Note: So apparently I am one some sort of nightmare kick...this just sort of happened. Hope you like it.
Sam wasn't lying when he said that neither of us would be getting any sleep.
The poor kid couldn't seem to be able to fall asleep and I couldn't even try to until I knew that he was resting soundly.
"Sam, go to sleep." I sighed as I watched my little brother looking around the room.
He was lying on his stomach on the bed, his body still. That was partially how I knew he wasn't sleeping, the kid was a constant mover, always twitching and shifting in his sleep. I could also tell by his breathing, it was not slow and deep the way it gets when he's asleep.
"You first." Sam replied quietly, turning his head to look over at my bed.
"That's not how it works little brother."
"Why is that?" He asked, turning completely on his side to face me.
"What do you mean?" I wondered, returning the curious look I was getting.
"Why do I always have to fall asleep before you?"
"Not always, sometimes I fall asleep first. Especially when you go all insaniac on me."
"You mean insomniac?" Sam corrected me with a laugh.
"Yeah whatever."
"Still, even then you always try and stay up until I fall asleep."
"No I don't." I objected.
"Dean, you totally do. I watch you fight sleep for hours until you finally nod off."
"What's your point kid?" I questioned, somehow frustrated that Sam noticed everything.
"I'm just wondering why you do it. Why do you always have to be the last one to sleep?"
I looked at my little brother, unsure if he could see my raised eyebrows.
"You know why Sam." I stated, refusing to commit to an all-out chick-flick moment by spelling out the fact that I slept better when I knew he was peacefully and safely resting.
"Yeah, I suppose I do." The young man sighed.
We both laid in bed for a few silent moments before Sam spoke again.
"Do you ever get them…bad dreams?" He asked quietly.
"Uuhh I—
"Never mind, of course you don't. Stupid question." Sam muttered, looking away.
"I think I had some after mom." I admitted.
I watched my brother nod his head in understanding.
"So just when you were a kid?" He wondered.
"No." I answered simply.
I could tell by the silence that settled over us, that Sam was itching to know more, and I didn't want to share. But I knew that he was feeling ashamed of his nightmares, and if having a sharing-caring moment was going to take that shame away for my little brother, than share I will.
"After you went to school, I had…uhh, well nightmares I guess." I stuttered.
I said I would share, I didn't say I would be good at it.
"Of what?" Sam inquired.
"They were always about you, something happening to you." I explained, taking a breath before continuing.
"It went on for a couple months. The dreams would be different, but it was always something bad happening to you and me not being able to get to you. Not being able to save you." I finished, clearing my throat awkwardly.
"I didn't know that." Sam whispered.
"I never told you." I responded with a shrug.
"I had them when I was fourteen to…after…uhh…after what happened to you." I confessed quietly after a few more minutes of silence.
"Really?" Sam sounded surprised.
"Yeah, they weren't like yours, not that bad…but I had dreams that I didn't make it….that I didn't get to you in time." I admitted, trying to ignore the lump that had appeared in my throat.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam rasped with a voice full of emotion.
"Seriously Sam?" I huffed, looking over at the kid in disbelief.
My little brother just stared at me expectantly.
"Dude, you were dealing with enough shit. You had your own dreams to deal with. I wasn't about to tell you about mine. I wouldn't put that on you. You were only ten years old Sammy." I ranted, sitting up in bed to get a better look at him.
Sam sat up across from me, our knees touching as we looked at each other. There was enough moonlight coming in the window for me to get a full view of those puppy dog eyes.
"I know, I guess I just wish I could have helped you with them, the way you always helped me with mine…and still do." Sam expressed guiltily.
"You did little brother, you helped me." I insisted; ducking my head so I could make eye contact with Sam to be sure he believed what I was saying.
"How? I didn't even know you were having nightmares."
"You didn't have to."
Sam gave me a look of disbelief, so I elaborated.
"Sometimes I would hear you having a bad dream, and that would pull me out of mine. Or sometimes I would wake up out of mine and I would feel your skinny little octopus limbs holding onto me. And seeing you next to me, hearing you breathe, and feeling your heartbeat would calm me down instantly, and help me get back to sleep."
My god I was such a girl.
My brother looked unsure, peeking out at me from underneath all his hair.
"Sam you were just a kid, you couldn't help me the same way that I could you. But that doesn't mean that you didn't help in your own way." I tried to explain, needing my brother to understand that he had never let me down.
The young man stared at me a moment longer, searching for the truth of my statement in my eyes and eventually nodding his head in acceptance.
"So…are you not sleeping because you're afraid of the nightmares?
Sam looked down to the floor, hiding behind his hair. "I guess."
"Have you had…dreams of…you know…what happened. I mean since you were little have you had anymore nightmares about that…about him?" I questioned cautiously.
"Uuh, yeah. Just once." Sam shrugged.
I watched him, not wanting to force him to continue, but wanting to know more.
"It was sometime during my first year at school." Sam started, glancing between me and the floor as he spoke. "There was this criminology class I had to take and we would do case studies on different types of offenders. We would study their MO's and psychoanalyze them. Try and figure out what makes them tick and all that."
"Bet you were good at that." I said with a smile, he had been doing that all his life, mind you it was usually with supernatural creatures, not humans.
Sam smirked in response before continuing.
"Anyways, one day we studied pedophiles…"
I watched Sam intently, although it was hard to see his expression as he spent most of the time staring at the his feet. He was wringing his hands nervously as he hid behind his hair.
"We talked about their MO's. The general age of these…people, where they would hang out, what they often looked like, how they treated their victims, and how they behaved in society. And my god Dean, it was all so spot- on."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not totally catching on.
"I mean he fit the profile perfectly. The fact that he was overweight, that he was at least in his 40's, that he went after kids that were alone, that he lured them out and then became more aggressive if they stopped cooperating. The MO said that these guys were usually able to get away with what they did for years, because they came off so harmless to the rest of society."
I sat gritting my teeth as I listened. As though Sam could sense my growing anger, he got to the point quickly.
"Anyways, that lecture kind of brought up all that crap…and I dreamt of it that night…that week actually." He reminisced quietly, "Woke up screaming your name…scared the shit out of my roommate."
I cursed myself for not being there for my little brother.
"Don't do that Dean." I looked up at Sam's comment.
"Do what?" I asked innocently.
"Find a way to blame yourself."
"I don't blame myself…I just wish I could have helped." I confessed.
"You did." The simple statement was made in a confident tone and with the return of eye contact.
"What are you talking about?"
"After pretty much a week of interrupted sleep, or no sleep at all, I called you. You remember?"
I wracked my memory for a moment, thinking back, and recalling the event.
I was sitting on a couch in some chic's apartment, and that chic was straddling me, her short skirt riding up and her c-cups practically popping out of her tight shirt while her lips were locked on to mine.
Hands were wondering and tongues were mingling when I heard my phone go off, feeling the vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I dug it out without removing my lips from hers. I had no intention of answering, but I was curious about who was calling, seeing as how John doesn't usually call when he's travelling and not many other people had this number.
I sent a sidelong glance at the glowing screen, pulling back immediately at the sight of the illuminated name 'Sammy'.
"Dean." The girl whined as I leaned back away from her.
"Sorry doll I got to take this." I responded, flipping my phone open.
"Hey Sammy, what's up?" I asked casually, as though my brother regularly called me at two in the morning on any given day.
"Hi Dean." The voice was soft, but not panicked. I took in a breath, it didn't seem the kid was in danger, but something was most definitely wrong.
"What's going on?" I wondered aloud.
"Nothing…I…I just wanted to talk…if that's okay…do you have a second?" The request was timid and embarrassed, but what really caught me was a tinge of something else, either fear or sadness…I couldn't quite peg it, but regardless, something needed to be fixed.
And just like that, the hot chic currently sucking on my neck was of no importance to me.
"Yeah we can talk. Just give me a second alright?"
"Sure."
"Sorry babe I got to go." I told the girl still straddling me, holding the phone to my chest so my little brother didn't hear.
"Awe come on Dean, nothing can be that important." She crooned.
"You're wrong. I have to go." I stated shortly, my patience wavering as I carefully tried to push her off me.
"Baby they can wait." She insisted, attempting to return her lips to mine.
"No they can't. Now get the fuck off me." I ordered. Fun and games were over, I needed to talk to my little brother and this bitch wasn't letting up, or getting off.
"Wow, sorry. I was under the impression you wanted to have a little fun." She complained petulantly as she climbed off me and sat on the couch with her arms crossed…pouting…what an attractive feature.
I didn't grace her bitching with a reply as I got up and picked my jacket up off the floor, going to slip my boots on.
"Is that your wife on the phone or something?" Asked Julie…Janet…Janice? Whatever the hell her name was.
I rolled my eyes as I found my second boot and slipped it on my foot, heading for the door.
"Well I hope your phone call is fucking worth it!" She called out as I opened the door.
"Oh it's worth it." I stated as I left the apartment.
"Sammy? You still there?" I asked, placing the phone back against my ear as I made my way down the hall, trying to remember how to get out of this building and where I parked the Impala.
"Yeah Dean. You didn't have to leave…you could have told me you were busy—
"Shut up Sam. What do you want to talk about?" I asked casually, trying to subtly get to the bottom of the real purpose of this phone call, but in no rush to do so. I missed my little brother, and if he wanted to spend the next hour talking about the weather, I would do it.
"Anything. How are you?" Sam asked, his tone the same as it was when he first said my name, and it was getting to me.
"I'm good. Just finished up a hunt." I aimlessly filled Sam in on the hunt I just completed as I found the Impala and started driving back to my motel.
"You did it on your own?" Sam questioned quietly, and I hated that I could hear the guilt in his voice.
"Yeah, it was simple enough, so Dad went to take care of something." At the absence of any response I continued. "He's on his way back to town though, should be here by tomorrow afternoon."
My attempt to ease my little brother's fears seemed to work as I heard him release a relieved sigh from the other end of the phone.
"You don't have to worry about us Sammy. We can take care of ourselves." I assured.
"I know, but I prefer it when you take care of each other." Sam said.
I didn't have much of a response to that, but I wondered something.
"That why you called man? You worried?" I inquired.
"I'm always worried Dean." Sam admitted.
I understood that, because not a day went by where I didn't worry about my little brother.
"Well you shouldn't be. Me and Dad are all good here. You just worry about school and getting all A's."
Sam made no reply, so I continued.
"How are things going there? How's school?" I asked.
"It's fine. Busy." I gave my little brother time to elaborate, time which he did not utilize.
"Geez Sam, don't go in to too much detail." I mocked sarcastically.
"Sorry, I'm just tired." Sam replied, in a voice that reflected perfectly what he had said.
"Then go to sleep." I suggested simply.
"I will…just wanted to talk to you."
"That's it? You didn't call for any other reason?" I said, searching for the truth.
"I didn't know I needed another reason." Sam answered miserably.
"You don't. I just feel like there is something you're not telling me."
The silence I received from the other end confirmed my suspicions.
"You going to let me know what's going on?"
I waited patiently as I drove in the dark, absently glancing at the passenger seat, feeling the familiar pang of sadness that hit me every time I looked over and didn't see a skinny, shaggy-haired kid.
"I just wanted to talk, that's all."
I knew that he was lying and so did he. I also knew that if my little brother didn't want to share, he wasn't going to; he was such a stubborn little shit. But I could tell that he wasn't in danger, so I decided to let the matter slide, and just be glad that I was talking with him..
"So talk. How are your classes going?"
We spent almost two hours discussing everything from school to sports, and even the weather.
I was reclined in bed at the motel talking to Sam when I noticed that it was almost four in the morning.
"Don't you have school tomorrow?" I inquired.
"Yeah." Sam released a long weary sigh; it seemed to me that the kid was doing a whole lot of sighing, evidence of his mood I supposed.
"Well don't you need to get some shuteye?" I asked genuinely curious. My brother always took school very seriously, and whenever it was possible he would always try to get enough sleep to be able to focus in class the next day.
"I guess so." Sam responded quietly.
"You don't want to be walking around like a zombie all day."
"I know, I have a day full of classes tomorrow…so I should probably get some rest."
"Good idea little brother." I said with a smile, somehow finding myself quite content that the kid sounded as reluctant to hang up on me as I was to hang up on him.
"You ever need to talk again just give me a call. Okay Sammy?" I insisted, trying to make sure he understood that I was no more than a phone call away.
"Yeah, thanks Dean." Sam whispered shyly.
"Anytime little brother." I responded with a smile.
I was waiting to hear the click, never the one to hang up first when my kid was on the other end. I waited, still hearing him breathing.
"Sammy?" I asked after a moment.
"Dean…would you mind…uhh, if you could…"
"What is it Sam? Spit it out kiddo." I said, wondering what had my well-spoken little brother so tongue tied.
"Could you leave a voicemail on my phone?" The question was almost hard to hear, I could sense the young man's embarrassment from the other side of the phone.
"Why? I'm not following here Sam." I explained, trying to figure out what the kid was getting at.
"It's just…I need… could you please just do it Dean?" The young man stuttered out.
"You want me to leave you a voicemail on your phone?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, about what? What do you want me to say?" I quiried.
"Anything…just…talk."
I gained a little more understanding from those three words. The voicemail wasn't about content, but my voice.
Maybe Sam was missing me almost as much as I was missing him; maybe he just needed to hear my voice, but if that was the case…
"Sam, if you ever need to hear from me, just call." I suggested.
"I know…it's just I can't always call…and you might be busy…just… could you do it Dean. Please?"
I could practically see my kid staring at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes, and I caved like I always did when I actually could see that expression.
"Sure Sammy, no problem. I'll call after you hang up and leave you a message." I promised casually, as if this request wasn't completely strange.
"Thanks Dean." The relief in Sam's voice was all I needed to hear.
"Don't mention it little brother."
Again I lay there listening to the man on the other end of the line breathing, waiting for him to hang up the phone. Minutes passed by and I could tell that Sam was tired, could hear it in his breathing pattern that sleep was pulling at him.
"Go to sleep Sammy." I ordered softly.
"Ok Dean." The quiet obedience was all the proof I needed to know that Sam was already half asleep.
He hung up shortly after. I waited for a moment before calling him back. Listening to it ring, at the beep I began to talk. I didn't say anything deep or emotional, I'm not a girl.
I rambled on about the infomercial that was playing on the motel television. I mocked the stupidity of the product and went on a tangent about how nobody needs a magnetic toothbrush. I kept talking until the machine cut me off in the middle of my idea for a toothbrush that doubled as a razor.
I went to close my phone and turn in for the night, when I suddenly decided to redial. I got the machine again, I finished my thoughts on the convenience of an all-in-one bathroom tool, and then I ended on a more sentimental note.
"Goodnight Sammy."
Feeling satisfied, I closed my phone, putting it on my bedside table. As I moved around on the mattress to get comfortable for the night, I turned and looked across the room at the bed furthest from the door.
For a second I could almost see a scrawny, long-limbed, shaggy-headed, little brother lying there. I fell asleep staring at the empty bed, wishing that it was occupied by my brother.
I did find some comfort in the fact that the kid was safe and he was at school and he was free of a life that he never wanted. I made a mental note to drop by Stanford and check in on the little brat next time I got the chance.
The last thought I had was of that chic I had left earlier.
"Hell yeah it was fucking worth it." I said aloud, as though Janice…Janet…Jane…whats-her-face, was in the room to hear my response.
"Sammy's always worth it."
"Do you remember Dean?" The question brought me back and I looked up to see Sam staring at me intently.
"Yeah, I remember when you called. That was after a nightmare?" I asked.
"That was after a week of nightmares. I wasn't able to fall asleep, either out of fear of having one of those dreams, or because I had already woken up from one. I was averaging about two hours of sleep a night. I had tried everything: tea, music, reading, running, drinking. None of it worked."
"So you called me." I declared.
"Yeah, after talking to you I was able to fall asleep, that was the first night in a week I didn't dream of what happened." Sam finished quietly.
"So the voicemail? You used that to help you sleep?" I wondered aloud, just now piecing all of this together.
"Yeah. It was the only thing that worked, used it for a few weeks." Sam admitted.
"You could have just called me you know." I added after a moment of silence.
"I know." The young man sighed with a nod of his head.
"I just didn't want to bother you every night, and I knew you would be busy some times, and a lot of the time we weren't even in the same timezone." Sam explained.
"None of that matters Sammy. I still would have picked up." I swore, catching the kids eyes, so I was sure he believed me.
"I know Dean." Sam said with a soft smile.
I nodded my head, satisfied that he got the message.
Sam yawned tiredly.
"Dude you got to try and get some rest. You're still healing, you need it." I insisted, looking the tired kid over.
"I'm already healed Dean."
"Yeah? Want me to take another look at your back?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"It's just a few bruises."
"Ha! Did you forget that after that shifter kicked your ass we went to the clinic? And the doc said that you had two broken ribs and deep tissue damage and that those bruises go all the way down to your muscles. And that's just your torso. I'm not even going to bother listing all the other damage that my body double did to the rest of you. Unless you need me to?"
"No I'm good." Sam sulked.
"Good, now stop pretending that you aren't hurt. And get some sleep." I ordered.
"It's not that easy Dean."
"It is, you just close your eyes and stop talking. Your body is tired Sam, it'll do the rest for you."
"I know I'm going to dream of him tonight." Sam's haunted voice made me cringe.
"Maybe, but then you'll wake up, or I'll wake you up." I reasoned.
Sam looked up at me, his face full of fear and his posture exhibiting a certain unease.
"You can't deprive yourself of sleep because you're afraid of what you might see."
"No Dean, I am afraid of who I will see." Sam responded darkly.
I made to reply, to ease his fears and reassure the kid, but he spoke before I got that chance.
"You don't know what it's like man."
"I do Sammy, I told you a dreamt of what happened when I was younger."
"Yeah, but could you hear him? Could you see him over top of you? Could you feel the ropes tearing at your skin? And the mattress springs digging in to your back? Can you smell his breath? And feel his hands?"
My body shuddered at the questions as well as the terrorized tone in which they were delivered.
"Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to freak you out." My brother apologized, upon seeing my reaction..
"It's okay Sam. I didn't know they were that bad." I confessed softly. Never remembering ever having a dream that was so intense and detailed…and then realizing that Sam wasn't just having nightmares, he was reliving a memory. His dreams were more real because they weren't so much dreams as a recollection of actual events.
"It's just… it's hard to go to sleep and know that he's going to be there." Sam explained softly.
I knew that I needed a new strategy. That just telling Sam to go to sleep wasn't going to work because his fear was too real and too strong.
"Let's go watch some tv." I suggested, standing from my bed.
"What? Weren't you just telling me to go to sleep?" He questioned.
"Yeah, but clearly that's not happening. I don't see much point in just lying here all night. So let's go downstairs and see if we can find something to watch on one of Bobby's three channels." I said with a touch of a smile.
Sam looked up at me curiously and then simply shrugged, getting to his feet and following me out of the room.
Watching him shuffle slowly down the stairs I could tell how jacked up his back still was.
"You got take a seat. I'm going to grab a beer."
"Okay, grab me one to." Sam requested as he moved into the sitting room.
"Here." I said, handing my brother a can of pop as I sat down beside him on the couch holding my beer.
"Hey, why don't I get one?"
"Because you can't drink it with these." I informed him, pulling his pain meds from my pocket.
"I'm not taking those." Sam rejected immediately, leaning away from them as though they'd burn him.
"Why? I can tell your back is killing you Sam. And you are past due for a dose."
"They make me tired."
It dawned on me that obviously someone who was afraid to fall asleep would not want to take medication that make you drowsy.
I debated on what to do, on one hand my kid was physically hurting and these pills would make that stop and on another hand he was emotionally hurting and these pills would make it worse. I was at a crossroads, and no direction seemed very promising. So I let Sam make his own decision. It was hard for me, but the kid decided that he would rather deal with the physical pain to avoid the emotional, so I would back him up on that…for now.
I made no comment as I dropped the pills on the wooden coffee table and leaned back against the couch sipping on my beer.
Sam watched me for a moment, seemingly surprised that I had dropped the matter so easily.
"Just like that?" He asked, eyebrows raised.
"Just like that." I confirmed with a nod.
Sam gazed at me quizzically before simply shrugging and turning his attention to the old western movie playing on the tv.
I watched him as he watched the screen, the room was dark but the glow of the television allowed me to see the fading bruises on his face and neck, as well as the pale pallor of his face, and the dark rings beneath his eyes.
I was going to have to find a way to help the kid get some rest. I had always been able to chase away his nightmares in the past, even when I didn't know that I was doing so. So I was sure as hell going to find a way to do it again; even though these nightmares were different…dark memories, rather than an angry imagination.
As I watched Sam tiredly lean on his side against the couch, avoiding any sort of contact being made with his messed up back, I vowed that I would find a way to make this better, to fix it.
I would find a way to help Sammy heal both physically and emotionally from all the pain he was in.
That perverted bastard had hurt my little brother enough; there was no fucking way I was going to allow that son of a bitch to continue to haunt my kid from the grave.
No Fucking Way.
Note: Please review/comment if you have a second. I would greatly appreciate it. I want to keep adding to this story, but it is good to know that people like it before I write more.
Thanks for reading! - Sam
