Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them.
A/N: I wrote this early on in the series but didn't show it to anyone for months. It took a little prodding on the part of The Emu for me to let her read it but it was her encouragement that led me to post it on a Supernatural list. Since I've taken the plunge with Lost and Found I thought I'd post the story that got me started. I guess I should thank Ken, too, because if he hadn't walked out I never would have found my muse again. I just hope the muse can hang out when I start classes again next week.
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Sam jerked awake and stared into the darkness, trying to control his breathing. He glanced at the bed next to his. His brother was still asleep. Sam sat up; rubbing at his sweat slick face, then went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face then stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. He hated the nightmares but this one had been worse than the others and he couldn't seem to shake it.
Dean stared at the ceiling. He woke up when Sam turned on the bathroom light and somehow knew he had another nightmare. He also knew that Sam was trying to hide the dreams from him and would lie if Dean asked him about them. He took a deep breath. This was something he couldn't protect his younger brother from and he hated it. He closed his eyes when he heard the bathroom door open.
Sam was sure that Dean was awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, back to his brother, wishing Dean would ask him about the dream. Sam knew he would lie and say he didn't remember it but he just wanted to hear his brother's calming voice. Sam couldn't force himself to start the conversation.
Dean watched his brother. When Sam was little and had a bad dream he would crawl into his brother's bed. Dean would comfort him and they would both go back to sleep. Sam wasn't little anymore and wasn't so easy to comfort. Dean wondered when the wall went up between them. Was it when Sam left for school? Or was it the two years Dean let go by without so much as a phone call? Of course Dean sent birthday cards and post cards but he never called.
Sam got back under the covers. He felt silly but he was thinking about when he was a kid and would craw into Dean's bed after a nightmare. He could always count on his brother to be there for him. Sam was twenty-two years old; he couldn't crawl into Dean's bed anymore. He should be able to talk to him though. It's not like they never talked. They spent hours on end in the car and in motel rooms just like this one; they had all sorts of conversations. But Sam couldn't bring himself to talk about the dreams.
Dean knew someone had to make the first move. He couldn't let his brother keep suffering alone. He was the older brother; it was his job to take care of Sam. It had always been his job to take care of Sam. But Sam wasn't a baby anymore; he hadn't been a baby for a long time. He'd been on his own for two years and nothing happened to him. Maybe he didn't need a big brother anymore… but maybe he still needed a brother.