(A/N- We'll be going straight to the thought of the day, mes chèris, and it is as follows:
I live in Maryland. We have an Ellicott City in Maryland. Is it weird that I can no longer see that name without snapping back into the mindset of one watching "Asylum"? I think it may be…
Oh. And I apologize for the "Hidalgo" reference in this chapter. Anyone who spots it can have a cameo if they give me a name and a physical description to be used. Hey – same deal if anybody spots the Good Omens reference in chapter two. This could be a fun game, don't you think? Yesssss, my preciousssss…)
Dean Winchester was not, strictly speaking, what anyone could call a "morning person."
However, he quickly discovered that even he could become a morning person after a few cups of coffee strong enough to stand a horseshoe up in, and it was in this uncommonly bright and cheerful mood that he went to fetch his sibling for breakfast.
His original intent was to creep up stealthily on sweet, unassuming, sleeping Sammy and wake him up via pouncing. Unfortunately for Dean – but fortunately for Sam because Dean, being a muscular guy, was very heavy – the door turned out to be locked, and he was forced to resort to a slightly more subtle method.
Slightly being the operative word.
"Sammy!" he bellowed, pounding on the door. "Rise and shine!"
"Hold on," came the muffled, irritated reply. "I need to get dressed."
"Yeah, well, light a fire under it, Sleeping Beauty. There's a couple huge plates of biscuits and gravy downstairs with our names on 'em." He contemplated throwing in that the food looked orgasmic, but he figured he'd embarrassed Sammy enough last night, so any comments of a crude and sexual nature would have to wait at least a few more hours. Corrupting the innocent was a slow and tedious process, but someone had to do it.
It was a few minutes before the door was opened.
"Dude, you look like hell," Dean said, concern hitting him like a ton of bricks at the sight of his little brother's eyes. Either Sam had some reefer he wasn't sharing, or… "Have you been crying?"
"Nah, it's nothing," Sam answered a little too quickly, giving his eyes one last swipe with the back of his hand and looking ashamed of himself.
Aww, shit, he has been crying, Dean thought, almost cringing with the knowledge that this could only be fixed with a talk about feelings. This'd be so much easier if I was a chick…
"You need to talk about it?" he forced himself to say, his voice sounding rougher than he'd meant it to. Still, Sammy looked relieved to have been given the go-ahead.
"It was just… I had a dream about Jess."
"You've never woken up from a nightmare looking like this before," Dean stated helpfully. Sam shook his head.
"It wasn't a nightmare. I don't know what it was, exactly. She was alive, Dean," he said, with that familiar look in his eyes that begged his big brother to have all the answers. "She was alive, and happy; we were married. We had this… this beautiful little girl, and – " Sam's voice broke, and he looked away, fresh tears glistening in his eyes.
Sammy looked so heartbroken that Dean almost wanted to hug the poor kid, but he couldn't actually bring himself to do it.
"Just sounds like wishful thinking to me, buddy," he said as gently as he could manage. He had a feeling that Sam's exposure to Sabine, David, and their kids wasn't really helping his emotional state, but he didn't want to say it. He couldn't condemn the Harvey family just because they happened to love each other.
"I just can't help wondering, you know? I mean, what if I'd told Jess about my nightmares? God, Dean, what if that dream was what should have happened? Maybe I didn't do what I was supposed to, and because of me Jess died and Julia will never even be born."
No, Dean willed frantically as Sam's voice cracked again. No crying. I don't know how to handle crying. Get mad, I'm good with that!
"Hey, you didn't know," he assured. "And you can't change it now. You shouldn't worry about Julia, either," he added, knowing full well that the loss of a child – even just a potential one – was what had hit Sam the hardest. Hell, he was honestly a little choked up about maybe not getting a shot at being Uncle Dean. "If she's meant to be born, she'll be born. Eventually."
Though still sad, Sam looked a little more at ease. Dean grasped his brother's shoulder; squeezed; let go. That's as close to a hug as you're ever getting, pal, unless one of us is at death's door.
"Now come on. Breakfast is getting cold."
(A/N- short transition chapter, but it needed to happen. Next chapter: Sam, Dean, and Sabine traipse through the woods after breakfast to see if they can find the werewolves' lair. Shall they? Hell, I don't even know yet…
Something fun to do (well, maybe not fun, but apropos): get all into a Supernatural mood, listen to "Your Winter" by Sister Hazel, and tell me what it makes you think of. It will probably make you cry, or at least sigh heavily with emotion. Ciao, my loves!)