Trigger warning: rape and parental abuse, only briefly mentioned
Dean sat fidgeting at the table while he waited for Sam to sit down. The clock said it was 4:30 in the morning. As Sam put a steaming mug in front of him and sat down across the table, Dean leaned over and sniffed.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's tea," Sam replied.
"What? No. No, I don't drink your… your wimpy leaf juice."
"Dean."
"What?"
"It'll help you relax. Please."
One look at Sam's puppy eyes and Dean gave in. He took a sip, and while he wanted to gag, he found out Sam was right: it was relaxing.
"So," Sam said. "What's going on?" Dean rolled his eyes.
"What, are we going to talk about our feelings now? It was a nightmare, Sam."
"But it was different."
"To hell with that. We both get plenty of nightmares."
"Not like that one. Will you stop lying, Dean, and stop being so defensive about your problems all the time? Please?"
Dean sighed and closed his eyes.
"Look, I don't do this whole caring and sharing thing," he said. He paused long enough to make Sammy think that the conversation might be over.
"But I'm scared," Dean said finally. He opened his eyes and looked right at Sammy. "Ok? I said it. I'm really scared, because I don't know what's going on."
"Can you tell me about it?" Sam asked gently. Dean gulped down some tea and closed his eyes again, running his hands through his hair.
"Ok," he said. "I've never gotten dreams like this before. Like, usually I can drink, and then fall asleep, and that takes care of it. But that's not working, and I don't know why, they're all so vivid and real…"
"What are they about?"
"They're always different. One was about Croatoan, one was about, uh…" He glanced at the floor as he stammered, stumbling in his mind around the worst dreams that he wasn't at all willing to share. The ones about rape, or drunken beatings from his father, or trips as a teen (and adult) to bars even shadier than usual and what happened to him in the back rooms there… He shook his head slightly. "Um. That last one was about a shifter."
"A shifter?" Sam said. "Was there anything different about it?"
"No, nothing," Dean said. Sam nodded, watching his brother carefully but not saying a word.
"There was… there's always something," Dean said after a minute. "There's always something I'm looking for, and I can't find it, but I know it's there. Over the horizon, or around a corner, behind the door. But I never see it."
Sam frowned.
"Ok, that's something. Is it in every nightmare?"
"Yeah, I think so. As much as I can remember. What's your point?"
"Well, something's got to be causing this," Sam said, as he stood up and put his mug in the sink. "And I figure if we can find out what it is, maybe we can make it go away."
He looked out through the window blinds. "The sun's just rising. Why not finish your tea and grab a couple hours before we start out today?"
"Nah, I'm good, Sammy…"
"Dean. Don't argue."
Dean looked up at his brother and sighed. He didn't say anything else, but just drank the end of the tea before crawling back into bed. As he drifted off, he thought he heard Sammy say quietly, "Don't worry, brother. I'll look out for you…"
It was the first dreamless sleep Dean had in weeks.