Dean's second night in Madison's house found him unable to sleep more than just an hour. It was more than just whatever illness he was battling that kept him awake. He felt unprotected in the house. He couldn't put down salt lines. He couldn't draw any protective sigils on the walls, doors, or floors. His knife and gun were hidden somewhere, and without some sort of weapon near his bed, he couldn't fall asleep. He thought about sneaking out to get a weapon from the trunk of the Impala but thought better of it.

He had only been able to fall asleep earlier in the day simply because Madison was still awake. Even if he barely knew her, he felt confident that Madison could hold her own against anything that could possibly try to harm either one of them.

Now, though, it was well after midnight, and he was pacing up and down the hallway. His stomach finally settled, and despite his illness-caused exhaustion, Dean couldn't remain in the bed. His racing thoughts wouldn't allow him to sleep.

A creaking floorboard broke the nearly suffocating silence in the house. Dean froze for a moment. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Madison up.

After waiting a few more seconds to ensure Madison was still asleep, Dean went to the guest room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He wanted to sleep, but his restless mind wouldn't let him. He looked out the window and noticed that there was actually moonlight shining on the yard. It was a good sign that the storm had finally begun to move out. He wasn't even sure when it stopped snowing. His thoughts drifted to his Dad, on another hunt without him. John had called again a few hours before to check on him again. Guilt and shame hit him as he realized he really had screwed up a solo hunt that his Dad had thought he could handle. Ever since Sam left for college, Dean struggled to adjust to hunting without someone who always had his back.

He thought of Sam, away at Stanford. His little brother finally had his chance at a normal life. A small part of Dean hated Sam for it but also loved the fact his brother found a way out. Dean didn't know how to live without Sam. With John gone more often than not during the boys' childhood, Dean had spent nearly every moment of his life with Sam nearby. Without Sam around, Dean felt like he didn't understand his purpose in life.

Their Dad was hell-bent on finding the thing that killed their Mom. Sam had gone off to college and seemed to have a pretty decent future ahead of him. Dean, on the other hand, had no idea what he should be doing. He only hunted because that was what his Dad had drilled into him. No, his real purpose—his job—was to protect Sammy. He couldn't do that with Sam gone. It left him wandering aimlessly and taking on any hunt his Dad had asked him to take care of on his own.

Dean glanced at the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand. 3:27 a.m. He sighed heavily and lay down in hopes he would eventually doze off. He wanted—needed—to sleep. The door to the room opened slightly from where Dean hadn't closed it back completely when he returned to the room. Dean couldn't stop from smiling as Remington padded over to the bed, his claws clacking against the wood floor. The dog rested its head on the edge of the bed and looked at him.

"Hey, boy," Dean scratched the dog behind his left ear. "Did I wake you up?"

Remington nuzzled against his hand before jumping up onto the bed. The large dog easily maneuvered himself to lie by Dean's side, turning his head just enough to rest it on Dean's chest. Dean chuckled as the dog lay there. He rested a hand on the Remington's neck. The dog's presence was oddly comforting. Remington seemed to know that Dean didn't truly want to be alone with his thoughts. And unlike a person, Remington would never ask him to talk about what was bothering him.

Dean fell asleep with his arm still around the dog.

When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains on the window. The second thing he noticed was that Remington wasn't beside him anymore. It took him a couple more minutes to figure out he could hear Madison distantly talking and moving stuff around. He couldn't ignore the sound of his growling stomach when he finally picked up on the smell of food cooking. That was the only signal he needed to get out of bed and go find Madison.

"No, Remi!" Madison's voice carried through the house from the kitchen followed by the unmistakable sound of a plate or some kind of dishware hitting the floor. Remington barked once. "Stupid dog."

He stepped into the room to find Madison picking up a small plate off the floor. Remington was happily eating the pieces of bacon that were scattered across the linoleum. Madison mumbled something that sounded like a threat to the dog, but it went unnoticed by Remington. She put the plate in the sink then turned to Dean.

"At least he didn't get all of it," Madison nodded toward a smaller plate with bacon on it sitting on the counter.

"Yeah," Dean grinned. Remington ate the last piece of bacon on the floor and padded over to greet Dean. "Although he might not appreciate you calling him stupid. He seems like a pretty smart dog to me."

"Most of the time he is," Madison conceded. "Unless bacon is involved. He'll tackle you for bacon."

"Don't be so hard on him," Dean patted the dog's head. "As hungry as I am, I'd probably tackle someone for bacon right now too."

"At least your appetite is better than it was yesterday," Madison said sincerely.

"It definitely is," Dean yawned. "I do feel a little better. Still tired, though."

"I'd say so," Madison studied him for a moment. "You were up and down a lot last night. I'm surprised there's not a ditch in the hallway with as many times as I heard you walking up and down it."

"Sorry," Dean apologized almost automatically. "I didn't mean to keep you up."

"Oh, you didn't," Madison smiled. "I stayed up late last night to work on some things. And even if I had been asleep, I wouldn't have been upset about it. You know you could've come talk to me, right?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "You don't need to hear about my problems."

"But—"

"I'm not talking about it," Dean said firmly then softened his voice. "Look, Madison, I know you want to help. Really, I do. It's just—"

"You don't want to burden someone with your problems?" Madison offered.

"Something like that," Dean shrugged then looked at the food Madison had prepared. "Please tell me you didn't do all of this because of me."

"What, I can't be a generous host?" Madison laughed. "I figured you might be hungry since you didn't eat that much yesterday. Besides, it's not often that I have company. Might as well make the most of it before you get the hell out of here, right?"

"I guess," Dean chuckled. "You really didn't have to do all this."

"Yeah, I did," Madison winked at him. "Grab a plate off the counter there and eat as much as you want. There's fresh coffee there in the pot by the sink. I was just about to pour myself some before I had to stop Remi's attempt to eat everything."

"You know," Dean smiled at her as he picked up a plate that Madison had put on the counter. "I think I might just love you now."

"Men," Madison shook her head and tried to hide her smile. "You're all the same. You only love a woman for the food she cooks."

They each piled food onto their plates, poured themselves a cup of coffee, and took a seat at the dining table. Madison told him the weather report had said the storm had finally moved out, but more snow was forecast later that night when another system was supposed to move through. Dean continued listening as Madison recounted some stories of past snowstorms. All the while, he would casually reach down and give Remington pieces of his breakfast. He just couldn't say no to the true puppy dog look Remington would give him.

It was almost the same kind of look Sam had always given Dean when the younger brother wanted something he knew he wasn't supposed to have.

Dean tried not to think about the fact his brother hadn't called or texted him in so long. It hurt to know Sam could be angry enough to not wish him a happy birthday for the first time since Sam had been able to read a calendar and know which date was Dean's birthday.

"Dean?" Madison's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" she questioned. "You sort of spaced out for a second."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically.

"If you say so," Madison shrugged, getting up from the table and taking her empty plate and coffee mug to the sink. She turned back to look at him. "Cheer up, Dean. Today is bound to be better than yesterday or the day before."

"Right," Dean scoffed. "You have no idea how much my life sucks."

He got up to put his dirty dishes into the sink and made sure to take a couple steps back away from Madison who remained leaning against the counter. Dean chose to focus on Remington, who chose that moment to whine loudly and look through to the living room.

"All right, boy," Madison said to the dog. "I'll let you out. I'll be back in a minute, Dean."

Dean felt relieved that Madison didn't push him to talk much. He knew she was curious about his behavior, but the less Madison knew about him, the better. Of course, Dean was curious about Madison as well. She seemed a little too calm for someone who had a stranger in their house.

The sound of his cell phone ringing caught Dean's attention. He hurried back to the guest room to get it. The name on the display made him freeze as he picked it up. He sat down heavily on the bed, trying to get his brain to send the signal to his fingers to push the right button to answer it.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned as he answered the phone. The phone screen might have said Sam was calling, but Dean still had to make sure.

"Yeah," Sam replied slowly. "And it's Sam, Dean. Not Sammy."

"I know," Dean admitted.

"I…Uh…" Sam sounded as though he was at a loss for words. "I heard from Bobby yesterday. I know it's been a while since the last time I called, but I just wanted to make sure you really were okay out there on your own."

"I'm a big boy, Sam," Dean responded. "It's not my first time hunting alone, you know. I didn't think you even cared about how I was doing anyway. The last time we talked, you told me you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

Dean hadn't meant for that last part to slip out. Of course he still felt hurt about the way Sam had all but abandoned him and their father. He spent a long time trying to stop being angry about all of that. It wasn't Sam's fault their lives weren't easy. Sam had worked hard in school to earn that chance to go to college. Dean had been stuck being Sam's guardian for so long in their father's absence that he had let his own grades in school fall to the wayside. None of that ever mattered to Dean as long as Sam could someday have a better life.

The problem was when the time came that Sam could have that chance at a better life, Dean hadn't been ready to let his little brother go. Ever since the night he carried his baby brother out of their burning home, Dean spent every waking moment ensuring that his brother was safe. He couldn't protect Sam while he was away at Stanford.

"Dean," Sam sighed, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "I was angry at you the last time we talked because you wanted me to come back into a life that I didn't want to be in anymore. I didn't mean the things I said. I'm sorry."

Dean knew what Sam was about to apologize for. And he hated that his brother felt like he had to apologize for trying to live a better life. Their lives were undoubtedly screwed up—had been for years—but Dean could never stay angry with his younger brother for wanting out of the life of a hunter. Even if it did drive him slightly crazy with worry by having Sam so far away.

"I'm sorry for leaving like I did," Sam's voice wavered slightly. "I'm sorry for the things I said when I left and after I left. I never meant to hurt you or Dad. I was just tired of the constant moving and the uncertainty about where we'd end up from one day to the next. I was tired of all the monsters. I was tired of waking up every morning wondering if I was going to ever see you or Dad again when you both would leave me behind in a motel room during a hunt."

"I know you were, Sammy," Dean tried to ignore his brother's annoyed sigh at the use of the nickname. "I'd give anything if I could've convinced Dad to give up on hunting what killed Mom, but I did what I could to make sure you had a decent childhood. I know I screwed up along the way—"

"Dean, you did more for me than any brother should ever have to do," Sam interjected. "Man, you were skilled with a shotgun by the time you were nine so you could protect us both when Dad was gone. No kid should have to know how to use a gun to protect his brother like that."

The conversation was heading down a road Dean didn't want to go down. An argument was seconds away if he didn't stop it. He was afraid of giving Sam a reason to never call again.

"So, Bobby told me you've met a girl," Dean abruptly changed the subject.

"Yeah, I did," Sam accepted the topic change. "Her name is Jessica, but she goes by Jess. We've not been dating too long though. We ran into each other a few weeks ago. Well, I ran into her. Knocked her down the stairs, actually."

"Smooth," Dean stifled a laugh. "I'm sure she was thrilled about that."

"Well, after she got done laughing at me freaking out and apologizing a dozen times, she told me I could make it up to her by buying her dinner later. So, I took her out for dinner," Sam laughed. "We got some odd looks because of the fact her arms and legs had big bruises on them from where she fell. After that, she told me she wanted to see me again."

"Only you could knock a girl down some stairs and have her fall in love with you."

"That's called talent," Sam teased. "You always said you were the one with all the charm in the family."

"So, what's she like?"

"If you think she's your type, you can forget it," Sam said, a playful tone undermining the seriousness. "She's out of your league."

"Then she should be out of yours too, if that's the case."

"Shut up," Sam retorted. "But enough about my love life. You don't need to hear all the details."

Dean couldn't stop himself from smiling. His brother sounded so happy. It actually made Dean feel slightly jealous that Sam really was living a normal life.

"I'm proud of you, Sammy," Dean said so quietly he wasn't sure his brother even heard him.

"For what? Having a girlfriend?" Sam laughed. "I'm pretty sure you know Jess isn't the first girl I've been with."

"No, Sam," Dean didn't even try to joke back. "I'm proud of you for doing what I was never able to do. You always could stand up to Dad. I only stood up to Dad during the times he almost went too far when arguing with you. I couldn't stand up for myself to him like you did."

"Dean…" Sam sighed. "Just because Dad trained you to be a soldier, that doesn't mean you have to go to war for him."

"That thing that killed Mom is still out there—"

"I know," Sam snapped. "Dean, we don't even know for sure what killed her. Dad's been on a wild goose chase for years. And what do we have to show for it? Nothing but the scars from close-calls and memories of a childhood that was spent being dragged from one side of this country to the another and back again. That was no way for either of us to live!"

"Don't you want that thing dead?"

"Of course I do, but Dean, how much longer are you going to follow Dad's orders? If he says jump, you always ask how high. You're better than that, Dean. You..." Sam's voice faltered. "You deserve the chance for a normal life too, you know. Stop fighting Dad's battles. You don't have to save everyone from every damn thing out there. And you definitely don't have to protect me all the time. Even when we were kids, you never put yourself first."

"Sammy," Dean tried to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. "I did all of that so—"

"So I would be safe," Sam interrupted, knowing what Dean was about to say. "I do appreciate it, Dean. And I don't care what anyone else says. I have the best brother on the planet."

"I've missed you, you giant dork."

"I've missed you too, Dean," Sam replied. "Happy birthday, big brother."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean smiled.

"You know, I've been waiting on the 'no chick flick moments' lecture," Sam laughed. The sound made Dean smile even more. "You getting soft now?"

"Shut up," Dean quipped. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam laughed again. "You know you love me."

"Yeah, I do. Even if you're the biggest pain in the ass I've ever known."

"Like you weren't a pain in the ass too?" Sam questioned. "I hate to do this, Dean, but I've got to go. I've got to head to class."

"Okay," Dean hated for the conversation to end. It had been so long since he last spoke to Sam that he was afraid it would be months before Sam called him again.

"I'll try to call again soon."

"Thanks for calling, Sammy."

Just like that, the phone call was over. Dean could barely believe that his brother had finally called him. And on his birthday, of all days.

He smiled and allowed himself to think, 'Maybe today won't be so bad after all.'