"Dean." Sam's hoarse whisper broke through Dean's dreams.
"Wassa matter, Sammy?" Dean mumbled, rolling a little toward his brother's voice and rubbing his eyes.
"I had a scary thought." Sam's head was propped right on the edge of the bed, gazing at Dean with wide, anxious, hazel eyes that glowed in the dim light from the street.
Dean dropped his head back onto his pillow. "A dream, Sammy? You had a bad dream?"
"Uhh… I was jus' thinkin' about the tiger from the book at school and how quiet it was and it could sneak right up and it could eat Daddy and then it could eat you and then it could eat me and it would be so quiet and nobody could hear it and it would eat us, Dean. And-"
"Alright, alright. Its okay, Sammy. No tiger is going to sneak past Dad. Dad's too good. He's like Batman, or something."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Sammy. It's okay. Just go back to bed and sleep, alright?" Dean let his eyes drift shut, felt the warmth of sleep pull at him, forgetfulness dragging at his-
"Dean?" Dean almost sighed.
"What, Sammy?"
"Can I… Can I sleep in your bed?"
Dean cracked an eye open and peered at Sam through the darkness. Dad had been pretty emphatic that Sam sleep in his own bed. "Four years old is old enough, Dean. He needs to learn to sleep on his own, just like any other little boy his age." But any other little boy didn't have Dean for a big brother, and looking at Sam's face, pale, framed with chestnut curls, Dean just couldn't find it in him to say no.
"Sure, Sammy. Come on up." Dean pushed back the blankets and spread out an arm to curl around and pull his tiny brother close. Sam scrambled to oblige, quickly snuggling in against Dean, warm and comfortable. Dean's nose filled with the smell of baby shampoo and his constant heartache eased as he curled around Sam a little and fell asleep.
"Good night, Dean."
"G'night, Sammy."