(This is set after season 4 episode 1 but no spoilers for that episode. There may be spoilers for season 3 episode 16 'No rest for the wicked.' This could take place any season after season 4 as well. This is not slash.
I don't own Supernatural.
This is unbeated so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
This is the first one I have done in first person so I hope you like it.
If you liked it, please leave a review.
And again, if you have a request please shoot me a PM or leave it in the reviews.)
Sometimes, he still dreams about it. I'll wake up and I'll hear him whimpering and a soft pleading coming from where he's sleeping, tonight is no different.
"No, please, Dean run. Dean? DEAN! No, no, no, you can't be dead. Please Dean."
It breaks my heart, I'm not much into 'Chick flick' moments, but when my little brother, what a joke, little brother, kid's taller than me a fricking sky scraper. Anyway. When I hear him cryin' out begging me to be alive I roll out of my bed kneel down beside his bed and wake him up.
Some nights he is so deep in his nightmare that it takes a few minutes of shaking to wake him up. Others, like tonight, all I have to do is touch his shoulder and he is sitting upright in bed his eyes, although I can't see them because of the dark, wide and searching. I turn the bedside lamp on and we are both pooled in a yellow glow making both of us look like we have some kind of illness.
"Sam?" I ask "You with me?" I touch his shoulder again and he jumps his hazel eyes find my green ones and before I know it Sammy is launching himself into my arms sobbing. I'm thrown at first because the last time he did this he was nine and Dad had yelled at him for not keeping up with me while we were doing our morning run. But soon my arms find themselves snaking around under his and I rub his back making shhing noises trying to get him to calm down.
"It's ok Sammy, its ok. Shh, deep breaths." I say making small circles in his back. He finally gets himself under control to where there are only a few small chocked out sobs and a hiccup.
"You going to be ok for a few minutes?" I ask. Sam nods and I move from the bed and make my way to the place that the motel calls a kitchen. More like a strip of counter with linoleum and a food spoiling fridge. I take out the half gallon of milk and pour some into a cup and stick it into the microwave to heat. It's something I use to do for him when he was younger. I'd make a glass of warm milk and if we had it I'd add in sugar and vanilla. I hear a noise and turn to see Sam moving a chair back from the table still not taking his eyes off me and sits down. He doesn't say anything but he watches as, when the microwave goes off, I reach into it and stir the milk around and then shut the door and punch it in for another minute. After the milk is done heating I go to the cupboard and grab one of those round sugar containers that they have now for small things of sugar that we got for Sam's coffee. I was getting sick and tired of going to take a gulp of my own only to cough up overly sweet caffeine, he can add his own sugar to his coffee, and add in a good amount and give it a stir. Wishing I had some vanilla to add to mask the taste of warm milk I go over and place it in front of him.
"Drink." I command and Sammy takes the cup in his hand and takes a sip.
"Want to talk about it?" I ask. Sam shakes his head so fast I'm worried that his head will snap off.
"Ok, we don't have to talk." I say. We sit in comfortable silence Sam finally finishing his milk and rinsing out the cup. Then he just stands there, unsure of what to do. I stand up and grab his arm and lead him to my bed. He starts to protest but then gives up, crawls on to the far side and rolls over facing the wall. I get in next to him and pull the blankets over us and turn so my own back is facing his and listen to his breathing as it slows to the deep even in and out breathing that sleep brings. Hopefully he is having better dreams then he was having. Even if he's not, I'll be here to chase the nightmares away.