About time
"We're all traveling through time, together, everyday of our lives... All we can do is do our best to relish this remarkable life" - About Time
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN
You are used to hearing knocks on your door when Sam wakes up in the morning, letting you know it is his turn to make breakfast. He usually wakes up first, with his long locks all over the place, and bags under his eyes, product of the intense hunt you have been working on for the past three days.
Even when he is tired, he still wakes up early and is the typical maniac that likes to be productive in every way possible.
You are dreaming with Baby, driving on your own through an empty road, enjoying the loud "Back in Black" song Sam would tell you to turn off, or he would ignore it when you want to mess with his endless patience. Two knocks on the door make you open your eyelids, and you find yourself wondering if you can tell Sam you need five more minutes of beauty sleep. The bed is far too comfortable to leave it yet.
Another couple of knocks annoy the inner peace off of you. You don't know what's wrong, but little brothers can be persistent sometimes.
"I'm up!" you yell with a raspy voice, hoping he will go away now.
Instead of hearing his big feet start walking towards the kitchen, he opens the door. Your room is still immersed in darkness, but the lights that are turned on within the Bunker let you see his tall figure a few feet away from the bed.
"What now, Sam? If it's not something related to Lucifer's creepy baby, I'm sure it can wait until I can put my freaking pants on", you say, still a little moody.
With a sigh, you get up and put your jeans on. Sam has never scared you, but the way he is still standing there, not moving or saying anything activates your protective big brother mode on. What is wrong with him? Did he get hurt and you did not notice it?
"Sammy? You okay, man?" you ask, now concerned about your sibling.
Your body moves as fast as it can, trying to turn the light on, but he is faster. He blocks your way, standing in between you and the wall.
Apparently, he can see the confusion painted all over your face, so he speaks before you push him aside.
"Everything's okay, Dean. I promise I'm okay", he responds with a shaky voice you know too well. He speaks like that when he is about to burst into tears. It has only happened a few times once Sam was an adult, but you never forgot about it. If the light were on, you would see his teary eyes trying not to meet yours, as if you could not notice something is off, even when his heart goes numb to avoid the pain this life brings.
"Sammy, I know you. Please, tell me what's going on", you beg him, trying to figure out what went wrong before the both of you went to sleep a couple hours ago.
"Nothing. I-I just wanted to ask you something". He muttered, unsure of what he really wanted to say.
"Well, shadow-man. At least let me turn the light on first. You look like Bigfoot like this", you say, trying to get to him through a stupid joke. If you could only read his eyes, you would know how to help him, or what to say to make it better.
"I have a-a headache. It's better this way. I can still see you anyways", he responds rapidly, trying to control the situation.
"Alright, then. Shoot", you say, trying not to panic. When he is distracted enough, you will act fast and kick him in the ass for doing this childish thing to you. Sam knows better than scaring the crap out of you.
"You still proud of us?", Sam asks quietly.
Why would he ask that?
"Yeah, Sammy. Always been and always will, even when I'm a bunch of ashes" you answer with a fake laugh. You are unsatisfactorily trying to kill the Devil's child, but you are trying your best. So is Sam. The kid is stronger than he thinks. If he needs a chick-flick moment to process that, you are willing to give him every second of this life to do so. He is still your pain in the ass little brother, after all.
Sammy doesn't say a word for what it seems like an eternity. Before you attempt to move him, he gently pushes you back, resting his hand on your chest for a moment. This time, you let it be. He seemed to calm down when you said that, so the rest does not matter. The big brotherly duty is sometimes an exhausting task to do; however, it has its meaningful moments that you don't take for granted anymore. Not after everyone you have lost along the way.
Sam lets a barely hearable sob escape his throat, while playing with his hair. Sure, he is fine.
"Can you show me that picture you've got of us when we were young and we were sitting in the backseat of the Impala?" Sam asks, recomposing himself as he speaks each word.
"What in the world is going on?!", you yell within your mind. Whatever is wrong with your brother, you will fix it. Sammy always comes first.
Sam is a weird dude. He has seen that picture many times before, but you don't argue. What Sam wants, Sam gets.
You turn around to pick it up. It could not have been more than four seconds, but when you look for your Sasquatch brother, he is no longer there.
Calling his name as you speed walk through the Bunker, you find that he is still in his room, snoring his problems away. Half irritated, half worried, you shake him awake, not caring about the way he flinches at the harsh contact.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? You were in my room a minute ago, and now you are sleeping again?! You a sleepwalker or what? " you inquire, turning the light on while you speak.
Sam covers his face with his pillow and answers he never got up. He was just fine until you decided it was time to wake up earlier than usual.
Sam's clock marks 05:42 AM. What the hell? You're sure Sam was the man that stood at your door frame. It was his voice and his sparkly Disney princess hair.
The day goes by without touching the subject again. Sam knows nothing, and you are starting to think it was a dream, or you're the one sleep walking instead of him.
It is eleven o clock when you go into your room and get dressed for bed. That is the moment when you see the note lying on the floor. As far as you remember, that thing was not there when you went to sleep last night.
Your body crouches as far as it can go, but no without a protest. In a year or two, you will need a wheelchair for sure. Getting old sure sucks.
You can recognize it anywhere. It is Sam's handwriting, and it is directed to you.
Dean:
I bet you are still confused about what happened. Do not try to figure it out, trust me.
Things are different now, but you are still the best big brother ever. Don't mock me about it, okay? We are stronger together.
No more chick-flick moments for now, Jerk.
S.
THE END.-
Author's note: Hey guys! I have been thinking about writing this story all day, so here goes nothing. Lol
If you liked it, please leave a review. I would be supernaturally grateful! See you soon on "Dear Dean".
KW.-