Pound. Lick. Bite. And repeat. Over and over, throughout the night. Two bottles gone and you finally look up at the clock. The fucking thing probably stopped ages ago. I sigh, turning back to my magazine. You slam some more back and I hear you gasp after each fiery mouthful. I finish the book, chucking it onto the bed beside me irritably and start watching you, my older brother. You grind your palms into your eyes, glancing at me with that always sharp gaze even though you're stone drunk. You go back to drinking. I snort, running a large hand through my thick messy hair, the dark locks falling about my eyes. All I hear are gasps, clunks and soft sloshing noises. I'm honestly amazed at how much Dean can drink, but who can blame him since Dad...

"That bastard...Shoulda told us he was off hunting. He shoulda bin back hours ago. Fucker."

You're so drunk you don't remember that Dad died. So drunk you probably don't realise I'm your little brother. I contemplate you as you mumble incoherently into a shot glass, flush with see-through liquid. You've given up on Tequila shooters, just having it neat.

"Shoulda gone hunting with him. I shoulda...S'all my fault. 'S never coming back now...Oh shit!"

You thump onto the table, tears flowing thick and fast down stubbly cheeks. You shake, curling like you've been physically hurt. I walk cautiously over to you, crouching next to the shuddering form which is you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You turn, anguish clear in those beautiful green eyes.

"I'm so sorry Sammy, I didn't protect you..." An emerald gaze sweeps over the scars on my naked torso, the hot weather having forced me to remove my shirt." I wasn't a good brother, I coulda done better, I cou-"

You slump into me, pressing your face into my shoulder and wrapping your arms around my chest. I simply hold my older brother, because I can't think of anything to say. We stay like that for ages, until the tears stop and you sober up enough to stand. You sway dangerously, so I carry you across the single roomed house were squatting in. I deposit your built body on the single bed, pulling your shirt off and tucking you in.

"Your gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning Dean..."

You smiled softly, snuggling into the pillows. I turned, content with sleeping on the couch.

"Sammy? Sleep with me tonight?"

I bit my lip, nodding gently. I shed my belt, aware of your eyes on me. I debated taking of my jeans but thought better of it so I turned off the dim little light. I think you moved over, because when I felt for you so I didn't sit on you, there was only a mildly warm patch of sheets. Sinking into the bed, you shuffled closer until you rested your head on my bare chest.

"Sorry..."

I slunk an arm around your waist, feeling my own tears across my face. I murmured into his hair, on the brink of sleep, something I had been trying to deny for 20 something years.

"I wouldn't have wanted to be brought up any other way..."