Do I have any excuse for taking so long to update? Not at all. Other than I am a horrible person. I have been working, doing school, and sleeping and attempting to motivate myself to never stop fighting. It has been getting really tough for me and I am sorry it has taken me so long. I want to keep writing and I deeply apologize it has taken me so very long to do so. Please forgive me!

Prompt: may I suggest a bomb explosion and Dean protecting Sam by throwing himself over his body, getting a few burns on his back due to this, and Sam getting all mad and affectionate with him? It would be appreciated.

"I'm sorry, Luke is just better than Han Solo, and the sooner you realize this, the better your life will be."

Dean sputtered for a full three seconds, his eyes swaying from the road to his traitor of a brother. "How can my own flesh and blood say that?" He demanded, eyeing his brother like he professed a deep desire to cut off his hair. "Han was a badass, while Luke seemed pretty chill with making out with his sister."

"Hey!" Sam interrupted, pointing a threatening finger at his brother, his smile proving he wasn't truly offended. "That was Lucas' fault. Luke has done nothing wrong in his life, ever."

"I know this and I love him, but-"

"We're here." Sam interrupted, jerking his head towards the modest house in a suburb neighborhood. Sam eyed his big brother with a grin, pleased at the indigent look on Dean's face for being stopped short at declaring his love for Han Solo.

That was the last thing Sam remembered, before something heavy slammed into his head. Well, actually he thought that they had headed in her kitchen at one point but his mind was feeling like it was sloshing out of his ears.

One moment, Dean and him were bantering, on their way to the case they had read in a paper that morning; the woman saying to the police that she wanted to be locked up; she was seeing her father walk around, trying to talk to her, hold her, tell her that he was truly there. He was murdered by a burglar just a few weeks ago.

Sam couldn't help but hold sympathy for the girl and voiced his thoughts to Dean that maybe they should somehow explain that what she was seeing was real, but Dean insisted that they try to give her old man some well-deserved rest before burning finding and burning whatever was holding him down to his home.

Now, Sam had woken with a world that was swaying beneath his fallen body as he tried to push himself up with wobbling arms. The sun was close to setting, a sure sign that he had been out for some time since it was the afternoon when he remembered pulling into the house. He felt cool gross underneath his fingertips and his watering eyes laid on a pair of bare feet with pink painted nails.

"Are you real?" Came a female, wobbling voice.

The question was strange enough, but Sam was more focused on the fact he looked from side to side and saw these feet were the only other feet in the yard.

"What?" Sam mumbled, rubbing his head tenderly with a shaking hand, his mind straying to where his brother could be.

"He's going to be back." The female's voice whimpered, Sam turned his eyes upward and saw a young woman in her early twenties looking down at him, a slightly bloodied wooden bat on her left hand, most likely the bat that had previously connect with his dead. Sam blinked slowly as he watched her (Nicole, he thought to himself, trying to recall her name) watery eyes stay on him un-movingly.

With no time to react, Nicole dropped the bat and lightly kicked Sam in his shoulder. It wasn't enough force to hurt but it didn't stop him from flinching and moving away from her. He heard a relieved gasp from her and her foot connected with actual flesh and he ignored it as he sat up gingerly.

"You are real." She breathed.

It was then when Sam noticed the smell.

Taking full notice of the girl in front of him, he then comprehended her hand other hand. She was holding a lit match.

And Dean still wasn't here.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sam spoke, tentatively standing up to his full height. His head was still buzzing but he kept his voice calm, needing her to now panic and drop the match. He held his hands up in front of her wild stare; his mind trying to see if he could somehow calm her down to take him to Dean…

"He won't stop talking to me." Nicole spluttered out desperately. "He's there then he is just gone again and I can't…I can't…" She stopped, her hand holding the lit match started shaking and Sam needed her to just listen.

"Listen, Nicole please" Sam cut in, his hazel eyes flocking over to the open door of her house where Dean most likely was. He was only a few feet from the front door, close enough to run, but if he did, she might drop the match anyway. He could tackle her, but the force of it may cause her to drop it again…he just needed to talk to her…

Sam forced his voice to stay soothing. "I know it feels impossible, but it is him talking, your dad" Her eyes snapped up to him with a look of annoyance. "I read the article, a-and look, my brother and I we can help you, I promise, but please, just tell me where he is."

"I don't care if it's really him." Nicole spat. "He was dead and what's dead should stay dead." Nicole's body shaking rapidly from stress, fear, the truth of her father coming back too much for her; Sam didn't know and honestly, her mental condition over this was the farthest thing from his mind right then. She was hunched in over herself, brown eyes wide and flying back and forth as she seemed to see an invisible enemy.

"Nicole, please, please listen…" Sam's voice shook almost as much as Nicole's body. The smell of gas was overwhelming, he wondered how no one in the neighbor could smell it.

"No no nono," Nicole moaned, shaking her head, her fingers that gripped the match were trembling. "It will come back. He keeps coming back. If I destroy this" She waved frantically at the house with her free hand. "Maybe he will go away."

Sam tried to get closer to her then she raised her hand higher. "One more step and I will drop it. I swear." Nicole growled.

Sam stopped.

Nicole looked around herself, the neighbors may start to see her. Nicole snapped her head back to Sam. "Get in the house." She ordered, the match held in front of her like a weapon. And not knowing where Dean could be, it was a weapon.

Sam nodded slowly to show her he wasn't going to disobey and he walked backwards towards the open door. Nicole followed him with her hand still outstretched. Sam looked around him and cursed softly. Dean wasn't in the house.

"Where is the other man who was with me? My brother?" Sam asked. His voice had to be shaking, there was no way he was staying calm in a time like this.

Nicole ignored him again and Sam felt himself start to truly panic.

The gas followed by Nicole's plans with the match would have the house light up like a bomb, destroying all in its path, including Dean.

And Nicole wasn't listening.

Sam took a deep breath, his hands still up in surrender. "Nicole I am begging you not to do this." Sam kept his eyes on her, despite every cell inside of him screaming to tackle her and run after Dean.

Nicole's brown eyes stayed on him for what felt like forever, never blinking as she never swayed from his sight. Slowly, a smile grew on her lips. "You seem nice…but I have been fooled by my mind before. He needs to leave, and this is the only way…"

It was then, Sam noticed Dean show up.

Dean must have been looking behind the House when Nicole knocked him out. He was rubbing the back of his head, looking groggily around his own surroundings before his eyes landed on Sam.

They flicked to the non-observant Nicole who was still eyeing Sam.

Sam, who was the closest to where the fire would be.

Nicole dropped the match.

Sam tried to shout a warning to Dean but suddenly felt the feeling of a body pushing his own away from the fire, outside the door where Sam was successfully outside...but Dean was still inside.

"Dean, no!" Sam yelled.

But it was too late.

Nicole tackled with Dean who was trying to push her outside the house as well, trying to save her. Sam quickly got up and tried to reach to Dean.

The explosion slammed into Sam, flying him backwards on the grass, hard, hard enough to hit his already sore head and he worse to God he saw stars. He saw Nicole next to him, knocked out of the house too by the explosion, She was coughing but alive.

But Dean wasn't there.

Sam's eyes started watering as his lungs fought for air against the black smoke that surrounded him. Forgetting about Nicole, Sam yelled out on instinct.

"Dean!"

His voice had a deep horse sound to it and his ears were ringing. Sam swayed as he pushed himself off the ground and he thought he heard neighbors screaming but his mind was on autopilot as Dean's name was the only thing running through his head. He rushed dizzily past the orange flames and into the still barely standing house. Sam felt his vision sway and his lungs were ready to burst; none of that stopped him from continuing calling for Dean again and was only met with the cracking and groaning sound of wood weakening, ready to collapse.

Sam coughed and staggered his way past the kitchen to where he last saw Dean, still rasping his name. He leaned over himself, coughing, eye watering, lips still mouthing his brother's name when he saw it.

Dean lying on his front, a burning plank of wood on his back while surrounded by fire.

Looking back, Sam thought he heard screaming. Maybe it was aloud, maybe not but he knew it was coming from himself. Sam slammed down to his knees and shoved the plank off his brother, the flames bit deep into his skin and none of it was noticed by him. He pulled Dean out as gently as he can without lingering in the flames too long. Burn marks were seen through Dean's flannel shirt and the smell of burned flesh proved that he needed medical attention, but with a hysterical Nicole clearly the perpetrator of the fire, it was going to be difficult to talk their way out of it without getting separated from each other.

Okay, staying was not an option; first bunker. If it is too bad, screw explanations, he would just take Dean to the hospital.

Sam hosted Dean up against himself and half carried half dragged Dean out. Nicole was sitting on the lawn still, unmoving expect for a twitching smile on her lips. "He's gone…he's gone…"

Sam ignored her for now. Neighbors would be calling the police and when that time comes, he and Dean can help Nicole. But for right now, Dean comes first.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Back at the bunker, Sam finally realizes that he had been squeezing Dean's skin by holding on too tight. "Sorry." He whispers gently to Dean half-awake form. He gets Dean on the bed and helps him take off his shows and burnt jacket. He thanks God that he wasn't hurt enough but the fact they were separated still hurts.

"Sam, wait." Dean mumbled. Sam breathed out deeply as he heard Dean's voice. It was horse and far deeper than he was used to, but it was what Sam needed.

"Yeah." Sam breathed.

Dean eyes him carefully. "You're hurt…we need to patch you up first."

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I wasn't stuck in a burning house." Sam's eyes narrowed deeply. "You shouldn't have pushed me. You should have run."

Dean let out an honest to God snort at that. "Yeah, um, have you met me?"

Sam breathed out and shook his head. "I just...I hate when you get hurt. I...I hate it."

Dean's eyes soften in understanding. "I know...but that is why I had to get you out of the way."

"And you got hurt." Sam gulped, unable to look away from his brother's face. Seeing his eyes opened, pain filled but alive was what Sam needed to see. To reassure himself Dean was her.

Dean glowered at his little brother with a look of exasperation. "You're hurt." He repeated, firm in his stance that Sammy needed healing.

Sam most likely had a concussion, and his hands were still stinging from pulling off the plank, but Dean's back was red from flames that licked his skin, and his head was bleeding from where Sam was sure Nicole had banged him on the back of his head. Later they would mock each other for somehow allowing a non-hunter had got an upper hand on them, but helping each other was more relevant.

"You first." Sam stated determinedly. He would take care of himself later, and of course Dean would make sure of that.

Dean rolled his eyes then grimaced from the movement. He groaned and Sam's heart squeezed in sympathy.

Quickly Sam laid his big brother on the bed, Dean's front lying on the bed, leaving his back free for Sam to tend to. Carefully, Sam pulled off the brunt beyond all recognition flannel shirt and set it aside. Sam swore as he saw the dep red marks of burned skin. Scarring would occur but thank God it wasn't as bad as it could have been if he had stayed in there any longer. Sam shuttered involuntary at the thought.

Dean turned his head towards Sam with worry, thinking the noise Sam uttered was out of his pain.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Sam whispered. He tried, he tried so hard to stop her but he was still too late. Dean could have died and Sam fought down bile at that thought.

Dean, still laying on his front, moved his hand gently and settled his hand on Sam's wet cheek. "You still saved me."

"But you got hurt." Sam wetly said.

"So did you." Dean winced as his eyes raked over Sam's disarrayed hair and soot covered cheeks. When his eyes landed on Sam's red hands, Dean moved his hand from Sam's cheek to his hands. "I'm happy you're here, Sammy." Dean whispered, barely toughing Sam hand to keep from causing his pain; Sam didn't say that he would be fine with the pain because it meant Dean was there.

Sam said nothing but bit his lip, needed to stay calm; he could fall apart later, now Dean needed medicine.

Dean insisted on putting medicine on Sam's hands but Sam made sure Dean couldn't fight him on smearing Dean's back with oil to keep the flame-burned skin from getting infected. Sam wrapped Dean's back in bandages afterwards while Dean sat up. With Sam in front of him, Dean pulled himself forward and landed a tender kiss on Sam's still wet cheek.

"Thank you, Sammy." He showed a tired smiled but it was still that smile he only gave to Sam and it was the best thing Sam thought he would ever see.

When both were covered and medicine-ed up, Sam assisted Dean with pulling a fresh shirt over Dean's bandaged skin and pushed Dean smoothly back on the bed. Dean gently grabbed Sam's bandaged hand and pulled him down on the bed beside him. Once settled, Dean pulled him close to his chest. Sam wasted no time pulling his arm around Dean's waist and pulled him snug against his chest, both chest to chest and Dean's head resting against Sam's collarbone. Sam breathed a sigh and slowly his eyes drooped closed and he inhaled Dean's familiar scent in his nose.

"You did great, Sam." Dean whispered sleepily, burying his face in Sam's neck. Sam smiled against Dean's hair as his hand flat against Dean's back, careful not to apply pressure against the sensitive skin. Sam's started to lose consciousness with his sense full of their body heat, the cleanliness of Dean's skin, the scent of gunpowder, leather, salt but most importantly, Dean. Home.

"I love you too." Sam sighed back.

Dean stroked Sam's back in soothing patterns and Sam thinks about how he was the luckiest person alive.

Next: Can you do one about the night after they fight and Dean almost kills Sam in Sex and Violence?