A/N: Just a reminder: There's going to be a fanfic author's convention in Roanoke, VA on July 16th. "Your favorite authors and their favorite fans, face to face for their favorite charities.". For more information, go to: www dot xenascully dot com. I've been waiting for someone to do this - I can't wait to get there. I hope you'll be there too!

The Lucky Charms were gone and the used coffee cup was sitting on the bedside table. Sammy still sat in Dean's lap, resting against Dean's bent knees. He had one of Dean's index fingers in each of his chubby fists. He was looking kind of droopy.

Dean thought about tucking them both in to sleep again, but he liked just sitting, watching Sammy play with his hands, watching him pull his hands close and look at them, then shake them, one at a time, then both together, and then he'd laugh.

Yeah, Dean could spend a little more time, just sitting here, enjoying Sammy enjoying himself.

Then, with a suddenness Dean remembered from twenty-five years before, Sam dropped his fingers, and pushed off his lap.

"Gotta go bathroom."

"Okay." Dean stood up from the bed. "You need help in there?"

"I do it!" Sammy insisted, arms crossed, giving Dean an indignant glare. Dean held his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, just checking. Go ahead."

As Sammy trundled off to the bathroom, Dean checked on Sam. He didn't think - not anymore - that he was stuck in a weird dream. He wasn't sure what he was stuck in, but even if he wasn't stuck anywhere, he'd be checking on Sam.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to feel Sam's forehead. When he was coming down from the seizure, Sam had been cold and clammy, with a heart rate in the low hundred and tens. Now, he was warm and okay.

"Go 'way." Sam said into his pillow, sounding groggy and annoyed. "So what if my socks don't match? Who's gonna see 'em anyway? Go 'way."

Dean looked at Sam's feet, expecting a white and a black sock, but he only saw two white socks. So what was Sam talking about? Except - Dean looked again and saw that one sock had a gray heel and one didn't. So Sam was wearing mismatched socks, like Sammy was.

Weird.

Just to check, Dean peeled back the bedspread, but both of Sam's shirts were right side out.

"I did too put clean underwear on this morning." Sam muttered.

"Dude, too much information." Dean said as he tucked the bedspread back around Sam. "Go back to sleep. Wouldn't want you to see yourself. That might be crossing the streams."

"Hunh?"

Sam turned his head to look at Dean but squeezed his eyes shut and turned back into the pillow with a muffled grunt of pain.

"Head's no better?" Dean asked.

"Is like acid reflux on the brain." he slurred into his pillows.

"Nice visual. Want another pill?"

When Sam didn't answer, Dean thought - hoped - he'd gone back to sleep.

"Sorry y'always had t'take care of me."

"I never took care of you because I had to." Dean said. "I always took care of you because I wanted to."

Sam didn't answer for a short space again. Then he said,

"It was worse this time."

Dean knew that. Sam had been out longer this time. Twice as long as last time. So he'd spent two weeks back in hell this time.

"So -." Sam started and stopped and took a deep breath that might've been a sigh. "It'll probably be even worse next time."

Dean rubbed Sam's arm.

"I'll be here next time, too."

"I know." Sam said, and Dean could hear the relief and confidence in his voice. Then Sam reached up and patted Dean's hand on his arm. He wrapped his hand around Dean's index finger for a few seconds then let go with a sigh and relaxed into his pillows.

Just like that he was asleep.

The flush of the toilet reminded Dean of his other Little Brother. He double tucked the blankets around Sam and went to check on Sammy. He found him at the sink, stretching up, trying to reach the faucet.

"Need a hand there?"

"Nuh - I got it." Sammy said, the strain of his effort sounding in his voice. He was on his tiptoes, arm stretched as far as it could go and then some and still falling short of the faucet, with the tip of his tongue just poking out at the corner of his mouth.

"Okay, if not a hand, how about two arms?" Dean asked, and scooped Sammy up so he could reach the faucet and soap. When the little hands were washed and dripping, Dean looked at both of them in the mirror. Sammy let himself be held there, looking up at Dean in the mirror, not squirming or whining to be let down.

"I'm sorry." Dean said. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. Sammy kept staring at him.

"Don't be sad, Dean."

"Can't help it sometimes, tiger. Just can't help it."

He set Sammy down and gave him a towel to dry his hands, then put his hand on Sammy's head to lead him back to the bed. Maybe he could get Cas to haul feathers down here to get Little Sammy back where he belonged, and see if he could make Big Sammy's headache go away.

Sam was still asleep as Dean and Sammy walked past. Dean wondered if Sam's head hurt even while he was asleep. If nightmares waited for him there in the darkness. If the nightmares took turns chipping away at the Wall.

Under his hand, Dean felt Sammy shudder.

"Scary." Sammy whispered, eyes wide staring at Sam, taking a wide berth around Sam's bed.

"What's scary?" Dean asked him. He lifted Sammy into his lap as he sat on his own bed. "Is there anything you can tell me about what's scaring you?"

"Nuh unh." Sammy shook his head. "Is not scaring me. Is scaring you. Is scary when you scared."

"So - you're scared 'cause you think I'm scared of something? Hey, you know me, Sammy. I'm not scared of anything."

Sammy sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the sides of his hands. He slouched into a hunch and tilted his head up and pouted up at Dean.

"You scared. I don't like when you scared."

Dean pulled him closer, feeling the little body still shuddering.

"What is it you think I'm scared of?"

Sammy took a deep breath and looked over at his full grown self asleep on the other bed. When he answered, he sounded like he was crying.

"You scared of me."

to be continued