September 1988
Dean wasn't sure what had woken him. Groggily he glanced around his darkroom. His eyes came to rest on the dark shape that stood in his doorway, silhouetted in the half-light of the hallway. Through sleep blurred eyes he watched silently as the shape crept across the floor, shuffling closer until it stood beside his bed.
He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, "Sammy? What're you doin' up? It's the middle of the night." he grumbled.
Sammy's puppy dog eyes seemed to take in Dean's whole field of vision, blocking out eveything else. "'M scared about t'morrow, De'."
"Jeez Sammy, it's just the first day of school. Go back to bed." Dean yawned deeply.
Sam didn't move. His deep, sad eyes never drifted from Dean's face, silently pleading.
With a heavy sigh, Dean scooted over and threw the covers back. Sam needed no more invitation to scramble into the bed and curl himself next to his big brother. Dean grudgingly put a reassuring arm around him. They stayed still and quiet for a bit, Dean fumbling through his tired mind for the right thing to say, Sam pressing against him as if he thought Dean could keep the morning from coming.
"You know," Dean eventually broke the silence, "Dad says it's OK to be scared. You just can't let it beat you."
Sam considered this for a moment. "Dad's real brave, isn't he?"
"Yeah Sammy, yeah he is. So all you have to do tomorrow is think, 'I'm going to be just like Dad.' Think you can do that?" he gave Sam an encouraging squeeze.
"I'll try." Sam dutifully promised. "Dean, can I stay here tonight?"
With a small sigh Dean said, "Yeah Sammy, you can stay...if you promise to sleep, not talk."
Sam drifted off as he was nodding in agreement.