Note: Three university exams this week...and what do I spend my time doing?! Writing this on my Ipod, which took a stupid amount of time. Hope you like it.
"I'm going to go see what's taking that kid so long." I declared.
Bobby glanced up from where he was reading at his desk and gave me a nod.
Even the older hunter hadn't neglected to notice that the shower had been running for the past fifty-two minutes.
Sam has never been one to be rushed, and god knows he had enough girlie hair to keep him under the water longer than I had to be. But nearly an hour was a long time, even by his standards.
I marched up the stairs and down the hall, stopping in front of the bathroom door and pounding on it.
"Sam! What the hell are you doing in there?"
I heard the water switch off.
"I'm showering." Sam responded shortly, clearly not impressed that he had to explain that to me.
"Yeah well I think you're clean. Besides, if you take any longer we are going to have to reimburse Bobby for his water bill." I pointed out.
I received no response, not even a snarky comment, which made me feel uneasy.
"Sam? You okay in there?" I asked.
"Fine."
Did my little brother seriously still not know that I could detect his lies coming from a mile off.
"You need help?" I questioned.
"I said I'm fine!" He snapped.
"Well it was just a couple days ago that you couldn't get your own damn shirt off, so excuse me if I don't buy that."
Sam grumbled a response, something about annoying big brothers, before the door separating us swung open.
Steam flooded out of the bathroom, filling the hallway.
"Dude. You trying to make your own personal sauna in there?" I asked, just barely able to see my brother past all the fog.
"I was not in there that long, Dean." Sam sighed petulantly.
"Yeah bro, you were. If you don't believe me just look at the cloud we are standing in right now." I pointed out with a smirk, gesturing around us.
The vapour cleared and I was able to see my little brother shake his head in exasperation, his drenched hair swinging from side-to-side.
It wasn't until Sam walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waste, that I noticed the violent red shade of his skin.
"Whaoh! Hold up. What the hell?" I barked, reaching out to lightly grasp Sam's arm, only to have him hiss and pull back. I released my hold, but moved so I was standing in front of my brother, blocking him from proceeding to the bedroom.
The young man's skin was bright red. Luckily his face looked normal, but everything else, from his neck all the way down his arms and torso, was red.
"You want to tell me why you look like a tomato?" I asked, my tone far from joking.
"It's nothing." Sam dismissed, moving to side-step me.
"Bullshit." I spat, stepping in his way.
"The water was just a little hot, that's all." He huffed.
"A little hot? That looks like first degree burn to me. What the hell were you doing? I mean, god, don't you have any sense!? Were you trying to burn your fucking skin off?" I shouted in aggravation, my gaze wondering over the discoloured skin.
My brother didn't get defensive, like I assumed he would. No, instead Sam's face fell and he directed his gaze down to the floor.
"Sammy? What's going on?" I inquired, my voice softer as I angled my head down to get a view of his face.
Sam brought his eyes up to meet mine, they were so full of despair that I was almost relieved when he directed them back to his feet.
"I just...I...I wanted to feel clean." He whispered brokenly.
My hear clenched.
"Sammy." I waited patiently for his hazel orbs to find my face.
"You are clean. You have always been clean. That bastard never tainted you. Not then, and sure as shit not now." I promised confidently.
Sam vigorously shook his head.
"You don't understand Dean."
I allowed him that, because no matter how much I wanted to, I would never really understand the damage that pervert did to my little brother. That was a fact I had been struggling to accept for over a decade. And I was no closer to accepting it now than I had been when I was fourteen.
"What don't I understand?" I questioned gently.
Sam pulled in a long breath, letting it out slow as he shuffled from foot to foot; the hand not holding his towel was twitching nervously.
"When I dream...when I dream about what happened. I can feel him on me. I can smell him and hear him and feel him Dean. And when I wake up...I don't know...it's like he's still here. Like he's still touching me...and I just...I need to get him off." Sam finished, his voice pleading as watery eyes met mine, imploring me to understand.
"Alright buddy, alright." I said, nodding that I got the message, because that was what Sam needed me to do.
Sam relaxed a little, a fraction of relief crossing his features.
"You know that he's gone though, right Sam? You know that he will never hurt you again. That no one will ever hurt you like that again. Right?" I questioned, needing my little brother to comprehend, needing to be sure that he knew he was safe.
Sam nodded.
"Yeah Dean, I know...it's just...I don't know, my head's all messed up." He admitted with a sigh.
"That's understandable man. After having that memory chucked back in our faces, of course it is going to mess with you."
My brother nodded again.
"But we've got to find a different way to handle this. You can't keep showering all the time, you'll end up looking like a permanent prune. And you sure as hell can't go frying your skin like this again." I started, glancing down at the kid's chest and cringing in sympathy.
"Yeah...I didn't really realize just how hot the water was until I got out." Sam confessed honestly as he rolled his shoulders in discomfort.
"I'd hope so. If you were in there any longer you'd be peeling." I muttered.
We stood there few moments longer. I examined the inflamed skin on my brother's chest, arms, and neck, even circling around to see how his back looked. The bright right on his back was only lessened by the bruises that still lingered there.
"Can I go put clothes on now?" He questioned, a smirk of amusement on his face.
"Please. And If you could not take an hour, that'd be great." I commented.
"Why? What's the rush?" He wondered, eyebrows up as he turned toward our shared bedroom.
"Bobby wants to talk to you.
Sam stilled at that, his long body going rigid.
"It's not like that."
"Not like what?"
"C'mon, I know what you're thinking. He just wants to talk to you. Nothing has changed."
My brother didn't look convinced.
"Just get dressed. And find some of that aloe cream to put on your skin." I instructed.
Sam frowned, but obediently shuffled into the bedroom.
I made my way back downstairs.
"Everything alright?" Bobby questioned once I wandered into the study.
I shrugged, because it wasn't really, but I wasn't about to go into it.
"Did he do this before? The whole showering after a nightmare thing?"
The inquiry shouldn't have surprised me. The older hunter always noticed a whole lot more than I ever gave him credit for.
"No." I responded automatically, because that was definitely new.
Bobby looked surprised.
"No, he never did that. When he was younger and he would have dreams about...about what happened, he would wake up sobbing. He would be shaking and crying so hard the kid could barely breathe. I mean Sam has always had to deal with nightmares, but those ones were always worse."
The older hunter's eyebrows rose in question.
"Usually after a nightmare he would be freaked out and everything, but normally he'd just crawl into bed with me and would be okay."
I left out the necessary cuddling, because I had a reputation to maintain.
"But after those night terrors...there was no getting the kid back to sleep at least not in the bed." I recalled.
"What did you do?" The older hunter asked, sounding genuinely curious.
I shrugged.
"Sometimes we would sit in front of the tv, on the couch or the floor, anywhere that wasn't the bed. On occasion, if the nightmare was bad enough, we would have to get out of the room. Go for a walk or just sit outside. Whatever worked."
As I was speaking, I thought back to the first time that just camping out in front of the television hadn't been enough to calm my kid brother down.
It was two weeks after...after it happened.
Two weeks, and nothing was getting better.
Sammy was still pale, he was still terrified, he still flinched away from Dad, he still wasn't eating much, and he still wasn't sleeping well. The poor kid had dark smudges under his eyes as a result of all the nightmare infested nights.
He was asleep now, thank god. Sammy was worn out and in desperate need of some shut-eye.
I had just gotten off the phone with our father who had called to check up on us. He left a few days ago and, contrary to his usual pattern, he called every night at dinner. I knew he wanted to be here, but he couldn't stand seeing his youngest son so traumatized and I knew that it killed him the way Sam would flinch away from his touch. So he had gone off on a hunt.
It was a bit of a relief. I love my dad, we both did, but my little brother was much more at ease without him here. Not only because he often seemed startled by the older man presence, but because he didn't feel ashamed or like he was letting our father down every time he displayed fear.
Yes, Sam was much more relaxed without Dad around, which was probably the only reason the kid had managed to fall asleep at seven at night...well that and the fact that he was practically a walking zombie.
I set the cellphone on the table, double-checked the salt lines and the locked door, then I dropped into bed. I usually bunked with Sam, but he was sprawled across his mattress, and I didn't want to wake him.
Sure, it might have been hours before the time I would usually go to sleep, but Sam wasn't the only one awake most nights.
I closed me eyes, wishing the same thing I had wished every night for the past couple weeks, that my little brother would have just one rest free of terror.
Just one fucking night.
Apparently my wishes weren't worth a damn.
Figures.
It was only a few hours later, three according to the glowing numbers emitting form the clock on the nightstand, when I was ripped from my own crappy dream to the sound of my little brother screaming my name..
It was always my name.
Like he was pleading for me to come, to save him.
I wondered how many times he had screamed for me that night before I finally came.
I pushed the thoughts away and launched out of my bed and scrambled over to Sam's, pulling the small trembling boy into my arms.
I held him against my chest and began to rock back and forth. I slid my hand up and down the young boy's back and through his hair.
After frantically arising from a night terror, it was touch that brought Sam back to reality. It wasn't sound or sight, it was always touch.
That fact didn't prevent me from murmuring soft assurances to my brother as I worked to sooth him.
Like every night before, every night since...since the incident, Sammy was sobbing and shaking so hard that it was almost difficult to keep a hold on him without hurting the kid.
"Sammy, it's okay kiddo. You're okay. You're safe. I'm here. I'm here little brother."
The moment the young boy's bony arms wrapped around my midsection, I knew that he knew who I was and what was going on. I let him cling to me as I proceeded to hush him and comb my fingers through his unruly hair.
"Sshh, it's okay buddy. you're okay. I got you. I've got you little brother." I whispered, ducking my head so my mouth was closer to his ear.
"I'm here." I promised, hastily swiping at my own eyes.
God it always wrecked me to see Sam like this, to hold him as he fell apart..
In time, the heart-wrenching cries began to taper off, but the thin frame wrapped up against me continued to tremble. Sam's skin felt cold and clammy, something I noticed when I sled my palm up to rest against the back of his neck.
Normally when my little brother woke from nightmares he was soaked with sweat, but these dreams were different. Ever since he started having nightmares about what had happened Sam would awake chilled to the bone. Like he was in shock.
I tugged the comforter up, pulling it over the vibrating child as I held him even tighter.
"Everything is okay Sammy. You're safe. It was just a dream. Okay kiddo? Just a dream. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore. It was just a dream." I urged my brother to believe my words, feeling a fraction of satisfaction when he nodded against my chest.
"That's my boy." I encouraged softly.
Sam was sniffling on occasion and was only wracked by the occasional tremor when I loosened my hold.
I pulled him back just a little, so I could get a look at his face.
The despair that I saw there had me tempted to turn away. Instead I wiped away his lingering tears with my thumbs and stared steadily into the sorrowful eyes that were begging me to make things right.
I wished more than anything I could.
There was nothing I wouldn't give to undo what had been done to my little brother.
Sam yawned tiredly and pressed his head back against my chest.
He was just so damn tired.
I kept my arms around him and leaned back against the headboard, thinking that maybe...just maybe Sam would fall back asleep. It hadn't happened before, not since after what happened. Every time he woke up from a nightmare he had to get off the bed, and we'd have to camp-out on the couch if we had one, or on the floor if we didn't But maybe this time, since the kid was so dead tired, maybe he could fall asleep on the bed.
Yeah, right.
As soon as I started to lean back, Sam sprang out of my arms.
"No Dean. No, I can't. Not on the bed. I want off the bed." He panicked, frantically trying to untangle himself from the covers and get up off the mattress.
"Alright Sammy. Alright. Take it easy." I soothed, gently tugging the blankets off of him and holding him steady as he climbed out of the bed.
As I followed Sam I noticed how hard the kid was trembling, he could hardly stand his body was shaking so intensely.
"What's going on Sammy. What do you need?" I questioned, watching as my brother's gaze rapidly travelled around the room.
"I-I...we need to get out. Can we go?"
"Go where Sammy?" I inquired patiently, bending down in front the shuttering child.
"Anywhere. Anywhere Dean. Just not here. I can't be here." He explained, his voice cracking with emotion.
"But it's safe here Sammy. You just had a bad dream. That's all. You're safe here. I'm here."
"I know. But I can't be in here. It looks too much like-like the room from my dreams. The room he took me to. I can't be here. Can we just go. Please De-?"
My heart clenched at the soft request and the shortened version of my name.
Was this kid trying to rip my heart out?
"Sure Sammy. We can go."
I would have done anything for him.
Anything.
So if he wanted to vacate the room. That's what we were damn well going to do.
"Come here. Get your coat on buddy." I instructed, holding Sam's jacket out in front of him and waiting for him to slide his skinny arms through the sleeves. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweats as pyjamas, so I saw no need for him to change.
As the young boy stepped into his shoes, I thought of where we could walk to at ten o'clock at night. There was a diner across the street that was open twenty-four hours. But that wasn't an option. We weren't escaping one place full of memories, just to head straight to another one.
Sam stood by the door, his head twitching from left to right as he proceeded to search the room, and his body proceeding to tremble as he waited.
"Alright kiddo, let's go." I said, opening the door, feeling the cool night breeze travel through my own sweatpants. We stepped outside, Sam's small hand immediately latching on to mine.
It was strange.
For the past couple weeks, Sam loathed leaving the hotel room in the daylight. Having no interest in going out into the world and coming across people. But tonight he seemed more than willing to venture outside, as long as he could escape the room.
I didn't bother questioning the odd behaviour.
Trauma tended to do strange things to people.
We made our way down the street, my place slow as to remain in-sync with Sam's. We were in a nicer area. It wasn't a suburb, but we didn't have to worry about being mugged or anything.
Dad had been choosing safer locations for the past little while. I had no question as to why and I greatly appreciated it. It was one less thing for me to worry about while I took care of Sam.
I recognized the two large yellow arches glowing just a short ways down the street and headed toward them.
"McDonald's?" Sam asked softly.
"Yeah? Is that okay? Thought maybe you would want a Happy Meal."
My little brother's lips twitched up in reply, and that was all the response I required.
We made it to the fast-food chain, squinting at the florescent light as we entered the building.
Luckily it was mostly empty. There were several visible employees behind the counter, and an elderly couple at a booth, other than that the place was bare.
I released a sigh of relief.
Sam may have wanted out of the room, but I doubted that he had any desire to interact with other individuals.
I walked up to the counter and my little brother went from standing at my side to hiding behind my back, all the while maintaining a death-grip on my hand.
The cashier gave the kid a curious look, but made no comment as she took my order.
A hamburger Happy Meal and a Bigmac with fries and a coke. I paid with one hand, but I required two to carry the tray that was set on the counter.
"Sammy." I called softly, turning to get a look at the kid.
He looked up at me.
"You need to let go." I declared gently.
Sam's eyes grew wide in panic.
"Just for a second, so that I can grab the tray."
There seemed to be a very serious debate going on in the young boys head.
Fear versus rationality.
Once the small fingers began to release my larger ones, I knew which side had won out.
I swear my little brother was the only ten year old boy on the planet who was able to push his fear down and allow reason to take control.
Although, that didn't mean that fear wasn't still there. The second my hand was free I felt a tug at the bottom of my jacket. Sam had the material bunch up in his hand as he clung to it.
I offered a reassuring smile and picked up the tray. We made our way to the booth placed in the furthest corner of the restaurant, distancing ourselves from the few individuals that were in there.
Sam slid into the booth without releasing my clothing, and then he tugged at them, clearly telling me that he wanted me to sit beside him, and not across from him.
I had no problem with that.
I placed the Happy Meal in front of my brother, watching out of the corner of my eye as he timidly began to open it up and pull the contents out.
He grabbed the toy and looked over at me, a question in his expression.
I smirked.
"Go for it Sammy."
Normally I would make him wait until after his meal, because if I didn't he would be to busy playing with it to eat at all.
But at this point I just wanted the little squirt to smile.
And he did.
Once he got the packaging off, he uncovered a plastic spider-man watch. His eyes lit up the second he realized what it was and he held it in his hands as though it were made of glass, slowly turning it about and closely examining it.
"You want to put it on?" I asked after a moment.
Sam nodded excitedly, placing his prized possession in my hands, and presenting his wrist.
A wrist that still displayed evidence of being tied to a bed.
I tensed at the sight. A rage spreading through me that was becoming far too familiar.
That fucking bastard.
My blood boiled at the reminder.
The reminder of the course ropes that held my little brother in place.
The reminder of the blood seeping from underneath them because he had been struggling so desperately to get free.
The reminder of the torn skin I had bandaged.
It was a small scar, and it wouldn't be permanent. But the sight of it was enough to send be back there, back into that godforsaken room.
Sam shook his arm impatiently and I snapped back to attention.
I placed the watch over the reminder and latched it into place.
My little brother pulled his arm back and held it in front of him, admiring the new accessory and then looking up at me.
"It looks awesome Sam." I declared, knowing that the midget was awaiting my approval.
The kid beamed at my words. The wide grin spreading across his face, momentarily erasing the lines of fear and dulling the evidence of exhaustion that had made residence their over the past couple weeks.
Sam's dimply smile was enough to shove down my rage, forcing it to stop boiling through my veins and settle back down in the pit of my stomach, where it would patiently wait until it was time to arise again.
We finished our meal, Sam almost missing his mouth several times as he was too busy ogling his watch to watch where he was putting his food.
I couldn't help but chuckle every time my brother accidentally smeared ketchup across his face or dropped it onto his lap.
Not only did Sam eat his entire meal (which hadn't happened in fifteen days), I even managed to talk the kid into playing in the Play-Place.
Not alone, mind you.
There were no other children in there this late at night, but he still wouldn't go in alone, although I could tell by his shuffling feat that he really wanted to go try out the twisty slide.
But I would do anything for Sam, including crawling around in tunnels and sliding down slides that were much too small for me. I didn't even care about the questioning looks I would receive from the employees, because the only look I really noticed was the one of pure glee on my kid brother's face.
We played in there until midnight, at which point it was to be closed up, which was fine because by then Sam could hardly hold his head up and was yawning every other second.
"C'mon Sammy." I encouraged, after I had slid his shoes on his feet for him and took his hand to lead him from the restaurant.
After about the third time the young boy managed to trip on his own feet, I snickered fondly and lifted him into my arms.
I frowned as I held him, because he felt even lighter than he had last time I carried him this way, which hadn't been very long ago.
I would insure that the kid ate more, even if that meant feeding him nothing but McDonald's for the next little while.
Sam's skinny arms wrapped around my neck as he rested his head on my shoulder, nuzzling it against me.
I couldn't help but release a full out laugh at my little brother's cat-like antics.
"Just go to sleep kiddo. I've got you." I promised softly into his ear.
"I know Dean. You always got me." My brother mumbled tiredly, closing his eyes, his soft puffs of breath hitting my neck.
I swallowed the lump that appeared in my throat, and cursed the moisture I could feel gathering in my eyes.
"Always Sammy. Always." I vowed.
"Maybe I should save our chat for another day?"
Bobby's question penetrated my memories and pulled me back to the present.
I shook my head.
"No, I mean the kid's a mess. And emotionally he's...well...a little unstable. But he needs to hear what you have to stay. Especially now." I stated.
The older man made no argument with me decision. Bobby had always been the first to acknowledge the fact that I knew Sam better than anyone else, maybe even the kid himself.
I dropped onto the couch, my mind running in circles.
Sam needed to know that Bobby didn't see him any differently.
He needed to know that he wasn't broken.
That would make him feel a little better...hopefully.
I sighed in frustration and ran my hands through my hair.
I hated being uncertain. Uncertain about what my brother needed. I was always supposed to know what Sammy needed.
"Oh, and Sam's going to come down looking like a cherry, just don't point it out."
The hunter gave me a curious look, but nodded obediently.
Moments later my brother came shuffling down the steps.
He was sporting a hoodie and sweatpants, wincing as the fabric rubbed against his aggravated skin.
His hair was straggly and dripping onto his shoulders, and there were dark shadows under his eyes emphasizing the young man's level of exhaustion.
Sam stopped at the entrance to the room and shifted about nervously, his eyes on the floor.
"You wanted to talk to me?" He questioned timidly, peeking over at Bobby from under his bangs.
The kid looked miserable. He looked as though he was weighted down by the fear of impending doom; as though he were about to be reprimanded, or scolded, or hurt.
Did Sam not know that I would never let that happen? That I'd never let anyone hurt him.
Of course he didn't know that, because I already had let someone hurt him, in just about every way possible.
"Yeah son, take a seat."
Bobby nodded to one of the chairs across from the desk.
Sam sat down on the edge of the seat, his legs jittering anxiously.
I dropped into the chair next to his.
My brother glanced in my direction and immediately relaxed, his legs stilling as he slid back to sit more comfortably.
I smiled a little at that.
Even though I had screwed up multiple times, Sam still trusted me to keep him safe.
And that meant more than I could ever hope to express.
That meant everything.
"Sam, I need you to understand something-
"Bobby I understand if-
"No, just listen."
"But Bobby you don't have to-
"Damnit boy would you just shut your trap for one bloody minute!" The older hunter ordered.
I smirked at Bobby's frustration.
Welcome to my life old man.
Shockingly enough, my brother actually managed to follow an order and remain silent.
"Sam, all I am trying to say is what happened to you, what you boys told me about the other day. That whole situation, it doesn't change a thing."
Sam pulled his gaze up off of the desk to stare at Bobby.
"I mean it son. What was done to you was not your fault and it didn't change you, or how I see you." The older hunter declared.
"How?" Sam whispered.
"What?" Bobby asked.
"How could it not? How could you not see me differently?"
The man seated across from us looked about as confused as I felt.
"Why would I?" He inquired.
"Because I was weak." Sam confessed, shame colouring his face as his eyes fell.
"No you weren't! What the hell Sam?! You were-
"Dean. I believe your brother was speaking to me."
I huffed in irritation, but reluctantly closed my mouth and let Bobby proceed, hoping that he wouldn't drop the ball and shatter my lite brother's fragile self-worth.
"Sam, you are not and never have been weak."
"But I am Bobby! I let him trick me and then I couldn't get away from him. I wasn't strong enough. Even now I can't seem to get away from him. I'm a grown man and I wake up screaming...I..I cant..."
I was literally biting my tongue to keep from jumping in when Sam faded off and stared helplessly down at his trembling hands.
"You going to let me finish now?"
My brother nodded, indicating that he was ready and willing to listen.
"When I was growing up, my old man used to beat the shit out of me."
My attention tore from Sam and moved over to Bobby at the casual statement.
"I'd try to fight him off. But he always managed to kick my ass. Does that mean I was weak?"
Sam's head shot up, eyes wide as he viciously shook his head.
"No Bobby! Of course not! You were just a kid!" He exclaimed.
My eyebrows rose at the realization of where the hunter was going with this.
Sam hadn't quite caught on yet, he just proceeded to stare earnestly across the desk.
"And you weren't Sam? For godsake you were only ten years old!"
Realization dawned on my little brother's expression, but it was quickly replaced with misery.
"But it still has me so messed up. I mean the guy is dead and I still can't get over what happened." He explained.
"My old man is dead to Sam. That doesn't mean what he did doesn't still screw with my brain." Bobby admitted gruffly.
My brother gave the hunter a sceptical look.
"I'm not messing with you boy. That's the truth. There are times when I still hear that drunk bastard's voice in my head."
"But you're not scared like I am, Bobby. I mean...I'm...I'm terrified." Sam's voice was so hushed as his eyes filled with tears and he looked away.
"I get scared to."
My brother shook his head, not believing the older man's words.
"No you don't. You aren't still scared of him."
"I'm not scared of him. Didn't say I was. I'm scared of becoming him."
The confession was made calmly as Bobby stared intently into my little brother's watery gaze.
I watched as they proceeded to look at each other. Sam studying Bobby's face for the truth, and Bobby allowing the kid to do so.
After a moment the young man released a resigned sight and swiped as his eyes. Sam's small nod indicated that he seemed to be accepting what Bobby had said.
"I don't see you any differently Sam. You are the same big-brained, inquisitive, kind-hearted kid that you have always been." The hunter declared, and unmistakable fondness in his tone.
A shy smile flickered across my little brother's face, as he ducked his head.
"Now if you two boys don't mind, I would really like to have some breakfast at some point this morning. And seeing as how you two boneheads are the reason I'm awake at this ungodly hour, I suggest you go make me some."
I snickered at the hunter's request.
"I'm pretty sure he's serious Dean." Sam said, nudging my elbow.
Bobby stared at both of us expectantly.
"Alright Sam. Let's go make the old man some food before he gets grouchy."
Bobby glared.
"Oh, too late." I mocked as I grabbed Sam's elbow and pulled him out of the chair, following him from the room.
Before we crossed into the kitchen, Sam stopped, I nearly ran into him as he turned.
"Bobby?" He called out.
The hunter looked up from the novel his eyes had been on.
"You're nothing like your father." My brother declared his voice dripping in sincerity.
Bobby's face twitched, an array of emotions travelling across it before he stilled his expression and nodded.
Sam smiled, not requiring any more of a response before he headed into the kitchen.
I glanced between the two of them, both focused on other things now.
I was relieved that Bobby's talk had done Sam some good. At the least it had assured the kid that his surrogate uncle didn't see him any differently. Hopefully it also took some of my little brother's shame, helped him realize that being afraid then and even now was nothing to be humiliated about.
But maybe Sam wasn't the only one who benefited.
Maybe Bobby did as well.
He had opened up more with us in the last few minutes than he had in our entire lives. It seemed to have done him some good. It appeared as though he took Sam's words to heart, that maybe the hurting young man had been able to bring some healing to the hurting hunter.
Maybe they had been able to bring each other some peace.
"Dean? You coming man? I'm not doing all the work."
"Ha! Like you could. I've seen you burn toast."
"That was one time Dean and I was six!"
I chuckled at Sam's defensive holler as I went to be sure my brother didn't burn the house down with his lack of cooking skill.
"How about that time you tried to make spaghetti and ended up exploding the sauce all over the motel room." I recalled, standing next to my brother who was staring into the fridge.
"What was I, like eleven?" He asked, digging his bony elbow into my side.
"Nine." I amended without thought.
Sam sent me a smile that I didn't totally understand.
But, damn if it wasn't the greatest feeling to see him grinning.
As we made breakfast, joking and teasing each other the entire time, I knew that Sam was going to be okay.
No matter what happened next, he was going to be okay.
He was going to pull through.
We were both going to pull through.
With some help from Bobby, a lack of sleep, and probably a few more chick-flick moments, we would make it through.
Because we were Winchesters.
And Winchester always find away to make it through.
Always.
Note: Please review/comment, it would make me feel much better about my neglected education. Thanks for reading! - Sam
