Altitude
Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Yep, they're mine. But you can borrow them if you like.

Author's note: Thank you all for your reviews. Dean's POV seems the natural progression. For all you folks wondering about the pills: I tried to get an explanation into this chapter, but I just couldn't figure out a logical reason for Dean to be musing over something he, obviously, already knows about. However, I had a review mentioning the confrontation that should follow… So, just as soon as I can get that to work how I want it, you'll know.

Again, please do drop a note, good, bad or ugly. These are Dean's thoughts.

He's finally sleeping. Hell, for a while there I thought I was going to have to slip something into that black coffee he's been putting back by the bucketful.

Maybe we've hit that turning point. It's been almost two hours now since he drifted off and his eyes aren't darting around behind his lids, his breaths aren't frantic and horrified. He's just… sleeping.

He slept like a log when we were kids… Well, except for that closet monster fiasco.

I shake my head at the memory, glancing over at Sammy, assuring myself that he's well.

Bloody closet monster. Kids who haven't even reached puberty laugh at the notion and we all believed it was real. Dad gave Sammy a pistol and taught me how to use the shotgun.

Talk about freaks.

I drum my fingers on the wheel, keeping the beat. I love this song. If wouldn't risk waking Sammy, I'd crank it full volume and fill the cold highway with guitar riffs.

There's old snow on the side of the road; we've been climbing since Sammy nodded off. The peaks are dark beneath the overcast sky; ominous.

I hate these mountain roads – not that I can't handle the corners, not that my baby can't handle them…

I hate the cliffs; have hated them ever since I was fourteen and the pickup in front of us skidded off the edge high in the Cascades. No ghosts, no demons, just some asshole behind the wheel who wasn't watching for ice. It was bloody. Two little girls in the back seat. Fucker.

Give me a country road any day. The worst that can happen is you smash through a fence and maybe hit an especially stupid cow that didn't get out of the way.

I ease the brake toward the floor, taking the bend far slower than needed, slower than I usually would even in these damn mountains. The guy behind me's pissed, but he can stuff it. I'm not going to throw Sammy around in the seat so some rich, punk kid can hit the slopes sooner.

Sammy jerks slightly and my eyes snap to the side. Shit, the nightmares must be back…

But he just tugs his jacket closed subconsciously, not waking.

Small miracles. It's still quite warm, but I crank the heat regardless. If he asks, I'll tell him I was cold.

The kid behind us passes way too fast on a double yellow. I check the speedometer – hell, I'm going too fast. I hope we don't come across his wreck a few miles up.

The sky's getting darker. I don't have any problem with the dark – you can't if you're going to be in this business… Though, the things you see on this 'job' sure do encourage such fears.

Such fucked up things.

They'd haunt anyone's dreams. My dreams. Sammy's dreams.

Dammit, I wish he'd just tell me what's bothering him! I know he's having nightmares about Jessica's death…

But that makes sense. Dad had nightmares for quite some time after Mom…

But what the fuck can Sammy blame himself for? That… thing is responsible! And we're going to stop it… Somehow…

Dammit, Sammy! Why won't you tell me? You know you can come to me! You've always been able to! You always will be able to!

Shit! I am so fucking worried about you that I am having nightmares about Jess!

I snatch my hand away from the wheel, skipping the song abruptly – it's suddenly grating on my nerves.

My gaze lingers on my baby brother and I'm doubly glad he's sleeping: I know I didn't quite manage to pull my poker face over the concern.

He must know I'm worried… despite this mask I wear. He's always been able to see straight through it.

He was the only one, though.

I've been perfecting this poker face since I was five.

'Don't cry, Dean.'

Dad would be weaving some bullshit and whoever he was talking to would be looking at me, expecting young eyes to betray a lie. But they never did.

'What good is crying?'

That was one lesson I really took to heart. I haven't cried since grade school… and even then I made sure I was all alone, where no one could hear me, lights off, door locked.

Never mind that after some of these gigs all I want to do is swerve off the road, scream until I'm hoarse, break everything within reach and bawl like a newborn baby.

That's just not me.

I'd love to hear what a shrink would say about me… About what I'm repressing.

'Take care of your brother, Dean.'

The only lesson that's been more important. Not that Dad needed to teach it to me.

I guess all older siblings can be a bit protective. But I've got 'big brother syndrome' bad.

I swore I'd take care of him before he was born. Of course, at the time, I didn't realize just how difficult a job that was going to be, but it makes no difference.

'Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now, Dean! Go!'

I could smell smoke, but I only saw Sammy.

In that moment protecting him changed from defending against school-yard bullies to something inconceivable.

And damned if I was going to let anything happen to him, to my little Sammy. Not on my watch. And it's always my watch.

He ran to me for everything when we were kids. Dad was pleased; he wanted us to rely on each other.

'Take care of your brother.'

Every time he cried was a failure – I hadn't prevented whatever prompted his tears. But he was never upset for long once he was safe in 'big brother Dean's' arms.

He trusted me to make everything all better and damned if I wasn't going to.

Damned if I'm not going to now.

If only he'd tell me those secrets…

I find myself sighing despite myself. We never used to keep anything from each other.

I have my secrets. I know he has his. And his are killing him…

I can't make it better if I don't know what I need to fix! Something to do with Jessica… What, though? I've run out of guesses… And something to do with that shape shifting freak of nature…

It said something to him; something he refuses to repeat back to me; something that caused him to look at me so strangely with those sad, dark eyes.

Demons lie. They manipulate. Whatever it said, I hope Sammy remembers that.

At least he's not afraid of me. Even after all we've seen, something like that can shake a guy. Hell, it sure shook me seeing 'myself' strangling him on the rug.

I was almost too late that time…

I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off a blooming headache, rolling my shoulders to shake off some stress. We've finally reached a passing lane – I can get around this bloody camper.

Quite the job I'm doing protecting him… How many times have I nearly gotten him killed since Dad went missing?

I bet nothing like that happened at school.

He has no idea what seeing his bruises did to me. I told him he could go back to college, not to worry about anything, that I'd find Dad. I guess he could have taken the offer as rejection, that I didn't want him with me…

I know he didn't, though. If he did, he wouldn't be here. Winchester pride…

It was his choice… and I'll never tell him how glad I am he decided to come. The road's been lonely since he left, even with Dad.

Damn, it hurt when he walked out. I guess I understood. But how the hell was I going to protect my baby brother if he was hundreds of miles away?

I look over, concerned, as he shifts in his sleep, relaxing when there's still no sign of nightmares. He'd probably laugh if he knew how often I check up on him.

Damn, Sammy, you have no idea how much you mean to me.

Big brother syndrome… and it's still my watch.

I tell him not to get attached to anyone. That's how I was raised. It's dangerous. Maybe it is lonely… Maybe I am just antisocial.

The only one I ever let myself get close to is you, Sammy.

I feel myself grinning and I start humming along to the tune, not caring that I'm off key. A heavy snow is filling the sky and I flick the wipers on almost subconsciously, easing through a hairpin turn.

I really am sorry he can't have his apple pie life. Though, I don't know if just being Joe College would make him happy either.

It wouldn't be enough for me… Even if I do entertain the idea of giving up hunting sometimes… Sometimes…

There must be a word for people who aren't content no matter what they have… regardless of which option they choose…

Yeah… freaks.

From the corner of my eye, I swear I see Sammy smirk. Maybe he's dreaming after all.

I hope they're good dreams, Sammy… Though, I suppose I should say 'Sam.'

Nah. 'Sam' just sounds wrong. He's always been Sammy. Always will be.

My little Sammy – to hell with him being taller than me now. And what kind of cruel fate decided to give him a growth spurt anyway?

Well, I'm still better looking.

I cast Sammy a quick glance, turning back to the road. It's starting to get pretty slick and I don't intend to take us over a cliff.

I love him; he's my baby brother. I'd die for him. I hope he knows it.

And no matter what, I'm going to protect him. No fucking matter what.

Big brother syndrome. It'll always be my watch.

No matter what the road leads to.