I am officially taking requests and/or suggestions for this story! I do have some ideas but I could use the help. So if you like this story and you want it keep going, give me some topics and ideas I can work with. :)

Follow me on tumblr at jackandclairearesiblings

On with the show!

A/N: This was a stand-alone one-shot but I eventually thought it could make sense to be here instead.

November 2, 2005

One second.

Dean had yanked a screaming Sam from the burning apartment building. He noticed the crowd beginning to grow, both from people from the complex and from the houses across the street.

One minute.

Somehow he managed to drag Sam out to the car, leaning him up against the passenger door. By this point, he had stopped screaming and fighting Dean.

"Sammy? Are you hurt? You didn't get burned did you?"

Dean began to quickly pat his brother down, giving him a quick lookover for any injuries that may be concerning. He looked up when Sam didn't respond. Sam was watching right past him at the burning building, glossy look on his face. He probably didn't even know Dean was there.

Five minutes.

Firefighters, paramedics, police, everyone showed up on the scene, taking action. Some of Sam's neighbors were carried out from windows and getting driven away in ambulances. Most of the crowd was starting to turn away thanks to the police barricade.

Dean didn't take his eyes off Sam. Which is a good thing, considering once everything started to hit, Sam turned as white as paper and hurled all over the gutter behind the impala. Dean stood behind him and helped hold him up. One of the paramedics noticed and rushed right over, asking Sam if he was alright and needed to get checked out. Sam didn't respond, but Dean answered yes for him, knowing if the smoke wouldn't kill him, the shock surely would.

One hour.

Sam sat on the bumper on the back of an ambulance talking to a police officer. He mumbled the same thing over and over again. I came home, I found her, then I was outside and everything was on fire. Once they determined Sam was nothing more than a grieving boyfriend, Dean pleaded to let him take Sam home. Sam hadn't thrown up again or showed any sign of passing out in the past twenty minutes so he was cleared by paramedics. They gave Dean the lecture "Yes you can take your brother home, but any sign of illness, you bring him straight to the hospital."

Dean tucked that conversation in the back of his mind.

He attempted to help Sam up but was stopped by Sam angrily pushing his arms away. Dean watched as Sam stood up on his own and walked over the impala, opening the trunk and rummaging through it.

Dean took one last glance around the entire scene. He had been back in Sammy's life for one weekend and it had already blown up. Literally.

Dean walked back over to the trunk, catching Sam fiddle with a shotgun before tossing it in the trunk and slamming it shut.

"We got work to do."

"Let's worry about you first."

Two hours.

Dean found a motel room and convinced Sam he should take a shower to wash the smell of smoke off him. He began to unload his bags from his car, only to facepalm at the fact that Sam now literally had nothing. All his things burned up in that fire, including the duffel bag with his stuff from the weekend that he had carried inside with him and set down somewhere in the apartment.

Locking the door and barricading everything in salt, because Dean just knew, Dean started to lay some stuff out on his bed. He found a couple things he prayed would fit Sam, at least for the time being. Kid was both taller and skinnier than Dean had remembered.

The shower was still running so Dean opened the bathroom door, greeted with a face full of steam.

"Sammy? You alright in here?"

He threw the sweats and underwear on the back of the toilet and faced the shower; the only thing between him and Sam was a thin white shower curtain.

"I'll check back in a few, a'ight?"

Dean exited the bathroom and began to pace back and forth in the motel room. He tried his best to remember what his dad did but Dean had completely blocked the rest of that night from his memory. What does he do? Does he get him food? Does he ask him about it? Does he turn on the tv and act like nothing even happened and let Sam come to him?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a wet Sam opening the bathroom door and walking out in Dean's clothes.

Eight hours.

Neither of them slept that night, for obvious reasons.

The sun had come up and Dean didn't want to leave Sam so soon, but they didn't have anything. He ran out to the gas station across the street for dollar coffee and a variety of breakfast snack food. Sam didn't touch any of them. Dean turned on a movie and sat on his bed and watched, occasionally looking over at the other bed. Sam laid on his side curled into a ball, half watching the movie, half drifting off into his own thoughts.

The movie ended and Dean started searching for another one.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

"Can I be alone for a little bit?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea Sammy."

"Please?"

Dean studied his brother. With the exception of breakfast, Dean hadn't left his brother's side since last night. Gathering all their weapons and satisfied that Sam wasn't going to be left to do anything stupid, Dean left the motel room.

Twelve hours.

Dean returned to the motel room with lunch and some shopping bags. He remembered his epiphany from last night and got some basic essentials for Sam. He quietly set everything down on the floor next to Sam's bed, careful not to wake him from his much-needed nap. Dean contemplated taking a nap too. He was glad he hadn't when Sam woke up ten minutes later freaking the fuck out from the first of many nightmares.

Fifteen hours.

The police showed up at the motel room with more questions for Sam. Dean rudely turned them away. They informed Dean that it's most probable that the entire event was an accident. That there was possibly gas in the apartment from Jess using the stove and over and she lit a candle as Sam came home. No sign of anything else.

Dean knew better. Sam knew better.

Twenty hours.

Sam asked Dean for his phone for the first time since. He had many missed messages from friends and beloved professors. He even had a message from Jess' parents. They said they were on their way to Palo Alto and wanted to know if they could do anything for him.

Sam felt sick again. Their daughter was just killed. He should be doing something for them, not hiding away pathetically in a shitty motel room. He should be a man about it and help with burial arrangements and aiding the police. The least he could fucking do is call them back and agree to meet up with them when they got to town.

Gagging, Sam dropped the phone and ran into the bathroom. Dean was right by his side, asking him what happened, comforting him as he was thrown over the toilet spitting out bile.

Then the dam broke.

Dean should have seen it coming. He did see it coming and yet he wasn't ready for it.

Sam collapsed on the disgusting motel floor in a bawling mess. Dean hadn't heard wails like this since... ever. Sam hiccupped from crying so hard and he struggled to gasp for air and he kept screaming nonsense even Dean couldn't translate.

Dean sat on the bathroom floor with him. He didn't touch him, didn't say anything; just sat there on the floor with him. He watched as Sam trembled and his face twitched. Dean swore he'd give anything to go through this pain instead of his brother. He was the one that deserved it anyway, crashing into his life again after all this time. What was Sam's crime? What did he do for this?

Sam screamed until his voice got hoarse. Until he was so out of breath his face was purple. Until he had cried so much he started to drift off to sleep and give in to the exhaustion.

Dean picked Sam up off the floor and threw him on his bed, pulling the blankets over him. Sam was still sniffling and softly crying in his sleep. Dean sat on the other side of the bed and watched over his sleeping brother. Once he realized Sam was finally down for the count, he pulled the blankets over himself, turned the lamp off, and fell asleep next to Sam. He woke up to Sam stirring in his sleep and he just threw his arm over his side and told him he was okay.

Dean woke up.

Sam was still passed out.

Dean had to leave the motel room. He went for a brisk walk around the block in the night.

He so desperately wanted to know what to fucking do. Looking around the town and realizing what all Sam had lost just the other day, he realized he probably didn't even know this kid anymore. He used to know everything about Sam and knew exactly what to say and do to help him. The old Sam wouldn't have reacted like this. Dean would have been the first person the old Sam would have gone running towards to make everything feel better. He knew not to take it personally yet he couldn't help but feel like this new Sam is a completely different person with a completely different life and Dean was just a stranger to him now.

He contemplated calling Bobby, waking him up and ranting to him about the situation, asking if he and Sam can come to lay low for a while. He contemplating calling his dad, begging him to stop whatever bullshit game he was playing and come back and be an actual father to his son right now.

Dean made his way back to the motel room. He unlocked the door to find Sam awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, crying again and minutes away from another meltdown.

"I thought you left," Sam said in-between sobs.

"I'm not going anywhere Sammy," Dean said quietly, walking over to him. Sam tightly wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and cried into his chest. Dean looked down at the kid sitting on the edge of the bed clutching his shirt and felt himself tear up at the scene. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through Sam's hair and looked over at the clock.

Twenty-four hours.

And counting...

someones-big-sister