric.

Dean looked down at him, tucking a finger under his chin and raising his face. "Hey. You need me?"

Sam met Dean's eyes in disbelief, immediately understanding what he meant. When he had nightmares, especially as bad as this one, Dean would lie with him and just talk until Sam fell asleep before finally falling asleep himself, arms wrapped securely around Sam until they both woke the next morning. Leaving a group of people, booze, and discussions about sports and women, in his own home, to crawl into bed with his baby brother? Wouldn't that seem, to say the least, totally... not cool? "Really?"Sam asked timidly.

"Of course, baby boy," Dean quietly assured him without missing a beat, caressing his cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Give me five minutes, okay? I'll be right there." He thought for a second and added, "Wait for me on the couch," knowing full well that Sam wouldn't be able to enter his bedroom alone after one of his dreams. They were always set in his room for some reason, damn them. Sam started to turn toward the living room, but Dean caught his arm and stopped him. "Actually, hold on a second." He spun around so that Sam was standing in front of him and facing his... friends. "Guys, I'm not sure if you know from school already or not, but this is my brother Sam."

Chase could tell from the way Dean's arm was positioned protectively around the kid's shoulders that this was not a relationship in which the older brother and the people he hung out with picked on the younger brother. Dean seemed almost territorial over him. "Hey, Sam," Chase greeted carefully.

Sam gave him a watery smile. "Hi."

Dean squeezed Sam's bicep, pulling him a little closer. "He's kinda having a rough night, and I need to talk to him for a while. Sorry to just leave, but-"

Sam interrupted, tugging on Dean's sleeve. "You don't have to, De. I'll be okay. I can just-"

"Sammy. It's fine. I promise," Dean said, brushing Sam's long bangs out of his eyes. "Anyway, you can all hang here if you want, spend the night if you're not good to drive, hell, I don't care. Or you can head out. But I probably won't be back."

Grant, the other of the three men in the room unfamiliar to Sam, stood up, and when he spoke, his voice was extremely gentle and understanding. "C'mon, guys. Let's go. Let him take care of his brother."

The other two stood as well, and, nodding their assent without question, preceded Grant out the door, bidding their goodbyes to Sam and Dean on the way. Grant paused to clap Dean on the shoulder and said, "I've got one, too, man. No feeling in the world like when they're scared. All you wanna do's make it go away." He ruffled Sam's hair as he passed and followed the others out the door.

Once they were gone, Sam glanced up at Dean through his long lashes. "I'm so sorry. I'm fourteen years old, I should be able to deal with a dream. And you were having fun, and I-"

Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's. When he pulled away, Sam's eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed a bright shade of red. It wasn't the first time that it had happened, but it was the first time that it had been initiated by Dean, and Sam obviously wasn't sure how to feel about that. "It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispered. He wasn't sure if he was referring to what Sam had been apologizing for or what he'd just done, but repeated, "It's okay. You wanna... just sleep in here tonight? My bed's bigger, so we'll fit easier, and I know your room's not your favorite place in the world after a dream like that."

Sam just nodded.

"Alright." Dean pulled open his dresser drawer and extracted a pair of gray sweats, stripping off his jeans and shirt before slipping them on. "Get in."

Sam obediently lay back on the bed, allowing Dean to tuck the blankets around him and pull him against his chest.

"Wanna talk about it?" Dean asked, kissing Sam's hair.

Sam knew Dean was referring to the nightmare and shook his head no. "Not... not yet. Maybe in the morning. It's too new. You know? I can't handle it right now."

Dean pressed himself tighter against Sam's back. "Okay, baby boy. That's fine. You don't have to."

Sam rolled over to face Dean, tentatively placing a small kiss on his neck.

Dean sighed softly, resting his hand on Sam's lower back. "Try to go to sleep, Sammy, okay?"

"Talk to me," Sam commanded needlessly.

As always, Dean did. "When I was four years old, my parents brought home a baby. A little boy. He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I knew from the second they walked through the door with him that I'd spend the rest of my life doing whatever it took to keep him safe..."

Before Dean could get as far as his name, Sam was asleep.