Notes: English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes. Kudos, reviews and suggestions are always welcome!

Fear Demon

Dean will kill the little idiot sooner or later. He will kill him because the way he behaved was irresponsible and Dean can't believe that Sam pulled a stunt like that. Damn it, that stupid kid didn't just put himself in danger, he didn't just scare the hell out of him: it was worse than that, he almost got himself killed. And no, it didn't matter that Sam wasn't disobedient and reckless just for the fun of it and that he was trying to save his life. For god's sake, Dean can't help but think that it wasn't worth the risk anyway.
So, yeah, he wants to kill him for being so stupid. When his father parks in front of Bobby's house and glances sternly in the rearview mirror though, the only urge Dean feels is to protect the sleeping idiot in the back seat.

"Dad, I'm pissed too," he murmurs, almost grabbing the thought that seems to cross his father's mind. "But you can kick his ass tomorrow, look at him: he's tired as hell. He needs to rest more than he needs an ass-kicking right now."

John runs a hand over his face. It never stops to amaze him how Dean - the same Dean who is always so quiet, lowering his head when he tells him off and obeying without question – can't help but defend his brother, without any hesitation.

"He disobeyed and put himself in danger," he tells him with newfound resolve and firmness as he gets out of the car. "Don't give me that look, kid. I'm letting him rest, but he is definitely not off the hook"

The answer Dean wants to give him so desperately - "But he did it to save me" - gets stuck between his teeth and palate; wisely he chooses for the only one that his father is really in the mood to hear, without trying his luck. Sam has already pushed it enough for today.

"Yes, sir"

While sleeping, Sam looks like the most adorable kid in the world. He just looks so vulnerable and sweet in those moments and Dean can't help but shiver while wondering what a monster could do to a kid so young. That thought only ends up making him even angrier for what the idiot has done.

"Sammy, wake up," he mutters, shaking him lightly by the shoulder, trying not to focus on that vague sense of tenderness he feels when Sammy slowly opens his eyes. "You are fourteen, stop playing Sleeping beauty because I won't carry you in my arms, dickhead"

It only takes a few seconds for Dean to find a pair of hopeful green eyes in front of him: that same gaze goes out, fades when Sam realizes that his brother is still angry. And, dammit, according to Sam, he has no reason to be: it's certainly not his fault that that information about the fear demon turned out to be correct, and it's not his fault that his father didn't answer the phone either to him or to Bobby. So yes, he disobeyed, but it was for a good cause, wasn't it? He couldn't leave his family at the mercy of a stupid fear demon, could he? It didn't matter if it meant disobeying his father, his brother, and Bobby himself. No telling off was worth losing Dean and Dad.

"Dean, can we talk about it? Can we at least watch a movie together tonight? " he asks, standing up, as he gets out of the car. "I know you want to hear me say I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry, Dean! I was trying to protect you and dad. "

Dean looks at him for a moment, suddenly turning to face him. That stupid little boy tended to attract dangers like a magnet. Dean certainly can't blame his father if he is angry because Sam has not managed to respect even the most stupid order: stay inside the house. Too bad that for Sam that order meant sneaking out of a window, hitchhiking to get to them - demons weren't the only thing capable of killing him, damn it -, just to eventually pop out in the middle of a hunt and say "Hey, this is a fear demon! I understood everything and you didn't! He will use your fears against you! " and it didn't matter that those weren't exactly the words he'd used. His kid brother was wrong, full stop.

"The only thing you can say to me today is 'thank you' because maybe Dad won't kick your ass as he should until tomorrow, you idiot," he says, but shakes his head when Sam opens his mouth to do it. "I don't want to hear another word out of you, stop trying your luck. Just take a shower and get some rest."

Sam raises an eyebrow, annoyed: he already knows what Dean's position is regarding his father's orders. He doesn't share it, but he understands it now and then.

"Sam, I'm serious: don't try your luck. Just scram" Dean repeats, which translated into Dean's language means "Don't piss off dad more than you already did and get out of the way before I decide to punch you myself."

Sammy shakes his head, but still decides to take the hint.

A few days earlier, Dean and his dad had left for a case in South Dakota, leaving Sam with Bobby because he was their back-up in South Dakota and because, according to his father, it was not necessary for Sam to be involved, it was nothing more than a plain and simple salt-and-burn. Unsurprisingly, his pain-in-the-ass-little-brother was always more than happy to stay home except when he was ordered to stay home; therefore that stupid kid just decided to help with the research from home. That stupid research had led to three victims, two men and a woman, who died in different circumstances. Everything seemed to suggest that that bastard was a shapeshifter. What else did a dead woman drown in a bathtub have in common with a cop killed on duty by a mysterious presence that disappeared after the murder in short-circuit camera recordings, and with a man killed by some sort of giant spider? Nothing, apparently, except his brother had discovered that the first victim was afraid of bathtubs full of water, the second one was terrified by the idea of dying on the line of duty and the third one was bloody arachnophobic. Too bad that when Sammy and Bobby found that out, Dean and his father were already convinced they were dealing with a shapeshifter and they had therefore turned off the phone. Then they just happened to see the kid show up in the middle of the hunt, that's all.
Dean can't help sighing when he sees him in bed, sleeping like a log; he is not surprised, because he knows that Sam has not slept for almost a day and a half, from the moment of his escape until the moment of their return to Bobby. As soon as his little brother's head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

"Dean?" he murmurs, peering into the half-light in the room, illuminated only by the lampshade.
Sam looks at him, rubbing his eyes and barely raising his head, and it's clear he's trying to figure out if he's still angry.

"It's me," Dean says, shaking his head because it's been a hard day and he's tired as hell. "I brought you something to eat, although I considered letting you starve, squirt"

A smile that looks a bit more like a grimace cracks the child's lips, to which Dean responds with a shrug, handing him a plate with a sandwich on the bedside table. The kid grabs it immediately. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he bites into the sandwich. From the bed in front of him, Dean watches him eat for a few seconds before Sam feels comfortable – or bold? -enough to speak.

"Dad will kill me tomorrow, won't he?" he asks, in a vague attempt to start a conversation.
The truth is Sam doesn't care about breaking Dad's rules. He doesn't care, as long as he might be the reason why his brother is standing there in front of him, safe and sound.

Dean frowns: if the kid is trying to buy his support, that's not going to work. It was never going to work.

"Don't be stupid. You know he won't," he says as if the very idea was nonsense. "But he'll probably have you training before classes start until you graduate, smartass. Don't look at me like that, little brother: you brought this on yourself, I don't know what the hell was going in that weird little head of yours when you pulled a stunt like that. Look, squirt, I know dad may be a hard-ass sometimes. Hell, maybe all the time... but he just wants to keep you safe, Sammy ... "

Sam just shakes his head, placing the sandwich on the plate on the bedside table in a gesture of pure indignation because damn it, he wants to explain himself, he doesn't want to hear his brother talking about how cool dad is.

"Shut up, Dean. Come on, you know dad is a hypocrite," he says, looking him in the eye. "You know very well that he puts us in danger every time we go hunting with him, Dean."

Dean shrugs. He doesn't want to be the one to explain to Sam that this is the only way they have to face an existence that, like a capricious god, did nothing but tear parts of them without giving them anything in return: not a house, not a birthday party, not the hope of something better in the future. He doesn't want to tell Sammy how sometimes, at eighteen, their life seems to Dean nothing more than running around in circles, aimlessly.

"Stop it, Sammy. Maybe if you respected Dad's orders instead of pulling this crap, we wouldn't risk as much. What do you say, little brother?" he replies, trying not to get overwhelmed by the hurt look in his little brother's green eyes. "But I still hope you'll think that crappy stunt was worth it when dad drags your ass out of bed at five AM for a workout, you idiot."

For a long moment, Sam stands there, silently looking at him, trying to gather his thoughts. The truth is, the very thought that Dean could have died like that makes his skin crawl, so he has his answer.
"Yes, Dean" he just replies, with a defiant look.
Dean shakes his head, looking at him with a puzzled look. Sam doesn't look away though. His eyes are on his big brother; they are green and sad, but full of the usual stubbornness.

"It'll still be worth it, you fool. And do you know why? " he murmurs, jumping to his feet, animated by a new fury. "Because you are angry"

Dean exhales a hoarse laugh. Sometimes he wonders if his brother means it when he says that kind of crap.

"Wow, congratulations, Sammy. I'm freaking pissed," he says, with an ironic tone. "You have achieved your goal, Einstein"

His little brother, however, doesn't seem amused. Sam crosses his arms on his chest. Sometimes Sam looks at him and hates Dean because he wonders if they could all three be happy, if only Dean wasn't so afraid of his father's judgment, of the world, of -

"If you're angry, it means you're alive, Dean." he finally blurts out, letting himself sit back on the bed. "That demon would have used me against you. You had to know how to face it. He would have made you believe that I was in danger to kill you because me in danger...that's your fear! I couldn't let that happen, you idiot! "

Dean watches him hold back tears that are more of anger than sadness. Dean is amazed, once again, that he is still whole. He is still alive. Messed up, maybe, but alive.

"Hey, now. Don't get cocky, kid" he teases him, to ease the tension, which soon turns out to be a failed attempt.

There is always that half-smile on Dean's lips when he speaks. He is a little bit amused perhaps, but there is something deeper than that; he is putting on a brave face, even though he is worn out and upset. He just wants Sam and Dad to think that he is more stable than he is.
Sam rolls his eyes while trying so hard to hold back tears.

"It was already doing it," he murmurs, finally breaking into a small sob. "I found you reassuring a stupid shadow that everything would be fine and no one would harm it. You would have gotten yourself killed for nothing! For a stupid shadow that had my shape, Dean! "

When Dean finally looks at him, Sam has sat on the bed. He stares at him with watery eyes. Dean does not know if it hurts him more to hear Sam talking and not believing him when he explains to him how Dean's life matters or the way Dean feels, while looking at his younger brother. He feels like he is in front of a distorting mirror that shows him a picture of his brother as a child, a part of himself that Sam has not yet managed to bury between his ribs. A sob escapes from Sam's lips.

"Okay squirt, that's enough," he says, moving on his bed and reluctantly pulling him into a hug, while Sam lets himself go against him, for a moment. Then, after a few seconds, Dean gives him a light slap on the back of the head.

"Hey, you idiot," whispers the child, breaking the hug and glancing at him accusingly. "For what was that?"

A light grin curls Dean's lips.

"For not having considered that you could have become some clown's lunch, Einstein" Dean speaks lightly, but the tone fails to smooth out the wrinkles of worry on his forehead.

Dean starts to get up and returns to his bed, but before he can do it, Sam places his hand on his shoulder and waits for Dean's nervous eyes to look at him.

"Clowns? Do you really think this is my biggest fear? Come on, Dean, you're not that stupid. " he tells him, with a meaningful look.

There is so much honesty in his brother's green eyes that the instinct is just to shake his hand off and take his shoulder back because that's enough caring and sharing for the day.

"I was going to get the dessert that Bobby bought for us, but given the things you're saying, maybe it's too much sugar for you in one night, little brother" he replies, but takes the empty plate anyway to bring it back in the kitchen.

"Sammy?" he hesitates, moving slightly between one foot and the other. His little brother looks at him, intrigued. "If you want, you can uh… pick the movie for tonight."

The smile with which Sam rewards him is worth it, but then his little brother suddenly becomes more serious. There is one of his supercritical looks in his eyes.

"Dean?" he calls him, when his brother turns his back to him, on his way to the kitchen. "If it's a way of saying" Thanks Sam for saving my ass ", well, you know…it really sucks"

Oh, Dean does not doubt it: sooner or later he will kill that little fool who happened to be his brother.

("Did your brother do something to deserve a dessert?"

When he sneaks out of the kitchen with a slice of pie, Dean, well, he expected everything besides finding himself in front of his father. He didn't disobey a direct order, but he knows that this is not a good day to piss his old man off.

"No, sir. But he's still hungry," he murmurs, unnecessarily.

They both fall silent for a few seconds, in which Dean hopes that Dad won't make him leave that pie in the kitchen. John studies the boy's stiff muscles, before nodding in agreement, not without noticing the relief in his eldest's face.

Dean hesitates for a moment, before climbing the stairs.

"Dad?" he calls him at one point, unsure about the question. "You know, today that bastard used Sam to torture me, I was wondering what he used to... well, you know ..."

John pulls himself to his feet, a serious expression on the face. He has figured out where his son is headed.

"He didn't torture me. I haven't seen anything, Dean," he says then, but his answer is not about reassuring him as much as about keeping him out of such private fear. "Go to bed now and tell your brother I'll come and wake him tomorrow for training. He is not getting out of this. "

His son doesn't look surprised. Maybe he was expecting that answer, but John is barely able to catch a look on his face before he turns around - was that disappointment, perhaps?
It's only a moment after all, but it's painful to have to admit that he does not know how to decipher every expression on his child's face, as a parent should be able to.

"Yes, sir" he replies, meekly. "Good night, dad"

No, it won't be a good night and he will have nightmares about his children being killed by the same yellow-eyed monster that killed Mary for days. Maybe Dean will have nightmares for even longer, but his kids are alive and breathing and they have time. They have time, John says to himself. He has to believe that.

"Good night, Dean" he murmurs in a slightly softer voice.

When he does though, his son is just too far away to hear him.)