Dean woke up in the middle of the night. No Sam. Usually that wasn't a problem, especially at Bobby's. But they were down to the wire now on the whole "stop the Apocalypse" problem and unless some ginormous last minute miracle appeared, in a couple of days Sam would be throwing himself into hell, trapped forever in a cage with evil in its oldest, purest form.
So Sam being anywhere away from Dean in the meantime was not a good thing.
He went downstairs and found Sam at the kitchen table. Working in the light of the small lamp that sat there, he was writing in his journal, dunking a tea bag in a cup, and eating something Dean couldn't make out from a plate in front of him. It could've been ten years ago, with Dean finding Sam awake at all hours, studying, doing homework, reading some book or another that had nothing to do with hunting.
It could've been, but it wasn't.
"Hey." Dean walked into the kitchen.
"Hey." Sam sounded happy to see him there. "Water's hot, want some tea?"
"Sounds good."
Dean took the seat across the table as Sam stood up and pushed the plate closer.
"Help yourself."
Up close, Dean finally realized what Sam had been eating. White toast, buttered and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Poor man's cinnamon toast. Sam had cut it into four fingers, they way he used to eat it when he was little. A couple times in their lives, they even had powdered sugar to make frosting for their bounty. No such luck this time apparently.
Dean picked up one of the fingers and took a bite. Sam's journal lay open on the table just in front of him. It was upside down, facing away, but like picking a lock or stitching a wound, reading things upside down was a handy skill in their line of work.
Thank you for carrying me out of the house the night Mom died
Thank you for how hard you had to work to give me as much normal in my life as you could
Thank you for teaching me how to drive
Thank you for all the times you made me laugh when I didn't feel like it
Thank you for all the times you didn't laugh at me when you could have
Thank you for always forgiving me
Thank you for believing in me, especially all the times I didn't want you to
Thank you for not asking me to not go to Stanford
Thank you for going to hell for me
Thank you for coming back from hell
Thank you for always being my big brother, even when I got bigger than you
Thank you for pushing the seat in the car back farther than was comfortable for you when my back hurt
Sam came back to the table then with a cup of tea for Dean.
"Thanks."
"Sure."
They drank tea and Sam pushed his journal a little out of the way, which was just a little closer to Dean.
"Can't sleep?" Dean asked, though it seemed a stupid, not to mention obvious, question.
"Making some notes." Sam shrugged like he knew that seemed a little absurd. Notes about stopping the end of the world? Like that situation was going to come up again? "Kinda hard habit to break."
"Yeah."
The toaster popped then and Sam got up again and Dean went back to his upside down reading.
Thank you for always making me sleep in the backseat even though the front seat wasn't comfortable for you either
Thank you for teaching me how to defend myself
Thank you for being there so often that I hardly ever HAD to defend myself
Thank you for liking Jess
Thank you for liking Sarah
Thank you for trusting me every single Groundhog Day even though every single time you thought I was nuts
Thank you for letting me have the last of the Lucky Charms
Thank you for always making me believe you never got scared
Thank you for kissing me goodnight every night when I was little
Thank you for wearing the amulet I gave you even when you were level 10 pissed at me
Thank you for convincing Dad to let me take soccer
Thank you for not calling me a freak, even once, even joking, since Jack Montgomery
Thank you for always putting yourself between me and any dangerous thing, even especially if sometimes that dangerous thing was me
Thank you for all the times you told me not to give up my faith and prayer, especially when you didn't believe in it
Thank you for all the times you didn't tell Dad I'd screwed up
Thank you for trying to push me out of myself after Jess died
Thank you for being the first thing I'd always see after I had a vision
Thank you for all the painkillers and water (that sometimes seem to magically appear) after I'd had a vision
Thank you for helping me plastic up my cast after I broke my arm whenever I took a shower
Thank you for cheering for me louder than anybody else got cheered for when I graduated high school
Thank you for knowing how much Dad loved me and I loved him, even when I was sure neither of us did
"Here we go, fresh…" Sam came back to the table with another small plateful of make-do cinnamon toast. "And this…" He set a teacup of powdered sugar frosting on the table and dipped a toast finger into it. "Almost like old times, hunh?"
"Almost…" Dean allowed. There'd been lots of times he'd watched Sam, looking for some hint that he was about to disappear again, to Flagstaff, to Pastor Jim's, to Stanford, to normal. He'd never had to look at Sam and know that he was about to lose him forever, with no hope of getting him back. No demon could open that cage and let Sam – and only Sam – out.
They finished the toast and their tea and Sam covered a yawn.
"I'm gonna head back upstairs…" Sam said. "I'm falling asleep sitting here." He put the empty plates and cups into the sink, and left the kitchen.
And left his journal behind.
Dean didn't turn it around, just in case Sam came back looking for it.
Thank you for all the times you said you understood, even when you didn't
Thank you for all the times you did understand, even when you thought you didn't
Thank you for constantly telling the universe and every single creature in it that I was worth more than they ever thought I was
Thank you for enduring all my 'chick flick' moments, including this one
Thank you for showing me that bravery doesn't mean not being scared; it means being scared shitless and going ahead anyway
Thank you for never needing or wanting me to thank you
Thank you that you will never forget me
Thank you for putting this in my backpack when you're done reading it and never mentioning it again
That last one made Dean look up, expecting Sam to be standing in the doorway, glaring or grinning at him. But the doorway was empty and the house was quiet. He grabbed the journal, turned off the lamp and took himself back upstairs.
Sam was in bed, with his eyes shut tight and the covers pulled tighter. Dean slipped the journal into Sam's open backpack.
"You're a smartass, you know that." He whispered.
"Yeah, I know." Sam whispered back, with more than a little smirk in his voice.
Ah, the hell with it. Dean reached down and ruffled Sam's hair. It was as close to a kiss goodnight as he was gonna get, even with the Apocalypse looming on their doorstep.
"Thanks, Sammy." He said, and his voice was rougher than he meant it to be. "I'll see you in the morning."
The End.
